#and i didn’t appreciate it then… i don’t like the cold or rain even now

[thedreamlessnights]

Since requests are open, here's my suggestion: I recently revisited my old mythology book and found one of the myths about aphrodite bathing in a lake and blinds some pervs that sneaked up to watch her. Now, the reader might not have the powers of a goddess but you know what she does have? A dagger-happy vampire boyfriend more than willing to shank unwanted peeping toms (in his defense, he actually asked if he could be there, so no harm done here). Idk, I just like the idea of the reader having scary dog privileges and Astarion not minding looking menacing/scary while doing so

Thank you so, so much for this request, anon. It's an absolutely incredible concept, and it fits Astarion so well! I had such a fun time writing it, and I really hope you enjoy the result!

For Your Eyes Only

Astarion x F!Reader - NSFW

Content warnings: Mentions of brief, non-consensual voyeurism. Somewhat graphic violence, as well as mentions of blood, degrading terms, and the description of an injury and death. Explicit sexual content, including: oral sex (receiving), penetrative sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, blood drinking, and ear play. Tags: Takes place post-Cazador, some point in Act 3. Includes mild spoilers. Established relationship, a bit of emotional hurt/comfort, and tender smut.

Word Count: 5.8k

After the darkness and chill of the Shadowlands, the heat in the city feels suffocating.

You missed the warmth dearly back then, trudging through despair and gloom, thinking of nothing but the inevitable relief of the city. Your bones always ached something awful in that foul place, never warm enough to ward away the icy air. Now, though, it occurs to you that you hadn’t fully appreciated the cold when you had it. 

The sun that streams down from the skies is blistering - scorching, even - and without reprieve or relief. Sweat courses down your neck, soaking the collar of your shirt. Your socks are damp inside your boots, and where the leather meets your calves, they’re chafing. 

Gods, what you wouldn’t give for a bit of that chill again. Even with the achy bones.

What’s worse is the mud, somehow. One would think that Baldur’s Gate would be scarce on its share of the stuff, but it’s everywhere. Tracked up from Rivington, puddling in the streets, clinging to the bottom of boots.

Granted, your boots have seen more than their fair share of mud since the nautiloid: sticky, wet, warm. It’s seeped into socks and splattered across new armor, stained some of your favorite nightwear. Sometimes, when you’ve finally settled down for dinner, you’ve been able to taste it. No amount of scrubbing rids you of the earthy, bitter taste for long. 

The mud in front of you is different, though. By all accounts, the heat should have baked everything at least somewhat dry, but this puddle remains. If it can even be called a puddle, really. The gloppy, wet mess looks more like a pond, and completely blocks the only path ahead. Even the edges of it remain entirely liquid. If you didn’t know better, you’d think it’d just rained.

A quick glance at your map confirms what you’d feared; this is the only nearby route to your destination. You’re on the outskirts of the city. Rock walls line either side of the path, too steep to climb. You know for a fact that Shadowheart had recently used your last Potion of Flying. Either you lose hours of progress to get Gale from camp so you can cross, or you’ll have to proceed through this stupid pond.

Astarion watches you eye the mess with a dramatic flick of his wrist. “Oh, by all means, darling, you go first!” he exclaims, raising a brow. “It won’t be me jumping in that slop.”

Karlach frowns at the mud’s appearance, tapping the toe of her boot against the surface. It ripples at the movement, brown waves gently sloshing against the surface of the nearby stone. “Can’t be that deep, right?”

“I don’t know,” you reply. You’re aching for a stick or loose branch, something to measure it, but there’s nothing around. Just grass and stone, the scalding sun on the back of your neck, and the muddy pond directly in the middle of the path. 

“I say we go back,” Shadowheart urges. “I don’t know about any of you, but I’m not keen on dirtying myself.”

“We’d have to backtrack through hours of traveling,” you point out. “There’s no other way forward. I’ve checked the map.”

“Fine,” she relents, crossing her arms across her chest. “You go first, and we’ll follow behind you. Once we’ve seen it’s safe, that is.”

And, hells, you do not want to step foot in there. Not one bit. Still, do you have much of a choice? Your feet are already aching from the day’s walk. It would be devastating to lose all your progress. So, no - you really don’t have a choice, not if you want to get those Netherstones and stop the Absolute in time. The quakes in the city have only been getting worse.

“Alright,” you finally reply, your voice stronger than you feel. 

You step forward, pressing your right boot against the mud, then apply your weight. Your heel breaks the surface with a terrifying rush of movement, and your leg instantly slides down into the muck - much deeper than you’d thought, deeper than it should be. When your foot hits the bottom, sticky, cold mud splatters up, painting your shirt, neck, and parts of your face. 

Suddenly, the day isn’t quite so warm.

When you finally muster the courage to look down, your right leg is submerged up to the knee, soaking through your trousers. You can practically hear the sick squelch of it making its way into your socks, squishing between your toes.

“Urgh,” you mutter, wrinkling your nose as you attempt to pull your leg up. “Disgusting.” But it won’t budge. In fact, your squirming seems to be making you sink down even further. You try to shift your weight, but your balance is uneven with one leg in and one leg out. You’re dangerously close to losing your footing, and every bit you struggle threatens to tilt you face-first into the makeshift mud pond. In a prime moment of idiocy, you plant your other foot in the mud for support, and find your bottom half completely unable to move.

“What a brilliant idea,” Shadowheart says. “Now you’re stuck.”

“Thank you, Shadowheart,” you grit out, sweat dripping down your neck as you attempt to twist yourself around. “I had no idea!”

Karlach steps behind you, laughing a little. “Come on. Up you go, soldier,” she says, leveraging her arms under yours and giving a quick tug. You’re expecting the mud to release you, but it doesn’t. Your legs don’t budge - not even an inch. 

“What in the…?” she mutters, giving another pull. This one has more force behind it; when she tries to haul you up, white-hot pain sears up through your ribs, ripping an agonized cry from your lips. No matter how hard she yanks, the mud’s grip only tightens around you. It’s beginning to feel like you’re a brittle piece of rope in a vicious game of tug-of-war. 

“Shit! I’m sorry!” she exclaims. “So, so, sorry!”

“What are you doing?” Astarion asks, his voice suddenly sharp. “You’re hurting her! Put her down!”

“So she can get sucked further into the mud?” Shadowheart asks. Her voice is lined with fear now, which is scaring you more than anything else about this miserable situation. “We have to get her out!”

But it quickly becomes clear that no matter how hard Karlach pulls, it’s useless. Every yank is agony, and you only sink further and further. Tears stream down your cheeks from the pain, and your spine feels like it’s gained a good two inches from being stretched, but still nothing. No give at all.

Eventually, Karlach lets you go. Your body plops down in relief, but the mud is somehow deeper than it was before. It’s up to the bottom of your ribs now. 

“Fuck me,” she pants, wiping her forehead. “What should we do?”

“How should I know?” Astarion’s face is drawn, more pallid than usual. His lips are pinched into a line. He should be telling you I told you so, making jokes - and you know he would be, if he were anything but absolutely terrified. Your panic is bad enough with the heaviness of the mud on your chest and lower body, but the look on his face? That tells you it’s even worse than it feels.

 “Step back,” Shadowheart instructs quietly. “I have an idea.” 

Once the two of them are out of the way, she steps forward. Stretching out her hands, she mutters an incantation into the air. In seconds, the slight chill of the mud surrounding you becomes sharp, painful ice that burns against every exposed inch of skin it touches. A very muddy shade of ice, but ice all the same. 

Karlach’s axe crashes through the surface and it shatters, breaking around you. After another hit and a moment of digging, she finally has you out: freezing, still covered in mud, and very sore - but alive.

“Thank you,” you manage, choking out the words between your shivering.

“Never say I didn’t do anything for you,” Shadowheart says, smiling a little. She lets out a breath of relief, the tension bleeding from her shoulders. “Now. Turning around, are we?”

By the time you get back to camp, you’re the most uncomfortable you’ve ever been in your life. You’re wet and cold and exhausted, caked with dried mud that pulls at your skin when you move. It’s in your hair, on your face, and in your shoes, squelching with every step. The feeling makes you want to crawl out of your skin. Your ribs are sore and achy, and - on top of all of that - you’ve lost a good day’s worth of travel. 

The only thing you want is to fall into Astarion’s arms, but he wrinkles his nose when you come near, holding out a finger to stop you. “Oh, no you don't,” he says. “Bath first. Then you can talk to me, darling.”

It seems no amount of persuasion is going to change his mind, so you head back to your tent and grab a number of supplies - soap, sponges, a towel, and a change of clothes. Your trusty knife for protection. The river is bound to be freezing, but it’s better than sponging yourself down and hoping for the best. 

Thank the gods you’d found a decent pair of boots in an abandoned house today, because the ones that are currently plastered to your feet will take days to dry out, even in the hot sun. When you get to the nearby river, you don’t even bother to take them off before you plunge them into icy water, sufficiently drenching them until you can furiously loosen the mud enough to slip them off and toss them onto the riverbank.

The rest of your clothing gets the same treatment: the trousers which slowly pull away from your skin, the shirt that’s splattered with mud and covered in it up to the waist. Your hair will no doubt be a disaster, too. 

You’re still sitting in the soaking-wet clothes when you hear the sound of a twig snapping behind you. Your hand instantly grabs for your knife, ready to throw it at whatever threat might be in the woods as your eyes sweep along the trees. 

Nothing. You find nothing.

“Darling,” comes Astarion’s voice. He slips out from the shadows, immaculately clean, gazing down at the weapon in your hand with a lifted brow. “Planning to render me dead twice-over?”

“You scared the living hells out of me, Astarion!” you snap, sucking in a shaky breath. The blade drops from your loosened fingers, softly thumping against the dirt. “What are you doing out here?” 

He steps closer, taking a seat on a nearby log. “You were taking ages to get clean,” he whines, sprawling out his legs in front of him. “And, unfortunately, our companions haven’t had an argument all night. How else am I meant to entertain myself? So here I am. Trudging through the woods for your company.”

“You could give me a warning next time,” you reply, still a little jarred. “I thought you were someone hoping to catch an eyeful.”

A smirk flickers across his lips. “Oh, but I am,” he says. “Do you mind terribly?”

Against your will, your cheeks heat, and his smile widens. “I don’t mind,” you say. “Not if you behave, that is. Hands to yourself.” 

“I’ll be on my very best behavior,” he promises. Leaning forward, he prods your boots, wrinkling his nose at the sight. “Gods below. Those disgusting things should be burned.”

“I have an extra pair.” You move to tug your shirt off, but it’s clinging to you. “Gods damn that stupid mud pile. I should have asked Gale to use a cleaning spell.”

“Oh, please,” Astarion says. “He’s been sulking in his tent all evening. Apparently, being asked to blow yourself up by an old flame doesn’t do much in the way of socializing.”

The shirt finally pulls free, and it’s clear that your smallclothes have received the same treatment as the rest of your garments. Gods, you really should have asked for that cleaning spell. This mud is going to take ages to get out.

“Hand that here,” Astarion says, motioning for your shirt. You toss it to him, and he inspects it closely before setting aside.

“What?” you ask. “What were you looking for?”

“Oh, darling, nothing,” he says. “That’s my ‘to be burned’ pile. We’ll get you a new one.”

You’d argue, but you aren’t very attached to your current outfit - and besides, after weeks of trekking through wilderness and Shadowlands alike, it’s falling apart even without the mud. 

“Do what you want with it,” you grumble, finally pulling off your smallclothes. “That shirt was barely surviving anyway.”

You glance over your shoulder and find him observing with a raised brow, slowly taking the sight of you in. You must look like a mess, but you’d never know it from the glint in the eye, or the complacent smile that plays upon his lips. Heat stirs low in your belly, simmering under your skin. Later, you tell yourself. When you aren’t covered in filth.

