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ravenofthefandoms · 1 year

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The Lucky Stag: Part 3

Word Count: 4621 (oopsies)

Pairing: Sandor Clegane x reader

Characters: Sandor Clegane, original character (Marlys), original character (mentioned) (Jeremiah Bryne), Morgan (mentioned), Lem (mentioned), Gatins (mentioned), Brotherhood without Banners, Thoros of Myr, Beric Dondarrion

Warnings: some gore (it’s Game of Thrones), some mild angst, some mild fluff

A/N: Hi :) sorry for disappearing but life has been hectic. I’ve been wanting to write again, especially after House of the Dragon. Hopefully, people still wanna see more of this. Hopefully, for a time, I’ll have more regular updates and posts. As I said a while back, there are some Podrick x reader posts I have brewing plus some ideas for House of the Dragon. This one isn’t super exciting but I’ve got some plans for the next few chapters that should get the blood pumping if you will

Tags (let me know if you would like to be removed since it’s been so long): @anita-e-taylor, @my-bitch-loki @orange-sherbxrt

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters outside of my own original characters. The others belong to George R.R. Martin. I do not own any of the gifs used. They belong to the original creators.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

You had been walking for ages, or what felt like it at least. Walking where, you did not know. Sandor had muttered to himself while he held you outside of the burning tavern, something about finding the men so he could tear them to bloody fucking pieces. Unfortunately, you had nothing but the singed, smoky clothes on your back and the aching hole in your chest left to your name. You knew, in reality, that it had only been a day and a half since your life had turned to ash but time no longer felt as it did before. Your eyes always felt dry, and your voice caught in your throat more often than not. Sandor could count the words you’ve spoken on his two hands.

On the first night, your friend, Marlys, was gracious enough to let you stay with her and her husband. She insisted that it was her duty as your friend, however. Another thing she tried to insist on was you sleeping in her and her husband’s bed, which he had heartily agreed to. You refused, though. Instead, you curled on the hay floor near the fireplace, Sandor sitting against the wall near your feet.

Marlys was truly a kind woman, and you felt badly now for the way you were when you stayed there that night. You supposed that you shouldn’t, considering your grief was fresh and intense. The next morning, you and Sandor broke your fast with Marlys and her husband before they gave you enough food for a day of travel and a skin of water. Their kindness made tears well in your eyes. As you said your goodbyes, Sandor waited outside for you.

Your childhood friend pulled you into a tight embrace. Tears spilled onto each others’ shoulders as she whispered her condolences. After a night of rest, you realized that you weren’t the only one who grieved your brother’s death, and held onto Marlys as tightly as she held onto you. “I’ll miss you, (Y/N). Promise you’ll come back someday.” You nodded in response, not trusting your voice to be steady.

Letting go, you walked out to a patiently waiting Sandor. “Ready?” He knew what your real answer was, the same as anyone else’s would be. Your nod was good enough for him though. With one last tearful look towards probably the one place you wish you could stay, you began walking.

The first day of walking had been largely uneventful. Sandor led you with, surprisingly, gentle hands. Whether on your elbow, on the small of your back, or even holding your own in his, he never let go of you until you needed a break or it was time to set up camp. He found a clearing off the side of the path you had been traveling. With no ax, he was unable to cut any logs to build a proper fire, and instead gathered twigs and sticks from the surrounding copse of trees. As he gathered the firewood, you sat and prepared the area where the fire would blaze. Stones from a nearby stream were set in a circle to keep the flames contained. You handed it over to Sandor when he returned. He began to stack the wood, stuffing fallen leaves and tall grass into the center.

By the time you sat and made yourself as comfortable as you could on the hard ground, Sandor had the tinder smoking, then smoldering, and finally beginning to burn. As the fire slowly grew, Sandor moved to sit next to you. His eyes watched you carefully, unsure what to do or say. He had never been good with words, most of them crass and rude. He didn’t want to be crass or rude with you though. When it came to you, Sandor wanted to make you smile and laugh, to see the glimmer in your eye when you spoked animatedly, to keep you warm during the chilly nights, to-... He shook his head slightly, needing to derail this trail of thinking. As odd yet enjoyable this sensation was, there were priorities to be dealt with first. He needed to track down those sons of bitches that hurt you so and make them regret ever being born.

“Sandor,” you murmured. He looked down and grunted. “Thank you. For everything you’ve done for me.” He suddenly found his hands, fiddling with a small twig, to be much more interesting.

“Don’ thank me. I’ve been more trouble than not,” he muttered. A soft chuckle, more of a sigh than anything, fell from your lips and you shook your head, almost as if he had made some silly joke. Pride swelled in his heart for a moment – hearing any sort of sweet sound from you was a blessing. You didn’t respond to his words, only scooted closer to him as a chill began to creep into the air. Your shoulders grazed his, body heat warming you as much as the fire in front of you. “You should get some rest.” His eyes flicked down to you, the smallest of bitter smiles gracing your lips.

“Aye, I should.” You looked up at him; the lack of, well, everything in your eyes made him uneasy. He knew as well as you that rest would not come easy, if at all. Your eyes returned to the flames, your gaze becoming unfocused in them. A long moment lasted before you spoke again. “I don’t know what to do anymore.” Your voice was soft, barely more than a whisper. Sandor kept his gaze fixated on your face, waiting for you to continue. “I’ve always known what needed to be done. Cook the venison, bake the bread, serve the ale, keep the tavern running, watch over my-... watch over my brother.” The last few words came out slightly strangled, as though you choked on them. “I am lost now.”

Another long silence fell between you before Sandor reached over and took one of your hands in his own. “You’re not lost. You’re not broken neither.” Your gaze lifted to meet his own. “You’re strong. And I won’t let anything happen to you. I’ll protect you, if you let me.” You were able to offer him a small, watery smile along with a quick nod.

“Thank you, Sandor.” Your eyes returned to the flames for a moment longer before you closed them. “I want nothing more,” you said softly. Again, silence fell over the two of you, nothing to hear aside from the crackling of the fire. Sandor was unsure how long he stared into the dancing flames before your head nodded onto his shoulder and soft snores filled the air.

The next morning, you awoke with a start, images from the past few days haunting your dreams. The sun was just beginning to climb over the horizon, though the chill of night still hung in the air. A shiver ran down your spine as your body began to wake from its slumber. Your tailbone and legs ached as you stood and made your way to the stream. The water was cold and brisk. Dipping your hands in the babbling brook made your arms break out into gooseflesh. You cupped the water in your hands, gently bringing it to your face. The freezing shock was necessary, you felt, before you began on your journey again. When you returned to the fire, Sandor’s eyes were open and sought out your approaching figure.

He said nothing, something you were accustomed to after a few months of knowing him. Sandor would never be considered a particularly chatty man. However, sitting in silence with the large man brought you a sense of peace and calm.

You nodded once at the question in his eyes, and he rose to his feet. There was nothing for you to gather or put away, only the still-smoldering embers of the night’s fire. Sandor kicked dirt over it, if only to ensure that the flames would stay smothered rather than springing back to life. Once again, he guided you to the path with sure steps. There was a bloodlust in his eyes as he tracked the men that he was intent on killing. It didn’t scare you, strangely enough. For once, it made you feel… protected. You couldn’t say that you remember a time when you felt protected. Your brother, gods rest his soul, was strong and protected you from men who were too handsy or too violent. There was always the silent agreement, however, that you were the one that protected your brother. You raised him, cared for him, and made sure he grew to be the man that he was beginning to be. This sensation from Sandor, it lifted a weight off of your shoulders that you had not realized was there. A shadow that had hung from you for as long as you could remember.

Gently, you shook these thoughts from your head. You instead focused on the path ahead, watching and wary of your surroundings. Many hours passed, early morning turning into early afternoon. As though he was indeed a hound picking up a scent, Sandor stopped suddenly. He turned to your left. You turned as well, trying to see or hear or smell whatever it was that he was sensing. After a few moments, you could hear the sound of raucous laughing, as well as cursing. It was enough for Sandor to tug you along gently, despite his long, angry strides.

You walked just behind Sandor, the sound of laughter growing as you continued to walk closer. An ax laid next to a stump and a pile of chopped logs. From where you stood, you could see four men, all somewhat familiar, sitting around a fire. Sandor stopped, looking back at you slightly with a warning in your eyes. It was something you understood quickly. You nodded and took a step back.

That bloodlust was back in his eyes, if it ever left. He grabbed that ax and began stalking towards the group of men. By the time they realized what was happening, it was too late. Sandor swung his ax with a yell at the first man, lopping off his head with ease. It was at this moment that you turned around, hand pressed to your mouth to keep the bile down. It wasn’t that you had a sudden guilt about the silent agreement between you and Sandor to avenge your brother. In fact, you quite enjoyed the ferocity with which he swung his weapon. What made your stomach churn was the memory that it returned to you: your brother’s corpse. The grisly nature of the scene unfolding was something that you found you just could not watch. Squelching flesh as it was maimed by steel still reached your ears. Your eyes closed quickly, taking deep breaths to keep your stomach calm. As the final man whimpered in pain, you could hear Sandor speaking to him. You weren’t sure what Sandor said, his voice too soft to be carried over the wind. You did, however, hear the dying man scream at the giant before him.

All you could hear was further grumbling from Sandor. You did not open your eyes nor did you remove your hand from your mouth. The crunch of leaves and sticks stopped behind you. “It’s over now, little flower.” His hand gently came up to grab your wrist, pulling it away from your face. Your eyes opened slowly, looking up to meet Sandor’s own gaze.

“Did I scare ya?” There was something in his voice that had you shaking your head quickly.

“No, Sandor. I just… I couldn’t watch.” He nodded softly. Your hand drifted up slowly to rest on his scarred cheek. “Thank you.” Your voice was more frail than you expected or wanted it to be. “They met the ends they deserved.”

He nodded his agreement.

“Aye, they did. There are still more. The one who led them, with the yellow cloak. We find him, and your brother will have been avenged.” You nodded, looking up at him with a fierceness in your eyes that made his heart stutter a moment. With no more need to stay, the two of you continued back on your journey.

Surprisingly, you did not walk as far as you thought you would have to before the sounds of men reached your ears again. It was distinctive this time, and much closer than the last group of men had been. Sandor looked down at you, nodded, and then headed towards the noise, ax ready to attack.

To both your own and Sandor’s surprise, the men you sought were standing on barrels with nooses around their necks. A handful of men, no more than ten, stood around them, and one sat above on the tree branch. Swords were partially drawn in caution, until one of the men spoke.

“Clegane.” He was a handsome man, the one who spoke. An eye patch covered his right eye, a crop of sandy hair cropped close to his head. If it weren’t for the setting you found yourself in, you would think him to be some dashing knight that you, as did many of the other girls in your village, dreamt of being swept away by. You stayed close to Sandor, however, almost hiding behind him as a child does behind their mother’s skirts.

“The fuck you doing here?” Another man asked. This one had long hair gathered into a knot atop his head and a deep red cloak hanging around his shoulders. His gaze flicked to you, seemingly amused.

Sandor pointed at the soon-to-be hanged men. “Chasing them.” His hand, still gripping yours, tensed slightly. “You?”

The second man to speak looked back at the men before responding. “Hanging them.” He seemed almost bemused in the way he spoke, as though it were just another sunny afternoon.

“Any particular reason?” Was Sandor’s somewhat irritated response. The clipped conversation had your eyes darting between the men as they spoke.

The first man spoke again. “They’re our men, or they were. They attacked a nearby sept and murdered the villagers. Burnt down a tavern in the next village too. Why do you want them?” His eye flicked to you, as though just realizing that the Hound was not alone. Curiosity made his head quirk to the side, his lone eye seeming to look you up and down. Not in the way you were used to men doing, but in a way that made your skin crawl. Like he was reading your body, your mind, and your soul. There was a part of you that felt sure he could hear every thought in your head.

“Same reason.” Sandor jerked his head to you. “It was her tavern they burnt. Her brother they murdered.” Your hand tensed in his, and he squeezed it gently. “She saved me.”

“Saved you? A surprise anyone would think to do that.” The second man seemed to be quite witty, or at least thought he was. There was a twinkle of mirth in his eyes that you could see, even from your distance.

Sandor looked down at you once again before returning his gaze to the men in front of him. “Aye, it is.” A pause and he started walking towards them intently, you following behind him. “They’re ours.” Sandor said, a statement of fact rather than a request.

The first man moved forward. “It is the Brotherhood’s good name they’ve dragged through the dirt.

“Fuck your name.” Sandor’s response was instant. The two of you came to a stop in front of the men. “They’re ours. I’ve killed ya once before, Dondarrion, happy to do it again.” In response, a man in the small crowd drew an arrow, pointing it at Sandor. You frowned and moved to the side between the archer and Sandor, releasing his hand in the process. “Drop that arrow, you bloody girl.” His eyes remained focused on the man he addressed as Dondarrion. “Tougher girls than you tried to kill me.” Sandor raised his ax, pointing it at the archer but careful of where he knew you stood next to him. A beat of silence and Sandor turned to start stalking towards the archer.

“You can have one of them.” Sandor turned back.

“Two.” It was almost incredulous how they seemed to barter over the lives of these men, who got to kill them. The two men who spoke with Sandor looked at each other. The second one nodded to the first, Dondarrion, who in turn nodded to Sandor.

They turned to the three men whose fates they so casually debated. Sandor went to the one on the farthest left, looked him up and down, and swung his ax back. It was grabbed, however, by the second man before he could bring it down. “No, no, no. We’re not butchers. We hang them.”

“Hanging? “ Sandor’s voice was annoyed. “All over in an instant. Where’s the punishment in that? Not enough after what they did to her brother. What they did to her ho-” Your hand on his arm stopped Sandor in his rant. He looked down to you, where you shook your head. There was no point in arguing. The other four you found died in pain and suffering. It was enough for you. Sandor pursed his lips and shook his head slightly.

“They’ll die.” Was the simple answer from the red-cloaked man, whose hands rested so casually upon the pommel of his sword.

“We all bloody die, except for this one here.” Sandor looked back to Dondarrion, making your brow furrow in confusion. You turned to look at the man as well, still standing a bit behind Sandor. The man looked at you, a small, almost knowing smile upon his lips as he held your gaze. It unsettled you a bit, so you looked back and up at the men facing their deaths. “I’ll only gut one of them.” The bartering nearly made you snort with laughter, but you held it in.

“No.” Dondarrion switched his gaze from you to Sandor as he spoke. The giant man next to you turned and glared at the man.

“Chop off one hand.” This time you couldn’t help the snort of laughter, the gazes of the men around you turning upon you suddenly.

“We gave you two out of the three, out of respect of the lady’s loss. That’s generous.” His eye held a bit of warning for Sandor, telling him not to push his luck. Sandor sighed and looked down at you. You nodded and he turned back to Dondarrion.

“Bunch of nances,” he grumbled. Sandor threw his ax to the ground in annoyance before looking up at the men. “There was a time I would’ve killed all seven of you just to gut these three.” Your brow quirked at his statement but you paid it no further mind.

“You’re getting old, Clegane. Or maybe your lady love has just made you soft.” Again with the mirthful look from the red-cloaked man, whose eyes roamed you freely. His gaze, though holding no malice, roamed over you with far less intensity and far more interest in the decolletage visible from the top of your gown. This was the gaze you were used to from men, and did not unsettle you like the other man’s did.

Sandor’s eyes turned to a deadly glare at the man before turning back to the men soon to be killed. “Well, he’s not.” His foot moved to the barrel that the first man stood on and kicked it from underneath his feet. He dropped suddenly and a sickening crunch was heard as he struggled against the noose. Sandor moved to the next one, turning back to you first with a question in his eyes. Your eyes leveled with his before flitting to the man in the middle.

“Did you kill my brother? With your own sword? The man you hung from a tree with the deer he had killed.” Your steely gaze leveled on the man, a pathetic whimper leaving his mouth. Violently, he shook his head, muttering what you believed to be lies. You had no proof save the the cloak around his neck. The cloak was not something you recognized, but the pins holding it together were. Those were the pins you had bought your brother for his sixteenth nameday. Your hand reached up, grasping the pins gently as you looked at them before you ripped them off. You put your bootclad foot on the edge of the barrel, leveling to meet his eyes once again.

“Mistress, please, I’ll give you anything.” The final words barely escaped his lips before you pushed the barrel over and the air was stolen from his lungs. With this man, there was no snap, only the strained gasp as his throat quickly began to become crushed against the rope. You kept your gaze upon the thrashing man’s face, watching with a deepset frown as his eyes seemed to bulge from his face and the color drained from his face to only be replaced by a blue hue. Dondarrion, who had sidled up next to you, quickly kicked over the barrel of the last man, who also choked. As soon as the third man began his suffering, you stepped back. The two men who Sandor seemed to know watched with varying expressions as Sandor looked at the middle man’s feet. The red-cloaked one seem bemused as Sandor removed the man’s boots and compared them to his own feet, while the other seemed intrigued.

“Got anything to eat?” Sandor finally asked once he pulled the new boots onto his feet. The men nodded and began walking to where they had set up camp. It wasn’t far, but far enough from the road where the deadmen hanged that you could no longer hear the creaking of the rope as their limp bodies swayed in the breeze.

A few men had stayed behind, assumingly to cook the game they had hunted and keep the fires stoked. You sat next to Sandor on a log, your knees drawn close to your chest. A leg of rabbit was in your hand but your gaze stayed on the lapping waves of the lake next to you. Two men sat on the log to your right and the man called Dondarrion on the left. The red-cloaked man soon joined you, a skin of something in his hands. “Enjoying yourself?”

Sandor examined the rabbit bone, cleaning it of its meat. “I prefer chicken.” A small smile graced your lips before you took another bite from the leg.

“Would you like to introduce us to your friend, Clegane? It is the proper thing to do.” The red-cloaked man passed the skin to Sandor, who took a swig of it before handing it to you. You took it, the burn of alcohol bringing a slight relief to you.

“Not really,” he replied. You nudged him with your elbow, though this was only met with a grumble from the man. “(Y/N), that is Beric Dondarrion, leader of this… whatever it is. And that bald cunt with the topknot is Thoros of Myr. This is (Y/N).”

They both nodded to you, which you returned. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady.”

You snorted and shook your head. “I’m no lady, Ser. But I thank ye, for the food. And the justice.” Though you spoke of it, it didn’t really feel as though justice had been served. Those men were dead, but so was your brother. You wondered if the dull ache in your heart would ever leave, or even lessen at all. The men seemed to be able to see the dull look in your eyes. Sandor’s hand gripped your knee gently, tossing the rabbit bone into the flames. Your eyes met his, and a small smile lifted the corners of your lips. He nodded and turned back to Thoros and Beric, though his hand didn’t leave you. The aforementioned men shared a look, noticing this surprisingly sweet gesture of comfort from the Hound.

Beric nodded at your words before returning his attention to Sandor once again. “You ought to join us.” You listened as Sandor snorted, responding to Beric. At this point, you tuned yourself out of the conversation, the only thing anchoring you to reality was Sandor’s hand on your leg. You finished the rest of the rabbit leg that had been given to you earlier, tossing the bone into the fire.

Your eyes lingered over the water, lapping at the muddy shores. The image of the strangled man kept flashing in your mind, but you steeled yourself against it. He suffered, hopefully more than your brother did. This was not enough, but it had to be. You would make it so.

The men continued to speak, Sandor’s thumb rubbing soft and slow circles against your knee. He stood, giving one reassuring pat to your leg before he walked to the edge of the lake and began to fiddle with his pants. You averted your eyes quickly, attempting to keep a soft blush from your cheeks as your eyes found the first thing that wasn’t Sandor. Unfortunately, that thing was the amused gaze of Thoros of Myr. Suddenly, something he said registered in your brain. “You’ve brought him back? Not healed him, but… how?” The man who called himself a priest chuckled into his drink.

“I prayed.” Beric pulled up his shirt to show you many scars, many of which should have killed him. “Six times, isn’t it?” Beric nodded to Thoros’ question. “I just got lucky. Or he did, I suppose.” Beric dropped his shirt as Sandor returned from relieving himself.

They continued their conversation, though you only payed half a mind to it. The fact that Beric had died six times but was still standing before you, very much alive, was incredible. They continued to talk about fighting, cold winds, and mysterious creatures that sounded like tales that the old women in the village would tell you as a child. “It’s not too late, Clegane.” This was the last thing Beric said to Sandor, silently awaiting an answer to his proposition. Sandor gave a soft sigh, staring at Beric before looking down at you.

His gaze held yours for a long moment, longer than you’ve had before. A soft emotion that you couldn’t quite place entranced you. “Well, what do ya say, lass? Ever been to the North?” You shook your head slightly. “Would ya like to?” A brief moment of clarity washed over you. You accepted Sandor’s offer of protection. You thought that, once your brother’s killers were caught, he would see it as a job done. Or maybe he would simply refuse to bring you, a woman, on what was doubtlessly a dangerous adventure. It seemed that this was not the case. How it seemed, at least to you, was that Sandor was intent on staying with you. And this thought made your heart feel a little brighter than it had before, and a smile painted your mouth. A real smile, one that reminded Sandor of the smiles you would offer him back in the tavern. The smile that always made his heart skip a beat, despite that particular sensation frightening him.

“Aye, I think I would like to see the North. It’s not like there’s much left for me in the Riverlands.” Beric nodded his head to you while Thoros raised his skin and took another drink. Sandor offered you a small, secret smile before taking your fingers in his hand as discreetly as he could. It wasn’t discreet at all, but thankfully, neither Thoros nor Beric felt the need to say anything.

#game of thrones #game of thrones fanfic #reader insert #Sandor Clegane #sandor clegane x reader #sandor the hound clegane #The Hound #the hound x reader #Brotherhood Without Banners #thoros of myr #beric dondarrion #sandor x reader

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theburdenofresponsibility · 1 year

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Harry Prince and the Philosopher's Stone - Chapter 2 - The Last In A Long While

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read on AO3 | word count: 2,930

When Harry wakes up on the thirty-first of July, he finds himself in an odd mix of excitement and sadness.