You lather up the soap on your sponge, scrubbing away the mud the best you can, but the damned stuff takes ages to get off. By the time you’re finally clean, the silvery moon is high in the sky, and your skin is beginning to prune.

Astarion makes a small comment or two, but mostly seems content to watch you in silence. His gaze burns over every inch of exposed skin, leaving phantom heat wherever it stalls. All you want is to get out of this damned river and touch him, but you’re determined to get every bit of the mud off before you do, and it’s taking much longer than you’d hoped.

When you’re finally presentable, you start on cleaning your filthy smallclothes. The soap is slippery, making it difficult to do much scrubbing, and the water alone is doing hardly anything. 

Astarion watches you struggling, huffing as you nearly drop the soap bar in the river. After a moment, he lets out an exasperated sigh. “Dearest, you do realize that it would be much easier if you-”

But his words suddenly cut off. His head snaps toward the woods, and every nerve in your body burns with fear. In the span of seconds, he’s lunged forward, grabbed your knife, and darted after the sound. 

Not a moment later, there’s a loud crash - some form of impact as he tackles whatever it was that he heard. You instantly push yourself out of the water without thinking, numb, your heart pounding in your chest as you stumble into the forest after him. It only takes a few steps in before you see it: a man on the ground, Astarion’s knife to his throat.

Your stomach churns, and your skin prickles in the air’s chill. How much had he seen? How long had he been standing there?

Astarion is shouting something at him, and the stranger is struggling against his hold, but it’s useless. He’s a scrawny, weak little thing, no match for Astarion’s lithe, nimble strength. No amount of twisting or fighting dislodges Astarion’s grip. After a moment, he finally gives up, cackling like an old hag as his head plops down against the dirt.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you here and now,” Astarion hisses, anger contorting his features.

In response, the man spits in his face. “She’s your bitch, is she?” he croaks. “You can take a turn after I’m done with her.”

Astarion snarls in response, gripping the man’s collar and pressing the blade deeper into the skin until it draws blood. 

“Wait,” you call, stepping closer. “Don’t.”

Astarion blinks in disbelief, sitting up, careful to keep his weight on the stranger underneath. “My love, you can’t be serious,” he says. “You want to spare this-”

“Spare?” you echo, cutting off his words. “Who said anything about sparing him?” 

Something glints in his gaze as he takes in your words. “Darling,” he drawls, his tone admirational. “By all means.”

He hands you the knife, and you kneel down next to him. It’s heavy in your hand, cold and smooth as you run your finger over the flat edge of the blade. You stare at the shimmer of it for a moment, entranced, somehow calm in the midst of this chaos. Then you slam the bottom of the hilt into the man’s nose.

There’s a sickening crunch before he screams, blood streaming over his mouth and spilling down his chin. Even after last night’s feeding, Astarion tenses up at the smell of it, but the curl of his lip tells you that he won’t be drinking from this piece of absolute refuse.

When the stranger reaches over and grabs at your arm, you almost don’t even realize - you’re so caught up in your own mind, in the weight of the knife in your hand. Then his nails dig into your skin, and everything hits you at once.

The freezing night air. The stinging, throbbing pain that flares through your skin as he claws at you, unable to do much more. The feel of Astarion’s hand, gentle but firm, prying the knife from your grip. It happens before you can even react - a swift slice of the blade, slitting the man’s throat. Dark blood, gushing from the wound and onto the dirt below.

For a moment, there is nothing but the sound of your breathing. Sharp but shallow, straining in your chest. Jagged air that flows in and out, but it does nothing to stop the increasing amount of black in your vision. 

You’ve fought and killed more people than you can count so… why does this feel different? Why here, why now? You’ve nearly died before, so why does the scrape on your arm feel like it’s much more than that?

Then Astarion’s hands envelop your cheeks, blissfully cool, and the panic and pain seep out all at once.

“Darling,” he’s saying, half-breathless, “are you alright?”

You manage to nod, and some of the concern leaves his eyes. He runs his fingers over the scrape on your arm, and you wince. “We need to get you patched up,” he murmurs, his brows pinching together.

“Don’t take me to Shadowheart,” you choke out. She’s already done you enough favors, and you won’t be able to stand her disapproving gaze if you disturb her rest after today’s fiasco.

He huffs. “Stubborn little thing,” he mutters, but he doesn’t argue. 

Instead, he heads back to your supplies by the river. When he returns, he wraps a towel over your shoulders, and it’s only then that you realize you’re naked. Completely, utterly naked. It had been bold of you to break that bastard’s nose in the nude, but… well, it hadn’t been your intention.

He’s dead now, though. He’ll never look at you again.

Astarion sweeps you up into his arms and carries you out of the woods along with your clean change of clothes, holding you tight against his chest and leaving your soiled clothing behind. 

You can’t find it in you to care at the moment. You’ve scrounged up plenty of clothing along the journey; those torn, stained things won’t be missed. Not to mention, if you ever need more, Astarion will gladly steal you some new ones.

He takes you to your tent, and you’re grateful to see that everyone else has turned in for the night. Anyone awake to see you would inevitably have questions, and this only affirms your decision to avoid Shadowheart - if you woke her up to heal a minor scrape on your arm, she’d be seething. 

And though she’d undoubtedly be sympathetic after hearing the cause, you don’t think you can muster up the words to tell her what’d happened.

After he’s carefully set you down on your bedroll, Astarion yanks the flap of your tent closed and reaches for your pack, digging through the contents until he’s found some bandages. His grip is gentle as he takes your arm and swipes some remnants of a healing potion over it. You’ve been through this dozens of times, but you can never seem to shake the urge to wince as it sets in - the potion stings just a bit before it soothes, a sharp tingling that fades into a sweet, balming relief. 

You’ve calmed down some, warming up in your tent with him, but Astarion’s hands are shaking as he wraps the wound. His brows are pinched together, his swallows are thick and strained, and he can’t seem to meet your eyes, even when he’s done bandaging you up.

“Astarion,” you murmur. “He’s dead.”

He stills in place, jaw clenching as he inhales sharply, still not meeting your gaze. Instead, he glowers down at the tent’s floor, his hands balling into fists. “He deserved so much worse than that,” he snaps. 

You don’t argue with him. Instead, you let him fuss over you, taking the time to smooth through your wet hair, plucking out remaining leaves and twigs from the woods. He gets you into a warm, fluffy robe - only the gods know where he’d managed to find something like that - then pulls you close, his thumb stroking over your cheek. You rest your head against his chest and close your eyes, listening to the soft sounds of his body working under his skin. No heartbeat, of course, just the quiet churn of his movements, the rise and fall of his ribs that’s become habit to him. 

After a moment, he takes your face in his hands, just as he had in the woods - but when you meet his gaze, there’s a sharp intensity in his eyes rather than fear. He takes you in little by little, tilting your head up to brush his fingers over the fading marks on your neck. 

Then he leans in, and you catch the smell of him you know so well, lingering on his skin like soap. Bergamot, rosemary, brandy. It’s what you associate most with him, that sweet, sharp scent that bathes over you. When his lips finally meet yours, the kiss is rough and desperate, heated and aching. His fangs scrape over your lip, grazing the delicate skin but not breaking it. His tongue slides into your mouth, and his hand returns to the back of your neck, tightening his grip.

One of your hands fix into his shirt as you lean into him, nipping at his lip. You shift your free hand up into his hair, tousling through the soft, silky curls before gently tugging. He groans and pulls you closer, and - gods, it’s incredible. Warmth drags down your spine like a hot coal, searing and addictive. You squirm a little in his grasp, shifting until you’re straddling his hips, and he pulls away to kiss down your jaw, murmuring soft words into the skin.

When he gets to your chest, you let him untie the robe and spread his hands underneath, peeling the fabric off your shoulders, fingers slowly warming as they trail down your back. His hands settle on your waist as he kisses you again, mouth soft against yours.

Gods, you need him. You’re already soaked, and he’s barely even touched you.

You can feel him hardening underneath you, his movements growing desperate, his breathing labored. You grind your hips against him and he lets out a strained noise against your lips, shuddering. He pulls away, examining your expression as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. 

The movement is tender and incredibly sweet, but you’re hardly patient. You’ve been wanting him ever since he sat on that log in the forest, gaze roaming over every inch of you. You let out a soft whine, attempting to tug off his shirt. He does absolutely nothing to help you.

“Astarion,” you breathe. “Please.”

“Hm? Did you want something, darling?” he asks, the desire in his voice betraying his otherwise casual tone.

“I want you,” you tell him, rolling your hips again in search of the friction you so desperately need. “Please. I want you.”

“Easy, love. You have me,” he replies, brushing his thumb against your lips. Your heart swells with a fondness that would threaten to make you cry if you weren’t so ridiculously needy.

And finally, thank the gods, he takes off his godsdamned shirt.

You run a hand up his shoulder, then into his hair. You’d once thought that he was using a special shampoo - his hair was so soft, it seemed the only explanation. Then you’d seen him with the same shampoo you were using, and you’d practically wept with envy over his ridiculously perfect genes. Even now, as you run your hands through the silk-soft curls, you don’t understand it. 

Then you trace up the line of his ear, and he shudders, leaning into your touch. When you gently massage the tip of his helix, he lets out a soft, seeking noise and his eyes flutter shut. Hells, you swear that you can feel him growing even harder beneath you. Another roll of your hips and his eyes slowly open again, half-lidded and glazed with desire. His hands firmly grip your waist, and there’s the briefest sensation of falling as he rolls you back onto your bedroll, tucking the pillow under your head.

He kisses along your clavicle, nosing down your ribs, humming against your skin. Feather-light brushes of his lips meet your ribs, then your breast, pausing to swipe his tongue over your nipple before he proceeds downward. When he arrives at your navel, your legs automatically spread open for him, and he lets out a hum of approval. He takes a leg in his hand and kisses up the thigh, warm, sharp kisses that trail up to the place you want him most.

He starts off slowly - a long lick over your clit, a quick swipe of his tongue before he settles between your legs, propping your thigh over his shoulder and starting a maddening rhythm. After all this time, you really should know how much pleasure to expect - but after everything, after his confession in the Shadowlands and the fear with Cazador, this still feels… new.

And Astarion is very, very good at what he does. He seems to know exactly what you want before you do, before your mind can put it into tangible thought, and before your body can even search for it. He works a finger into you, then two, and you’re left gasping and squirming as he sets an agonizingly slow pace. After a moment, he speeds up, just where you want him, perfect, perfect-

And then he pulls away, and the look on his face practically shouts that he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. Of course he does. He’s always been a tease. His fingers continue their work, languidly dragging in and out of you as he speaks.

“You know,” he says, pressing a kiss to your thigh, “back at the river, this was all I could think about. Getting my mouth on you. Watching you come apart piece by piece.”

Gods, he’s been direct before, but never that direct. Frankly, you’re surprised you don’t come then and there. Instead, you clench hard around his fingers and whimper, rolling your hips in time with his movements.

“Astarion,” you pant, unable to coax your mind into forming a coherent reply. “Gods, Astarion.”

He hums in response, flashing you a wicked grin. “That’s it, darling,” he encourages, shifting his fingers until they’re brushing against a spot that makes your vision black out. “Say my name. Let everyone hear you.”

You manage a laugh that quickly fades into a soft moan. “The entire camp will kill me if I wake them up.”

He nips at your thigh. “Let them try,” he muses. “They’ll have to get through me.”

He lowers his mouth between your legs again, and your head falls back against the pillow. It’s an embarrassingly short time before your muscles start to tense up, wiring you with pleasure from head to toe. One of your hands fixes in his hair, pulling tightly as white-hot pleasure sparks through your abdomen, and oh, gods, you’re coming-

Your vision cuts out again. Your mind fuzzes over, drunk with pleasure, leaving you shuddering, clenching around his fingers, moaning into your free hand. 

You know he’d prefer to hear you, but if you actually disturb any of the others, you’ll die of embarrassment. One day, the two of you will have your own house with a real bed, and you’ll be as loud as you want. For now, you muffle your cries into your fingers and tremble through your climax.

Your body floats weightlessly for a moment in what must be Elysium, until you finally rejoin yourself and find your limbs heavy and uncoordinated. Astarion huffs, placing a final kiss on you until he crawls upward, kissing up your chest again. 

He’s still holding himself back - you can see it in the way he moves, in the tension of his muscles and the coil of his shoulders. There’s a fire in his eyes, a hunger that you recognize so well. When he reaches your neck, you instinctively tilt your head, allowing him access to his usual spot. 

For a moment, he hesitates, his warm breath fanning over the skin as your pulse hammers in your throat. Then he groans, grinding himself into your leg as he bites down, chasing his pleasure against your thigh as your blood spills into his mouth.

You know this routine so very well by now. The sting of the bite, and the numbness that follows. The ebb and flow of your blood, filling his mouth. The slight dizziness that comes before he pulls away, swiping his tongue over the bite for one final taste.

“Gods,” he pants, gripping your shoulder. Then, to your utter disappointment and confusion, he pulls away. “Wait here, my sweet. I need to - I’ll be right back. I promise.”

And before you can protest, he’s scrambling out the tent. For a long, numb moment, you stare at the tent opening, wondering if you’re dreaming. The silence of the tent grates on your ears, echoing the sound of your breathing until you can barely stand it. Then he’s pushing inside again, a scroll in hand as he closes the tent.

“Do I want to know what that is?” you ask.

“A scroll of Silence, darling. I’ve been saving it.” He flashes you a grin, murmuring the incantation as the scroll shimmers in his hand. Pure Weave, confined into parchment. 

You don’t hear the spell take effect, but you feel it. It’s a thickness in the air, a heaviness in your movements. 

Astarion doesn’t waste another second. He pushes up to kiss you, and it’s messy - your tongue against his, the sting of sharp teeth, your hand in his hair and his hand on the nape of your neck. There’s the taste of metal and herbs: your blood mixed with the remnants of a healing potion. He spreads your legs with his knee, then sits back on his heels and reaches down to undo his trousers.

You study him for a moment. The crease of his brow. The alabaster of his skin, sculpted out like a statue from marble. 

If you were an artist, you’d make him your life’s work. You’d chip out his every feature little by little, painstakingly working away at the stone to define the look in his eyes when he tells you he loves you. You’d spend ages carving every wrinkle, every line, every perfect imperfection. The touch of it would be cold, like him, but it could never compare to how he looks as he settles over you, eyes blown dark with desire. 

He inches closer, still on his knees, and takes hold of your thighs, lifting them up to meet his hips before gently easing inside of you. He lets out a sharp exhale as he slowly presses deeper, his grip shifting to your waist.

Nothing could compare to the way it feels as he fills you up inch by inch, murmuring praise, telling you how beautiful you are for him. “Darling,” he bites out, gritting his teeth at the pleasure. “If anyone ever tries anything like that with you again, I’ll tear them to shreds.”

You laugh a little, breathless, delirious in the delicious stretch of him inside you. “I won’t stop you. I just might ask to break their nose first.”

He shakes his head, but a small smile plays on his lips before he straightens and starts his rhythm. Slow, even thrusts that leave you grasping at the blankets beneath you, trying to steady yourself in the waves of sensation. He stares down at you, half-drunk on your blood, lips parted and his cheeks flushed.

“You feel incredible,” he breathes. “Gods. You’re incredible.”

Your eyes don’t quite know where to land. They never do. Now, they flutter over his abdomen, taking in the sight of the muscles that ripple and contract with the rolling of his hips. The droplets of sweat that slowly build on his skin, glimmering like crystals. 

His jaw clenches, and his pace starts to quicken, and the feeling of him inside of your aching cunt is just so godsdamned good. His cock stretches you out like it was made for you, and soon your lungs are hardly filling with air. You can’t think, and you can scarcely breathe. All you know is that you’re not going to last much longer.

You tug at the blankets and shut your eyes, and he lets out another soft, aching noise as he thrusts deeper, faster, filling you up, the slick sound of your arousal echoing through the tent and mixing with the heaving of your breaths. You clench around him and he groans, shifting the angle of your hips, rhythm frantic.

“That’s it,” he pants. “Come for me, darling.”

And you do. Your body clenches around him as you cry out, back arching, pleasure overtaking every thought but one: Astarion. Astarion, Astarion, Astarion. Your breaths scrape shallowly through your chest and ecstasy burns through every inch of you, every nerve - until you feel paralyzed. Content, thoroughly fucked and sated, but paralyzed.

 You’ve just started to come back to your senses when Astarion follows you over the edge, a moan tumbling from his lips that sounds remarkably like your name. His hips thrust a few more times, chasing after his pleasure, clumsy movements that slow to a halt as he shuts his eyes. He shudders, then slackens, carefully pulling out of you before he wraps his hands around your thighs and gently lowers them back to the bedroll.

You can barely move, still lost in the aftershocks of pleasure as he cleans you up, smoothing the hair out of your face as he lays next to you.

“You know,” he says, “I think I’m going to ask Gale to make us another one of those scrolls.”

And, gods, all you can do is laugh.

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion fic #astarion smut #bg3 x reader #mywriting

[loveinhawkins]

ao3

It’s the last day of school before Christmas, and the first thing Eddie hears when he enters Family Video is Steve Harrington saying, “Fuck this,” which seems kinda unreasonable; he’s not even done anything yet.

But then Steve continues, his voice turning distant as he heads to the back of the store—“I don’t care what the goddamn handbook says, the radiator’s goin’ on full blast,”—and Eddie realises he hasn’t actually been noticed at all.

Not by Steve, at least. 

Robin Buckley is standing by the computer. She’s checking her watch; Eddie can see the thought cross her mind, that he should’ve been out of class over an hour ago, like she was.

All of a sudden, he feels uncomfortably aware of what he must look like: drenched from the rain, dripping water onto the carpet. 

“Hey, Munson. O’Donnell got you working overtime, huh?”

Eddie fakes a laugh. He doesn’t know Robin that much—but still just well enough to know she doesn’t mean anything by it.

So he nods and rolls his eyes, concocts a story about an unjust detention; he even embellishes it with a pinch of truth as he brings the video tapes out from the shelter of his jacket. Says that his last-ditch attempt at improving his grade before the holidays was offering to return the videos O’Donnell rented for her classes.

He doesn’t mention the fact that he stayed behind voluntarily. That he spent all that time staring down at a perpetually unfinished essay, gripping his pen with an all too familiar desperation. That kind of honesty somehow feels more embarrassing than lying; it always has.

Robin takes the videos from him. “Okay, tell me if that works,” she says, with a hint of sarcasm; she’s joking, Eddie reminds himself, but not in a mean way. “Because I’d be returning, like, so many library books if…”

She trails off with a frown, eyes on the computer screen. Glances to the stack of video tapes before punching in something.

Eddie doesn’t mind the wait; it’s only now that he’s really appreciating just how cold he is. He shakes some water off his jacket sleeve, fingers numb, and realises too late that he’s creating a puddle on the floor. 

“Uh, sorry for, um. Dripping,” he says awkwardly, but Robin doesn’t seem to hear him; she just keeps frantically tapping on the keyboard.

Outside, the wind picks up even more, throwing rain against the windows. 

There’s the creak of a door swinging open somewhere in the back, followed by a voice calling, “What’s up?”

Eddie startles—he almost forgot that it wasn’t just him and Robin in here. He watches Steve sidle up to the register.

“It’s this stupid—“ Robin gestures to the computer with frustration. “It keeps going all, you know, aaaah.” She draws out the sound, wiggling her fingers.

Surprisingly, Steve catches Eddie’s eye with a wry look. “Technical term,” he says, deadpan.

If Eddie didn’t know that he was the only other person in the room, he’d think that surely he’d been mistaken for someone else.

Not that he thinks Steve would ignore him outright; it’s just that they’ve not got much history—no fleeting camaraderie forged from sitting next to one another in class. Sure, they crossed paths as much as anyone did in Hawkins, Steve a recurring figure in Eddie’s peripheral; he knew of his existence, obviously, it’s Steve Harrington, but nothing more than…

A collage of all the times Steve’s picture has appeared in the school newspaper flickers through Eddie’s mind. Okay, but that was because of The Tigers, and the swimming team, and—anyone would’ve noticed that—

His justification is brought to a halt at a particularly fierce howl of wind; Robin flinches so badly that she knocks the video tapes onto the floor. 

“Just the wind,” Steve says quietly.

As he speaks, he gently nudges Robin out of the way with his hip. Picks up the fallen tapes.

And to anyone else, it might seem kind—and nothing more. 

But there’s something almost imperceptible in the way Steve does it, Eddie can’t get away from that fact: a meaning behind the words that he can’t grasp.

Then he hears Wayne’s voice in his head—son, you know fine well when something’s none of your damn business—and tells his curiosity to quit it.

“Sorry, it’s still not working,” Robin says, giving the computer one last thump. “I can, um, write you a receipt? To prove you returned them? So O’Donnell doesn’t get all…”

Eddie nods. “Sure.”

Robin gets a pen out of her shirt pocket and writes a receipt, triple-checking the movie titles as she does so.

Eddie thanks her as she hands over the paper. Catches himself hesitating. 

There it is: the familiar prickle of discomfort, not knowing what else to say. Jesus Christ, isn’t that a failure on its own? Another year at school, and you’d think he’d be somewhat closer to other students, just from the sheer amount of time they’ve spent together in the same four walls. And yet, he’s starting to feel more distant than ever.

Granted, there’s Hellfire, but on bad days even that chafes, not that he’d ever admit it. Like he’s playing a part far bigger than who he actually is.

Eddie expects to just walk out without another word being said. In fact, he’s bracing himself for the cold again, almost at the door, when Steve inexplicably speaks up.

“Are you actually leaving?”

Eddie turns around. Steve’s leaning by the desk with his arms folded, looking at him expectantly.

Eddie’s half-convinced there’s a joke he’s not getting.

“Uh, yeah?” he says. He tries to ensure that ‘what the fuck else am I supposed to do?’ goes unheard, but from the way Steve’s eyebrows rise, he doesn’t think he succeeds. 

Steve gives a pointed, dubious look outside. “Dude, you wanna drown out there?”

Eddie rocks back on his heels. There’d be a time where he would really snap back at that (the first time he flunked out, maybe), but now he’s more caught off-guard. 

So he just glances outside and says, “Ideally, no.”

Steve gives a slight huff of laughter at that, shaking his head.

“Look, I’m just saying, man, I’m not gonna be driving till it clears up. Thought I was gonna need a canoe just to get into the parking lot.” He turns to Robin as if looking for agreement, stacking the tapes Eddie returned as he adds, “I said that when I drove you in, right?”

“I dunno, I’ve had crazier journeys,” Robin says.

Steve rolls his eyes like she’s made a corny joke—but he’s grinning like he just can’t help himself.

Eddie watches with a flicker of amusement rather than irritation, which catches him unawares. If he was honest, he’d felt drained not even a few seconds ago. But seeing Steve and Robin’s back-and-forth sparks an unexpected urge to respond in kind.

“Since when were you the spokesperson for road safety, Harrington?”

Robin snorts.

Steve shrugs. “At least wait until it’s not so brutal out there.”

And what brings Eddie up short is that, despite the dry tone, Steve sounds sincere. It leaves him struggling for an acceptable reply.