Naturally, as has happened each year for as long as Harry can remember (and he tries pointedly to not think about the years he cannot remember right now, and the fact he would have lived in a different house and grown up to have different friends there had he been able to stay) Chris, Micky and Mandy will all come around for his birthday. Auntie Maggie and Catherine will spend the day tucked into the kitchen, baking Harry’s cake fresh for later in the day, and Harry and the other kids will spend all day playing while trying not to pester the adults to let them lick the bowl free of batter afterwards.

He’s still super excited for it, of course! His leg is jumping beneath the table as he eats his breakfast, and his eyes keep darting to the door as if expecting everyone to burst through early. It doesn’t matter that most of his friends live directly next door, and the rest he has seen every school day for the past six years, he’s still always beyond happy to see them…

Which is why today will be so hard.

His leg bouncing shifts between enthused impatience and a way to pretend away the growing dread. One thing he had not thought about, until he’d had that clipped conversation with his dad over the dining table about what pets would be preferable for Hogwarts, was that he wouldn’t be seeing his friends for long stretches of time. The idea was practically unbearable, no matter that his dad had assured him that, even should Harry not get his own owl to bring to Hogwarts, he had an owl he could use or there were the school ones he could borrow to keep in touch with his friends.

Harry has seen Chris in particular, his best friend, in person almost every day for so long that he can’t imagine not going to school together anymore. Sure, that will be the case for a year anyway, no matter what, since Chris is in the year below him, but he won’t even be living nearby. He’s going to be all the way across the country!

Harry curls his arms around himself, unable to think of how he was going to break the news to everyone.

“Harry?” a voice calls from the other side of the dining table and Harry’s head snaps upward on instinct. His father clears his throat a little awkwardly. “I know you usually wait until your friends are here before opening presents, but I think this one might benefit from being opened away from a crowd of giddy children.”

With that, Snape pushes up from his seat and leads Harry to a decent-sized box on the coffee table. It’s wrapped in green wrapping paper with little frogs in party hats on, and Harry’s lips quirk upwards in an amused smile despite himself.

“There’s no bottom to this one, the box is just covering your gift so you only need to lift it up.”

Shooting his dad a confused frown, Harry reaches over to lift the box off of his present. Then, he promptly gasps.

Beneath the covering is a tank mostly full of some kind of bedding and with a few sparsely placed decorations. That isn’t what steals Harry’s breath, though. No, he’s staring in wonder at the little snake curled up towards the centre of the tank, peering back up at him.

“Maggie said you’d been looking at her when she took you to Diagon Alley. I hope that you’re alright with this as your companion for Hogwarts.”

Harry lets out a gasp, glancing between the man beside him and the little snake, still staring back uncertainly.

“Erys?” he asks, uncertainly, somehow not sure that this could possibly be the same snake, and that his dad had put in such care.

The little thing’s head turns more towards him upon hearing her name.

“Friend Harry,” the snake hisses, tongue flicking out as she speaks.

“She’s an emery kenyan sand boa,” his dad fills in, sounding slightly nervous which makes Harry blink up at him in surprise. “Only a baby – though she won’t get too big so you took a liking to a great snake to take to Hogwarts; I doubt having to house a huge snake would be simple in the dorms. Do you have a name for her?”

“She told me her name,” Harry tells him. “It’s Erys.”

“She… told you?”

“Yes,” Harry frowns. “Didn’t you ask her?”

“Harry, I don’t understand snakes.”

“Well, she’s probably a magical snake, right?” Harry tries, puzzled. “I mean, she was at the menagerie.”

“Yes,” Snape agrees; “she was at the menagerie. But that wasn’t because she’s a magical creature. Your snake – Erys? – is just the same as any muggle could procure. They’re sold at the menagerie because there is something of an appeal to snakes – especially in certain magical families.”

Harry frowns.

“So… you really can’t understand her?” he turns to Erys. “Can other people not understand you?”

The snake gives a minute shake of her head.

“I am not able to sssspeak to many humans at all. Only Friend Harry.”

Harry blinks in surprise, not even shrugging off the hand that lands on his shoulder despite the vague awareness that he’s still mad at Snape for lying to him.

“Harry,” Snape presses gently. “Do you really understand her? It’s okay for you to tell me if you can.”

“I can,” he nods, smiling indulgently as Erys pipes up with a little: He can. “Is that weird?”

“No, not weird,” Snape dismisses. “Just rare. It’s a skill not many possess to be able to speak Parseltongue; I can only think of a few wizards known to be Parselmouths, and not a single muggle.”

“Parseltongue?”

“Snake language,” Snape fills him in. “It’s probably best if you don’t tell your friends that you have the skill, just as you can’t tell them of your magic.”

Harry nods compliantly.

“But I can keep Erys?”

“Of course you can.”

Without the festering grudge poisoning their relationship with tension, Harry likely would have thrown his arms about Snape and pressed his face into the comforting familiarity of the man’s clothes. As it was, though, Harry just manages a wide smile, keeping his arms firmly to his sides.

For a moment he feels a fleeting stab of pain at missing that closeness he’d had so freely before. In little moments like this, since learning the truth of his past and the depth of Snape’s deceit, it has been so difficult to keep that distance between himself and the man who raised him. Sometimes he even wonders if it’s worth it – this is his dad – but then he reminds himself that Snape technically isn’t; …so that’s better, right? And, more importantly, he didn’t tell him about how important his parents were, how important he supposedly is, that he’s got living family he’s never let him meet.

The door swings open as Catherine lets herself in and Harry’s qualms go forgotten.

“Hey, tiny!” Mickey is calling as he leads his siblings up with his longer stride. Harry rolls his eyes – Mickey is very glad of his little growth spurt he had last month, it doesn’t matter that his sister is actually taller than him despite being a year younger.

Mandy scoffs and elbows her brother in the side.

“Hypocrite,” she chides, pointedly looking down on him.

“Hey, guys,” Harry is grinning before turning solely to his best friend. “Chris! Come look; my dad got me a snake!”

“Woah!” he enthuses, rushing up to peer through the glass of the tank.

“Not quite a dinosaur but cool, right?”

“So cool,” Chris easily agrees, leaning in close enough that his nose is practically pressed to the side of the enclosure.

“Hello,” Erys greets with a flicker of her tongue and Chris watches, enraptured, though Harry supposes Snape must’ve been right and he doesn’t understand her.

“Okay, that’s awesome,” Mickey is enthusing and even Mandy is peering between the boys’ shoulders, though more apprehensively. “What’s his name?”

“Her name is Erys.”

“Like the Greek goddess?” Mickey turns to him. “I’ve checked out a library book on Greek mythology at the minute – it’s cool!”

Harry shrugs.

“It just… felt right for her.”

“Okay, kids,” Catherine admonishes. “Leave the snake to adjust to its new home. Why don’t you guys play hide and seek while you wait for Harry’s school friends to show up.”

They agree easily and hurry off to find hiding places as Chris starts to count, though Harry suspects that’s just a reason to let him gawk at Erys a little longer. Not that Harry minds, since Erys seems to preen under the attention before burrowing through the bedding of her tank.

Harry’s birthday goes along rather brilliantly, as always.

The group of kids – made up of Harry, his neighbours, and his four friends from primary school – play plenty of games as the enticing smell of baking chocolate cake drifts through from the kitchen. Harry wins a few games of hide and seek, though in a few instances he was sure the seeker looked straight through him, and then loses several games of tig and duck duck goose. It’s all great fun, and everyone is laughing breathlessly by the time the adults call them into the kitchen for lunch.

They nibble on cheese and tomato sandwiches, and cocktail sausages before hurrying back out since the adults are ready to let Harry do his presents.

Maggie and Adeline watch on happily, though Harry knows the gifts they got him are waiting in his room to be opened away from muggle eyes, alongside a couple of smaller gifts from his dad. Chris is a lot less patient, and pushes the parcel he clearly wrapped himself into Harry’s hands – it’s a set of lizard figurines, which Harry grins at his friend for; at some point, the younger boy’s interest in anything scaly became mutual. His friends from school got him some sweets and hotwheels. Mandy and Mickey each got him some books that he unwraps with much enthusiasm–

Until he is cut off by everyone erupting in singing Happy Birthday, since Snape has returned from the kitchen – which Harry didn’t see him even leave to – carrying the cake. The candles are blown out and everyone pauses to take cake, because that always takes precedence over opening more presents.

When they get back to it, though, things take something of a turn.

“That one’s from me, Harry,” Cath smiles at him as he picks up one of the last presents.

Harry thanks her, pulling at the bright-coloured paper to reveal a pad of nice paper and a beautiful fountain pen.

“I thought it might help you keep in touch,” she explains. “For when you move away.”

The other kids’ heads shoot up.

“Move away?” Ben from his maths class is asking, half-frantic.

“What do you mean, mum?” Mandy pleads.

Mickey is blinking like he can’t even comprehend what is being said.

“Yeah,” Harry confesses, toying with the edge of the torn paper. “I’m going to a boarding school in Scotland for secondary school. The same one my dad went to.”

The other kids erupt into confused and excited questions. He answers the best he can without admitting anything he shouldn’t, and is doing so when Chris starts shaking his head.

“No.”

“Christopher, hun-” Catherine is trying to placate, but it’s too late. Chris’ face is scrunched up like it does sometimes when he gets overwhelmed, tears in his eyes.

“No. That’s not fair, you’re not going away.”

“I have to,” Harry defends, voice wavering. “I don’t want to say goodbye but I’ll see you in the holidays and I’ll write, I promise.”

“No!” Chris shouts, and then he storms out, walking himself home easily.

Catherine starts fussing, apologising profusely, and rounds up her other kids to take home. They give Harry a crushing hug like they might never see him again. Once again, he’s reminded about the fact that this one of the last times he will be seeing his friends in a long while and tears streak down his cheeks, crumpling his face into an ugly sob.

Harry casts a desperate look between his dad and Maggie, silently pleading for help. After which they start tidying up all the mess and helping the other parents wrangle their own kids to head home.

He lingers just long enough to throw himself into a sorrowful hug with his classmates before he’s dashing up to his room. The door is slammed behind him, though his hands never touch the wood of it. Instead he rushes straight for his bed and collapses there, face pressed to the plushness of his pillow to stifle his sobs as best he can.

He’s not going to see his friends for so long, and Chris hates him for it– What is he meant to do? How will he make new friends at this new school? Who would even want to be his friend at all – maybe he’d just been lucky to make the friends he has here and no one really likes him that much. Maybe Chris won’t ever write to him, either, because he was so mad and he hates Harry now and—

“Harry?” comes the hesitant call from the other side of his door.

“Go AWAY!” Harry yells back, pulling his face away from the pillow just long enough to snap at Snape waiting in the hall before hiding away again. His head is pounding from the force of his tears and his nose is running and he just wants to be left alone.

“Harry…” Snape sighs and Harry’s temper boils over.

“Leave me alone! You’re not my real dad – you’re a liar and I don’t want to talk to you.”

As soon as he hears the silence that follows, guilt takes his heart in a crushing grip. Stubbornness overrules it, though; he’s not going to apologise. This is the worst birthday ever, and Snape is the worst dad ever and–

The door creaks open and Harry turns to glare daggers over his shoulder, not caring about how puffy his eyes are. It’s not his dad, though. His dad just left, apparently – didn’t even try again. Instead, his Auntie makes her way slowly over to his bed, looking at him with sorry eyes.

“You okay, kid?”

Harry gives her a sour look and she sighs.

“No, of course not. Your friend’ll come around – he just can’t deal with how much he’s going to miss you.”

Harry sniffles and presses his face back into the pillow. He doesn’t want to hear this, he doesn’t even know if he believes it. Harry’s seen Chris get overwhelmed, and upset, and mad a lot but he’s never seemed that mad at Harry. He’s not sure if they’ll ever be friends again – his breath hitches painfully – which is an awful thought. Tears sting back in his eyes and he can’t blink them away fast enough. His breath shudders as they race back down his face and join the wet splotch on his pillow.

Chris is– was his best friend.

Maggie lays a gentle old hand on his shoulder, making him meet her eye.

“He will come around,” she repeats. “And until then, your dad’s really worried about you. He’s pacing down in the kitchen, wondering what to do – and he’s real hurt because of what you yelled at him.”

That feeling twinges in Harry’s chest again and he has to look away from Maggie’s eye.

“I was right, though,” he insists, not entirely sure who he’s trying to convince. “He lied to me, and he doesn’t really care. Because of him, I grew up muggle which means that I’ve made all these friends I’ll have to lose. If I’d grown up in the wizarding world like I was supposed to, then this wouldn’t happen! I- I wouldn’t have met anyone that I have to leave. This is his fault.

“Besides, he left right away when he came to check on me, so can’t have really wanted to talk to me.”

The huff Maggie lets out is agitated.

“Now that is enough of that, mister,” she scolds. “That man loves you a great lot, you hear me? And when you realise how much you’d better run straight to him and apologise, you listening, kid?”

Harry flushes under her reproach, but stubbornly looks away and doesn’t agree.

When Maggie sighs, it’s half-resigned, half-angry.

“Well, if it weren’t your last month here I’d make sure your dad grounds you for that. But he won't, because this is your last chance to spend all your time with your friends, so you’re a lucky brat right now.”

Something in her seems to deflate and she leans down to press a kiss to Harry’s hair, despite how he squirms away from the affection.

“Enjoy this time with your friends. You’ll keep in touch with them, I’m sure, but I know you’ll still miss them. Don’t you dare spend all August sulking, because as soon as September starts you’re off to Hogwarts and your time will be wasted.”

She pushes to her feet from where she’d been perched on the edge of his comforter. Stretching her joints, she lets out a groan.

“Get some rest, kid. Being upset’s got you all tuckered out. I’ll see you soon.”

And then she sweeps from the room, leaving Harry alone with his grief again.

#fic: hpatps

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ratmonky · 3 years

Text

Unsafe Words

Word Count: 4.9K

Warnings: dubcon, mind break, obsession

AO3 Link

Flowers were more beautiful when they first bloomed in springtime. The colors that would faint over time would be vivid and the smell they produced wasn’t like any other. Their aroma was as delicious as a luxurious perfume but yours were sweeter than all of them.

Inumaki stroked his cock with one hand and held your panties up to his nose with the other. Your smell was enough to make him feel intoxicated but inhaling it as he pleased himself made the experience even more ecstatic.

In his mind, he was fantasizing about going on a date with you, eating your favorite dessert together, and chatting about the future ahead of the two of you.

You would laugh at all the jokes he made to hear you laugh and brush your fingers on his forearm in a flirty manner, looking at him with a smile and suggest to him that the two of you get out of here and go somewhere more private. Somewhere where you could give him all your attention.

Would you take all of your clothes or would you rather have him undress you?

He knew you would actually rather want him to tear your clothes off of you.

He hadn’t seen much of your skin and the uniform you wore didn’t help his fantasies. Inumaki could only try to imagine what color your nipples were or how supple the flesh of your thighs was.

His cock twitched in his hand as he bit back a moan.

Too much.

Inumaki tightened his grip on the base, refusing to cum yet. He still had time. It would be meaningless if he came so early.

He pressed his face into your soft pillow, inhaling your faint scent. Ahh, that would be how you smelled if he were to inhale your hair?

His grip on your panties loosened and he focused his attention on your pillow as he turned around in your bed. With his face buried deep in your pillow, he reached for one of your plushies.

From the first year in the school until you became third years, he always wanted to be a little closer to you. Not like how you treated your lower classmen. He wanted more than that.

Instead of ruffling his hair and calling him a friend, he wanted you to pull his hair and make him the center of your world.

Panda and Maki had noticed the way he looked at you. They knew him as long as you did yet you were still clueless.

He hadn’t thought he would feel this way about any person at any point in his life but here he was, humping your plushie in your bed.

He wondered what would you do if you knew exactly what was going through his head during a day. Because all he could think about was bending you over the closest surface and making you moan out his name in a prayer.

When his cock twitched, warning him that he was close, he didn’t try to stop himself this time. He pushed his hips forward staggeringly as he came on the plushie with a groan, his breathing completely out of control.

He still had time, didn’t he?

By the time you came back from your shopping trip with Maki and Kugisaki, your room was as you left it, or at least you were too careless to notice your missing panties from the laundry and the icky acidic smell surrounding your plushies.

~~~

You were clueless.

So much so that it hurt him.

There wasn’t much time left until the third years graduated and left. Once the two of you graduated, you wouldn’t call him for obvious reasons. What did you have to talk with him about anyway?

All he could say was gibberish.

He hated it.

“You’re okay?” Panda noticed that he wasn’t eating.

“Salmon.”

“You sure?”

“Salmon.”

There was a moment of silence before Panda spoke again.

“You know, I heard (name) is going to move to Fukuoka once we graduate.”

He didn’t say anything.

“It’s far away from Tokyo, isn’t it?”

Silence.

~~~

The day of graduation came but Inumaki didn’t make a move.

You moved away and he stayed.

Maki kept talking about your new life to Inumaki while he was unable to feel happy for you.

Years passed but Inumaki couldn’t move on.

It had been a hectic day at work and he was getting ready to take a shower when he got a call from an unknown number. This was the fifth time they were calling. He wanted to ignore it because the person on the other side wouldn’t understand him if they weren’t one of his friends but whether it be curiosity or boredom, he answered.

“Ahh, you picked up!”

Inumaki’s body froze. He felt like his limbs turned into stone.

“Hellooo? It’s Toge, right?” It was your voice.

“Kelp.”

“That was for greetings… Right? I kinda forgot about your language, haha. I’m sorry for calling you this late. Are you doing fine?”

“Salmon.” His lips were trembling. You sounded excited to talk to him.

“I see! I’m doing fine too, I moved back to Tokyo! I got a super small apartment and everything, I moved all of my furniture myself, can you believe that?”

“Tuna tuna!”

“I know right!” you laughed and let out a small sigh. “Anyway, I called to ask if you would wanna meet up? I thought we could catch up and I could show you my apartment. Maki and the others said they were free this Saturday, how about you?”

“...”

“I-... Was that too many questions? I’m sorry, I’m just excited you answered the phone.”

He opened his mouth but amongst the many things he wanted to say to you, he could only speak gibberish. He closed it again.

“Are you there?”

“Salmon.”

“Do you think you’d wanna come to my place for a reunion slash housewarming party?”

“Tuna mayo.”

“Is that a yes?” You sounded hesitant.

“Salmon.”

“Great! I’ll.. I’ll text you the address, don’t bring anything, I just wanna see you and others. It’s been so long!”

“Tuna tuna.”

“Ahh, I missed you all so much. Fukuoka was no good. I feel like I belong in Tokyo with everyone.”

He agreed yet again and silence fell. It must have been tiring to hold a conversation with him. Most people gave up after their first try, it felt too much like a one-sided conversation.

“I should go,” you said, he could hear the smile in your voice. “It was really great to hear your voice again, Toge. I hope it was the same for you.”

Yes , he thought.

“Okay… I’ll see you on Saturday, I’mma text my address to you, and please save my number! We might work together in the future, who knows!!”

“Tuna tuna!”

“Goodnight.”

You hung up.

Inumaki held his phone up to his ear for a moment longer even after you ended the call. His eyes slowly landed on the tent on his pants.

You had missed him. You wanted to see him.

A second later his phone buzzed in his hand.

[New Message]

Unknown Number: [ADDRESS] i live on the fifth floor but there isn’t an elevator TwT you will have to walk up the stairs SORRY >v<

His lips curled up into a smile.

~~~

His hair took an hour to style yet it looked the same. He had even bought a new styling gel, ugh, what a waste of money.

Apart from that, Inumaki found himself in front of the apartment building, unable to push the door to get inside.

“Inumaki, great to see you again,” Fushiguro’s voice startled him.

Inumaki turned around to see the large group heading this way.

“Yeesh, did you drown yourself in body spray?” Maki covered her mouth. Kugisaki next to her laughed and continued teasing Itadori until they arrived at the building’s door.

“Inumaki?”

“Kelp!”

“Ah, it’s good to see you again. When was the last time we saw each other? A year ago?” Maki walked past him and opened the door herself. “Probably,” she answered her own question.

There was some small talk going on, everyone was talking to him but his eyes were going back and forth between the presents everyone was holding. He stared at the bouquet of roses in his own hand.

“What did you buy?” Kugisaki asked Fushiguro.

“A toaster.”

“Lame.” She turned to Itadori to ask him what he bought next.

“I bought a toaster too…”

While the two boys were arguing about how one of them had to return their gifts, Maki placed a hand on Inumaki’s shoulder. “Panda’s coming too.”

Ah, his expression must have contorted into something vile. She perhaps thought he was only worried about Panda’s whereabouts.

“Seaweed.”

“Which floor was it again?” Kugisaki asked no one specifically.

Inumaki held five fingers up.

“Let’s get going then!” Itadori smiled, “Feels like we’re wasting time here when we can catch up altogether.”

The trio started climbing up the stairs first, leaving Maki and Inumaki to walk behind them.

“They’re still the same, huh?”

“Salmon.”

“I heard (name) invited some people from Kyoto over as well but none of them could make it.”

When he raised a brow Maki explained further.

“Curse season in Kyoto, I think. Mai was complaining about having to work overtime and all.”

“How did she manage to choose the only damn building in Tokyo without an elevator!?” Kugisaki groaned.

Maki chuckled, “It’s barely in Tokyo, and honestly, do you think she could afford one with an elevator?”

The trio started laughing. Inumaki smiled too.

“Hey,” she said, turning back to face him. Her voice was quieter. “You smell nice and not like an animal. I can't believe you finally took a bath without anyone telling you. Wait or was it because you wanted to smell nice specifically for today? For her?”

When Inumaki blushed, she burst into laughter.

Itadori was about to ask what they were talking about back there but they had already arrived on the fifth floor.

There were four different doors but they could easily tell which one was yours from the bright colored poster you had taped on it.

“What does it say?” Kugisaki couldn’t read because Itadori and Fushiguro were trying to take pictures of it.

“Welcome back Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College graduates,” Fushiguro read out loud.

“Put some feeling to it!” Itadori whined. “There are like five exclamation marks on it, you have to read it-“

The door he was pointing at opened.

“I told you I heard them,” you said with a giggle. Panda was already inside laughing quietly. You greeted them all, smiling from ear to ear before moving away from the door to invite them inside.

The younger trio walked inside first, then Maki hugged you, said something Inumaki couldn’t hear.

His eyes were on you, admiring how gorgeous you were.

“Aren’t you coming in?” you said then noticed the flowers in his hand. "Aww, Toge, you shouldn't have."

He gave the flowers to you, his cheeks flushed faintly pink as he walked past you to enter your home.

Inside, Panda and the trio were arguing about how he had gotten there before them.

“It’s a secret!” Panda yelled.

“He came from the roof so he wouldn’t be seen,” Maki replied as she hung her coat.

Laughter filled the apartment.

Inumaki felt at home, it had been so long since he heard the lively chatter of his friends.

“I’m glad you could make it,” you said, fixing Itadori’s jacket he had left on the floor instead of hanging it like everyone else.

“Salmon.” His pulse went haywire.

“I don’t know if you like beer or cognac but we have both.” He stared at you a little longer than usual so you elaborated. “When I left my job in Fukuoka, some colleagues bought me a cognac bottle. It’s bitter but I didn’t wanna waste it.”

“Heeeeyy, (name)!” Panda yelled, “Tell the youngsters to drink apple juice or something! They’re drinking from our stuff!”

“I have more beer in the fridge!” You turned around on your heels and walked into the kitchen to put the flowers in a vase, speaking louder so they could hear you through the thin wall. “Besides, aren’t they old enough to drink?!”

You peeked inside the living room to see what was happening.

Both Itadori and Kugisaki clinked their cans of beer, ignoring you while Fushiguro nodded in your direction to confirm.

“Then I don’t see the problem.” You took your place next to Maki.

Inumaki meekly walked inside, sitting between you and Panda.

“It’s nice having everyone together again.” Itadori smiled

“It really is,” you agreed. The beer tasted the best when you were with friends.

“Salmon.”

“You are so heartless, (name). You left us to move to Fukuoka.” Panda pouted as he leaned onto your shoulder, crushing Inumaki who was in the way.

“They offered me better pay.” You patted on his head, carding your fingers through his thick fur.

He leaned into your touch, humming softly. “Since you’re back here, money clearly doesn’t buy happiness.” he snickered.

“Money can buy happiness,” Kugisaki argued. “You can always buy the new fashion trends and new makeup. Don’t ever say that!”

Panda lifted his head to argue with Kugisaki while you used the opportunity to give out beer to anyone who hadn’t gotten one and you gave one to Inumaki, his fingers brushed against yours as he took it from you.

Maki gave an exaggerated sigh, “We came here to celebrate (name)’s return and her new place.” Everyone stared at her and she continued. “Let’s make sure to make her new house feel like a home.”

You listened to your friends’ cheers as they all cracked open their cans of beer, taking sips, chatting, and singing along to the faint music from the television program Panda turned on.

It would be genuinely hard to bring the gang together like this but one call from you had been enough since you were everyone’s soft spot in the group.

Years had passed.

You tried to not get lost in your thoughts and answered Maki who asked you what you were doing now that you moved here.

“Well, I couldn’t go back to working with Nanami since he finds me annoying.” You tried to humor it. “I live in a one-room apartment in the outskirts of Tokyo as you can see and work as a temporary sorcerer under someone Gojo introduced me to.”

Maki laughed, “What did you expect? Everything would be unchanged and that you’d get a job immediately?”

“I think she’s complaining about working for someone Gojo introduced her to.” Fushiguro theorized while holding his chin.

“No, she’s bummed out about living in a one-room apartment.” Itadori joined the nonsense.

“I’m just sad that I had to leave Fukuoka to live in a one-room apartment in Tokyo and work for Gojo’s friend!” you whined.

“Just like we guessed,” Maki said.

With another sigh, you rolled your eyes.

“You got yourself a boyfriend yet?” Kugisaki’s question made everyone look at you.

“I didn’t have time to find one,” you spoke behind your beer can.

“Talking about boyfriend…” Panda hummed, “Inumaki had a huuuge crush on you back when we were still students.”

“I completely forgot about that,” Maki feigned being clueless and punctuated her words by smacking a balled fist down onto her other hand. "I remember it now! How nostalgic! Inumaki always stared at you and all."

“Oh, really?” Your face softened as a faint color of pink tinted your cheeks, eyes landing on the young man who was blushing all the same. “You liked me?”

Inumaki kept nodding as if to agree with what they were saying.

“I never noticed,” Fushiguro said.

“Me neither, Inumaki is really good at hiding his feelings because he doesn’t talk much.”

“Well, that was in the past,” Kugisaki replied. “Some high school crush doesn’t last forever.”

Before anyone else could comment on the topic, Panda changed the subject, finally getting his claws on the cognac bottle to drink the last bit.

That still didn’t stop the two of you from blushing.

As the night dragged on, the chatting continued but as the time was getting late, people had to get going.

Itadori and Fushiguro left first when Sukuna’s vessel revealed to be the type who couldn’t hold his drink.

Maki and Kugisaki left together, Panda had told you that they lived together. You didn’t ask too many questions but you could tell why.

Panda took his leave right after the two girls left. He congratulated you once more before saying goodbye and leaving from where he came.

“I guess it’s only the two of us left,” you said, standing beside Inumaki after you put the presents on the kitchen counter for further inspection.

“Tuna mayo.”

“You can sit on the couch, I’ll go get some more snacks,” you informed, leaning forward starting to collect the empty beer cans but Inumaki got up to help you clean the table before finally, he slumped on the empty couch while you prepared something in the kitchen.

You entered the living room and walked around the couch to put a tray full of snacks and drinks on the low table. It was obvious he didn’t want to leave yet and you didn’t have the heart to bring up the fact that you had to get up early.

“You look different,” you said as you sat next to him, leaving a small space between. “I mean, obviously you would but unlike the others, you look more mature.”

He stared, waiting for you to continue.

“Nevermind.” Panicked, you instead reached for your beer.

Inumaki grabbed his remaining beer and chugged it until the can was empty.

Then you followed his lead to finish your own beer, once your own can was also empty, you both put the cans on the table. You felt slightly dizzy from the alcohol, you regretted drinking it too fast. You were quite lightweight after all.

You looked up at him with your cheeks tinted with a faint red from alcohol and stretched your arms. “So… you used to like me,” you said.

He clasped his chin between index finger and thumb and pretended to give the matter some serious thought. “Salmon.”

You laughed, something he hadn’t thought you would do. He hadn’t realized it until now but the two of you always had found it easy to have fun together. You were patient and you always listened to him. Always.

“I used to have a crush on you too but I didn’t think you liked me.”

Your words petrified him. The way you looked at him was indescribable, he had never thought he would see this expression on you.

You continued after a momentary silence, cheeks blushing furiously. “I mean… I don’t know, forget about it. It’s in the past. It was in the past. You liked me in the past. As Kugisaki said, a crush from high school doesn’t last forever.”

Inumaki opened his mouth to say something but he closed it when he noticed your stare at him.

“You…” you continued as Inumaki looked at you and spoke without thinking. “You still like me.”

It wasn’t a question, it was a fact.

He felt a little embarrassed, he was way too nervous. You were both drunk and it was just an observation. Nonetheless, he went warm all over, eyes wide in surprise. His heart was hammering through his chest. He was sure he was going to die of a heart attack.

There was a small moment of silence before he placed his hand on top of yours. He couldn’t hide his excitement, he was here, alone with the woman he loved. He had the biggest smile on his face and he was as red as a tomato. Ah, his friends would make fun of him if they hadn’t left so early.

He was being too obvious about liking you.

“You’re too close,” you remarked with a giggle, trying to cover your embarrassment.

Everything was happening too quickly for his head to catch up. He was already embarrassed about the whole of his feelings being exposed and now when you were looking like this in front of him was off-limits.

He couldn’t hold back anymore. He finally had you back, he was too scared to let you go.

“Kiss me,” he said, startling you.

A sudden rush of shivers running down your spine left you panting and you moved forward without even wanting to. Your body was moving on its own, your lips parted and pressed against Inumaki’s.

Your pulse quickened in both panic and confusion as his lips moved against yours, hesitant yet still hungry to taste you greedily. He pushed his tongue inside, savoring your taste as your entire mouth moved without your will.

His hand moved on your neck petting the hair strands falling down to your nape. Something closer to a laugh escaped him, it was the first genuine laugh you had heard coming from him.

He pulled himself back and you finally gained back control on your own body but something still felt foreign. Your head was dizzy. “Toge,” you managed, “I think you had too much to drink.”

“Fish flakes,” he responded.

Taken aback by his remark, you were quiet for a moment before making a move to get up from the couch. “You should leave.”

All of his remaining logical thoughts jumped out of the window as he sucked the air through his teeth, making a loud whistle sound. “Don’t move.”

Your body froze on the couch in the position you were. Your face flushed red as he carefully placed a hand on your hip and he started to lean closer to your face.

You watched him tilt his head. Slowly but at the same time desperately, he moved his hand. His hand slipped under your shirt, just enough so that his fingertips brushed the skin above your abdomen, and he whispered. “(name).”

Hearing your name come out from his lips made you feel euphoric. This was the first time he called you by your name and you wanted to hear it more.

Inumaki moved closer to you with a lustful haze in his eyes. He was already breathless for finally having you this close to him.

You felt the same way, being under him made you feel like you belonged there. It all felt wrong, this wasn’t a normal day where you were feeling aroused. You were with Inumaki and he was groping your tits. You kept trying to think rationally but your mind kept telling you that this was all you needed.

Inumaki was everything you needed right now.

Inumaki stared down at you, studying every detail of your face while he balanced himself on his balled-up fist. Your eyes and your skin, your hair around your head in a halo.

His chest heaved as he struggled to handle the new sensations you were giving his body.

You stole a quick glance in his direction and squeaked in surprise when his smoldering eyes stared back. Frozen in his place, he did nothing but look down at you under him. He sighed, he was already a little tired from everything he had done today. He was also very drunk but here you both were.

Inumaki leaned in for another kiss, his hand still cupping your tit. This time, you kissed him back, realizing that you could move again. Instead of using it to your advantage to push him away, you pulled him closer.

His weight started to settle on top of you and only then you noticed something poking your groin. You broke the kiss and looked between your bodies to see him supporting an erection beneath the fabric of his pants.

Your mouth opened and you gasped.

Inumaki took the opportunity to snake his tongue down your throat once again. You started to acknowledge what he was doing. He was rocking his erection against your groin as he kissed you. Your eyes widened. You could feel everything .

Somehow that made you moan into the kiss. His cock was achingly, impossibly hard. You moved your hips to his clothed erection begging to be released.

Although none of you said anything, both of you were thinking the same thing.

I want you.

It took less than a second for him to take off his shirt and start to fiddle with his belt.

You unbuttoned your shirt before hiking your skirt up as he was hurriedly pulling his pants down. As soon as he managed to kick them off, he pulled your panties down with force.

The way he was acting so desperate to get inside you made your breath hitch.

Wrapping a hand around his cock, he looked down at you to embed this sight of you into his mind. Another thing he had never thought he would see.

He couldn’t wait any longer.

Inumaki lined himself on your entrance and snapped his hips forward. Both of you groaned for different reasons.

“Toge,” you whispered, hands reaching out to hold onto his shoulders. “Be gentle.”

He wasn’t listening. You only realized that he wasn’t listening when he pulled himself back and thrust inside your pussy mercilessly.

A moan left your lips.

His virgin cock was being squeezed by your gummy walls, there was slick blood dripping from your pussy to the couch which told him how you had been waiting for him just as he was waiting for you.

Good , he thought. I would’ve killed them if someone other than me took your innocence.

At this moment, Inumaki was happy to know that he was the only person who had been allowed to see you like this. An animalistic snarl rose up from the pit of his stomach and he started fucking you frantically into the couch.

The pain of your hymen being torn completely forgotten, you exhaled roughly, it was too much, his rough rhythm and his cock stretching you out... it made your body undeniably aroused.

You wanted more but his cock was already twitching, threatening to spill his load inside of you. He cursed internally, it was too soon. He wanted more, he wanted to treasure this moment more.

His hips slammed against yours with force, each thrust filled with desperation to hold out a little longer so he could feel your heat surrounding him.

Nevertheless, it was futile. He could never stop himself from cumming when he had been yearning to do this for so long.

Inumaki grabbed the back of your knees and pushed them down until he got you into a position where he could fuck you deeper. He still wasn’t done indulging in your pussy, not yet.

Each and every time he thrust up into you, you moaned out his name just the way he had thought you would in his fantasies.

His pace picked up speed, he was close. He wanted to tell you who you actually belonged to by being deep inside of your guts. He grabbed your hands that were trying to push him on his chest and placed them on his shoulders instead. He leaned in closer to you, giving you the chance to wrap your legs around his hips.

Now, you were shaking your hips, moving to meet his thrusts. Gradually his cock started painfully throbbing inside you when you clenched around him. You were unable to hold onto anything but him, you were moving with him on the couch with each thrust.

“Cum on my cock,” he growled, not realizing the actual power behind his words.

You could feel the toe-curling pressure of orgasm almost immediately. A gurgle forced its way up to your throat and your body started shaking again, submerged in waves of hot tremors as white pleasure building in your gut suddenly took over your senses.

Your mouth opened in a silent cry while your legs shook uncontrollably around Inumaki’s waist. Disgustingly sloppy sounds as he thrust inside of you were all you could hear. Your ears were burning while you tried desperately to hold onto something to not completely lose yourself.

Gummy walls clenching around his cock were now threatening to suck him dry. Inumaki could no longer resist your pussy, he snapped his hips forward until they were flush against yours one last time. The tip of his cock kissed your cervix thanks to his cock being buried deep inside you in this position.

Thick seed spurted out from his cock and spilled inside your fertile womb, the warmth was irresistible, you could only think about being filled with his seed.

Inumaki brushed your matted hair out of your face and leaned in for a kiss, still rocking his hips back and forth inside you. You sloppily kissed him back until he broke the kiss to admire the look on your face. You found yourself staring at the heavy droplets of sweat that had made his bangs stick clumpy on his forehead.

When he finally pulled out of you, no matter how small your couch was, Inumaki managed to cuddle with you.

As the two of you were catching your breaths you completely forgot about having to get up early tomorrow or how you were still half-dressed or how uncomfortable the couch actually was. All of those thoughts were pushed back to the furthest parts of your mind while you buried your face in Inumaki's chest, steadily noting to talk about safe words with him in the future.

#inumaki x reader #inumaki x you

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millllenniawrites · 3 years

Text

warmth (Poe Dameron x Reader)

words: 5.6k yes it is the longest thing on this blog shush

summary: The Resistance’s victory celebration quickly turns sour when their trusted Commander, Poe Dameron, recognizes a toxin in the air. This favourite doctor is the only one he trusts with the information he has. You’re the only one you trust to look after him.

warnings: smut (this is 18+ people); afab!reader; porn with plot; sex pollen so that automatically makes it dubcon; doctor!reader; swearing, drugs, dirty talk, Poe Dameron is so whiny when he’s horny holy fuck; bondage; oral (f receiving); unprotected sex (wrap it up folks); pet names (good girl, honey, sweetheart, baby); this relies on Poe’s spice runner past (the one I use in Helix, not the gross canon one) but it’s not directly dealt with and it’s super vague

a/n: I was trying to find a place to feature Kade Sol who is my baby sunshine light of my life from the Helix series and I snuck him in here! also this was a worldbuilding writing exercise that somehow turned into the filthiest smut I’ve ever written so there’s that

As the last First Order ship disappeared from the sky, a victory cry sounded through the Resistance fighters. Poe Dameron landed on the tarmac of Cida’s Travel Station, popping the hood of his X-Wing. He grinned, watching the rest of Black and Blue squadron land around him, all hopping out of their ships and rejoicing on the deck.

They didn’t lose anyone in the air today. That alone was cause for celebration.

It had been three weeks of trying to break the First Order’s blockade on the Cida system. King Caran had graciously accepted the help of the Resistance, backed by the New Republic’s ships, and allowed them to set up a temporary base on Cida Prime. In exchange for liberating their system, His Majesty had granted the Resistance usage of their hyperspace lanes, which would cut the transport time from the Hosnian system to D’Qar in half. An easy trade, if anyone had bothered to ask Poe.

Which no one did, these days. But he was doing his best.

Kade, his captain, shook him from his thoughts as he called from the ground, “The King is asking for you, Dameron.”

He dropped out of his ship, quickly hugging Kade, grateful as always to have his best friend by his side, before jogging into the command centre of the makeshift air base, where King Caran and Admiral Ackbar were waiting.

“Commander Dameron,” the King’s booming voice sounded through the small room as Poe entered.

Poe bowed low, nearly folding himself completely in half. “Your Majesty.”

A pair of Cidan guards’ in navy uniforms flanked him as he trailed behind the King and Ackbar. Poe found himself tuning out the negotiations, agreeing with Ackbar on instinct as the two men spoke. They took more twists and turns than Poe could count. He began marking various basins, leaking different coloured smoke as landmarks, in case he needed to find his way out.

Not that he thought the King wasn’t deserving of their trust. This was a war. He just wasn’t going to risk it.

As they entered what appeared to be the King’s office, Poe felt almost out of place. Like he was floating, a gentle burning feeling in his gut the only thing grounding him.

In a turn of events Poe was not expecting, he found himself missing you.

He loved Kade. Of course, he loved Kade. His second. His partner in crime. But the flight home was sure to be a boring one without you.

It wasn’t tradition, necessarily. But each time the two of you had taken a mission together, it had been a resounding success. And on your way home, he’d celebrated between your legs.

And you’d taken care of him after, like the good girl he knew you were.

The burning moved lower, a sweet smell settling in his nose. One Poe recognized, from a time before the New Republic Navy.

Fuck.

Voice panicked, “King Caran,” Poe stood, realizing he had interrupted the King. Breathing heavily, he scanned the room, eyes locking on a small stone in the corner. It sat on a warming plate, small tendrils of yellow smoke disappearing into the air.

Caran laughed, following Poe’s gaze. “You know your therapies, my boy.” The man seemed… pleased. Proud. “A gift, from us to you.”

“With all due respect, your Majesty,” Poe coughed, a phantom of the sensation he had only felt once before aching deep in his lungs. “Most organisms outside of the Cidan’s can’t handle Stiima the way your graciousness can.”

“My apologies, my friend. We thought that it would help to calm things. For negotiations, of course.” Caran met Ackbar’s eyes, anxiety evident. “Please understand it is simply the way we celebrate such a great success as we have seen today.”

“I understand, your Majesty.” Ackbar side-eyed Poe, concern evident. “Are you alright, Commander?”

The ringing in Poe’s ears drowned out the last of their conversation. The next thing he knew, he was back on the tarmac, shouting, “Kade. Get everyone in the air. Now.”

He beelined for his shuttle, locking himself in the cockpit. Hand clenching as he felt himself relax into the passenger seat, the pain of his nails digging into his palm grounding him.

“Poe, you good?” Kade banged on the door.

He didn’t answer, focusing on the

Kade finally got the door open. “Poe, what the fuck?”

“Fly.” Poe said through gritted teeth. “I need you to fly.”

So Kade did.

They didn’t dock to the main carrier, flying above it. They would wait until it jumped to hyperspace before they followed.

Poe watched as fighter after fighter flew into the large ship. Ears filled with cotton, he barely heard Ackbar’s order over the comms for anyone in a shuttle to stay away from the ship.

Code Orange.

Quarantine protocol.

Poe couldn’t stop his mind from going back to you. The last time you were on mission together. The way your mouth felt.

Your eyes.

The innocent way you would smile, naked and spread out under him…

“Poe?” Kade asked, sitting forward in his seat. “Are you alright?”

Poe hit a comm button on his dash, connecting him directly to command.

“Commander Dameron, are you alright?” A young man’s voice came through his headset.

“I need you to connect me to med.”

“Is someone—”

“Connect me to med, officer. I need to speak with the doctor.”