Before he can work one out, Steve steps to the side and pushes a swivel chair with his foot, right into Eddie’s path.

Eddie sits down in silent bewilderment.

He braces instinctively for an unbearable awkwardness, but it’s not so bad: Steve and Robin just continue working. It gives him time to try and dry his jacket off, at least, and when that ends up a lost cause, he turns to noticing the background noise in the store.

There’s a TV overhead playing It’s a Wonderful Life; George Bailey and Mary Hatch are about to Charleston right into the swimming pool.

Steve wanders into his eye line, scanning the aisles with a clipboard. Eddie doesn’t actually know how long he’s been there. He’d kinda got caught up in watching the movie. Steve seems to notice that; it’s gone too quick for Eddie to be sure, but his lips might’ve quirked, as if in approval.

“Hey, d’you want me to take your jacket? I’ve got mine and Robin’s on the radiator in the back.”

Eddie does his best not to stare. It’s a habit he’s still not shaken off: waiting for the other shoe to drop when anyone apart from Wayne is so… so…

“Didn’t realise this place was a hotel, Harrington.”

Despite his misgivings, he shrugs off the still damp jacket; Steve’s already stuck his hand out for it.

“Not everyone gets this treatment, Munson. You just haven’t annoyed me yet.”

“Then what am I doing wrong?” Eddie returns flatly. 

This time Steve’s smile is obvious.

“Don’t move my scarf off the radiator!” Robin calls as she wheels a trolley of tapes.

“What do you take me for?” Steve says.

He disappears into the back again, returning empty-handed when the phone rings. He mutters at it before he picks it up, “Yeah, of course you still work,” and it’s not endearing, Eddie tells himself. It’s not.

And no, he isn’t listening in to the phone call. That’d be… that’d be stupid. It’s just that the movie isn’t all that loud, so he can’t help but…

“Hello, Family Video? Oh, hi, Mrs Wilcox, how are… Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm.” Steve listens to whatever’s being said on the other end. His eyes find the TV, and then he’s silently mouthing along to George and Mary singing, ‘Buffalo Gals.’ “Oh, are you kidding? No, no, stay inside. It’s not a problem, I can just—yeah, of course. I’ll push it back to after the holidays. Yeah. Yeah, you too. Thanks for calling. Enjoy the movie!”

He hangs up, absentmindedly humming. Eddie quickly looks away.

He notices then that he’s sitting right on the edge of his seat like an idiot. He makes an attempt to sit back—be normal, just be fucking normal—but there’s a rigidity he can’t quite shift, that’s been stuck there probably since middle school, when the cafeteria was full of whispers, did you see the new kid? There, the one with the buzz cut.

“Steve, you off the phone?”

“Yeah. Hey, Rob, if I forget, could you make a note to extend Donna Wilcox’s rental? I’ll do it when we’re back, if the computer’s—”

“Sure, sure. Um, so—”

“Oh, God, what?”

Robin grins, a mixture of sheepish and teasing. Eddie stays put. Has she forgotten he’s here? Should he move? Leave? Yeah, he should leave, they’re not gonna notice… He’ll grab his jacket, slip away; the weather’s not that bad—

“I’ve got something for you to—”

Steve waves his hands in disagreement. “Nope, we said we weren’t doing presents!”

“It’s not really a—my grandma wouldn’t listen, Steve, it’s, like, more of a punishment, honestly, just—just wait there.”

There’s a clatter as Robin rushes off, scattering some more tapes off the trolley. The employee door slams shut behind her.

Steve tsks to himself, but picks up the tapes again. As he bends down, he glances over his shoulder with a brief ‘what can you do?’ sort of expression—which forces Eddie to consider the fact that he hasn’t been forgotten.

He doesn’t know how to feel about it.

He settles for an attempt at nonchalance: sticks a foot out to spin the chair ever so slightly, just side to side, and says, “So, uh, is this job just throwing tapes on the floor?”

“Yeah, we take turns,” Steve says without missing a beat.

He scoops up a tape, twirls it deftly before slotting it into place on the shelf. Eddie should probably find it annoying.

He doesn’t.

In the silence, he tries to lose himself in the movie again, at least a little bit, but he can’t manage it—feels too aware of himself, the creak of the seat as he moves even the tiniest amount, the restless fidgeting that he doesn’t even want to be doing, but knowing that never helps him stop—

“Ta-da!”

Eddie turns in time to see a blur of red; Robin’s just thrown something at Steve, who catches it easily—of course he does, Eddie thinks, but he can’t pretend that the thought comes from a place of resentment, not even inside his own head.

It’s a sweater. Steve unfolds it with a cackling laugh; there’s not a trace of the artificial veneer of high school in the sound.

Unlike you, whispers a nasty inner voice.

Steve’s still laughing. “Robin, this is the best—”

“Shut up, no, it’s so bad.” Robin hoists herself up to sit on the desk. “Grandma did the actual work, all the bits that are messed up are from me—”

“You knitted this?”

Steve beams. Eddie notices that there’s an endearingly crooked tilt to one of his incisors.

And then Steve’s glancing around like he’s checking no-one else has come into the store. He ducks out of view of the windows, but is still very much in Eddie’s view as he throws off his work vest, yanks his shirt up over his head, and…

Eddie suddenly feels like he’s been flung back into the claustrophobic space of the school locker rooms, the dread of changing for phys ed. The voice in his head gets louder: don’t look, don’t look; they’ll know. 

But Steve doesn’t seem to care. He just leaves his shirt in a heap on the floor, wincing overexaggeratedly at the cold, and practically dives into the sweater with a boyish glee.

He laughs again; the sleeves are far too long. “I love it.”

“You do?” Robin says, and while she’s playing up her dubiousness, Eddie can hear how she’s pleased underneath it all.

“Uh, yeah!”

The back of Steve’s hair is ruffled from how eagerly he put the sweater on—but instead of fixing it, he focuses on artfully rolling up his sleeves.

Eddie should look away. Should, at the very least, attempt to appear like he’s zoned out, in a world of his own.

And yet…

Despite everything, he watches Steve Harrington with all the silent, rapt attention he usually reserves for movies.

Moth to a fucking flame, Eddie thinks, resigned.

“Suits me, huh?” Steve says to Robin; he does a stupid little move, one hand on his hip, like he’s on the front cover of a magazine.

“And you’re modest, too.”

“You just don’t know style when you see it.”

Steve’s at the desk now, nudging one of Robin’s feet playfully, before turning round to lean against the corner again. “Hey, Munson, what do you think?”

Eddie finds himself fighting the instinct to reply with something undeservedly cutting. He’d just be trying to cover, anyway, using barbs to conceal what the question makes him feel: something akin to the franticness when confronted in class with a test he hasn’t studied for.

And he looks. Really looks—his heart slowing, the initial panic from the flash of bare skin fading away.

Steve’s right; the sweater does suit him, in all its homemade charm. The shade of red is flattering, brings out his eyes: maroon, if Eddie had to put a name to it, although he suspects that the colour’s actually got nothing to do with it, more the way Steve holds himself—a quiet, certain confidence that’s always been out of Eddie’s reach.

He inwardly gives himself a shake as Steve and Robin keep waiting on his response.

This isn’t school, idiot; they’re not trying to catch you out.

“I’m hardly an expert on high fashion, Harrington,” Eddie says—thinks he just manages to pull off the lazy, unbothered drawl.

“Well, you have a look,” Steve says faux delicately, like he’s being incredibly generous.

Eddie cracks a genuine smile; it sort of weakens the whole aloof thing he’d settled on, but he surprisingly doesn’t care all that much.

“Damned with faint praise.”

Steve scoffs as if to say touché. His gaze catches on something outside, and Eddie wonders if it’s an actual customer, if it’s time for whatever all of this is to stop.

But all Steve does is poke Robin’s foot and add, pointedly singsong, “Rain’s stopped.”

“So?” Robin asks.

“I think it’s in between storms,” Steve says sagely. “Like, we’ve got a little window before more rain hits.”

“Great, Steve, I’ll love waving that opportunity bye.”

Steve tuts. “Rob, I’m saying we should ditch. Come on, it’s been dead all day. We can be home early and warm, it’s, like, single-handedly the best plan I’ve ever had.”

Better than when you won the championship game? Eddie thinks—wisely keeps that strictly to himself, because he’ll admit following Hawkins High’s basketball results on pain of death.

Robin looks torn. “I don’t know, Steve, what if—”

“Who’s gonna tell?” Steve says, gesturing around at the empty store. He nods at Eddie, says sarcastically, “Oh yeah, Eddie Munson, known snitch.”

“You flatter me,” Eddie says. He surprises himself at how easily it slips out, like for once, there was no need to overthink it.

“See? Rob-in,” Steve wheedles, “come on, I’ll cash out. You and your grandma could knit for hours.”

“Shut up,” Robin says fondly. “Fine! Quick, quick, I’ll flip the sign.”

The whole thing resembles a military operation, with how speedily Steve and Robin manage to close the store. Eddie stands up and moves the swivel chair out of the way, but feels almost exposed without it.

Steve’s just finished at the register when he catches Eddie’s eye. He snaps his fingers, “Oh, shit, yeah,” and yells over his shoulder to Robin in the back room, “Hey, pick up Munson’s jacket, too!” Then he’s stuffing a couple of tapes into a backpack. “Want one?”

Eddie blinks, confused. “What?”

Steve wiggles one of the movies in demonstration before zipping up his bag. “I always take some home. As long as you have it back by, uh,” he waves a hand vaguely, “some time in the New Year, whatever.” He clicks his tongue. “Damn it, forgot to turn this off…”

It’s a Wonderful Life falls silent.

Through the whir of it rewinding, Eddie speaks almost without meaning to. “Can I have that one?”

Steve looks up at him in faint surprise. “Sure. Hang on, I’ll just find…”

He ejects the tape and passes it to Eddie. It’s still warm from being played.

And then the case is being handed over, too—there’s scraps of paper folded in the corners, rolls of receipt in Steve and Robin’s handwriting: games of tic-tac-toe and movie recommendations.

As Eddie puts the tape inside, a thought occurs to him. “Wait, uh. Were you gonna take this one home, too?”

Steve’s folding up his discarded shirt and vest. He smiles, and if Eddie didn’t know any better, he’d think there was something shy in it.

“Oh, nope. I—” He laughs under his breath. “I have it already.”

The back door bursts open to reveal Robin all wrapped up in a scarf. She throws Eddie his jacket, jangles some keys and imitates Steve’s half-singing when she announces, “I’ll lock up.”

The wind’s thankfully died down so the contrast from inside to the parking lot isn’t terrible—though that’s probably helped by the fact that Eddie’s jacket is warmed right through from the radiator.

As he gets to the van, he expects that Robin and Steve will already be out of the parking lot. But when he slides into the driver’s seat, he sees Robin’s the only one actually inside Steve’s car; Steve’s half-in, half out, one hand on the roof. 

“Safe journey, Munson!”

And maybe it’s just how Steve’s voice is anyway, but it sounds like it’s more than just a platitude. Like it means something.

Eddie honks his horn in reply. He lets Steve drive out first—his car’s parked closer to the road—and absentmindedly drums his fingers on the VHS case in the passenger seat.

This was a fluke, he tells himself. Like a movie being played in last period, the curtains drawn—how it always feels kind of like a dream.

Still, he drives home warm. Thinks in a gentler voice, one that sounds like Wayne—a reminder that not everything is a trap waiting to spring shut on him.

#featuring the anxiety of growing up gay in a small town #quiet magic in the last day of school #realising ‘oh i think i finally get who you are.’ #eddie munson fic #pre steddie #steddie fic #steve and robin #eddie and robin #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie

[valeskafics]

"Rattlesnake" - Billy the Kid x Reader

a/n: first time writing for billy the kid hehe. hope you enjoy 🩷

Summary: Billy chooses the wrong barn to stay the night in. Or the right one.