You opened the hull door of Poe Dameron’s shuttle, a small case of bacta and other various medications tucked under your arm. Coughing into your mask as you entered the dark ship, you quickly located the panel to seal the door behind you, saluting the mech on the ground that would lock you in after the door eased shut.

The convoy had landed hours ago. The medic team had been slowly working through shuttles, administering antidotes to those that could take them.

It wasn’t poison. You’d ruled that out early. But the obvious effects of dehydration were evident. Poe seemed to know what it was, from the way he sounded in the recording Ackbar had passed off to med, but no one else was familiar with the symptoms everyone seemed to be presenting.

Looking around, you stayed still for a moment, letting your eyes adjust to the dark. You had been in his shuttle before; you knew you were in the cargo bay, and if you followed the wall to your right, you would find the ladder that would lead you to the cockpit. Your mission. The plan. Assessing Poe and Captain Kade Sol’s symptoms.

But if you went to the left and pushed the thin black curtain aside, you would find the small closet that served as his bed on long missions.

Your bed, when you joined him.

It was hard not to smile, remembering the long nights in hyperspace with the famous Commander. The way his curls tangled around your fingers. How his stubble felt against the inside of your thighs…

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you shook your head with a small embarrassed laugh and began to work your way to the ladder.

Even with the grey cloth pulled tight across your mouth and nose, you could still smell the musk of the air, heavy in your lungs. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it had a true weight to it, like slightly overripe fruit or warm spices, much worse than the three shuttles you had cleared before this. The rungs of the ladder were warm like the air, slick with moisture, a telltale sign that Poe and Kade had done as asked. There had been no air circulating in the ship since they landed. If any of the airborne toxins had gotten into the ship, it wouldn’t have had the chance to escape outside.

You smiled as your hands brushed their oxygen canisters, hearing the slow leak of fluid. Always thorough, Dameron…

Your hands grazed the small railing that guarded the catwalk to the cockpit as you made your way down to the sealed door.

“Commander Dameron? Captain Sol?” you called, hoping they could hear you through the dense metal. “It’s Doctor--”

The hiss of the door caused you to jump and you stepped back, taking in the form of the Captain. The large man nearly filled the doorway, dark clothes making it difficult to see him in the blackness of the ship. “I know who you are. Command came through a little while ago.” His voice as gruff as always, but he said it with a smile. “I’ve had no symptoms, but I figure you still need to check me out?”

“Yes, Captain.” You nod, “If you wouldn’t mind going back into the cockpit for me…”

He grumbled something you couldn’t make out but did what you asked, sitting in the only passenger seat in the small room, empty save for them.

“Where’s Commander Dameron?” you asked as you knelt in beside Kade, fingers on his wrist.

You ran through the basics of your training as he talked.

“Poe didn’t get so lucky. Got hit worse than most people, from what we’ve heard. He was in the King’s office. Said something about a… diffuser?” When you nodded, he seemed to relax. “That’s why he made the call. Asked me to lock him up until a medic got here. He was specifically asking for you, so I guess we got lucky.”

You were grateful for the dark, hiding the way you flushed. “Guess so.” Unable to hide the warmth in your voice, you gave Kade a small smile. “There isn’t a brig on this ship. Where—"

“His quarters. Stun cuffs magnetized to the wall.” He seemed almost embarrassed, ducking his head. “I’m not sure what’s wrong with him, exactly. Just that he hasn’t really stopped making noise since about twenty minutes after we landed.”

You hesitated. Generally careful about the information you give out to patients, you weren’t sure it would be appropriate to explain, but Kade and Poe were a package deal. Rarely did you see one without the other. They’d been joined at the hip since long before they had defected to the Resistance together.

“It’s a potent aphrodisiac.” You murmured, standing behind him and tilting his head to check for discolouration on his neck, “Most people got hit with… well, let’s call it Level 1 symptoms. Loose tongue. Unable to really control what they’re saying, or at least not thinking it through. Level 2 are action: making choices you wouldn’t ordinarily make. The… aphrodisiac part. If you get to level two, we’ve found they wear off in about three hours. No antidote needed. Just fluids and rest, after it all. But you’ve been in here almost a whole day…” and Poe’s condition hadn’t improved.

“Which means what? He’s at level 3?”

There wasn’t a level 3.

Coming around in front of Kade, you nodded slowly. “Was he complaining of… pain?” you flinched as you said the word, knowing the man had no idea what you were truly asking.

“Right before he asked me to gag him. He had moments he was lucid… basically told me to leave him locked up, no matter what he said.”

There was only one other person that had said the drug hurt, and she had been fine for a few hours now.

Kade chewed idly on his bottom lip, seemingly lost in thought. “Not easy being locked in while your best friend is raving like a madman.”

“The gag was a good call. He’ll thank you once he’s back to himself.” You tried for another smile. “You seem okay. Vitals are normal. Rosa is just outside. I’ll let her know that she can open the door. She’ll give you a mask and escort you to showers, and then back to your quarters. They’ll send a medical droid to check you out fully before you’re allowed to intermix with the base. Just in case.”

“Thank you, doc.” Kade stood, heading out the door to the rest of the shuttle. “Poe is—”

“I know.” You nodded, not really thinking through your words. “Closet. Curtain.”

Kade paused, turning to look at you for a moment. His eyebrow twitched, just slightly, before he dropped down the ladder. You appreciated that he hadn’t said anything, having a sneaking suspicion that he didn’t know you only off your medical reputation.

Your excursions with Poe were a relative secret, not wanting command to restrict you going on missions together because of your… you weren’t really sure what to call it. Enough people had stories about him that you knew you weren’t exclusive, but being with him was different. It had always been different.

Though you supposed all the people he took to bed could say the same thing.

You pushed the heavy curtain aside.

He was laid back on his cot, only one of his boots on. Poe struggled against his cuffs, attached to the wall above his head, and whined through the gag in his mouth. The bed squeaked and shook. It was a significantly less pleasant sound when you were standing there, not on top of him…

You shook your head quickly, a reminder that you were working, before you knelt on the ground next to Poe’s head. His eyes widened as he focused on you. Reaching for the fabric cutting into his cheeks, your fingertips grazed his jaw. “I’m gonna remove this, okay?” you murmured before eased the gag out of his mouth, letting the loop of dark cloth hanging around his neck.

“Sweetheart…” he whined the moment his mouth was free to move, his voice cracking around the dryness of his throat. You set your med case on the floor and opened it quickly, digging through bandages and bacta patches before finding what you needed. You lifted a small canteen to his lips, letting the water trickle into his mouth. He coughed, spluttering a little before he was tilting his head away, gasping, “Please, sweetheart. I need…”

You shushed him gently, swiping a cloth over his lips. Trying to distract him, you softened your voice, “You got everyone out before it could get bad, Poe. Everyone else is safe.”

He turned his head to look up at the ceiling, seeming to relax a little. Your eyes found his throat. Watching him breathe, swallow, reminded you of the way his skin tasted…

Fuck.

You coughed again into your mask, murmuring, “I’ll be right back.” and ignoring the way Poe whined as you let the curtain fall behind you.

Once you were a few steps away from him, you could breathe a little easier. The air was hot, fucking scalding through your mask, and you tilted your head back a bit to force yourself to breathe deeply. Slowly. Calmingly.

You reached up, touching the pad of the in-ear to firmly press it into your head, “Rosa? You copy?”

The woman’s high voice came through, louder than before. Her voice seemed to be directed straight into your skull. “Everything alright in there, doc?”

“Everything’s fine. Commander Dameron has symptoms we haven’t seen before and I think I’m contaminated. It’s not bad. I can work through it. But I’m going to take my comm out just in case.” You really didn’t need command hearing your unfiltered thoughts.

She grumbled, “Maker. You sure you’re alright?” You swore you could almost see the way her eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah, Rosa. I’m good. Level 1 or less. Just make sure those doors stay locked until we come off it. Don’t open them for anyone. Even the General.”

She turned on the link long enough that you heard her laugh before she said, “Sounds good. If we need you, we’ll come through the cockpit.” A brief pause, “Stay safe, doc.”

“You too, Rosa.”

Pulling the plastic out of your ear, you double checked that you had it turned it off before returning to Poe’s side.

He relaxed the moment you were back in view, hips stilling on the bed. You tried not to stare at the obvious tent in his pants.

His eyes seemed to focus better than before, saying quietly, “I heard you. Talking to Rosa. You shouldn’t have touched me.”

He was right. It was probably your proximity to him that did it. But you had to do your job. That was your only priority, of course. Of course…

“Like I’ve ever been good at keeping my hands to myself with you around.” You froze as the words slipped past your lips, unable to stop them.

He didn’t seem bothered by the sudden accidental honesty, but his eyes glazed over again, trailing over you. “I miss your hands…” he groaned, biting his lip and sending a wave of heat through you.

“Careful, or I’m gonna put that gag back in.” Voice sounding forced even to your own ears, you sat down on the floor, your back resting against the bed.

He mumbled something you couldn’t quite understand, until he repeated himself. “Take yours off. The… the mask. If you’ve got it…”

He was right. If you’d already been exposed, there wasn’t any point in keeping it on. It was hot. There was no one in there but you. You weren’t hurting anyone. You could take the mask off. It would be fine. You—

“Sweetheart…” Poe groaned, rattling the cuffs.

You ripped the mask off your face, tossing it near your medical kit.

“G-good. Can you… can you please take my arms down, honey?” he tugged at the cuffs again. If you had turned to look at him, you would have seen the desperation you knew was painted across his features. “It hurts.”

His whine sent a pang of guilt through you. “Why did you know what the drug was?” you asked, hoping it would distract him.

“It’s used in party drugs. The way it burns… it’s not like anything else I’ve ever—” He shifted, trying to get more comfortable, despite the way his pants were twisted around his legs from hours of struggling. The fabric stuck against him and pulled, and he moaned, guttural and sweet and chipping away at the wall of self-control you had haphazardly built against him.

“Poe,” Meant to be chastising, the word landed somewhere in the realm of yearning and breathless.

“Anything, sweetheart. Please.” Rolling his head back and forth on the bedroll under his head, he sounded close to tears as he whined, “I think my dick is going to fall off if you don’t touch it.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, helping to break the cloud of arousal circling your head. “I don’t think that’s a medically sound diagnosis, Commander.”

“Say that again…” he breathed.

“Medically—”

“No.”

Your sharp intake of breath was the only sound in the shuttle.

“Commander?”

He tilted his head back, groaning, “You say my title and I can’t stop thinking about being inside you.”

“It’s just the drugs.”

“You know it’s not just the drugs.” You could have sworn it was a growl with the way the low sound of his voice tore through you. “I need you to touch me, honey.”

“Will you stop talking if I do?”

“Come lay with me and give me one hand back. Then I’ll stop talking.”

Negotiating meant he was lucid, if only partially.

“I thought you said it makes it worse if I touch you.” You squeezed your eyes shut, like that could block out the image that his soft gasps conjured in your mind.

“It’ll get worse before it gets better.”

“Always got a fucking answer for everything…” You grumbled, but it worked. Carefully, you eased yourself up off the floor and onto his small cot and leaned over him. One ring of the cuffs released with the click of a few buttons.

After freeing the gag from around his neck and tossing it to the floor, Poe’s free hand immediately reached for you, gripping your thigh. Even though the thick fabric of your pants, you could feel how warm he was. “Sweetheart…”

“You said you’d stop talking.”

“Lay down. Lay down and I’ll stop talking.”

You had agreed to it. And when his fingers dug into your thigh and the wave of relief washed over you at his touch, you weren’t about to argue.

So you laid down, back to him, letting his free hand roam up and down your side. Under your shirt. Down under the top of your pants that he didn’t bother to undo. There wasn’t any focus to his movements. Where he touched you, you relaxed, and as his touch moved on, your skin burned.

You didn’t notice the high-pitched whine leaving your parted lips until Poe’s hand came to rest on your throat.

“Does it hurt?” He traced from your jaw to your collarbone, over and over, putting just enough pressure on your neck that you were gasping.

“N-no… Are you…? Does it hurt for you?”

“This is better. You being close makes it better.”

“It’s just warm.” That was the only way to describe it. It was like he had set you on fire. Everywhere he had touched ached.

He groaned, breath hot against your ear as he rutted his hips against you. “Let me help, sweetheart…” No amount of squirming was going to make the heat go away and you couldn’t figure out how he could be so slow about all of this. “I can make you feel good. I can make it go away. Please…” His fingers trailed across the exposed skin of your stomach, soothing the burning feeling that wracked your body.

You gripped his wrist, bringing his hand up under the hem of your shirt, needing his cooling touch. Arching your back, your ass grazed him and you groaned together.

“Please sweetheart.” he begged, voice low and sending vibrations through your back where he pressed against you. “Let my other hand down. I promise I’ll make it worth it.” He rattled the cuff still glued to the wall for good measure.

He didn’t have to ask you twice. Rolling over, you shoved him onto his back and swung a leg over his hips. Grinding down as you reached over him, you released his hands, leaving the cuffs on the wall, up and out of the way. He was quick to flip you onto your back, hand cradling the back of your head as his lips met your neck.

“Pretty girl…” Poe murmured as his hand tangled in your hair, wrenching your head back to expose your neck. “Such a pretty girl for me… so fucking sweet…”

“Poe… Poe, please.” The whine left you before you could fully decide what you were begging for. Just more. More of him. His hands on your body. His lips on your skin.

The heaviness of the air weighed you to the cot, your knees down to the thin mattress as he slotted himself between your legs – still fully clothed – and you fell apart in his arms. Gasping into his mouth, body convulsing, you could barely move with the way he was positioned above you. You couldn’t open your eyes. You could barely breathe with the way every small movement sent searing heat straight to your core.

“Fuck.” His dark eyes focused on your heaving chest. “Do that again.”

He fought with the ties on your pants, tearing the sides as he forced them down your legs, taking your underwear with them.

It was all you could do to keep from screaming as he sunk two fingers into you.

Each movement of his fingers battled the heat coursing through you and let you come back to yourself, if only for a moment. His other hand splayed out on your stomach to keep you still. He pushed your shirt up and you ripped it over your head.

Your head spun as you realized he was still completely clothed.

Leaning down, he sunk his teeth into the inside of your thigh. Where you expected pain, pleasure ran down your legs. Following his trail of bite marks with soft kisses, up closer to where you needed him, he blew softly on your folds and you cried out, bucking off the cot.

You could hear the squeaking of the bed as you squirmed. Each laboured breath Poe took as he nestled himself between your trembling legs. The rasp in his voice as he murmured, “...wettest fucking cunt I’ve ever seen...” before he lowered his face to meet the apex of your thighs.

His mouth on you didn’t offer the relief you were so desperately searching for. It somehow made it worse, every swipe of his tongue followed by a trail of fire.

You pushed at his head but he barely responded. “Poe… Poe please… I need your cock…”

He hummed lightly against you, his tongue working you slowly, like you weren’t threatening to burn up underneath him.

Finally, you grabbed onto a handful of his curls and pulled.

He only looked up in mild annoyance. Gripping your wrist tight, he forced your hand to the cot. “I’ve got you. I’ll take care of you.” Though the words were soft, his tone was gruff.

Poe slowed his soft circles on your clit and you whined again, pushing up into his mouth. “Stay still.” He mumbled against you.

Each of his motions were so methodical, you could have sworn you were the only one dealing with symptoms. Until he glanced up at you with his almost-black eyes.

You stopped breathing.

You weren’t afraid. You could never be afraid of Poe. But you’d never seen him so unhinged. Like he was going to jump, and you were coming with him.

He snatched up both your wrists, leaning over you. Tipping your head back, you tried to kiss him but he moved further, up above your head.

In one quick motion, he locked both your hands in the cuffs on the wall.

“I need it. Please. I need--” He didn’t finish the sentence, hooking his hands under your knees and spreading you out for him. His tongue found your clit again and you couldn’t hear your own scream over the rush of blood in your head.

He’d always been accommodating. He took constructive criticism well and was determined to get you off, no matter what he had to relearn, when the two of you had fucked before.

Now, he took each of those little pieces and, like he’d been given the code to your body, he took you apart.

Every stroke of his tongue would have seemed planned if not for the way he moaned into your skin, the way he grinded his hips into the cot beneath him. You gave up fighting against the cuffs, instead focusing on rolling your hips against his face.

He held still, letting you move the way you wanted. Letting you use his tongue. Guiding your hips. It wasn’t until he set you down and you opened your eyes that you realized that he was dripping with you.

His chin glistened as he sat up and yanked his shirt over his head. His eyes didn't leave yours as he undid his pants, shucking them off and tossing them somewhere with his shirt. You didn't care. You didn’t care where his clothes were or where yours had disappeared to.

“My-- the cuffs. Poe, I need to touch you…”

Your hands were in his hair the moment he released you, pulling his mouth to yours. He tasted of you, and the heaviness in the air, and the familiarity of him that you’d grown so intoxicated by.

Ordinarily, he’d tease you. Just like this, your legs spread for him. He’d drag the head of his cock over you until you stopped threatening him, until you melted and became putty in his hands and your begging became wordless.

But he didn’t have the patience. You could see it in his face. He angled his hips, sliding into you slowly.

With this, there was relief. But it came as quick as it went and you were again whining under him, your cunt clenched tight around him.

He pushed deeper, his face tucked into your neck. “Relax, baby. Relax. You’re so-- so fucking…”

You didn’t know how he was going so slow. You didn’t know how he managed to stop, only halfway inside you.

All you knew was that you needed him.

You pulled his hips into yours. After two orgasms, there was no resistance. He bottomed out, gasping into your mouth. “Pretty girl…”

“Fu… Fuck me. Poe please please fuck me--” You pulled at his shoulders, his hair, grinding up into him as much as you could with him fully on top of you. “It hurts. Please…”

Whatever well of self control he’d been drawing from seemed to have dried up. Snapping his hips into yours, he kissed you.

His tongue dominated your mouth, not giving you space to breathe. Or think. Or do anything other than take what he was giving you. Your nails dug into his upper arms, leaving little crescent moons behind. His soft gasps of encouragement had you writhing beneath him.

“Perfect little… You take me so well, honey. Like you were fucking made for me…”

His words alone threatened to take you over the edge.

The burning came to a throbbing head in your core and you arched up into him, trying to pull him closer. Deeper. Anything to quell the fire inside you.

“Poe… Commander… P-please let me cum…” You weren’t in control of your words anymore. You weren’t in control of anything. “I need you.”

You wrapped your legs more tightly around him and his hips stuttered but he wasn’t stopping. Not for fucking anything.

“Let me feel you, pretty girl.” He growled against your neck.

And you unraveled.

The relief washed over you in waves as you lay beneath him. Between each peak, you could hear your own panting, feel the way your body fluttered around him.

You floated in the bliss.

Vaguely, you felt yourself roll over. Something cold dug into your side, but you couldn’t figure out how to move. Or figure out how to want to.

Your chest was still heaving as he traced along your ribs. A warm body came flush with your back. Fire trailed his dancing fingers.

“Sweetheart…” A soft moan at your ear. Breath, warm on your neck, sending a ripple through you. He pressed his hips forward, his hard cock sliding against your ass. “I need more. Please?”

You shifted your aching hips back towards him. “Please.”

You weren’t sure how long passed before you returned to normal – sated and thoroughly exhausted, but normal. Your skin no longer burned at the gentlest of touches. You could stand to look at him, to draw over the planes of his chest as he laid beside you without feeling the unyielding need for his cock inside you.

Your fingertips traced gently over the straining cords of muscle in his neck and he shuddered.

“You bit me.” He finally whispered.

You dissolved into a fit of giggles, curled up against his side. His arm wrapped around you, pulling you onto his chest.

“I’m sorry.” You laughed against his neck, kissing over the hickies you’d left behind.

“Don’t be. It was hot.”

“Where’d I bite you?” You propped yourself up on an elbow, looking down at him.

He tapped his upper arm, right underneath a series of bite marks. Ducking your head, you kissed over them, murmuring soft ‘I’m sorry’s between pecks.

“It’s okay. Really.” He tapped under your chin and you met his gaze. “Was that okay? We’ve never used cuffs or anything before and I’m really sorry--”

You kissed him to cut him off. “I’m okay. I trust you. You know that, right?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he rolled on top of you, an intensity in his eyes that would have scared you if you didn’t know him.

“I’m glad it was you.” Forehead pressed to yours, you shuddered as his soft breaths fanned across your lips. “I was hoping it would be you.”

Your breath caught. Gently, you brushed away the curls that fell in his face, tilting your face up and bringing your lips to his again.

He mumbled between kisses, “Can I take you for dinner?” You were too stunned to say anything, letting him kiss your bottom lip gently. He lingered at the corners of your mouth, leaving light kisses behind. “Hm? Will you let me take you out, sweetheart?”

“On a date?”

“If you don’t want it to be a date, it can just be a thank-you dinner--”

“It can be a date. Can it be a date?”

Giggling against your mouth, he said, “It can. I’d like it to be.”

“We should probably get out of this shuttle first.”

“Maybe put some clothes on before that?”

“Maybe.” Your nose brushed his. “Maybe I’d like to kiss you first.”

“Maybe I’ll let you.”

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x y/n #poe dameron x female reader #poe dameron smut

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siren-queen-imagines · 2 years

Note

Hi, it's me again. I'm really in need of some comfort headcanons right now.😣 I had a severe anxiety/panic attack the other day and have been constantly really anxious and depressed since. Could I maybe get headcanons for how Eric King from House Of Ashes would his s/o who had an anxiety attack and is really anxious and depressed? I'd appreciate it.

Hey, darling, I'm so sorry to hear that you've been dealing with this! Anxiety/panic attacks are rough and I hate to hear your depression and anxiety have been active since it happened. So, I hope these help you to feel better!!

================================

Eric loves his significant other so he’d be working so hard to make you happy.

When you have an anxiety attack, he’ll be right by your side, coaching you through it.

He’ll remind you to breathe as he holds your hand, which is his attempt at keeping you grounded.

When he reminds you to breathe, he’ll breathe in deeply, displaying it and reminding you that it’s gonna be okay.

If you tell him you can’t breathe, he’ll reply, “Yes, you can, baby. You’re doing it right now, we just need to slow it down, okay?”

He’s a compassionate and caring person despite how cocky or arrogant he comes off and it’s because you are his world.

He will remind you that he will be there for you as much as he can be because he loves you and does not want you going through it alone.

When your anxiety is really bad, his tone of voice changes. He’ll talk softer and gentler.

He will make sure that if your anxiety is due to being somewhere, he’ll always give you his hand to hold in case you need something to squeeze.

When your depression kicks in, he’ll make sure that you have everything you need.

He’ll make sure you’ve eaten and you’re comfortable when you’re unable to get out of bed.

He’ll even join you and hold you while in bed, comfortingly reminding you that he’s there and if you wanna talk, he’ll be ready.

And if he can coax you out of bed to shower, for example, he’ll go in and help you out.

Like, he’ll wash your hair for you and help you get clean in hopes that when the shower is over, you’ll feel just the littlest bit better, if not refreshed.

If you’re on medication for your anxiety or depression, he’ll make sure you take them when things are really bad. Often with food so he knocks two birds with one stone.

He’s just super supportive and caring for the one he loves. He’d do anything for you and wants to do what he can to make sure that you’re gonna be okay.

He'll try his best to fix all the problems that caused your anxiety and/or depression because he loves you and hates to see you like this.

He hates that you should ever feel anything bad because you're amazing and beautiful and perfect....just so many good things. You make him happy so he will try to do the same for you and make you happy.

#eric king x reader #eric king imagine #house of ashes imagine #headcanon

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thegryffindorprincess · 4 years

Text

Worthy//Draco Malfoy x Reader

A/N: Okay first, holy shit like two of my fics have like four hundred notes also there’s nearly two hundred of you here??? Cool. This is a super sad piece about Draco after the war struggling with his identity. It’s heart breaking really, but it needs to be written that this is how I see Draco’s character 80% of the time x

Set: Golden Trio Era & Post War

Word Count: 3,050

Warnings: loads- swearing, abuse, death, injuries, violence, self harm

Y/N walked down the halls of Hogwarts, brushing her bleeding fingers along the stone walls, tears bubbling in her eyes. The war was won. She knew really inside she should be feeling elated, happy- celebrating that her life would no longer be controlled by fear or hate. But images of her friends lifeless faces where already beginning to fill her head when she closed her eyes, she’d lost everything- her parents dying at the Dark Lord’s hands before the battle had even commenced, her heart was oh so heavy. Her feet dragged up the stairs of the astronomy tower as she used the back of her hand to wipe the torrents of tears that where beginning to spill from her eyes, running down her face, painting it with sadness. Y/N sobbed as she grabbed her bruised side that had been injured when she attempted to jump in front of the spell that had been aimed at Lavender Brown, before Greyback had brutally murdered her. She climbed the stairs as below her, hundreds of Hogwarts students mourned and celebrated together in bittersweet happiness. When she emerged onto the tower, she sprinted to the edge, hanging her head over the side, letting the screams that had been threatening to come out before, erupt. She yelled out into the darkness in despair, gripping onto the railings until her knuckles began to pale. When there was nothing else left to come out, bent over into herself, breathing heavily, letting her body feel what it needed to. Her sudden silence was broken by the sound of sobbing from the other side of the tower- somebody else was here. Y/N awkwardly walked towards the source of the noise, hobbling slightly because of the shooting pain coming from her ribs. There was a curtain hanging towards the right of the room, that usually hid the equipment that students used in astronomy. Y/N quietly moved the curtain to the side, shedding light into the enclosed space. Huddled in a ball, shaking violently and uttering heart-shattering sobs was Draco Malfoy. He looked up at her as she disrupted him, his eyes flittering over where she stood. His eyes where usually a piercing blue, but they had faded to grey, black rings circling them. His face was essentially white, he was usually pale, but in his current state it was if the boy had never seen the sun. And most importantly, he looked terrified to have been found. Y/N entered the small cupboard space, letting the curtain fall back behind her and she slid down onto the floor so that they were face to face, bringing her knees to her chin. They didn’t speak, Y/N simply sat near to him as he continued to sob into his jacket. When his cries began to come out weaker and more fragile, she leant into him, attempting to give him a side hug. She felt him tense beneath her touch.

“Don’t touch me.” The boy sobbed, barely meeting her eyes. Y/N pulled away immediately, shuffling away from him too.

“I’m sorry.” Y/N whispered weakly, looking down at the floor. Draco simply huffed at her, playing nervously with his sleeves, ignoring her attempts to catch his eye. They sat together for a while, feeling the time pass, but neither spoke, the silence surprisingly comfortable. They’d never really spoken before, they were from very different families and walks of life. They shared their broken hearts however and Y/N could feel his breaking in front of her, just as hers had moments before. Struggling to think of anything to say, Y/N rummaged in her cardigan pocket for a moment before producing a small piece of scrap parchment. She removed her wand from her other pocket too, noting how Draco flinched when she moved for it. Then muttering a spell underneath her breath she wrote on the parchment, Draco watching her silently, unable to see what she was doing. When Y/N was satisfied with her work, she folded the parchment carefully before passing it to him. He took it apprehensively, watching her closely as she stood up to leave.

“Read it. I mean it.” She whispered, before walking away, letting the curtain close the gap between them as he heard her descend the stairs. Draco looked down at the scruffy piece of parchment and almost, almost tossed it to the side. Instead he unfolded it carefully, revealing her neat handwriting. He read:

This is my address. If you need to talk, send me an owl. You are not alone, Draco and there is nothing you can ever tell me that is too much. People care, don’t shut them out. YOU ARE WORTHY OF LOVE.

Y/N x

And as he read and re read her words, more tears began to fall. But this time, they were not of despair but of hope.

XXX

Draco paced his room in Malfoy Manor, breathing shallowly, tears slipping down his face. He wanted to howl in despair as he made a bolt to the bathroom. Once inside, he locked the door with his wand, making sure nobody could interrupt him. He took his shirt off in a hurry, fumbling over the buttons as he threw it to the floor. Draco looked down at his forearm, wanting to scream at the sight of the mark that was etched into his skin. He took his wand in his hand, breathing deeply, attempting to steady himself. He’d left the house today, for the first time since the trials against him and his family, going to Diagon Alley just for a change of scenery, a chance to reminisce on his innocence- not that he’d gotten a chance. Draco had been jumped by a band of particularly angry wizards, muggleborn’s whose families had been murdered by his aunt. He didn’t blame them for their insults or their attempts to tempt into a duel, no, he blamed himself. His wand hand began to shake vigorously as it lay against the mark, his dull eyes watching how it writhed underneath his skin. Draco took another deep breath before pressing the wand closer to the mark, letting it dig into his skin, making his eyes water.

“Sectumsempra.” He whispered quietly, letting the spell shoot from the tip of his wand, burning the skin on his arm. Blood began to appear as his flesh began to tear right in front of his eyes. He let it.

“Deserved.” Draco said to himself as he whispered the spell again, this time harsher leading to the skin physically bubbling. His head began to spin as it hit him how much blood was beginning to come from the wound. Shit. He attempted to fix it with his towel that was folded on top of the sink basin, but the blood soon seeped through and onto his other hand. Draco racked his brains trying to think of a spell that would make it all go back to normal, but he couldn’t, it was all too much. He held onto the edge of the bath as he staggered back, the pain over whelming, each and every one of his senses becoming blurred. As the world began to fade, he heard a screaming Narcissa blow the door apart with her wand before rushing to his side, holding onto his arm, kissing his forehead. And as Draco felt the two of them apperating away into the darkness, he suddenly heard a voice: “you are worthy of love.”

He awoke in a bed that certainly wasn’t his own. Draco stretched out his limbs and scanned the room. noticing it almost immeditely as Saint Mungo’s. His eyes shot straight away to his forearm, noticing it was still tightly wrapped in bandages.

“They couldn’t get rid of it.” Draco’s eyes shot up to meet his mothers. She was standing, pale faced and nervous at the foot of his bed, clutching her right arm with her left hand. “I’m so sorry Dray, it’s the dark magic... I-it can only fade naturally overtime.” She walked towards him resting her hand on top of his, his fingers flinching at her touch. She withdrew them straight away.

“Please, let me be.” Draco croaked, watching his mother frown at his words but comply, sending him a sympathetic smile and apparating away. Draco watched her go and pushed himself up out of his bed slowly, walking to the door of his room. He checked that the reception of his ward was empty, pulling the door closed towards him as he recoiled back into the room. Standing in the middle of the room, he closed his eyes, thinking of the address that Y/N had scribbled on the piece of parchment months before, memorizing it. He felt the room slip away and when he opened his eyes, he was in Hogsmeade, standing in front of a small bungalow. Just as Draco began to realise how truly rash his actions had been, the green door opened to reveal Y/N in her pyjama’s, slightly open mouthed. She sent Draco a weak smile, beckoning him in, moving aside so he could enter her home without their bodies touching. He felt like a fool as he wandered into her home, collapsing into one of the well-loved sofa’s in her living room, right infront of a roaring fireplace. She observed his appearance quietly, taking in his messy hair, the bags beneath his eyes that only seemed to deepen, the hospital gown that hung from his skinny frame and the bloody bandage that was wrapped around his forearm. Y/N didn’t say anything, instead got up and bustled over to the kitchen that was open to the small living room.

“Tea?” She asked gently, motioning to a kettle that sat upon the counter top. Draco nodded and Y/N placed her wand to the kettle, it instantly spouting steam and whistling slightly. He watched as she carefully placed two large, yet chipped mugs onto a small tray, followed by a pot of sugar and a jug of milk. She popped a tea bag into each of the mugs, before pouring water into them, making sure not to spill any as she did so. Then, she picked up the tray and placed it onto the coffee table that sat in the middle of the two sofa’s. Y/N sat down onto the other one, motioning at the tray. “I like to let people do their own milk and sugar, it’s always easier that way.” Draco nodded again, leaning forward to add milk and a sugar into his mug. The two sat in comfortable silence, similar to the first time they spoke on the tower in May. They drank their tea. Once finished, Y/N gave a satisfied sigh and placed her mug back onto the table. Draco followed suit a few moments later, too before pulling himself from the comfort of the sofa.

“Th-thankyou.” He whispered to her as she walked him to her door, opening it for him. He flashed what looked almost like a proper smile for a few seconds, letting her return one.

“Anytime.” Y/N said frankly. “Really.” And with that she stood back, watching Draco leave her house in a flash.

XXX

Draco began to turn up at Y/N’s at least three times a week since the first time he’d arrived- not that she complained, the company was always welcomed. It had been six months since they’d first met on the tower and she could tell that Draco was starting to understand that she wanted to help, slowly trusting her piece by piece. They were sat in her living room as always, two mugs of tea set out on the table in front of them, a splash of milk and a spoon of sugar for Draco- something she’d learnt very quickly. They’d both just set their mugs down with a satisfied sigh when Y/N turned to face him, their eyes meeting suddenly.

“Is there anything you want to talk about?” She asked softly. Draco watched how her eyes burnt with care, glancing at his arm that was still wrapped with the same bandage. He hesitated for a minute and then all at once, pulled the bandage from his forearm, revealing his now very bruised and contorted dark mark. He looked up to her eyes, tensing at the idea of them filling with shame and hatred, but to his surprise found them to be full of sympathy. And then everything began to spill out of Draco’s mouth. He told her everything. He told her all about his painfully innocent childhood, how his fathers abuse had gone from verbal to physical, the circumstances in which he was forced to take the mark that now cursed his skin, about his parents plans for him filled with arranged marriage and forced birth had Voldermort won, but as he spoke Y/N didn’t interrupt or judge or scorn, she listened. And that’s all Draco wanted. When he finished, Y/N shuffled closer to him, ensuring they didn’t touch, but so she was close enough that he could feel her presence.

“You are so brave.” She whispered. Draco shook his head furiously. “No you are. You are brave and good and kind and caring and strong and,” she paused leaning into him, “twice the man your father is.” At the last part of her sentence, Draco collapsed into her arms, something that neither of them were expecting, but a pleasant surprise none the less. Y/N pulled him into her as he clung to her neck, tears wetting her shoulder. She rubbed his shoulders gently as he heaved and sobbed. When he finished, he pulled back, shocked at his own vunerability. But he was met with her smile and that was enough. Draco left that night with a slight smile on his face and a heart that wasn’t as heavy as it once had been.

XXX

Narcissa noticed the positive changes to her son since he’d been going to see his new friend and she was determined to hide it from her husband. You see, the war changed many people positively, but not Lucius. He came home one night furious. He snapped at his wife about needing to speak to Draco before ascending the stairs and storming into his bedroom, robes billowing behind him. He pulled Draco up by his collar, pinning him roughly against the wall, his face just inches apart from his son’s, mouth twisted into a nastly snarl.

“When were you going to tell me about your relationship with that nasty little mudblood girl?” Lucius snapped, forcing Draco to look into his eyes. Draco didn’t reply, he’d learnt no to. He just tried to keep breathing as his dads grip moved to his neck, tightening. Lucius dropped him suddenly, causing him to hit his back hard on the wall, before falling to the ground. “Pathetic.” Lucius spat, using a large, booted foot to kick Draco in the stomach, before striding out of the room. Waiting for him to leave, Draco wasted no time in apparating back to Y/N’s house, this time arriving in her living room, grabbing at his stomach.

“Draco!” Y/N exclaimed, jumping at the wizards arrival but soon noticing his injury. Tears were streaming down his face, and he immediately fell into her open arms, letting her wrap him up in her scent and her warmth. “We need to get to the bathroom okay love?” She asked softly, running a hand through his hair carefully. He nodded. Y/N helped him hobble to the bathroom, sitting him down on the closed toilet seat. Draco wailed slightly as her cold hands began to remove his shirt. “Are you sure I can touch you?” She asked, hovering over the last button. Draco nodded again, but this time desperately. Y/N understood, removing his top. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the new bruise forming on his stomach and she opened the cabinet above his head, returning with an ointment. She rested on her knees as she began to smooth it over his stomach, she noticed that he hadn’t flinched this time. The bruise began to sink back into Draco’s skin, disappearing. It was then that Y/N began to notice the rest of his body. Their were deep scars from cuts all over his chest that she began to fix too, as well as deep cane marks in his back that angrily poked out slightly. She continued until his chest and back were clear. Their eyes met once more.

“Y/N...” Draco whispered, holding her arm in his hand carefully.

“I know.” She responded gently, “Don’t say it yet. You have to be sure.” Y/N packed the ointment up putting it back into the cupboard. He nodded at her words, understanding what she meant. Draco let her take him through to her room slowly. “You’re staying here tonight, I won’t let you go back there... I won’t.” She watched him clamber into bed, resting his head softly onto the pillow. Y/N turned to leave once he was comfortable, but was stopped.

“Stay with me.” Draco choked out, his face illuminated by the bedside table lamp. Y/N hesitated, not wanting to over step the mark. “Prove to me what you told me all those months ago.” She cocked her head then.

“What do you mean?” She questioned. Draco pulled the empty half of the beds duvet over towards him.

“That I’m worthy of love.” Y/N smiled then, catching his eye, before gently undressing, squishing into bed with him. “Can I say it now?” He asked, resting his chin on top of her head and their bodies tangled together. She nodded.

“I love you.” Draco said sighing. “I love you. And before you say it, I mean it, I promise. I didn’t think it was an emotion I would ever feel, but you, you taught me love, Y/N” He pulled her closer to him then, placing a kiss to her forehead. “And I don’t know what this means for our future, but I know what it means for right now.”

“What does it mean?” Draco laughed, for the first time ever since the war, and leant down so that his and Y/N’s lips were ghosting over each other.

“This.” He said gently, before their lips met, joining in a careful yet powerful kiss.

“I love you too.” Whispered Y/N, letting Draco cling to her once more. “So, so much.”

1K notes · View notes

obae-me · 4 years

Note

Hi I love your blog and your writing. I don't know if your doing request or not, so if you aren't just ignore me. But could you possibly have a hc where MC breaks a body part and had to be in a cast how would the brothers (+undateables if you have time) would react?

Oh but this is soft tho, I love writing fluff, thank you so much for the request! 💜

Lucifer

MC had been with him when it happened, and it’s something he’ll never forgive himself for. He forgets how fragile humans are and how anything can hurt them. Anything! He had prepared for monsters, demons, curses, spells, poisons, but he never thought he needed to protect them from stairs!

He was walking beside them as they both started to walk home from RAD, talking to them about an upcoming project. It was dark and rainy, and it bothered him none as he started to descend the slick stone steps. He was just about to warn them about their step when they stumbled down the stairs, hands extended to try to catch themselves, hitting each step with an awful sound before resting on even flooring with a groan.

He freaked out so badly, he called MC by five different wrong names before he finally got it right just as he reached their side. They were alive. Great. They were breathing. Fantastic. They...they had their right wrist bent in the wrong direction.

MC was fairly certain he didn’t even breathe or blink at all as he flew them towards the Devildom’s version of a hospital. He kicked the doors open, demanding MC got looked at, ignoring all of MC’s pleas to wait like everyone else. The poor doctor was not prepared for all of Lucifer’s commands and questions.

MC is not allowed to walk, not allowed to go to class, not even allowed to leave their room for a while. He’s so worried something will happen. He doesn’t even want them to sleep without him there first. His brothers are only allowed to come see MC one by one, following a strict schedule he posted outside MC’s door. Anyone found breaking the schedule will be severely punished.

Is he overreacting severely? Yes. But does MC appreciate his affection? Yes. He’ll hold them close whenever their wrist hurts, petting their head and shushing them if they ever cry. He’ll do all his work for Diavolo in their bedroom, making sure to glance up in frequent intervals and check how they’re doing. He’ll watch over them so intently he’ll end up accidentally falling asleep in the chair by their bed, head resting on his folded arms.

Even after it’s healed, he insists on holding MC’s hand whenever they walk to make sure it won’t happen again. He’ll also pick them up now whenever it rains. He can’t afford anymore unnecessary risks.

Mammon

He brought MC along on another one of his poor-planned money making schemes. He wanted to show off and impress them, and MC only agreed to go along to try to make sure he didn’t get himself in too much trouble. Try being the key word here.

It ended up being super sketchy, causing both MC and Mammon to run away from angry demons. Since Mammon is impossibly fast, he held onto MC’s hand to try to keep them together. However, even if MC ended up being an Olympic runner, they still wouldn’t have been able to keep up with his speed. So, they lost their footing and fell hard against the ground. There was a rough popping noise, but Mammon got them right back on their feet. It wasn’t until they finally got home before Mammon realized that not only were they scratched up, but their shoulder...didn’t look right.

He thought maybe he could fix it himself, which was the opposite of what he should’ve done. Now, not only did it look even worse, but MC’s expression of pain caused Mammon to panic like he never had before. He held onto them tight, much too tight, and MC was almost certain he’d end up passing out before they did.

He got a doctor right away, and while they were getting checked, Lucifer and Mammon were fighting worse than they had in a long time. Mammon had hardly fought this much for anything-or anyone-before. The only reason why Lucifer let him off the hook for something this severe is because it’s been too long since he’s seen Mammon so serious.

Mammon won't leave their side, but he doesn’t feel like he deserves to be near them either, so he’ll spend time pacing by their door for hours before MC tells him to quit. They tell him he doesn’t need to feel so guilty, it was an accident, stupid stuff like this happens to humans all the time. He’ll kneel on the floor by their bed, head against their leg, looking like a scolded puppy. It’s the first time they’ve seen him cry.

It’s not everyday Mammon will do whatever they want. Even if it’s not perfect, even if he messes up, he wants to get MC whatever they want or need.

After they’re fully healed, Mammon will still check their shoulder every day, and Lucifer doesn’t complain when Mammon tones down some of his schemes for the sake of MC’s safety.

Levi

He signed both himself and MC up for this awesome parkour class. He had seen an ad for it and wanted to go, only because he wanted to learn some cool moves that he had seen in an anime. Of course, this was a demon class, so already they had the students doing crazy things like jumping roof to roof and doing flips that would take years for MC to do properly. Unfortunately, they tried it out anyway, not wanting to wimp out of it.

Next thing they knew, they heard Levi scream as one of their legs gave out on them, unable to support their landing. He was by their side, already in tears, shouting incomprehensible words as he called for help on his D.D.D. Not only did one of the brothers have to carry MC home, they had to carry out Levi as well, his brain fried at the sight of their broken leg.

He blames himself hard, having to catch his breath anytime he sees MC in their cast. He had no idea human’s bodies were so brittle, they never seemed so weak in anime. They were always fighting, overcoming impossible feats. He was so lost in the world of fantasy he didn’t know real life was so...frightening. It was a reality check he really needed, he appears to treat MC more authentically now.

He’ll make sure MC is fully entertained while they’re on the mend, it's the least he can do. Most of his setup is now in their room so they can play games with him and watch shows together. He’ll talk their ear off about his favorite plots, and promise to MC that they’d get better and he would protect them, just like his precious characters.

MC now has little drawings on their cast thanks to him, to liven it up a bit. Covered in chibis and little hearts.

He’s used to not getting much sleep, so he’ll watch MC as they rest, watching their chest rise and fall, making sure he keeps an eye on their leg. They’re not allowed to move it much, so he keeps tabs on how much they toss and turn, sometimes holding MC in his arms while they sleep to make sure they don’t move.

Even when they’re better he is always wary about them leaving the house. He should’ve never broken his rule, home is always safe, and now he can’t relax until he knows MC is safely home.

Satan

He was always afraid of hurting MC due to his wrath, but he never knew that they could so easily be broken. He hadn’t even intended to hurt them, he didn’t! He just...he was angry, he didn’t want them to come into his room, but they insisted, they wouldn’t listen! Now look what he had done to them...

He had slammed the door on them while their finger still lingered in the door-frame, he had no idea...he didn’t know something as simple as shutting a door would hurt them so. They both heard a sharp crack, Satan originally believed it had been part of the door, the wood breaking. Until he heard MC’s shriek of pain. He opened the door back up to see their finger bent backwards where the door had shut on it.

After he had tore the door off its hinges and resolved it to splinters, he ushered MC quickly out of the house to get their finger checked. His other brothers had to quickly come at MC’s request to keep Satan from harming the medical staff when told they had to wait to get checked. It took him far too long to calm down, having to be physically restrained by Lucifer and Mammon until he cooled off.

MC’s broken finger had been on their dominant hand, so Satan did all the writing for them. MC never asked him to, he did it anyway. He felt like it was the bare minimum of redemption. He made sure to read up more on the skeletal structure humans possessed, and MC is pleased to find that they had never seen Satan be so gentle with them. He softly strokes their hand, has a hard time now raising his voice above a whisper around them, and MC swears he now has painkillers in his pocket at all times for whenever they need it.

Satan takes after Lucifer in being much too prideful for simple apologies, he’s hardly wrong in the first place, but he said it to them once they drifted off to sleep, head in his lap. He didn’t move from his spot all night.

Healed wounds meant nothing, Satan refused to treat MC any differently from his delicate and precious books.

Asmo

Trust him, he would have never given MC those ridiculously high heeled shoes had he known that humans were so clumsy and fragile. The heel of the shoe was so tall, whoever wore them might as well be walking on the very tips of their toes. They were a new fashion, and since he adored his adorable MC so much, he got them a pair.