Word Count: 4,050

Rating: 18+, MDNI

TW: afab reader, she/her pronouns, profanity, innuendo, gun violence, idk slight sexism but not really from billy, mentions of character death/death in childbirth, breeding kink if you squint, oral f receiving, p in v sex, loss of virginity

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Billy the Kid characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷

Billy doesn’t remember the last time he had a good night’s sleep since he had to leave Lincoln County. He’s been riding for days when he finally comes upon a ranch, just on the outskirts of Albuquerque. It’s late and the sun has already set, darkness quickly setting in. Making sure that there are no trigger-happy ranch hands or the like around, Billy sneaks into the barn under the cover of night. It’s cold as rain batters against the roof of the barn, but it’s the safest place he’s slept in weeks. Billy sighs, finding a comfortable hay bale to sit down on, glancing around at the animals who are to be his housemates for the evening. They seem well-fed, and Billy muses that whoever lives in the house just several hundred yards away must be a good person. His eyes slowly close and he allows the sweet embrace of slumber to claim him.

He’s rather shocked when he wakes up to the feeling of ice cold water being thrown on his face, startling and coughing violently, grabbing at his gun, only to realize it’s no longer in its holster. He blinks the water from his eyes, looking around frantically before his eyes focus on the figure in front of him.

The most beautiful girl he’s ever seen in his entire life, standing there, dressed in only a thin white nightgown, one that’s far too cold for the night air outside, holding a rifle to his forehead. Oh, well, that puts a damper on things.

“Who are you and what’re you doing in my daddy’s barn?”

Billy rubs his eyes, as if trying to wake himself up, before giving you a cocky smile, “Well, God damn, you are real. I thought I was dreaming, but here you are, darlin’. Who’s your daddy anyhow?”

You narrow your eyes, index finger on the gun’s hammer, “I’m the one asking questions here, cowboy. What’s your name?”

He swallows thickly, tongue darting out to wet his lips before he speaks, “The name’s Billy.”

“There a last name that goes with that, Billy?”

He could give you his real last name. He thinks about it for a long moment. But in the end, he just gives you a sheepish smile and answers, almost as if he isn’t too sure himself.

“The Kid?”

“Is that a fact? You don’t sound too convincing, cowboy.”

Your gaze almost pierces through him with its intensity. He stares at you, the rainwater that clings to your face, the way your damp hair hangs around your shoulders, swaying in the breeze. Your nightgown, nearly translucent under the moonlight that filters into the barn, such that he can make out the shape of your chest and your hips against it. 

Billy clears his throat, trying to maintain his male machismo, though he knows he’s likely failing miserably, “I’m sure I’m the Kid, alright. Why are you holding a gun on me, anyhow? What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Like I said, you ain’t the one asking questions here, pretty boy.” A grin spreads across his face at the moniker as he waits for you to continue, “Now what in the hell are you doing in my barn?”

That dopey smile remains on his face as he replies, “I was just looking for a place to stay for the night, ma’am, that’s all. I didn’t mean any harm.” You peer at him curiously before, finally, lowering the gun, removing your finger from the trigger, causing Billy to let out a sigh of relief, “So, what’s your name?”

You tell him, pausing before jerking your head toward the horses in the barn, skittish from a stranger being in their presence, “You scared them half to death. Thanks for that.”

Billy gives you an awkward smile, scratching the back of his head as he stands up, “Ah, sorry about that, ma’am. I didn’t mean to. I just have been riding for an awful long time and your barn was the first place I came across to rest.”

You let out a weary sigh before waving him off, “It’s fine. Ever since Daddy passed, it's been me in charge around the house. Gotta stay vigilant for intruders and such.”

He blinks owlishly, surprised at the revelation, “You take care of this giant ranch all by yourself? Must be a lot of work for a pretty gal like you-”

“What, it would’ve been less work if I was ugly?”

Billy bites back a laugh at your snarky response, watching as you go to calm one of the horses, running your hand along its muzzle, soothing it, “No, no, I just meant you’re like a delicate little flower with this big old ranch and-”

“This delicate little flower also got the jump on you and had a gun pointed to your head, pretty boy, so I’d watch that mouth.”

“Yeah, okay you do have me there,” Billy relents, “In all seriousness, though, a girl as pretty as you shouldn’t be alone in a place like this. It’s way too dangerous.”

You scoff, going to check on one of the cows next, “I ain’t by myself. When my little brothers are old enough, they’ll help me.”

“You have little brothers, huh? How old are they? Must be pretty lucky to have a big sister like you looking after them.”

“Triplets. They’re six. Jason, Luke, and Jeff.”

Billy lets out a low whistle, brows raised, “Triplets? Wow, that must’ve been a really busy night for Mom, huh?”

“Well, she died. So yes, quite busy, I reckon.”

He freezes. Shit. For all his bluster and bravado, Billy the Kid is rendered speechless by those two little sentences. He stares at the floor and slides his hand over his face, utterly ashamed.

“Ah, God, I’m really sorry. I had no idea-”

“It’s alright,” you cut him off, shrugging, “Been six years now, ya know? We move on. Anyway, you really Billy the Kid or were you just bluffing?”

Comforted by your assurances, he gives you a charmingly boyish grin, chuckling, “No, I am unfortunately actually Billy the Kid. Not too proud of that fact at the moment.”

You snort out a laugh, leaning against one of the barn’s beams, arms crossed. Billy’s gaze flickers to the swell of your breasts, quickly averting his eyes when you speak again, doing his level best not to ogle you like a pervert.

“I could get a nice little sum for turning you in, Billy the Kid, you know that? You got all of New Mexico searching for ya.”

Billy leans his forearm against the beam you stand in front of, grinning down at you, “So why ain’t you done that then? You have me trapped in this barn, at your mercy, little lady. So what is it that’s stopping you from turning me over?”

“Turning you over would mean I’d have to deal with the new sheriff. Took over for his daddy a few months back and he’s been itching to make an honest woman outta me for years now. Way I see it? You’re the lesser of two evils.”

Billy arches a brow, “Oh, lesser of two evils, is it? What are your plans with me, little miss? Turn me into your slave? Force me into marrying you so that the honorable sheriff can’t? A secret third option?”

“Darlin’, I would just as soon marry a rattlesnake,” you scoff, gazing up at him, “I wouldn’t marry you even if they paid me.”

His jaw drops at your words. Billy doesn’t think he’s ever been rebuffed so brutally in his entire life. The man simply isn’t used to the type of rejection and sass you’re tossing his way.

“I’m a pretty good catch, I’ll have you know.”

“Mmm, I’m sure you are, darlin’. Anyway, you can stay the night. I ain’t gonna kick someone out who was just seekin’ shelter.”

Still sulking over your rejection, Billy pouts slightly, “You know, you ain’t the first pretty girl to not be interested in me, but I always change their minds. Least if they’re open-minded enough-”

“So you have a pattern of ladies not being interested in you? That’s kinda embarrassing, what’re you tellin’ me for?”

Billy balks at your observation. Why are you so damn smart? Why didn’t he think of it like that? You’re always one step ahead of him, and truth be told? He kind of loves it.

“Well, I really did dig myself a hole there, didn’t I?” He laughs awkwardly, “Well, you’re not just any girl. You’re the prettiest- no, the most beau… Damn…”

You shake your head at him before cutting off his rambling, “You know, you can just sleep in the house. It’s awful cold tonight, you’ll freeze your back end off sleeping out here.”

“I…” Taken aback by your kind offer, Billy’s eyes come alight with excitement, “You mean it? You’re not worried I’ll steal anything?”

“We ain’t got nothin’ worth stealin’. And if you stole one of my little brothers, I’d be obliged to thank you.”

“And what if I stole you-”

“I’d shoot you before you could. Now, you comin’ or not, pretty boy?”

The nickname makes his cheeks flush slightly as he follows you out into the cold night air. The rain has calmed to a drizzle now, but it’s enough to make the two of you run back to the house. Billy admires the way you look, flipping your wet hair back, your nightdress clinging to that gorgeous body of yours. He follows after you as you show him around the house, gesturing toward the kitchen, the outhouse just beyond the front yard, your brothers’ room, and finally? The guest room.

“Oh, I thought you would’ve wanted me sleeping in your bed, little lady, but I suppose we ain’t close enough yet.”

You scoff, a sound he’s becoming quite well acquainted with, “Darlin’, I’d just as soon sleep with a rattlesnake. Least they give a lady some warning before they attack.”

“You are a sassy little thing, ain’t you?” He shakes his head, smiling in spite of himself, “I’ll betcha no man has ever tamed you yet. But let me tell you this, I’ll be the first one to do it.”

“You can try,” you reply airily, “Now, feel free to wash up or whatever you need. We eat breakfast an hour after dawn. You sleep through it? It’s your problem.”

“Thank you kindly, ma’am,” he says, his voice a bit more serious as he earnestly voices his gratitude, “Before I decide whether to wash up or not, you got a mirror round here?”

“You don’t need a mirror. I can tell you. You need to wash up. G’night.”

He laughs to himself, staring after you as you walk toward your bedroom, “Yeah, I’ll have you wrapped around my finger in no time.”

Billy awakens to the sight of three sets of eyes peering over the foot of his bed. The curious gazes of these little strangers have him smiling to himself as he listens in on their conversation.”

“Is he her boyfriend?”

“She’s too ugly to have a boyfriend.”

“That’s mean, I’m telling sissy on you!”

Billy yawns, startling the triplets, making them stare at him, eyes wide. He chuckles at their surprised little faces, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Hi there, fellas. I ain’t your big sister’s boyfriend yet, but give me a few days. She just ain’t ready for me yet.”

One of the triplets, the one standing in the center who seems to be the leader of the pack, gives him a dubious look, one that reminds him quite a bit of you, truth be told, “Uh huh.”

Upon hearing your voice, calling out to them to wash up, the three scamper off, not paying Billy any more mind. Billy snickers to himself, watching them push past each other, tripping and falling. It’s adorable, really.

“Yeah, they’ll see. I’m gonna make an honest woman out of that pretty little miss.”

When he heads to the dining table several minutes later, he sees you in the kitchen doing your best to whip up breakfast for everyone. However, you are being distracted by one of your brothers climbing on your bag, tugging at your hair insistently. Another hugs your leg as you try your best to maneuver about the kitchen.

“I can’t feed y’all if you’re gonna act like little demons! Come on, now, go sit down like Jason.”

The scene of you struggling with the boys is too adorable for Billy to bear; he approaches you with a grin, “Need some help, beautiful?”

“Nope, the situation is completely under control.” You wince at the sound of a plate crashing, “All under control.” Billy watches as you rush over to clean up the mess at Jason’s feet, moving to wipe his teary eyes and soothing him in a gentle voice, “Aww, baby, it’s okay. It was an accident, honeybun, don’t you worry. Sissy’s got this.”

The scene is so very domestic as you dish out everyone’s breakfast, instructing the boys to behave at the schoolhouse. It’s funny, Billy thinks, but he can almost see himself as a father to your own children one day, seeing this same scenario in his mind’s eye as you care for three little babies who have the best of both of you. After the boys have run off to school, you begin washing up plates, humming to yourself. What surprises you is when Billy walks over to stand beside you and give you a hand.

“Now, you’re a guest,” you chide, “An uninvited one, but my mama and daddy didn’t raise me to allow a guest to help.”

Billy shrugs, grinning at you, “I don’t like sitting around while others are working hard. Plus, I’m sure you must be exhausted taking care of those three little rascals and this ranch.” He pauses before suggesting, “You know, I could take some of the load off your shoulders-”

“Shouldn’t you be moving on to the next town soon?” You ask curiously, “Sheriff’s always sniffing around here. It ain’t particularly safe for ya.”