The last thing he expected was to have them fall so dramatically after a single step. At first he planned on giving them props for their fall, it was like a movie scene, but then he saw how their ankle looked. Twisted and limp, MC started to hyperventilate.

He had seen some pretty disgusting positions the human body could get into, but this was wrong, it shouldn’t be like that. He had never been so serious or flown so fast before. He didn’t even say a word until they were in bed, getting some medication for the pain. He grasped onto MC’s hand and apologized repeatedly until MC was convinced he had lost his voice.

After they’ve been taken care of, he refuses to let go of them, cuddling them pampering them. He didn’t know just a simple misstep in the wrong shoes and they could just hurt themselves like that! He thought himself a master of the body, but he still had much to learn about humans, it seemed.

He calls himself Nurse Asmo for weeks, not leaving MC’s side, carting them around in a wheelchair even if they insist on using crutches or moving around themselves. He’ll have none of it. He feels responsible and so MC is under his constant care until their body is just as beautiful and whole as he remembers. He’ll want to make sure he takes care of them so well, their body will have no choice but to heal faster.

He’ll not forgive himself for allowing MC’s perfect body to get like that again. He’ll never let MC even look at high heel shoes, he knows plenty of adorable flats that would look great on them.

Beel

He’s always extra careful around MC, he knows they’re fragile, he’s well aware of the difference between strengths. Anytime he’s around them, he does whatever is necessary to make sure they’re safe at all times. Unfortunately, no matter how protective he is, sometimes accidents happen, especially when humans and demons mix.

He and Mammon were fighting over food, special food, limited edition flavor chips, and Mammon had stolen it. He didn’t even eat it, he sold it. It was an insult. They both were in demon form, battling it out, Lucifer trying to stop it, by force it would seem. They were all so consumed in combat, power flinging, furniture flying, they had no idea MC had walked in the room to check on the chaos, only to get caught up in it. A large cabinet headed in their direction, and if they hadn’t stepped back, they might have gotten fully crushed. Unfortunately, their foot ended up being crushed in their place.

Beel felt sick to his stomach, hearing the sound of the bone crack made his insides feel all twisted in a way he and his iron stomach hadn’t felt in centuries. The fighting immediately came to a close, the food they were fighting over seemed worthless to him now, for once he couldn’t care less. He refused to let any of his other brothers touch MC. In fact he almost didn’t want to touch them himself. He had such a hard time holding them, he ended up physically shaking, worried that he’d hurt MC even further. He doesn’t want to let them go, though, he holds onto them for an entire day, acting like MC’s personal shield.

Beel skips classes, workouts, even his team practices to be with MC. MC is absolutely not allowed to move by themselves, he’s going to carry them wherever they need to go if they must go somewhere. Until they’re fully healed, all the meals are going to be MC’s favorite foods. None of the brothers get a say otherwise, but no one is going to defy Beel over this anyway.

MC never sees him fight with any of his brothers again, not with them around anyway, and if they thought Beel was already super protective, they weren’t ready for their new unofficial bodyguard.

Belphie

Honestly, he was bewildered how MC hadn’t died yet--well, other than that--in the Devildom. Lilith had loved humans, and, he in the past, had loved them too, so he knew how weak they could be. However, MC had just...tripped...on their own feet, falling right onto their own face. He laughed at first, he will admit, he had no idea how hurt MC was. When they stumbled back onto their own feet, their face and chest was covered in blood.

He was frozen for a good few minutes, his mind buzzing, his heart pounding out of his chest. He kept getting flashbacks of that terrible moment in the attic, and it was only until MC grabbed his arm, disoriented and in pain, that he was able to move again. They gasped his name to snap him out of it. They weren’t flinching away from him, they didn’t look afraid of him, in fact they were leaning into him, looking for his comfort.

He got them home as quick as he could, making sure MC didn’t have any more fumbles on the way. Obviously once they saw the state MC was in, all the other brothers were freaking out as well. Mammon accused Belphie of doing something to them again--it was taking Mammon the longest to forgive him-- which didn’t make Belphie feel better about it. Normally he would’ve just fought Mammon then and there for such an accusation, after all the things his older brother had dragged MC into, but he didn’t have the energy. MC needed to be taken care of now.

He did feel guilty, even if he didn’t want to admit it. Once the doctor came, he left the room, getting some air. He would wait until after MC was asleep to come check on them and make sure they were okay. He would make sure that MC’s pillow was fluffed, that they were comfortable, and then he’d fall asleep at MC’s feet at the end of their bed. He’d wake up at the slightest movement, checking over their body and face for who knows how many times now.

While they were deep in a dream, he took a permanent marker and drew little cow spots on their bandage. It was a silly gesture, he was well aware, but even having a small piece of matching patterns made his heart happy.

He won’t say it but he’s so glad when they’re finally healed. MC notices a sharp increase in his energy levels as he asks them to do plenty of activities together. He hardly ever wants to do something with them besides nap.

He’ll be prepared to catch MC if they ever trip again. He won’t let them be hurt ever again. Period.

Diavolo

He wasn’t there when it happened to MC, but Lucifer relayed the information to him as soon as possible. He didn’t freak out, at least, not in the way people would expect. It is rather unlike the Lord of the Devildom, however, to drop all his work, cancel all his meetings, and quickly make his way over to the House of Lamentation.

He excuses MC from classes immediately, making sure staying safe and healthy was their first and only priority. Not just for the sake of the program, but something in him stirred violently at the sight of seeing them pale, in pain, their forearm in a cast. He asked Lucifer for details.

Upon hearing that it was due to some lesser demon, he laughed, but it was a terrible laugh. He calmly stated that he would handle it, but every member of the household could feel the house rumble. Not even Diavolo could stay completely tranquil, it seemed.

He knew the consequences of having a human in the Devildom, he knew the risks. He knew about the dirt in his kingdom that called themselves demons. He just didn’t realize how it would make him feel . Not only did MC have classes off, he allowed all the brothers to stay home for a while as well to make sure they were well taken care of. He had Lucifer give him daily updates on their progress.

MC is now curious why there are new changes to not only RAD but the House of Lamentation, Purgatory Hall, and even Diavolo’s castle. Simple things like ramps, elevators, railings, anything as a means of injury prevention. None of the demons need to use it, it’s all for MC, but everyone acts like it’s completely normal. All due to Diavolo’s ‘modern design’.

None of the brothers dare say anything about the Demon Lord’s frequent visits to their home, or to MC’s room. Not even Lucifer had him come over this often.

MC is thankful they never have to see the demon that resulted in their arm breaking again, but they didn’t know where they possibly could've gone.

Barbatos

It’s safe to assume he knew about this. Except, there were plenty of timelines where something like this had happened, so he didn’t know the details of which unfortunate accident would come about. Whatever the case, he was prepared to assist and serve MC in whatever way he could.

He always thinks he’s seen everything and is well prepared for it, but it still doesn’t prevent him from having his chest hurt and his nerves shudder at seeing MC like this. On the outside, he’ll always appear neutral, so no one knows just how much he’s feeling for this human. He’s so much softer with them than anyone else.

MC doesn’t know how this demon keeps getting into their room without coming through the door, it freaks them out a bit, to be honest. They don’t complain about their room being so pristine you could brush over it with a white glove, though.

MC thought that maybe, maybe, just once they could get away with getting up and doing things on their own. The brothers kept on fussing over them non-stop, but at one point they got called away to a meeting, leaving MC alone at home.

They got up out of bed, ready to stretch their legs and get some fresh air, trying to get some sort of normalcy back. They did all this not knowing that Barbatos was keeping a close eye on them from the shadows the entire time.

Whether it was by Diavolo’s orders or Barbatos’ own volition, MC will never know, but they did find their little excursion to the outside quickly brought to a halt by some form of magic that transported them back to their room. Barbatos had them back in bed before MC could even reach the front gates.

No matter how they tried, they were forced to stay safe, now even unable to get out from their bed. No matter how much they struggled, their own sheets betrayed them. The silent butler only showed up once MC gave up. He strutted over putting a soft but surprisingly stern hand over their shoulder as he went about taking care of them. Any words of protest fell on deaf ears. It was his duty to protect him, and not even MC could stop him.

Simeon

He had no idea till he noticed that MC hadn’t been to school for a few days now. When he brought it up to the brothers, they explained how MC had staggered back home one night, hand completely busted, and they wouldn’t tell anyone why. For MC’s safety, and just for the brother’s peace of mind, MC was to stay home until further notice.

Simeon’s an angel, so peaceful, anger isn’t something he fully understands, but he felt a burning pain in his chest. Why didn’t anyone tell him immediately? Was he just supposed to figure this out himself? It had been quite a long time since Lucifer had seen Simeon frown so deeply before, eyes cloudy with distress.

Simeon had never missed classes ever. He was always much too early, much too eager to stick to regulations. So when he ended up skipping class, it shocked Luke to his core and caused Diavolo to make a note that an angel had broken the rules to go check on a human. This program was turning up all sorts of surprises.

MC was pleasantly surprised to hear the soft knocks on their door, vastly different than any of the ways the demons announced themselves. Simeon strode in, radiating warmth, carefully grasping their hand in his, and gave it a gentle kiss. The pain MC had felt no longer existed. Simeon explained that it was still best if they heal on their own, but at the very least, they wouldn’t feel pain. He would be there to make it all go away.

He’s around MC now much more frequently, guarding them, keeping them from harm. From that point on he urges MC to let him know when things happen.

Solomon

He had been teaching MC more about magic. Not only did he think it would be beneficial for his human companion, but it would sate some of his curiosity. He wanted to learn more about MC, about their capabilities, testing to see in what ways their previous angel ancestor had changed them.

He knew they had a hard time driving out their power, so he tried different methods to assist them, methods they could use on their own. Magic rings, chants, wands. Unfortunately, once something worked, all their built up power flooded out of them at once, their temporary wand exploding into shards, and the bones in their hand following suit.

He used some of his magic to heal up what he could, being careful not to go too far or he’d overwhelm MC’s already weakened body. MC couldn't tell what was running through his head as he had them supported and cradled with one of his arms, the other one hovered over their hand. Magical circles and sigils running over their skin as it rushed to heal them. While his face seemed calm, his eyes looked a bit darker, missing the mischievous glint in them. They were tighter, laser focused, serious.

After he did what he could, both of them promised not to mention it to anyone, for fear both of them would never hear the end of it, or worse. While MC walked themselves home, Simeon used magic to keep an eye on them from his room, taking note what happened with him today. His mouth tight, arms folded across his chest, watching as the remnants from MC’s faulty makeshift wand burned rapidly in the fireplace.

Luke

He has absolutely no idea how humans work or how weak they are. So when he heard MC had a broken bone, he didn’t even fully understand what that meant. Broke...a bone? He knew the word broke didn’t sound pleasant, and when he finally went to go see MC, his little head almost exploded.

Their body broke?? Human’s bodies could break like that?? And they couldn't just have it healed immediately??

He blamed the demons most definitely, but MC had never ever been so entertained when the little angel pointed at each and every one of the brothers--Lucifer included--and chewed them out. Each of them had different expressions. Belphie looked exhausted, Beel looked downtrodden, Asmo didn’t even seem to be paying attention. Satan looked like he was only focusing on not destroying Luke right then and there, Levi looked mortified, Mammon was the only one arguing back, and Lucifer was stunned speechless that a creature barely higher than his waist was giving him a lecture.

Until MC is fully healed, Luke makes sure to bring plenty of freshly baked sweets right to their door, not noticing seven pairs of glowing glares while he lingers in the house of demons.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me luke

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bibbawrites · 3 years

Text

First Man - Charlie Gillespie x Reader

Request: NONE

Word Count: 1735 words

Summary: the song First Man by Camila Cabello but make it about Charlie Gillespie

Warnings: i think theres one swear word and thats all ?

A/N: so i had originally written this for another fandom that i am no longer in but i decided to change it to charlie cause why not this is literally just the song first man by camila cabello, so go listen to that if you dont know it haha again i tried to make this gender neutral but i may have messed up at one point so if i did im very sorry anyways hope you enjoy this little fluffy piece

Tag List: @happinessinthedarkesttimes @littlemissaddict @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic @headheartbellarke @lovesanimals @bartok-the-bat @juliefromaustralia @multi-universe21 @rangerelik

Winter 2019

It was a mild Winter's afternoon in LA. You walked down the stairs of your family home, bag in hand, smiling when you spotted your family sitting around the table, a board game in the middle.

"Y/N! Come join us!" Your mum called when she spotted you enter the room. You shook your head.

"Maybe another time, sorry guys. I'm actually just heading out, I'm gonna stay with Charlie tonight... is that okay?" Your father sighed before nodding.

"When will we get to meet this Charlie boy that we hear so much about?" He asked, standing up to walk over to you. You shrugged.

"I'm not too sure, but it will be soon, I promise." You grinned. Your little sister looked up from the game board.

"What's he like Y/N?" She asked, looking at you intently. A soft smile appeared on your face at the thought of your boyfriend.

"He's really sweet. He's funny, just like you Dad. He’s not super tall but it doesn’t even matter. And he loves dragging me along on hikes." You paused.

"I really like him." You finished. Your dad frowned slightly, but hid it quickly.

"That's nice to hear darling. Don't forget a jacket, okay?" He told you. You looked at your father knowingly. He had been like this with every boy you’d ever brought home, not that you'd brought home tons of boys before.

"No it's okay, it’s not that cold outside today. Besides, he's waiting outside for me." You said, glancing down at your phone to see the text from Charlie.

'I'm here' it read. You looked back up again, noticing your father watching you. He stepped closer, pulling you into a hug.

"Don't freak out Dad, I'll be fine." You assured him. He squeezed you tightly.

"I just worry about you." You smiled, pulling away.

"I know, I get that. But I'm an adult now Dad. I got this."

"I know, I know." He sighed. By now the rest of the family had gone back to their game.

You patted your dad on the chest before turning to leave, stopping when your hand touched the doorknob. You turned back around to face your father.

"Just remember Dad, you were the first man that really loved me." And with that you turned back to the door and left, leaving your dad to smile sadly. His little baby was growing up.

Summer 2020

It was Summer and you and Charlie had a few days off from work. You had decided to head back to LA together, to visit your family. After all, you had been dating for over a year and Charlie still hadn't met your family yet. The family that you spoke so highly of.

You touched down at LAX and made your way through security quickly.

"You ready?" You asked, holding tightly to Charlie's hand as you made your way to baggage claim, where you had organised to meet your parents.

"Honestly? I'm fucking petrified." Charlie responded, causing you to laugh.

"You'll be fine. Everyone loves you Char, and my family will be no different." You walked around the corner, spotting your Dad quickly.

"Dad!" You called, rushing over to hug your father. Charlie walked over slowly. You pulled away and grinned, glancing at Charlie.

"Dad, I'd like to meet my boyfriend, Charlie." You introduced. "Char, this is my dad, Sam."

Charlie held his hand out for your dad to shake.

"It's nice to officially meet you Mr Y/L/N. Can I call you Sam?" He smiled nervously. Your father looked him up and down before taking his hand and shaking it.

"Sir will do. Charlie, short for Charles I assume?" His glare was stone cold. Charlie swallowed, nodding.

"Yes sir, but I prefer Charlie." Your father nodded before turning his attention back to you.

"How long are you two here for?" He asked, ignoring Charlie, who moved to grab the both of your bags that were coming along the carousel.

"We have 8 days off, but we're only here for 4." You responded. Your dad nodded.

"Well I guess that's better than nothing. Come on let's go, your mother is waiting in the car outside. She didn't want to pay for parking so she's been driving around while I waited in here."

And with that the three of you headed outside to the car.

Luckily for Charlie the rest of your family weren't as scary as your father was.

Your mother was lovely, and she had been very welcoming, even speaking to him in French when it was brought up that the two shared a common language.

Your brothers were really cool and invited him to join them to play video games whenever he wanted.

And your little sister, well, she adored the Canadian boy from the minute he walked through the front door.

And just like that Charlie’s first day at the Y/L/N house was over.

After sitting outside for hours with you and your parents, Charlie decided to head off to bed, and with a quick kiss for you and a murmured "goodnight" he was gone.

"So what do you think?" You asked once you knew that Charlie was well and truly inside.

"He's lovely darling." Your mother told you, smiling. You turned to your father.

"Dad?" You asked. Your father shrugged.

"He's not too bad, I guess." He admitted. You shook your head slightly. Of course your father would say that.

"I met his family you know? They're really nice, just like you guys." You told your parents.

"Oh, that's good sweetie." Your mum grinned.

"His parents are great, they're really down to earth. And his brothers and sister are really cool. Plus they love their hockey." You looked at your dad as you said the last part, knowing how big of a hockey fan he was. Your dad nodded in appreciation.

"That's good to hear. If they like hockey they must be good people." Your mother nodded in agreement with her husband. You fell into a comfortable silence for a few seconds.

"You know..." You began, breaking the silence. "I think he might be the one." Your mother put her hand up to her mouth, unable to hide her excitement.

"Oh Y/N, you really think so?" She asked. You nodded.

"Yeah, I really love him." You smiled.

"And he's a good man?" Your dad questioned, fixing his gaze on you. You nodded quickly.

"I swear on my heart. He loves me, and he'd never hurt me." You assured him.

"Good." He said, and with that the conversation was over, the topic changing to gossip about a family friend who's husband had cheated on her.

And later when you were heading off to bed you made sure to give your dad an extra big hug and remind him softly that he was the first man that really loved you.

The four days passed quickly and before anyone knew it, it was time for you and Charlie to leave.

Your family gathered on the driveway, next to Charlie’s car that he had collected on your second day back. After a few hugs with your siblings Charlie moved to bid farewell to your parents. Your mother pulled him into a hug.

"It was lovely to meet you darling." She said softly, before pulling away.

"You too." He smiled. "It was lovely to meet all of you."

"Don't be a stranger Charlie." She said.

"Yeah come back all the time." Your little sister agreed. Charlie nodded.

"I'll make sure of it." He turned his attention to your father, holding out his hand for him to shake. Your father took it, shaking it firmly.

"Thank you for having me sir." Charlie smiled politely. Your father paused, before faking a smile.

"It was no problem." You exchanged a knowing look with your mother. You both knew that your father didn't think that Charlie deserved you.

After a few more goodbyes you and Charlie hopped into the car and left, waving to your family as you pulled out. You had barely made it to the end of the street before you grabbed Charlie's arm.

"Wait we need to go back." You said quickly.

"Why?" Charlie asked, but turned around nonetheless.

"I forgot to tell my dad something." He pulled up in front of the house and you jumped out quickly, rushing over to your father who was still outside. He looked at you in confusion.

"I forgot to say, remember you were the first man who really loved me." You smiled softly, and with one last hug you left again.

Spring 2022

It was a beautiful Spring day in Hawaii. You and your father were stood together at the top of the beach, dressed to the nines, him in a fancy suit and you in your chosen wedding outfit.

It was almost time.

Time for you to walk down the aisle and marry the love of your life.

You looked over at your father, noticing his tie was slightly crooked. You took a step closer, and fixed the tie, watching as he tried to fight back the tears that were threatening to fall. You smiled softly at him.

"You know, I've never seen you cry before." You whispered. Your dad smiled, a tear falling down his cheek.

"You just look so beautiful Y/N. No matter what, you'll always be my little baby." He responded, pulling you into a hug.

As you separated the music began to play, and he held his arm out for you to take.

"Here we go." You whispered, and the two of you began your walk down the beach to where Charlie was waiting, teary eyed, at the end of the aisle.

As you walked, your father found himself looking over at you, taking in the tears of happiness and the look of love that you were giving Charlie. Your dad smiled to himself, glad that you had finally found the perfect man for you.

You reached the end of the aisle and you pulled your father into a hug.

"Remember," You whispered. "You were the first man who really loved me." You pulled away, stepping back. Your dad hesitated for a second before stepping forward to pull Charlie into a hug.

"Take care of my little angel." He whispered. Charlie nodded.

"Of course Sir." They pulled apart and your dad smiled softly.

"You can call me Sam."

#charlie gillespie #charlie gillespie x reader #fluff #based on the song First Man by Camila Cabello #reader insert

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egcdeath · 3 years

Note

I’ve never done a request before but for the angst prompts: could you do “Why are you — saying all these things —” with Steve? Love your writing!!

one last goodbye

word count: 975

warnings: super heavy on the angst, not a ton of dialogue, unhappy ending

a/n: i’m so excited that i get to take your request v-card! i hope you enjoy :)

(fun fact, the first few paragraphs are from the first version of this fic but that was before i realized that their relationship would not be redeemable at all... so i’m glad i got to put them to use lmao!)

Falling out of love didn’t happen all at once.

You began to notice a shift in the dynamic between you and Steve just a few weeks after the Snap. What was previously a blissful connection began to sour into passive aggressive actions, and deep-seated resentment.

Nights that were once spent holding each other and vowing to protect each other no matter what happened soon turned into nights spent alone in a bed that was much too large and cold for one person, while the sound of soft snores from your partner in your living room passed through your walls and reached you.

The trauma of watching your closest teammates and friends dissolve into nothing more than flakes of dust began to take too much of a toll. Nightmares of your friends calling out for you, or the distorted images of people you once loved plaguing your memory during the most inconvenient times, putting a hefty strain in your relationship when you were unable to verbalize exactly what was distressing you.

At times, you felt ungrateful for your position. Half the universe lost people they loved, family, friends, yet you had the nerve to let the love between you and one of America’s most beloved figures fade away into oblivion.

This guilt the both of you carried would never allow you to break up, no matter how awkward it was to pass each other in the kitchen without exchanging any words, or to peek into the doorway of a room, just to see the other and quickly turn away.

Some days, you blamed Steve for what had happened. If he hadn’t fought with Tony, or allowed the Mind Stone to be destroyed a little earlier, you might still be surrounded by everyone you loved. It was easier to cope when you could find a simple, yet nonsensical answer like that. You also knew for a fact that he had similar thoughts about how you could’ve stopped the decimation of half the population. Resenting each other for what could’ve been became easier than accepting the reality of the situation at hand.