“Maybe,” Billy agrees, resting his hands on his hips, turning to face you, “But if I’m being honest, I’m getting real tired of running.”

You meet his gaze, a thoughtful expression crossing your face as you speak, “If you’re being truthful, we ain’t been able to afford help around the ranch since Daddy died. I can’t give you much in the way of money, but I can give you a warm bed and three hot meals a day in exchange for you helping me with the animals,” you pause, adding with a laugh, “That includes my brothers.”

He’s surprised by your magnanimity, blinking rapidly, “I… Ma’am, that would be real nice if you’re sure you’re alright with that.”

You nod, “In truth? I’ve been struggling handling all this on my own. It’d be nice to have an extra set of hands. I have no clue how Daddy did it.”

“Well, he had a lovely daughter like yourself helping him,” Billy’s heart warms when you smile at his words, “You sure about this though, sweetheart? You hardly know me.”

“You coulda tried something on me last night but you didn’t. Tells me all I need to know.”

A big goofy grin spreads across his face as well as the tiniest bit of a blush, “Is that a fact? You have a keen eye, little lady. Wanna know why I didn’t try anything?”

“Let me guess. You’re convinced you can get me to ask you to try something,” you sass, setting down a dish towel, turning to face him.

“You really do have me figured out,” he snickers, “But you’re wrong about one thing. I don’t think I can just get you to ask. I think I can get you to beg for me to try something.”

You roll your eyes, waving him off, “Yeah, okay, cowboy. Go grab the eggs from the coop. Make yourself useful, why don’t ya?”

Billy gives you a playful salute before sauntering off, calling back, “Mark my words, pretty girl. Within a few short weeks, you’re gonna be eating out of the palm of my hand.”

He isn’t entirely wrong. As the weeks go by, you grow used to Billy’s presence. Hell, you even consider him a friend. Granted, a rather handsome friend who you wouldn’t mind kissing, but you digress. The boys come to see him as sort of an older brother/father figure and he’s so wonderful with them. You can’t help thinking what a wonderful father he’ll make to his own children.

“Our children,” he would wink cheekily and correct you, grinning at the way you roll your eyes.

And with every day that passes, Billy the Kid falls even deeper in love with you, the strong, resilient, gorgeous young woman who gave him a chance when no one else would. He swears he’s going to tell you how he feels one of these days. He has so many opportunities to do so.

When you’re repainting the chicken coop and fall from the ladder into his arms. When the two of you get stuck waiting in the barn for the rain to stop, huddled up together for warmth. When one of your horses gets a little too excited and Billy has to calm it, with those gorgeous blue eyes.

Everything is wonderful. Until the sheriff shows up, a menacing glare on his otherwise handsome face when he demands to know the identity of your new ranch hand. That he bears a suspicious resemblance to one notorious outlaw the entire county is in pursuit of. Before Billy can even begin to think of an excuse, you have your arm entwined in his and are taking the lead.

“Oh, Sheriff, this is my beau, William. He’s just come from California and the two of us just fell in love at first sight when he started working on the ranch. We’re engaged!”

Your quick thinking amazes Billy and he immediately backs you up, but part of him? Part of him wishes your words were true. He’s so desperately in love with you that when you called him your beau? It was as if an angel had spoken the words in his ears. He stares at you with a lovestruck grin, as you squeeze his hand gently, smiling up at him, urging him to play along.

“He certainly looks a bit like Billy the Kid, I suppose, but you’re mistaken, Sam. My Will? He wouldn’t hurt a fly!”

Billy nods immediately, “I’m just here to love on my fiancee, sir, and help her around the ranch in whatever way I’m able. I just am here because of my love for this woman.”

Not particularly happy about your new beau, Sam walks off in a huff, placing his sheriff’s hat back on his head, muttering an insincere “congratulations” as he storms off your property. You slap Billy’s chest when he calls back “thank you kindly, Sheriff”.

You let go of his hand and exhale sharply, “Well, damn. That could’ve gone south real fast.”

Billy chuckles, “A little bluffing here and there is good for the soul. But you, ma’am, know how to make a man blush,” he teases, nudging you, “Nearly gave me a heart attack. How come you didn’t just call me your cousin or something?”

“Cuz you keep lookin’ at me like you wanna eat me alive,” you sass, “Ain’t no one gonna believe you’re my cousin.”

He lets out a bark of laughter, trying to hide his embarrassment, Well, you ain’t wrong.” You giggle, the sound making Billy’s heart soar as he gently turns you to face him, his hands resting on your face, palms warm and calloused and so very comforting, “Y’know, all I’ve been thinking about the last twenty minutes is how much I want what you told him to be real. I don’t know what it is about you, but you’ve got me so head over heels that I feel like I can’t even breathe when I’m around you.”

You shy away, not used to the feelings you’re currently experiencing, but Billy gently tilts your chin up so that you meet his eyes. His touch is so gentle, so tender. He knows you’re a good, strong woman but in this moment, he wants nothing more than to treat you like the princess he sees you as. He leans in slowly, his breath tickling your lips as he tells you the three words he’s wanted to for so long now.

“I love you.”

You rest your hand on his cheek, whispering back, your voice barely audible, “I love you too, Billy.”

His lips meet yours in a heated, passionate kiss, one that makes you lose yourself, that makes you feel like you’re floating on cloud nine. Your hands thread in his dark hair, grabbing his hat and tossing it aside as he lifts you onto the counter. You wrap your legs around his waist, eager to feel his body against your own, the kiss leaving you breathless. Billy’s lips move to your neck, nipping at the soft skin before he sinks to his knees, pushing your thighs apart. Your legs dangle over his shoulders as he buries his face in your cunt, lapping at your folds like a man starved, devouring you, moaning at your taste. His cock twitches against his pants as he does, the taste of you alone being enough to drive him to madness. And the sweet noises you make, telling him how good he’s making you feel, how you’ve never felt like this before, your hands running through his hair?

He’s made love to women before, tasted them too. But nothing like this. And when you come undone on his tongue, he swears it’s the sweetest thing on the planet. He continues mouthing at you, ignoring the way you squirm away, his tongue feeling so rough against your tender, overstimulated flesh. But Billy is determined to taste you again, his large palms squeezing at the meat of your thighs, groaning as he suckles at your sensitive pearl, rolling the button between his lips, reveling in the breathy gasps of his name that fall from your lips as he wrenches another climax from you.

Billy stands up to kiss you again, and you taste yourself on his tongue. It’s strange, but not at all unpleasant, you muse as your hands fly to his belt, undoing his pants enough to free his long, thick cock from its confines. You palm at it, your soft hands feeling so perfect against him that he nearly finishes then and there. But you move to help guide him inside you. Your eyes water slightly at the feeling of his cock pushing its way against your folds, but Billy kisses your forehead, moving slowly, excruciatingly so, making sure not to cause you any pain. The two of you stay like that for a long moment when he bottoms out inside of you, faces covered with a thin sheen of sweat, lips finding each other’s in a desperate kiss.

“I love you,” you whisper, “Suppose I did let a rattlesnake into my bed. And my heart.”

He laughs, pressing his lips to yours again as he makes love to you in earnest, his hips canting against yours slowly, making you feel every ridge, every vein of his cock as he ruts against you. It feels so perfect, so raw, so real. You bury your face in his neck, clinging to him as he holds you tight, rolling his hips against yours, the fat head of his cock rubbing against that spot deep inside of you that has your toes curling, crying out his name. He continues, pounding into you, over and over, until you reach your third peak, letting out a near sob of his name, feeling him reach his own, spilling himself inside you moments later.

The two of you stay like that as he softens inside of you, doing your best to catch your breath. Billy peppers kisses all over your face, speaking after a few moments of comfortable silence.

“Hope we have a little girl. One who looks just like you, darlin’. I love you.”

“I love you too, Billy. I love you too.”

#billy the kid x reader #billy the kid x you #billy the kid #tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth x you #billy the kid smut #billy the kid oneshot #my writing

[anadiasmount]

love struck - jude blurb.

request: yes! mix of my imagination and also @judesecret as well! 🤍

“you’re shivering, baby,” jude laughs, wrapping the towel around your body and rubbing his hands in your shoulders to warm you up. he pulls you into his chest, feeling great warmth. and beat from his embrace as you close your eyes and relish the feeling. you ignore the small nickname, still not used to the fresh relationship with jude.

“i-i-i know. i didn’t-t-t see the r-rain coming,” you say giggling, wiping your nose with the towel as you felt a water drop run along the skin. “you’re crazy, you know? walking in this storm just to show me the new minion movie trailer?” jude teases, resting his head on yours as you finally stop shivering from cold.

“despicable me four, actually,” you correct him, hiding in the crook of his neck embarrassed. “and, to see you before i travel to germany for a work trip,” you say shyly, leaning back to stare at his brown iris who shined even in the dark corner by the entrance.

“gonna miss me that much?” jude asks, kissing your nose, making you nod slowly and intimidated at the proximity of both of you. “gonna miss you too. wish you could stay here with me since our next game is here at home…” jude replies.

he could sense the nervousness, chuckling deeply before pulling away. “how about we have a movie marathon, tonight? i’m off tomorrow and i wanna spend the night here with my girl,” he says walking to the kitchen to retrieve something. you furrow your brows in confusing or maybe coming to the fact on what he said.

“you mean like spend the night over? like a sleepover?” you say walking to the kitchen, wrapping the towel tighter against you.

“only if you’re comfortable with it. i don’t want to rush you or make you feel uncomfortable,” jude says, knowing you. he knows how new the relationship is, and the last thing he wanted was to scare you away because of how shy and reserved you were. “if you start snoring i’m out though,” you joke agreeing to his suggestion, earning cheering of yes from jude.

“cmon let’s get you showered and changed.”

jude handed you some of his clothes as you took a hot and steamy shower. you let your mind wander to tonight and how it would play out. it would be the first time you spent the night at his. when you came over it was for the evening and to hangout but staying over was always out of the picture.

you could barely look him in the eye without feeling your head spin or get shy under his gaze. you’d drown yourself with his smile and big brown eyes. if he asked you to do anything, you would do it with no hesitation. he had a spell or daze that always drew you in no matter what.

jude would always be the one to initiate hand holding, hugs, even kisses. you appreciated him so much for that feeling nervous or overall giddy because you couldn’t believe he was actually yours. if he sensed you were nervous he would kiss your hands to distract you from whatever you thought.

out in public, jude gave you a small peck on the lips to reassure you he was here for you, not once leaving your side, letting you have the say when you wanted to call it a night. he kept you at your side, protecting you from anyone who wanted to be quick and jump at you. “you’re like my bodyguard,” you often joked earning a laugh from him.

you don’t know what changed, one minute you guys laughed and spoke quietly as you made a fresh cup of chocolate, eyes gleaming in happiness as you got to spend the night with him. feeling better then cuddled up quietly as you watched the movies, to now where you sat on the edge of the bed bitting your nails anxiously.

jude had finished taking a shower and brushing his teeth. he walked in and saw you sitting on his bed, shaking his head in amusement as you looked down not being able to meet his eye when he returned shirtless, abs in full show. jude caged you in on the bed, arms locking you in side to side as your eyes connected.

“what are you think about?” jude whispers making you clear your throat and smile. “how lucky i am to have a boyfriend who takes care of me,” you say hiding the anticipation and urge to kiss him first. jude smiles looking down after couple seconds of silence.

your hands cup his face, just above his jaw making jude look back up rapidly, seeing your flushed face and bottom lip bit. “baby what are-”

you cut him off with a rushed and urged kiss. closing your eyes sinking into his taste as your lips molded with his. it took jude a while to process what was going on, not believing you had finally initiated and kissed him first. he could feel your hands slowly fall onto the nape of his neck. jude’s stomach filled with butterflies, the chilling sensation running down his spine as he tasted your sweet taste.

jude kisses your further, making you let out a small whine and kiss him deeper, clashing teeth as you moved your head slightly. you felt the fire run along your veins, getting dizzy from how jude was kissing you, jude the same. he got nervous all of the sudden due to the fact you weren’t being all hidden away, letting you be in charge.

the two of you let out breaths, the room filling with the sound of your kissing and noises you made. jude got lost, lost in how you tasted, how you kissed him with urgency yet love, lost in how much he loved this new side of you. he wanted it all, more with you.

jude pulled away, out of breath and panting, lips red and plump from the kiss. you giggled resting your foreheads together processing what had just happened. you finally did it, what you wanted to do for a while. “you kissed me first,” jude said licking his lips making you squirm.

your hands traced his cheeks, feeling a sense of confidence inside you. “i know… been wanting to do it for a while,” you confess watching jude’s eyes go crazy in bewilderment and lust. he couldn’t believe it, his shy girl wasn’t so shy, and he was sure he fell even more in love with you. jude smirked kissing the inner part of your wrist before speaking up again.

“wanna show me again? i think i forgot how it felt…”

#judey thoughts 5️⃣ #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham blurb

[multific]

The Union of Two Houses

Paul Atreides x Reader

Warning: Arranged marriage

Summary: To strengthen the connection between your family and House Atreides, you are to marry Paul.

"Lady Y/L/N." came the voice from the entrance, letting everyone inside know that you have arrived.

Paul waited anxiously, often looking at his mother as she tried her best to calm him.

He had so many conversations with his parents ever since the news came that he was to marry a princess. Of course, Paul is against the idea. Marrying someone he didn't even know? He refused. But deep down, he understood his father's reasons. House Y/N/L was a very strong house, they held powers no one else did. So, Paul understood his father wanted to have such a powerful House on his side.

You, on the other hand, had been told since you were a child that one day you will marry a man you don't even know. 

Being the youngest out of five children, all four of your siblings being boys. You felt like your parents only saw you as a tool for them to marry off to a good family for connections.

And while you were told and prepared, it still did make you extremely anxious. 

You worried about what kind of a man would your father find for you. You feared he would give you to a terrible man who would hurt you, who would make the rest of your life miserable. 

"Atreides has a son. You will marry the son to strengthen the bond between the families." your mother told you one day, and you couldn't object.

And now, here you were, wearing a veil over your face to keep your innocence intact.

Paul looked at his mother, confused as to why was his bride wearing that.

"They have different customs." explained his mother and she only now realized Paul should have been advised about a couple of said customs.

While his father greeted you, Paul was looking at the floor, he soon realized you were standing in front of him, slowly bowing as his father introduced him.

"My son, your soon-to-be husband, Paul."

"Pleasure to meet you." you spoke up and Paul could barely hear you.

"Pleasure is all mine, Lady."

---

Paul was informed you will stay in a room close to his. Paul was also rather surprised that none of your parents attended.

He assumed maybe they would be there for the wedding.

There was a knock on his door, when he opened it he found you standing there, still wearing your veil.

"I apologize for interrupting your afternoon, your mother told me you could show me around?" now he heard you a little better, but your voice was still quiet.

"Of course, Lady." he simply said before leading you around the castle.

Showing you everything.

You particularly seemed to enjoy the garden and the library. Looking at all the different books.

"You enjoy reading?" He asked.

"Of course, I do. On our planet it is mostly raining, so we often stay inside. Reading by the window as the rain falls is something I will miss." 

"I can show you a couple books I enjoy."

"You read, My Lord?" you sounded rather surprised.

"When my time allows me."

"Oh, doesn't sound like you have a lot of free time."

"I don't, but I can still enjoy books." you smiled although you knew he wouldn't see that. "May I ask, Mother said you have customs before the wedding... I would like to know some, as I do not wish to offend you."

"Oh," you were surprised he was willing to learn. "I wear the veil so that my husband can take it off of my face during the ceremony. It symbolises purity, innocence and my willingness to my husband. Another custom is that we mustn't talk on the day of the wedding, nor can we see each other. It is said the desire would be greater that way. Do you have any customs?"

"None like that, but I wish to follow yours."

"I appreciate that, Lord."

"Call me Paul, please. I do not want us to be cold to each other, if I may also call you by your given name."

"I'd like that." you smiled and he could hear the smile in your voice.

Paul was intrigued. That afternoon he realized just how kind and gentle you were. He assumed it was your upbringing that made you so soft-spoken. You spoke briefly about your parents and siblings while Paul spoke about his family.

---

The wedding went on as everyone expected it. Your parents and your people arrived for the ceremony.

It was a true celebration of the union of two Houses. 

Paul was rather nervous to remove your veil but once he did and his eyes locked with yours, he smiled.

His bride was beautiful on the outside as much as she was on the inside. He placed just the softest little kiss on your lips as you were pronounced husband and wife.

And then, the celebration began.

Two cultures met.

Everyone was surprised at how much your people loved to dance. 

Never leaving the dance floor only to eat.

Paul smiled as he watched everyone celebrate, even the children were dancing, inviting his people to the dancefloor.

"I will be back soon." you said as you leaned over to Paul and he nodded.

You stood and walked with one of your maids.

The 'high table' as they called it was a bit further from the guests' tables. allowing space between them. The dancefloor was right by the guests as they occupied it mostly. Paul's eyes were still glued to the people, then a man stood up and the music stopped.

"Ladies and Gentleman, it is my pleasure to announce the next portion of the wedding, admittedly, it is my favourite part." said the man as he lifted a metal bowl. At this time, you walked out, wearing a completely different dress than the one you were in before, this allowed you to move more free and everyone could see the beautiful details. "Ladies and Gentleman I hope you all brought your silver or gold, as from now, the bride is for sale!" As the man lifted his hand, the music began and everyone at the high table, except your parents, looked between one another. 

Sale?

How dare they?! Paul nearly choked as he saw an older man toss a coin into the metal bowl, he took your hand and you danced with him, soon, a line formed, and everyone wanted to dance with you.

Your mother turned to Paul and his family.

"One of our oldest traditions. Everyone gets the chance to dance with the bride in exchange for a coin. It is why we call it 'the bride is for sale'. "

"Isn't it a bit...degrading?" asked Lady Jessica.

"Oh! Not at all! If anything we quite like it! The money collected usually goes to the newly-wedded couple so they could start their own lives together. Usually, in cases of royal weddings we give the collected money to charity or people in need." your mother said.

You smiled as a young little girl put a coin into the bowl as she made her way over to you, wanting to dance with you.

Thankfully, you were prepared for people of all ages. As you should be.

"I do hope the Duke would also take his chance and dance with my daughter." smiled your mother as your father joined the now slightly shorter queue of people. 

"Should I?" asked the Duke and your mother nodded quickly.

"Only if you wish to. Once everyone had their turn, Paul should be the last, to end the dance." your mother said and Paul nodded.

Paul watched as you danced with your father, a smile adoring your face since you began. Then, the line ended but the music didn't stop, you quickly moved to drink some water before you heard another coin hit the now, almost full bowl, turning you saw the Duke himself standing there.

You smiled as you quickly made your way to him.

"I wish for a slower dance if I may. I am not as young as I once was." he said as he reached out for your hand.

"You will be fine." you said pulling him with you and he laughed.

You dared to defy the Duke himself as he quickly moved on the dance floor. Not letting him down as the music reached his end.

"Thank you." you told him as you did to everyone else, soon everyone was sitting while you were slowly moving alone on the dancefloor.

Your mother told you, when the time comes, she will send over Paul.

Paul slowly stood up, making sure everyone had their turn before walking towards you. 

As soon as he arrived close to you, you turned as you motioned for the band. The music changed as you two danced. First, it was a quicker pace as everyone around you cheered. Then a slower song was playing as you just swayed in his arms, people soon joining you. 

"You look beautiful in this dress." he said and you barely heard him over the people and the music.

"Thank you. I hoped you would enjoy it."

"I do. Seeing you dance and have fun, it made me happy."

"Paul..."

"I hope you don't have any more traditions that you are hiding from me." he smiled and you smirked.

"I have just one, but I'm sure you are also familiar with that one." Paul laughed, understanding your hint.

He always knew he would be in an arranged marriage, with his title, it was a given. However, you were a true gift. Something he didn't expect is that he actually really enjoyed being with you.

He could see himself in a very happy marriage with you. And with another feather light kiss to your lips, it was his promise sealed. 

His promise of happiness and joy.

Taglist: @fleursirvart​​ @greenarrowhead​​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​​ @sincerelyfan​​ @theoneanna​​ @aestheticsandmarvel​​ @rororo06​​ @castellandiangelo​ @destynelseclipsa​ @spilledinkindumpster​ @capsiclesdoll​ @puknow​​ @alwayshave-faith​​ @alex12948​​ @lxdyred​​  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl​​ @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek​​ @praline357​​ @trshngyn​​ @avengers-r-us​​ @violet-19999​​ @top1bbgloak​​  @manduse​​​  @jacalineiscomingforyou​​  

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, PLAGIARIZE, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS  

#Paul Atreides #paul atreides x reader #paul atreides x you #paul atreides x wife reader #paul atreides fem reader #dune fanfiction #dune #dune imagine #dune imagines #dune x reader #paul atreides imagine #paul atreides imagines #paul atreides fanfic #paul atreides scenario #paul atreides scenarios #Timothee Chalamet

[ponderingmoonlight]

JJK men after hurting (y/n)

Pairing: Choso x reader; Gojo x reader

Word Count: 4,7k (Gojo's part is huge)

Warnings: this is drama over drama so be prepared, injury in Choso's part, mentioned pregnancy and breakup in Gojo's part, also Geto is an a-hole in here and it isn't 100% accurate to the original story-timeline, it's getting veeeery heated my lovelys, but also comfort but mostly hurt

As usual, I am very thankful for every little like, comment or reblog (thank you anon hehe). Let me know what you think of this, I literally poured my heart and soul into these two parts <3

Tags: @sanicsmut I just know you'll like this girl, @chilichopsticks

Choso Kamo

„(y/n), this is nothing I will discuss with you right now. Just stay here.”

“I can’t let you kill him, this isn’t right. His death won’t bring back your brothers!”, you shout urgently, hands desperately trying to keep him from walking away.

“I always appreciate your opinion and support. But this is something I have to do for myself. Don’t get in the way.”

With one last glance back he’s gone, lost in the neon signs around you, shadow immerged into darkness.

Your brain goes into panic mode immediately, palms sweaty just by the thought of him haunting that boy down. How strange it is that you are able to call Choso your boyfriend. Choso Kamo, a reincarnated curse that is over 150 years old. Choso Kamo, who seems cold-hearted to people when he first meets them. Choso Kamo, who loves his family more than anything else.

You know this isn’t him, that killing Yuji Itadori is nothing but an act of revenge for him that he hopes will make him feel better.

“But how does killing someone else solve your problems?”

He never answered this question. He didn’t have to, given the fact that he just stared at you with furious eyes. You know all too well how it broke him to lose his brothers through the hands of some random jujutsu sorcerers. Fuck, you were just as heartbroken as he was. But if revenge is the only solution, wouldn’t this little game go on to infinity?

This isn’t the way, this isn’t the man you love. And you won’t let him go berserk only to regret what he did later on.

There is only one thing you can you now.

Your feet start moving on their own, following his shadow through the dark hallways of Shibuya’s train station. You aren’t a very gifted jujutsu sorcerer, maybe a grade 2 in sorcerer terms. But maybe your presence will be enough to stop him. Maybe his love is greater than the hatred he carries in his heart for that Idadori boy.