The tension became a new normal for the two of you, both too stubborn to acknowledge that an issue was apparent, even when Natasha pulled you aside to tell you that couples’ therapy might be helpful, or when Bruce attempted to explain to Steve that only speaking to your partner to argue or ask for milk at the grocery store was not the healthiest thing.

But hearing the concerns of others made you want to try. You put in a little more effort when you were around Steve, breaking the uncomfortable silences with a few words, even if your conversations were brief and terse. You hauled yourselves to relationship therapy once a week, although it didn’t seem to be very productive. You invited Steve to sleep in your bed once more, and occasionally offered him your body, even if your encounters were similarly fleeting and awkward.

Yet, no matter how hard you tried, things just weren’t the same. Your relationship was at the point of no return.

You stared up at your ceiling blankly, finding yourself unable to fall asleep as you were most nights. Your mind wandered as you thought of all the things that went wrong in your relationship, and you couldn’t help but wonder if you were truly at fault for how things played out after the Snap.

“Are you still awake?” Steve asked from beside you. For a second you considered lying, and not answering at all.

“Yeah,” you answered quietly.

“We need to talk.”

You bit your tongue. You may not have been a relationship expert, but you knew that no good situation began with that phrase. “Maybe we can talk with Dr. Wilson.”

“Please don’t make this any harder than it needs to be,” Steve sighed. “We’re never going to be able to come back from this. You understand that, right? Nothing has been the same between us since, you know, and it’s never going to be the same.”

“Steve, why,” you paused and attempted to collect yourself, “why are you saying all these things?” You pulled your inner lip between your teeth.

“We have to end this. You and I both know it.”

“You’re all I have left,” you whimpered.

“That’s just it, Y/N. We don’t have each other anymore. We haven’t had each other for months now.”

You nodded wordlessly to yourself, taking a moment to gather your thoughts. You knew this day was coming eventually, but it didn’t make you any more prepared.

“So you’re leaving?”

Steve was quiet for a second, “yeah.”

You wiped away the stray tears as they fell down your face, “okay.” Was all that you were able to manage. “Before you go can you just… hold me?”

Steve didn’t respond, but the soft shuffling next to you, followed by the warm and all encompassing embrace were answer enough. The feeling so foreign, yet familiar at the same time, and you couldn’t help but break into quiet sobs as you mourned what once was, and what was no longer.

You just wished that Steve had held you sooner.

#steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers angst #captain america x reader #chris evans x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers headcanon #avengers fanfiction #avengers fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #neptune drabbles

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imaginary-portal · 3 years

Text

Unspoken - Part Two

Bucky Barnes x Fem Reader

Summary: Y/N is a superhero with telekinetic and healing capabilities. The only catch, she doesn’t speak (italicized words are thoughts).

Word Count: ~2k words

Part One Part Three

Masterlist

Enjoy!

——————

While Y/N was in the bathroom, Sam and Bucky had a conversation. Although they tried to keep their voices hush, Y/N could hear mumblings through the wall.

“How did you get her to stay?” Sam asked. “I don’t know, I was rambling for a while and she just wrote down on paper.” Bucky said. “Are you ok?” Sam asked. “Yeah, she just reminds me a bit of myself when I was recovering.” Sam nodded. “Maybe she’s been through some shit-“ Y/N opened the bathroom door and the conversation stopped. “So Bucky did you finally decide what to eat?” Sam recovered quickly so Y/N didn’t raise any suspicion. “Uh I guess I’ll get the parm.” Bucky said. “I’ll call it in. Be right back.” Sam left the room and called the food in from outside. Y/N sat down on a bed, pulled out her book and started reading. “Um- that’s Sam’s bed. I don’t know what we’ll do for the sleeping situation tonight.” Bucky said awkwardly. She gets up and sit in a chair instead, continuing her reading.

When Sam returns he finally breaks the ice. “The food should be here in half an hour. So do you want a bed to yourself or do you mind sleeping with one of us?” Y/N ponders for a moment. It would be nice to avoid any awkwardness and sleep alone. Plus it seems the two could use some bonding. Something about their friendship seems off. On the other hand, I feel like I can trust Sam. Y/N points to Sam’s bed. “I already told her it was your bed.” Bucky points out. “Are you ok with that?” Sam asks and she nods her head. Sam and Bucky exchange silent glances. Sam’s was a look of victory, he got her to nod. Bucky’s was a look of jealousy. Sam tried half as hard and got more communication from her.

Y/N read some more, but she finished her book. Since she only carries one with her at a time, she was at a loss. “Good book?” Sam asked. Y/N handed him the book and he flipped through the pages. Y/N looked over at Bucky, who was looking back at her. Unable to handle the queasy feeling, she immediately looked away. “Hmm seems interesting.” Sam handed the book back. Y/N grabbed the remote from the desk. How are these dudes just sitting here? Don’t they want something to pass the time? Y/N turned on the television and flipped through the channels. She decided on the sports channel, something she thought the guys would enjoy. They sat and watched the game until a knock sounded at the hotel room door.

Sam grabbed the food and paid the delivery guy, who spent his time looking at Y/N in the background. Bucky caught wind of this and tightened his jaw at the sight. Bucky felt a wave of overprotection wash over him. He didn’t know why, but Bucky didn’t want to think about Y/N being with someone. Bucky shot a death glare at the delivery guy, who started to look a little worried. When Sam finally shut the door, eating time began. The hotel room was silent as everyone enjoyed their meals. Y/N didn’t want to look too desperate, but this salad was the largest meal she’d had in days. Y/N is not good at prioritizing her money, she spends it all on books and coffee. Sam noticed that she finished her salad within minutes. “We could have gotten you something else if we knew you were that hungry. Want some money for the vending machine?” Sam offered as Y/N looked up at him. Without prompt, Sam grabs some money out of his bag. “Go crazy girl.” He hands her two dollars. Y/N leaves to find the vending machine.

“Dude, did you give the delivery guy one of your stone cold stares? He looked like he was about to piss himself.” Sam said, laughing. Bucky avoided eye contact as he took a bite of his food. “He was staring at her. The look in his eyes just gave me a bad feeling.” Bucky defended himself but Sam could see right through it. “You know she looks at you, right? When you’re not paying attention.” Sam added. Bucky shook his head. “I doubt it. If anything she likes you.” Sam put down his fork. “That’s where I disagree. She trusts me more, but she likes you.” Sam paused but saw no reaction from Bucky. “Fine, want to make a bet? If she likes you, you have to wash our laundry for the week.” Bucky shoved another bite of chicken parm in his mouth. “How would we know if she likes me?” Sam huffed a smile. “You mean besides the goo goo eyes she’s been giving you? I don’t know, maybe if she makes a move or something.” Bucky sighed. She doesn’t even talk to me, she barely gives me any sort of acknowledgment. I’ll win this bet, easy. “Fine, we have a deal.” The two men shook hands.

After walking around for a few minutes, Y/N found the vending machine in a hidden corner. Her eyes widened at the sight of a candy bar. Y/N ate the chocolate on a bench outside, not wanting to interrupt the guys. She comes back inside to see the two finished eating and getting ready to sleep. The room smelt strongly of Italian food.

“I’m going to shower real quick.” Bucky announced, not knowing Y/N was in the room. The tone of his voice is different. Y/N made a mental note. Y/N took off her shoes and approached Sam’s bed. “I’ll keep this between us but, can you tell me your name?” Sam asked. Y/N contemplated. Ah screw it. I’m feeling generous today. Y/N took the hotel notepad and wrote her name down. She folded up the paper and handed it to Sam. “Y/N. What a pretty name.” He said with a smile. “I promise I won’t tell Bucky.” Y/N got under the covers and turned off the lamp next to her. “Goodnight Y/N.” Sam said and got into bed.

The two slept with their backs towards each other, however, that gave Y/N a direct line of sight to Bucky’s bed. When Bucky got out of the shower, the bathroom light shined in her face. She saw his damp hair, he was only wearing boxers. Y/N got a quick peek at his abdomen. Bucky smirked at Y/N when he noticed her look. He slept facing Y/N, hoping to get a glimpse of what she looks like asleep in the morning.

——————

Bucky was the last to awaken in the morning, Sam getting up for an early run and Y/N taking a shower. Bucky finally got out of bed when he heard the bathroom door open. Y/N’s hair was wet and she smelt fresh. Bucky awkwardly got out of bed and walked to the bathroom. Y/N watched him from behind, subtly checking him out without him knowing. Just as Bucky finished getting dressed, Sam came back. “I’ll meet you guys for breakfast I’m just gonna shower real quick.” Sam said, short of breath.

After breakfast, the three went to scope out their next mission. They had intel about the position of the super soldiers and it appeared to be correct. “Let’s go in, while they least expect it.” Sam said. “Wait, what if there’s civilians in there?” Bucky asked. “Well I have yet to see a single one. Even if we just start from outside we can get them.” Bucky contemplated for a minute. “Ok, what do we do with her?” Bucky gave Y/N a side eye. “She helps us out, yeah?” Y/N nodded in Sam’s direction. “Sounds like a plan. Let’s get in there.”

There turned out to be more super soldiers than originally expected, causing the team some struggles. Y/N was a big help, moving large objects to thwart groups of them. However, there came a point where the three of them were encircled by the soldiers.

“Y/N look out!” Sam yelled and Y/N stopped a flying sword that was coming after her. Bucky stopped in his tracks. “Y/N, hm that’s her name.” He mumbled to himself. However, he didn’t have much more time to think about it because another super soldier came running at him. Y/N grabbed the sword and started fighting soldiers with combat as well. Y/N heard a gun click and turned her head to see it was pointing at Sam and Bucky. When the gun fired, Y/N made the bullets fall to the ground. The soldier wasted an entire round of bullets.

The soldiers ended up giving in, but running away as a group. Sam chased after them, but to no avail. Bucky looked to be in pain, as he was crouched on the ground, groaning. Y/N approached him and saw his hand covering his shoulder. It looks like he was stabbed. Y/N reaches her hand out and heals the wound, Bucky’s breathing slowed. Y/N also healed the cuts on his face and arm. Bucky watched in amazement as Y/N used her powers to heal him. He liked the feel of her gentle hands on his skin. He looked into her eyes, “Thank you, Y/N.” Y/N nodded and helped Bucky stand up. She liked the sound of her name coming from his mouth. Sam returned appearing unharmed. “Let’s get our stuff, they’re heading north.”

Another night another hotel with only two beds. This time felt different, though, now that Bucky’s wounds are healed, he doesn’t have to take this time to recover from them. He was excited to get a good sleep. “How about we take turns yeah? Y/N can swap between beds so that way it’s fair?” Y/N shrugged as if she didn’t care. However, she was excited to share a bed with Bucky.

That night Bucky and Y/N also slept with their backs facing each other. Bucky was awakened in the middle of the night by some murmurs from the other side of the bed. Bucky turned on the light and looked over to Y/N. She was having a nightmare and talking in her sleep. Bucky turned off the light and settled back into bed. Her voice sounded so vulnerable and desperate. It made him sad that he had to hear her voice for the first time like that, but there was nothing he could do about her nightmare. He wondered if Sam dealt with the same thing the night before. It was hard to fall back asleep because then Y/N started to quietly whimper. When the whimpers stopped Y/N woke up. She slipped out of bed and went into the bathroom, teary eyed. She washed up and brought herself back into reality. It was just a dream. I hope I didn’t wake anyone else up. Y/N would be embarrassed if they knew.

Y/N went back to bed, and Bucky whispered her name, “Y/N, is everything ok?” He obviously wouldn’t be able to tell in the dark so he turned on the lamp. He turned towards Y/N, who had wrapped the blanket around her, her eyes red. “You know I, I get nightmares too.” Bucky sat up, close to Y/N, his voice barely a whisper. Y/N’s heart started racing at the thought of him hearing her dreams. “For a while I wasn’t a good guy, I was under mind control and torture. I did things, horrible things you could never imagine.” Y/N watched him as he spoke, while Bucky stared into the distance. “I’m still not over it, but it does get better. I promise.” Bucky slowly moved his arm to rest on Y/N’s blanketed shoulder. “If you ever want to talk-or I guess write about it, I’m here.” Y/N liked the sound of his voice, soft and comforting. Bucky looked over to Y/N to see her looking right back at him. Y/N felt her embarrassment wash away. She gave Bucky a small smile, which he returned. I guess he’s different than I thought. Y/N laid down and faced opposite of Bucky, ready to go back to sleep. Bucky reached over and turned off the light. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

——————

Tags: @learisa

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #sebastian stan imagine #imagine #mcu #marvel #mcu imagine #marvel imagine #fanfic #crush imagine

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buryyourfavouritestrope · 3 years

Text

Feel Things - Claude Faustus

Author Note: I haven't reread through this, so expect errors, I've just had the same several paragraphs in my drafts for months and really needed to finish this, because damn the concept was too good for me. Also I'm so glad someone made this gif because it fits super good for a specific moment in the fic below. Fruniscor

It was silly. It really was but she’d let a voice crow in their ear, and it had planted a charming seed of doubt. They’d passed each other by chance in a city of hundreds; a gentle yet firm grip had pulled her from the street matched with provocative eyes. The world stopped breathing in time with the Trancy Maid; all noise fell silent until the butler chuckled. As soon as Sebastian whispered his questions a shadow latched onto her young heart. He’d released the maid shortly after with a promise to see her again. A promise she had no intention of allowing him to keep.

This came as no surprise to either party, that along with the stagnant smell of the city street came the lingering stench of the Phantomhive butler. A foul smell that had been commented on a dozen times and would continue to be at the top of conversation. Claude had remained silent since she had returned home. His face contorted in displeasure – or could she see a hint of disgust hidden behind his liquid gold eyes.

“He should never have touched you, and for that I must apologise” Claude sighed. The demon was not the one to say sorry, but then he wasn’t one to let this happen in the first place. He could feel his irritation itching beneath his skin as he continued to inhale the fetor of the other demon. “However, before we go about any other business, you need to wash. I can’t stand that malodour.”

Claude’s fingers wrapped around her wrist felt drastically different to how Sebastian’s had felt earlier. His fingers held tight, almost painfully, as though he was worried, she would slip from his grasp and disappear. The Trancy Butler was all too aware of her pain threshold, and he always balanced on the precipitous edge. He wanted to let them know that he was still a demon. That he could still break them into unmendable pieces. Don’t get him wrong, he didn’t mean any harm by it; but she had this way of looking at him like he was almost human.

It hadn’t taken him long to draw a bath; nor had it taken long for her to disrobe and allow the steaming water to consume every inch of her body. Claude remained there, crouching beside the metal tub, his fingers idly skimming the surface of the water. Every so often he let his finger dive beneath the surface for a few beats before removing it. Both of them sat inhaling the soft scent of lavender.

In these moments, with just the two of them, the maid saw the serenity he was capable of. She found herself unable to remember the very simple fact that he was supernatural. She watched him turn slowly from a stone wall incapable of even faking an emotion, to this. A demon with a content smile drawn on his features and his eyes gliding over the ripples in the water as though he’d never seen it happen before.

Sebastian’s inquiry fought to the forefront of her mind. His sultry words squeezing at her heart. A jolt shot through her body; it caused the Demon to draw his focus to the maid. His eyes narrowed in confusion.

“Sebastian asked me a question earlier. A series of them, most pointless but one in particular.” The maid began, any confidence within her dissipated the instant Claude shifted closer to the bath. His fingers retreating from the water and resting on the metal. She hoped she would get the answer she imagined on her way back to the Manor. “He asked me why you kept me around, he said the other servants were demons and that with those four and yourself, there was really no need for-“

A guttural growl fell from Claude’s lips, his eyes darkening in rage as he gripped the metal tighter. The Trancy butler would’ve, in this second, liked nothing more than to destroy Sebastian. A task that he deemed easy considering the demon hadn’t fed in a few years. Yet, when Claude looked towards the shivering maid, who had so cleverly and without knowing stolen his thoughts, the tension within him dissipated.

“Claude?” She whispered, a damp hand settling above his own. Faustus winced; his eyes falling onto where they had joined. She’d touched him before. The maid had caressed his cheek one evening whilst he pretended to be asleep, in a poor attempt to keep the fact that he was a demon from her. He’d felt the soft callouses of her fingers on his skin for several days, and in the dead of night he imagined what it would feel like should she caress other parts of him. “I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”

It took a while for Claude to register her words; he was too busy discerning the loss of her warmth. Once it had settled in his brain the butler had all but fell backwards, his legs crouched by the side of the tub buckled as he lost his composure. Her touch hadn’t caused him pain, it had startled him, the feel of her flesh on his own had drawn him into the fantasies that lurked in the darkest parts of his mind, reserved for painfully long evenings.

“You didn’t harm me,” He uttered. Claude’s voice almost sounded foreign to himself. He hadn’t spoken for a while and the sudden crack as he returned to his position by the tub. His knees firmly planted on the concrete floor. Quietly she watched him, his eyes doing their best to avoid hers, should she see the hunger prowling. Claude dipped his finger into lukewarm water. “You should get out soon, I’d hate to have you sick, think of the additional work.” He commented. He was trying to hide behind his cruelty, like the coward he hated to be.

“Yes sir, sorry” She apologised, her voice cracking slightly. She was still picturing Michaelis’ words, she was reminding herself she held no real value to the Trancy Household and in that reminder, she had begun to thread the words into her subconscious. She was a mere plaything. An example for the servants on how a human servant act, and once they were bored of this charade, they’d dispose of her.

Claude watched her; he could practically see the thoughts weighing down on her. The heart, which should never have existed, within his chest tore a little. He missed her smile. The one that he’d receive at the crack of dawn as she wiped away the sleep from her eyes, and the same one that he had been allowed to see as the same sleep from the morning fought for control of her body. Every night she’d go out of her way to say goodnight to him; she’d even stood outside their master’s room and waited for Claude to leave before she gave her sleepy grin and whispered goodnight. A few times he’d carried her to her room; her head against his chest. On those occasions he’d find his demonic nature softening as he tucked her into her rickety old bed, his gloved fingers placing stray hair behind her ear before – in an uncharacteristic moment – he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. Unable to help himself and as he moved back, he would find that smile on her features.

“You shouldn’t listen to demons” He announced; at this point Claude had fully submerged his hand. The limb sat limp for a moment in the water. “We’re notorious liars, thieves, scoundrels and we say whatever we can to plant those seeds of doubt in unsuspecting innocent humans. I’ve done in a thousand times before, in order to tempt someone else’s meal to move towards me.” He continued.

“Someone else’s meal…” she breathed. Claude frowned at his own reckless explanation. The woman before him was nothing like food to him. Her soul held no nutritional value to him; it would never hold that meaning to him.

“My apologies, that was not what I meant” Claude admitted. “That uncouth demon chose you to tempt because it would cause trouble for me.”

“Trouble…how?” She questioned. Claude growled in frustration. This was the first time in a long time that he had ever struggled with his words. Inhaling deeply the demon reached for her hand beneath the water, his fingers brushed against hers briefly as he settled his mind and focused on what he was going to say next.

“This isn’t working” Claude huffed, his fingers – that had settled beside her – wrapped around her wrist like they had done earlier. A small tug as her body fell towards his, his eyes searching her features as he placed his other hand beneath her chin. “What I’m trying to get across to you is this”

She felt his breath across her lips as he hesitated briefly. It was just the shortest of moments as he questioned his resolve once again before his lips found hers. The hand around her wrist releasing her. He gave her the option to move away from him as their lips moved with each other. He let her have the time to regain control of her logical thoughts; and yet it had been her to place her hands on his first. Her hand rested behind his neck whilst the other found his shirt as their breaths mingled.

The room felt a few degrees warmer to her once they had separated. Her hands still firmly rooted against him.

“In short, I keep you here because beside me is where I need you, you hold more value to me than the others, if anything the other four could be replaced in an instant but you, I could scour the world for centuries and never find a replacement for.” Claude uttered. “You make me feel things that should be impossible and that both scares me and excites me”

#claude fauster/reader #claude x reader #claude faustus imagine #claude faustus #black butler imagine #black butler imagines #black butler #I just think he's neat

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newtonsheffield · 3 years

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Do you have any drabbles or headcanons with Violet and baby Violet, like when Ben and Sophie told her? And Ben’s reaction to finally having his little princess/mini soph?? 🥰🥰

Hi!!! Here I am, two birds with one stone again!

Another anon also asked for: I know you’re super busy and Inundated with asks but do you have any Violet and Baby Violet headcanons or drabbles? ❤️

Okay! Baby Violet headcanons! Feat. Benedad

Benedict Bridgerton loved being a father, adored his sons, and his wife who was so patient and kind and nurturing. But it was no secret that while all of his children had inherited Sophie’s deep green eyes, he desperately wanted a daughter. A tiny little version of his wife. He saw how Anthony doted on Charlotte whom they all agreed seemed to be Kate reborn, even as She tore around the house like a tornado, destroying everything in her path and he couldn’t help the little spark of jealousy from flaring in his chest. It was was ridiculous, he knew this. He had 3 perfectly healthy absolutely beautiful sons and he and Sophie had agreed even before they got married that they wanted three children. But still Ben wanted. And so when Sophie had gotten into bed a little nervously one night, when William was nearly 2 years old and said Ben I have something that I need to tell you and I need you to stay calm of course he hadn’t been. Even as he’d tried to tamp down his panic and said What’s up, Soph? She’d taken a deep breath and said all in a rush I’m-pregnant-and-I-know-we-said- And before she could even get the words out, he had her in his arms cutting her off with a kiss. Sophie, I could not love you anymore if I tried. And he eyes had shone with tears even as she’d rolled them when he’d said And this time, I’m positive it’s a girl.

They’d agreed not to find out the gender of the baby. They had agreed that they could wait, just like they had every other time. And still Sophie stared at the envelope. Benedict had said I don’t need to know, I already know she’s a girl. Sophie had rolled her eyes smiling You were pretty sure the last two times as well. I’m not sure you’re much good at making girls, Honey. But still, she couldn’t help but wonder if he was right. Her hand twitched on the envelope. When Benedict arrived home later Sophie smiled happily, kissing his cheek and patting Geoff the Golden retriever on the head. How are you feeling? He’d said wrapping his arms around. Sophie hummed happily Good actually, she was a little restless earlier but- and she cut herself off as Benedict stilled behind her. Because she’d said it. After promising not to look, after promising she wouldn’t tell him. She had. Sophie, did you look in that envelope? Ben said, his voice full of mock surprise. Sophie turned to face him I might have? I’m sorry! I just got so curious and you left me alone with it so it’s your fault! Benedict had laughed brightly at her, tears in his eyes and said, a little incredulously We’re having a girl? Sophie had nodded, unable to speak at the expression on her husband’s face. And he’d picked her up and spun her around the living room.

As Benedict stared down at the tiny bundle in his arms he couldn’t help the tears that fell down his face. His daughter had a tiny shock of blonde hair and seemed so much smaller, more delicate than any of the boys had. We’re not calling her Sophie His wife’s voice said tiredly from the bed beside him. They’d had this conversation so many times over the last few months, it seemed almost constant. It’s too ridiculous. Benedict rolled his eyes What would you like to call her then? And Sophie had hummed lightly, her chin resting on his shoulder staring down at their tiny daughter Violet. She said softly. Ben’s head spun towards his wife, his eyes wide, a lump forming in his throat. Your Mum has just done so much for me, and I think it’s only right. Sophie’s voice crackled, and even though just moments before he hadn’t thought it possible for him to feel any more love, his heart threatened to explode. Violet Sophie? He said, his eyes flicking to hers, Sophie sighed, Fine then.

Violet Bridgerton crowded her grandchildren towards a hospital room to meet their new sibling for the umpteenth time in her life. She’d had a call from Benedict at 2am Mum, I’m really sorry but can you take the boys? The Baby’s coming. She’d been at his house within 10 minutes. She held her arm out to steady Charlie who was practically bouncing at the doorway before peeking inside to make sure all was well. Before she could Charlie had bounded ahead Mummy, is she here! pushing his way into the room, Violet held back slightly, the sight of one of her Children and a new baby was always a little overwhelming, the joy radiating from them making tears prick at her eyes. And then she heard her Daughter-in-law’s soft voice call out She is! Boys come and meet your sister, Violet. Violet’s head had shot up, Benedict was standing, holding his new baby, a proud grin on his face, Sophie was giving all the appearance of listening intently to her children though her eyes kept flickering to Violet’s searching for approval, that this was fine. Violet cleared her throat, trying to push back the tears and moved around the bed to see the baby. The tiny little thing clutched in her son’s arms was absolutely beautiful, it stole her breath for a second. She turned to Sophie, who the baby looked so much like, wrapped her arms around her a squeezed tight. She’s so beautiful, Sophie. Thank you. Sophie shook her head as she pulled back and said No Violet, Thank you for him. Violet Bridgerton cried for the rest of the afternoon.

#bridgerton and sons au #benedict x sophie #benedict bridgerton #sophie beckett #violet bridgerton #violet bridgerton ii #benedad #pregnant sophie #molly's asks and answers

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alexaplaysgames · 3 years

Text

Hideaway

Pairing: Felix Escellun x GN!MC

Fandom: Fictif (Last Legacy)

Rating: T (swearing, dorks making out)

Words: ~2600

Description: Felix and his barista explore his childhood home.

Notes: Felix has all my uwus 🥺 did not post five fics in one day (yet) but I might if convinced.

Thanks to @callioops for the inspiration :)

Please go easy on me I am in no way a fanfiction writer by nature but my love for Felix has evidently overpowered my insecurities ;)

Edit: Uhh.... I was debating between settings for this and realized I made it super ambiguous, so I’ve edited it now!

Warning: This is heavily canon divergent now. Oops.

I’m not even sure how I ended up here, to be quite honest.

But I would’ve had to be crazy to have predicted such a thing- a portal to another dimension (is this another dimension?), a towering manor overflowing with stuffy furniture and servants, a raven-haired goth (although he would protest to such a description) with a bird skull strung around his neck. Honesty, his fashion sense is questionable, though admittedly charming, but I nonetheless can’t seem to get him out of my head.

No, this is the stuff of fantasies born to the insane, of perhaps just the slightly deranged.

I’m not protesting, however, quite the contrary. As I pull Felix through the winding corridors of his childhood home, trying not to thing about the smooth softness of his cool hand in mine, I can honestly say that I haven’t had such fun in a very, very long time.

“Stop, stop!” Felix laughingly protests between laboured breaths, tugging on my hand. I gradually slow to a halt, our footsteps echoing in the large, surprising empty corridor, and Felix slips his hand from mine to brace his hands on his knees as he pants. I try to ignore the resulting disappointment that pangs in my chest and grin.

“You doing okay there, bird boy?”

Apparently, he still has the energy to raise his head and glare.

“My apologies, dear barista, that I have not your physical endurance.” He rolls his eyes, then pauses and smirks. “My being a magical prodigy has spared me the effort of such trivial things as exercise.” He spits the last word out with a scoff.

My grin widens as I saunter closer, placing a finger under his chin to raise his gaze to meet mine from where he is still bent over and panting.

“Perhaps we’ll just have to work on your stamina then, won’t we?”

Felix’s cheeks flush that pretty red that I know has nothing to do with exertion as he ducks his head. I smirk as I turn to examine the nearby wall, giving him time to collect himself. How fun it is to make him blush.

A row of framed paintings lines the wall, all of the equally bizarre. I try to make sense of the faces in them, but the harder I look, the more blurred they become. They are all covered in a discernible layer of dust, indicating that this hallway is rarely used. A peculiar sort of coldness rolls off of the strange pieces, one that has me averting my eyes from the freaky, obviously magically concealed paintings.

“Do you think anyone will find us here?”

I question as I turn to see Felix straightening and running a hand through his hair. I try not to let my eyes follow the motion, choosing instead to meet his icy gray gaze.

He seems perturbed as he looks around, biting his lip. It’s as if he’s just realized where we are. His fault for letting me lead him through the monstrous maze that is his home.

“No. Escell has not entered this corridor in years. I’m surprised he has not blocked it off. He rather enjoys avoiding all things that make him uncomfortable.”

“And what makes him uncomfortable about this wing?”

“Too many memories, my dear. Memories he would prefer to keep locked up.” Though he says it with a smirk, tapping one black-painted fingernail against his temple, it comes out only as sounding rather sad.

I open my mouth to reply, but am interrupted by a sharp-

“Master Felix! Enough with your foolish hiding!”

Felix’s eyes widen as he visibly flinches. “Great goddess, have mercy.”

The voice of Madam Usoro, an angry, mean, lump of a woman, sounds like it is coming from just down the long hall. I cringe inwardly, and probably outwardly, at the thought of meeting her again. According to Felix, she was one of his many childhood nannies (the only one that actually managed to survive his torments), and judging by her scowl, she hasn’t had a “me day” since then.

Unfortunately, Escell also assigned her the task of watching over Felix.

“Ridiculous,” he huffs, “it is as if I am nine years old again!”

My gaze darts frantically between the doors lining the walls, not sure where any of them lead.

I grab Felix’s sleeve and tug, though his eyes stay trained on the end of the hallway, his expression resigned.

“Felix!” I hiss, “which of these goddamn doors will get us out of here?”

He merely sighs. “Why bother? My inevitable capture fast approaches, thus I have decided to be accepting of my fate. I will remain here as a prisoner for the rest of my days while Escell continues to treat me like a babbling infant.”

Great. Now really isn’t the time for his dramatics. I lunge forward and lock my hand around his wrist, tugging him once more down the endless corridor of doors. I feel Felix stiffen as I go to open the first door that catches my eye, but I yank it open and pull him inside before he can protest. The door shuts with a satisfying click and we are alone in a strange, dark room.

“Felix?” I cannot see a thing.

A flash of light, and then Felix appears, a green

orb of light glowing in his palm. I suck in a breath as I take in the captivating way the light hits his features, highlighting his long eyelashes and silvery eyes.

“Apologies! I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

I shake my head, unable to divulge to him the truth. I can’t have him knowing about my strange infatuation. Though I often indulge in what I consider to be harmless flirtation, I know Felix obviously isn’t interested in me. Just days ago he was crying over me, thinking I was someone else! The thought is sobering, and I shake my head.

“What is this room?”

“Ah,” he appears uncharacteristically lost for words. “This is... nothing. We can wait here, I’m certain she’ll cease her endless badgering soon enough.”

I send him a thumbs up before I turn to examine the room. I might as well look around, if there’s nothing else to do but sit around.

“Wait!” Felix’s sharp cry is especially harsh in the quiet of the strange room.

My head jerks up. “What is it?”

“I simply think it best not to carelessly voyage through the uncertainties of the dark. You haven’t a clue what you could stumble upon.”

Something about his tone sounds off, but I sigh and move back towards the door anyway. I have learned that there is no use arguing with him.

I’m almost near the safe haven of Felix’s orb of light when my foot slips on something. I manage to catch myself, but lean down and pick up the offensive item out of curiosity.

It’s a bound, leather notebook. It looks worn, from what I can tell in the faint light, and I flip it open to the inside cover, ignoring Felix’s faint protests in the back of my mind. On the right page are lines of scrawling, messy and unintelligible handwriting. But that’s not what catches my eye. On the left, the page reads:

Property of Felix Iskandar Escellun

I lift my gaze to meet Felix’s guilty visage.

“This is yours?”

He cringes but attempts to hide it with a shrug. The movement does not at all look natural on him.

“You are aware I was raised here?” He snatches the journal out of my grasp with his free hand, then quirks a brow. “Why are you surprised to find an object previously in my possession?”

Felix is an atrocious liar. I glance around the room and suddenly it hits me where we are.

“This was your bedroom, wasn’t it?”

Although Felix is, I assume, currently staying somewhere else, his reaction leaves me with no doubt in my mind that this used to be his room.

Felix bites his lip (he really needs to stop doing that lest I get distracted) then slowly nods. With another sigh, he presses his palms together, then spreads them apart until green light flows throughout the room, the night vision goggle-like effect making it look like we’re on an episode of ghost hunters.

“I would rather not spend time sifting through old memories,” Felix says quietly from beside me as I observe my surroundings.

The room is relatively sparsely decorated. In the centre of the opposite wall is a large, canopy bed, the sheets tossed to the side and the curtains haphazardly thrown about. A large desk is pressed up against one wall, overflowing with notebooks and stacks of parchment, and a bookcase on the opposite wall is spilling over with messily arranged books. A large, elegant armchair is piled high with odd boxes near the middle of the room, and an open armoire is empty save for a pile of clothing laying at the bottom. The whole place is a mess, and though the furniture is very fine, Felix’s attempts to hide that fact are quite obvious. The few windows are boarded up, the curtains surrounding them singed. In fact, there are several odd burn marks on the floor, and I don’t think they’re due to the large stone fireplace.

“Wow.” Very eloquent of me to say.

“Ugh. I despise this room.”

I drift curiously about making note of the objects in the room. Aside from the pieces of writing, there is very little here to signify that the room was Felix’s.

I walk over to the window and am pleased to find the the large wooden board covering it is relatively easy to dislodge. Behind it, there is a window seat, and I glance out the window to see a view of the rolling hills that stretch far and beyond, illuminated by the moonlight.

Felix flops onto the window seat with a sigh. I sit beside him and try to ignore the fact that our knees touch.

Felix squeezes his eyes shut. “I apologize for my theatrics, dear barista, but I would truly rather leap off the highest tower of the castle of Porrima than suffer through living in this room again.”

I refrain from telling him that I did, in fact, almost leap off the castle’s highest tower, and it is not as fun as he makes it out to be.

He hardly ever speaks of his past without flippant disregard for true emotion. “Will you tell me why it was so bad, Felix?”

His eyes shoot open and he scoffs, though his eyes glisten in the moonlight which shines through the window.

His voice is small as he replies. “I was forced every day to live a life I hated in hopes of pleasing a father whose love I already knew I would never earn. I have never felt so useless, so pathetically desperate, as I felt here. And here I am, back again. All my work to escape this place has been for naught.”

My heart aches for him, the expression on his face causing a physical pain in my chest.

“Felix...” I say softly, and before I even register what I’m doing, my hand is grabbing his.

Felix meets my gaze, eyes wide. Every time I touch him he gets so surprised, and I wonder how often he has been touched lovingly in his life.

“I would never think you useless, Felix, never. You are so extraordinary, so brilliant, and it’s a shame that you can’t see it. You have done so much for me and... I need you. Not just to get home, I don’t even know if I care about that anymore, but because you’ve make me so happy, Felix. Being with you feels like being able to breathe. I know that everyone else has left you, but I promise you, I never will. Never.”

His lips part in shock at my words and this time I can’t stop my eyes from flickering down to his mouth. He is so beautiful. I would do anything to kiss him, even just once.

Felix raises his hand and his fingers draw lines down my cheek, making me shiver. Then he leans forward and presses his forehead against mine, closing his eyes.

“Thank you.”

The words are said so quietly that I barely hear them, but I don’t need to with the gratitude that seems to roll off of him in waves.

“Felix?”

“Hm?”

A pause.

“Do you ever think about me?”

“I... I- of course I do. You have consumed every aspect of my waking life.” I can hear a slight teasing in his voice.

I lick my lips. “Do you ever think of me like you think of Rime?”

I can feel him flinch at the name and am about to apologize before he speaks.

“Rime is gone. A necromancer knows better than to waste energy attempting to recall what has been truly lost.”

“Oh... I-“

He sounds so incredibly sad. Whoever Rime is, I’ve no doubt that Felix loved this person. Though I know I shouldn’t feel jealous of a dead person, envy ripples through my stomach all the same.

“I... do. Think about you.”

And the meaning has changed. He pulls back with a shaky breath, cheeks bright red. “I know I am not the most naturally affectionate person, but I-“

He thinks about me. My heart does a fluttering little happy dance at the thought.

Screw it. If I leave this world, I don’t want to have any regrets.

And that’s the thought that propels me forward as I crash my lips into his with a longing I have never before felt. Felix gasps against my mouth and stiffens, and I panic. What the hell am I doing? But no sooner has the thought left my mind then he relaxes and kisses me back. He kisses me back! And I’ve never felt anything more wonderful.

His hands come to set at my waist as mine cup his face, feeling his jaw work as he kisses me and that makes it all the more real that he is kissing me and this isn��t some sort of fervour dream. I pull his hair free from its tie and tangle my fingers in the silken locks of his hair, and god, it’s just as soft as I thought I would be.

Felix kisses like he talks- a little hestitant, full of passion, and enough to make your head spin. It feels like I’m falling, I don’t know which way it’s up and which is down, just like when he rambles on about spells I could never hope to comprehend, but the drop is thrilling because I’ve wanted it so badly and for so long. At first it’s slow, soft, but I want, so I press myself harder against him in effort to let him know that’s it’s okay for him to let himself take from me what he needs.

HIs hands tighten around my waist as he pulls me closer to him, hands drifting over my sides, and I smile against his lips at his momentary display of forwardness. I retaliate by tugging on his hair that flows between my fingers like water, causing his lips to part against mine as he gasps, the perfect opportunity to slip my tongue into his mouth and I’m worried that I’m moving too fast but he moans. I sling a leg over his thigh and we’re grabbing at each other like horny teenagers now-

Felix pulls away with a gasp (I knew we had to work on his stamina). We’re both breathing hard, echoing in the quiet of the large room, and he blinks rapidly; he looks rather like someone hit him over the head with a brick.

I smile at him, running a thumb over his lower lip, and he lets out a pained noise somewhere between a whimper and a squeak.

“I liked that,” I whisper.

“You- you did?”

I nod. “Of course, Felix. I’ve been wanting to kiss you for so long.”

“R-really?”

I roll my eyes, responding by leaning forward and pressing another chaste kiss to his lips.

“Me too.” He whispers it like a secret, one that I’ll gladly hold forever in my heart.

Felix tentatively reaches and takes my hand in his, flipping it over and drawing little patterns into my palm as he turns to stare out the window again. It’s soothing, and I don’t really pay attention to the patterns. But after a while I think he starts inadvertently drawing hearts into my skin. It’s rather cute; I didn’t take him for a romantic.

“Master Felix!” The voice sounds from not too far outside Felix’s bedroom door.

“Shit.”

I’m afraid I don’t possess his way with words.

Our eyes meet and we both burst into a fit of giggles as the sounds of Madam Usoro’s footsteps gets louder. Trapped as we are, she’s bound to find us soon. Somehow, I’m not worrried. Nothing could ever take Felix from me.

And he knows that I will never leave him.

#Felix Iskandar Escellun #Felix Escellun #Fictif #Fictif Last Legacy #Last Legacy #Last Legacy Fanfiction #fanfiction #interactive game #Felix Escellun x mc

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bowieandqueen11 · 3 years

Text

You and Me / Will Graham Imagine

Request: hi hi! if you have the time i was wondering if you could write a fluffy fic of reader (gender neutral) comforting will graham after a nightmare <3

This is really sweet! It’s always nice to see the Will Graham asks pop up! <3

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated!

Being a special agent, working for the infamous Behavioral Analysis Unit was never going to be an easy job. Or one that would ever let you off the clock.

That’s how you found yourself slouched over one your boyfriend’s chairs, a slice of pizza in one hand, and another half holding a case file, and half trying to scratch the ear of the mountain of dogs laying and stomping over your legs. Trying to wiggle your shoe out from underneath one of the puffy dog beds that lies, warming you up by the stone arch fire, you decide to abandon it to poor Winston. He only glances up at you with a sleepy sigh, twitching his ear as you stand up and jump past the litter of dogs to head towards the kitchen.

‘If I have to read another word tonight, I think I’m going to lose my mind.’

You stop by the window, your foot sliding to a stop on the crimson rug and your forehead thumping onto the wooden frame. Shivering, you watch the silvery flakes drift down onto the porch past the net curtains, glittering under the peaking moonlight. You were glad to be inside, in the heat of this little fairytale home, as the thick blanket of snow settled by the stream outside. The ghostly wind broke your contemplation, swaying the walnut trees and reminding you that you had stuffed a tin of hot chocolate underneath Will’s sink for cold nights like these.

Nights, where you and Will should have been curled up together with the dogs, spending the midnight hours doing nothing but revelling in each other’s warmth and talking about everything and nothing.

Running a hand over your head, you head into the kitchen to make two cups of hot cocoa, making a mental note to curse Jack Crawford tomorrow for not giving Will a break. You had told him. You had warned him. Keeping Will going on this track was going to burn him up from the inside out. You had been there through it all - you had seen the way he retreated into himself during his lecturing days, the way he would come home and it would take you at least an hour of sitting by his side and rubbing your thumb over his knuckles until you could get him to at least look you in the eyes.

The nightmares were more frequent now, which was the worst thing. Ever since the Minnesota Shrike case, you found yourself sleeping over at Will’s more frequently, having to try and shake him up and out of his cold sweat. Some nights were worse than others - the nights when he could barely open his eyes he was shaking so badly. The nights when he could barely look at you, choosing instead to hunch over himself, awkward and anxious still, unable to tell you how afraid he was of losing himself and hurting you. The stiffness in his shoulders on the nights you would have to lead him back in from his sleepwalking escapade out onto the roof, the barking of the dogs the only noise as he covers his face with his hand and digs into the skin of his forehead, unable to remember who he was.

It was rough, but you were always glad to be there to support him, and although he had a rough time expressing himself, you always knew he was pleased you were with him too. Picking up the mugs, you try to juggle them as you wander back into the living room with a smile. You made things easier for him, more manageable, more in control. That’s why tonight, you were surprised to see that your boyfriend had fallen asleep already.

‘Will, shall we give up for the night? There’s a super exciting documentary about fly fishing I recorded for us to watch, and I can reheat the leftover pizza from yesterday if you’re still hungry. I think, after the mess of a day we’ve had, we deserve it.... Will?’

Turning your head round, your eyebrows furrow as Will twitches from his seat by the bookshelf, his fingernails scraping over the manchettes. It only took a second, but it was all you needed to realise that part of the whistling wind, was instead, the heavy breathing coming out of Will’s heaving mouth, the sweat glistening on his forehead.

‘Y/n... no... I ca- I can’t-’

He begins to murmur to himself, harsh syllables that hardly escape his lips before his head starts shaking again and his features twist into one of unimaginable pain. Dumping the cups on the table, it took you only a moment to jump past the table and land, on your knees, by his side.

‘Will, come on love, it’s just another dream. Just another dream, that’s all. I’m right here.’

You place one hand firmly on his shoulder - familiarly, comfortably, but harsh enough that you can feel Will’s muscles flex against your touch in retaliation. The other comes up to cup his cheek, pointer finger splaying just to the left of his nose, palm itching against his stubble as you turn his face to look at you.

‘Come on, Will, wake up. I’m right here - you’re not hurting me. It’s alright, you’re safe. I’m safe. It’s just you and me.’

You finish your muttering by leaning forward and pressing a kiss against his slightly chapped lips. For a brief moment, you can feel his whole body shake against your chest, but then you can feel his eyelashes slightly brush against your skin as they blink quickly open. He pulled slightly away - only slightly - your foreheads resting against each other, as his breath begins to slow against your cheek. You dance your hand up the side of his face, until your fingers brush the sweat drenched hair away from his forehead.

‘Good morning’, he manages to shake out, his cheeks still twitching but he tries to give you a rough smile.

You chuckle, reaching up to press a kiss against his forehead.

‘More like good evening, actually. It’s still today, love.’

He blushes red as you take his hand and pull him up, leaning one arm around your waist.

‘I must look quite a state. Frightful, in fact’, he starts, glancing down at his crumpled, wet dress shirt and loose, askew tie.

‘Well, I’ve seen you look worse.’

‘Hmm, what’s in the cups?’

‘Hot chocolate. I did have a nice evening planned, but someone had to go and fall asleep and ruin it’, you joke poking him in the chest and making him duck his head, his forehead burning by this point.

‘Sorry.’

You only tug his hand in response.

‘Come on, you’re burning up.’

Dragging him by your side, you each fumble up a cup as you head towards the front door, a flood of fur rushing out onto the porch in front of you.

Pushing him down onto the bench, you curl up into the tired man, your head resting against his cheek, smushing it slightly.

‘I think if we stay out here for long, we’ll freeze.’

‘Just drink your cocoa, Will Graham.’

He chuckles as he wraps his arm around your shoulder, taking a sip with the edge of his lips. The two of you, for a moment in time, are one. Two souls bound together, lost in the breeze that caresses your faces, and the snowflakes that dance to the ground in the surrounding landscape. The wood starts to become cold under Will’s trousers, and so he shuffles closer to you a little, both of his arms enveloping you, comforting and warm.

‘Do you think we can just take the day off tomorrow?’

‘If you want to face the wrath of Jack, then that’s your call.’

Your gaze slid to the side as he pulled you tighter against his chest. His nose tickled your ear as you gasped slightly at the intensity of his grip. Feeling his lips softly graze your neck, gently, like the tickle of a feather, almost not at all, you smile as you lift your chin to place it against his shoulder.

‘For you, I’ll do it.’

The edges of his lips twitch as he glances down at you, his gaze steady and intense, for the first time in a while.

‘I love you’, he whispers, like a confession into the swirling frost, like a secret truth that belongs only to the two of you. ‘I love you, Y/n, so much it terrifies me.’

#hannibal #hannibal imagine #will graham #Will Graham imagine #Will Graham x reader #Will Graham fluff #will hannibal #will hannibal imagine #Hugh Dancy #Hugh Dancy imagine #hannibal fanfic #hannibal fanfiction

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