After all, it is a miracle in itself that he really loves you, a human being. Instead of killing you right on the spot he decided to safe you and even take care of your multiple wounds back then when you first met. You are not only hopelessly in love with him, but owe him his life. It’s time for you to give something back.

The only thing that echoes through the hallways are your very own rapid steps and sharp breaths. Please let him be okay, please let him still search for that boy. Your forehead glisters in sweat, the area only illuminated by the changing neon signs.

Finally a sound. You stop in your tracks immediately and close your eyes while holding your breath. It’s far away, but those are steps and dampened rumbling. It has to be him. And he’s definitely not alone. 

You can’t waste any time. As fast as your shaky legs carry you, you run down the hallway, eyes roaming around to catch a glimpse of his dark messy hair. Did he found Yuji Itadori? From what you’ve heard, Sukuna’s vessel is a quite skilled jujutsu sorcerer himself. But despite that, you know how much power Choso holds. If they meet, there will definitely be a fierce fight and your boyfriend might get hurt in the process.

But Yuji gets killed.

Suddenly water starts to soak into your shoes, pooling the surrounding area entirely. You furrow your brows. Where the hell is that coming from? Aren’t you underground? And also, it wasn’t raining outside…

Instinctively you follow the stream, noises growing louder and louder. Your heartbeat picks up, eyes wide open in realization. They have to be in there, in that toilet. The only think you are able to do is run. Water splashes around you, completely taking your already dimmed sight under the purple neon lights.

Until you see your boyfriend. Bending over the severely injured body of what looks like Yuji Itadori, fist ready to hit him with his last shot.

You don’t know what has gotten into you. Before you are able to even think about a plan you sprint forward and shield the boy’s body with your own.

Only to get hit in your stomach with full force by your own boyfriend.

For a moment you forget how to breathe, the only sound being the constant ringing in your ears along with a silent cough. Are you dead? You can’t tell with your sight completely turned black and your empty head.

“(y/n)”, is all Choso is able to breathe out.

It happened so fast he couldn’t react anymore. Within the split of a second, he was only able to direct his fist away from your head into your stomach.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

A trail of blood escapes your lips along with a cough, gaze completely empty. Did he kill you? His guts turn, he feels like fainting away. Oh god, what did he do?

“(y/n).”

You shouldn’t even be here in the first place. He told you to stay out of this, to leave this to him. Why on earth did you throw yourself in front of Yuji Itadori? How could you risk your life so reckless?

“(y/n)?”

You don’t react, glossy eyes wide open, directed into darkness. His shaky hands pull up your shirt, revealing a huge bruise. He broke a few of your ribs, that’s for sure.

“(y/n)!”, he begs again, repeating your name over and over like a prayer.

His hands grab your body and pull you away from Itadori while all he can do is kneeling next to you. Are you even breathing? Fuck, you are so cold and completely soaked in water that still pours down without mercy.

“(y/n)…”

His hand caresses your cheek gently. You just have to wake up. This is a bad dream, right? He didn’t just punch you with full force, he isn’t responsible for you laying here with broken bones and bruises. No, he didn’t just hurt the love of his life, his precious girlfriend.

Are those tears running down his cheeks? He can’t tell. The water pouring down on him makes it hard to see.

“Don’t…kill…him…”, you suddenly mumble.

Choso feels like flying and dying at the same time, relieved by hearing your voice while being absolutely crushed be the fact that he is responsible for your poor state.

“Why did you throw yourself in front of him, (y/n)? I never wanted to hurt you. I would have never hurt you…”, he stutters, pressing your upper body against his.

You cough violently, feeling as if your spilling your guts out every second. God, you feel terrible. If you move a single inch you’ll faint away into darkness.

But despite the pain that rolls over you like a tsunami, you force your eyes to look at him? His beautiful screwed up face, his glistening eyes. Is he crying? This might be the first time you’ve ever seen him like this.

“I know you didn’t wanted to hurt me. Did you kill him?”

Your voice isn’t more than a fade away whisper, almost too distant to get under the pouring water. But the second your words reach his ears, Choso can’t hold back any longer.

He’s crumbling in front of you like a piece of paper, hands holding onto you for dear life.

Choso almost killed you. The love of his life, the only thing that’s worth living. And for what? Because he was seeking revenge.

“But how does killing someone else solve your problems?”

Your wise words repeat themselves over and over in his head. Fuck, if he only listened to you. He shouldn’t have agreed to work with Geto in the first place out of sheer rage. No, he could lay in bed with you at the moment, hearing about what is currently happening at Shibuya in the news.

Then this wouldn’t have happened. Then you wouldn’t lay in front of him severely injured.

His whole face is screwed up, trembling fingers clenched to tight that they bleed while a sob escapes his lips.

All of this is his fault.

“I’m so sorry, (y/n). I’m so so sorry”, he cries out, placing his head on your chest.

“Is he dead?”, you croak out, tired eyes wandering to the boy’s unconscious figure leaning against the wall.

“Yes…Yes he does…”

A weak smile forms on your lips. So this wasn’t in vain. After all, you reached your goal.

“Thank god…”, you mutter.

Choso’s guilty conscience eats him up from the inside. Why? Why the hell did he think killing Yuji Itadori is a good idea in the first place? Despite the deaths of his brothers, despite all the pain he’s been through, despite the fact that he isn’t even human.

He loves you with all his heart. Your gentle disposition that is the opposite of his cold-hearted one. Your friendly smile that outshines his emotionless expression every time. The way you love him although he didn’t even know what love is when he first met you.

You showed him so many facets of life and he tramples on all the things you taught him.

“I will get you out of here. And I promise will every fiber of my being that I will change, that something like this will never happen again”, he blurts out.

“You don’t have to change, darling. You just need to decide on your perspective of life.”

Everything hurts, you feel like dying from the inside. Although you don’t seem to bleed externally, the stinging taste of blood in your mouth tells you you are severely injured. A load moan escapes your lips when Choso gently lifts you off the ground, body screaming out in agony.

With a gentle kiss on your forehead and tears still running down his cheeks. Something like this will never happen again. Not through the hands of others and especially not his.

God, never again will he ever hurt you.

Satoru Gojo

Your fingers tremble uncontrollably as you try to figure out what you hold in your hands. Is this…positive?

Are you really pregnant?

Two lines. Two clearly visible lines. You feel like fainting and flying at the same time, your thoughts are racing.

Is this really happening? Are you dreaming?

No, the proof lies visible in your hands. You are pregnant. You are expecting a child with Satoru Gojo.

“Listen (y/n)…I’ve been thinking about this for a while now…Have you ever thought about having a baby? I mean, you’ve been my girlfriend for more than 6 years, my fiancé for half a year. I’ve never seen me as a father and I know this isn’t the best timing considering what’s going on in the word at the moment. But the thought of you with a precious baby belly, a child with your eyes…This thought filled me with so much joy recently that I wanted to talk about this with you.”

You couldn’t find words, his sudden outburst caught you off guard. But oh how much you thought about that too, how it would feel to have a child with the man you love more than anything else on this world, to start a family with Satoru. Tears started to sting your eyes, arms wrapped around him tightly.

“I would absolutely love that!”, you cried out, face buried against his broad chest while he stroked your hair just the way you like it.

“We don’t have to rush anything. Just living like usual without protection”, he mumbled against your head.

“I love you so much, Satoru. Nothing makes me happier than being with you. And maybe next year there will be three of us.”

He smiled down at you the way that always makes you see stars. God, how much you love that man. The thought alone to spend the rest of your life with him and your little family filled your heart with nothing buy warmth and joy.

“I love you too, sweetheart. More than anything else”, he mumbled.

Satoru. What are you supposed to do? Call him, text him, drive to Jujutsu High? You’re on your day off while he told you this morning that he’ll teach the new student, Yuta. As much as you’d love to get in your car immediately and meet him in person, you shouldn’t disturb him right now. No, this is something special. This needs time, a calm evening and privacy.

A little message can’t hurt though.

Hey babe, can’t wait to see you tonight. I’ve got some exciting news. Love you <3

You let out your shaky breath, eyes darting to the test again. Is this really your life? It surely can’t get any better than that.

-Satoru’s POV-

“I hate so say it, but I guess there’s no way out of this”, Shoko comments.

But there has to be. After all, he’s the strongest, he’s the only one who’s able to protect you right. This shouldn’t be the only way to save you, there has to be more.

“I will find a way around this”, Gojo hisses through gritted teeth, hands so tensed up that his veins pop out.

“You can’t. There’s absolutely no way to keep her save. She’ll insist on going with you if you tell her. And if you don’t she’ll find out and come to your place. Or worse, someone else will find her. She is the safest when she’s gone.”

Fuck. Satoru slams his fist against the table, blood squirting. He knows she’s right. Deep down, he is very aware of the fact that no matter how he twists and turns it, you’re in danger. Suguru made that very clear. He has to make a decision now, even if it breaks his own heart.

“So what’s the solution then, huh? Breaking up with her?”, he barks at Shoko.

“If you really want to make sure that she’s safe and gone, yes. Aren’t her parents living far away from here?”

That’s not what he wanted to hear. Thick rage crawls up his spine and takes his sight. He’ll kill all of them. Every single one of these curses and Suguru’s accomplices. This shouldn’t be the only way, he shouldn’t have to break the heart of the women he loves most.

Fuck, how much he hates to see you cry. Just a few days ago, he told you that he wanted to have kids with you, to start a family, he proposed to you. This will not only break your heart, but shatter you into million pieces.

“I get that it’s rough and that you don’t wanna do it. But if you want to make sure that (y/n) is safe, you have to make her believe that it’s over.”

“What if I’m hiding her somewhere at Jujutsu High? What if I’m staying by her side?”

“She’ll never allow that and you know it. (y/n) would rather die herself than letting other people suffer because you aren’t there.”

She’s right. Deep down Satoru knows that every word Shoko says is true.

- Later that evening –

You almost fall off the couch in excitement when you hear keys turning in the lock. He’s finally home! It must have been a pretty rough day if he wasn’t even able to reply to your text. Your fingers hold onto the test in your hands for dear life, heart jumping up and down in joy. How will he react? Will he laugh, will he cry? You don’t know. But he’ll surely be cheerful.

“Hey babe, I need to talk about something with you!”

The sound of your joyful voice alone makes him want to break down. Fuck, you don’t deserve this, none of this is your fault at all. So why does he have to break your heart so violently? He shakes his head, blindfold covering his already glossy eyes. There’s no way out of this. He needs to hurt you in order to save you.

“Oh, there you are”, you breathe out when you catch a glimpse of him.

Satoru looks as breathtaking as always, albeit a little drained. It must have been a rough day for him. But your news will definitely brighten up his mood.

“Babe, there’s something absolutely exciting I have to tell y-“

“(y/n)”.

The harsh tone in his voice quiets you down immediately, the grin on your face washed away in the wind.

“I have something to talk about”, he announces.

Why does he have to be so cold? What has gotten into him? Worry lines disrupt your face.

“Oh, did something happen?”

The innocent tone in your voice kills him right on the spot along with your stunning glimmering orbs…No, he needs to do this. After all it’s for your well-being. You’ll see that too, hopefully.

“I’m breaking up with you.”

You hold your breath, eyes scanning over his stunning face for any hint of sarcasm, for an emotion. But no, all he does is staring down at you with stone cold orbs, arms crossed in front of his chest.

You feel like fainting, world collapsing around you. No, this can’t be true. He can’t be serious. Not long ago, he told you he wants a child with you, he asked you to marry him. Your heart clenches, tears start glistering in your eyes. This has to be a nightmare.

“No”, you breathe out, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I’m breaking up with you, (y/n)”, he insists.

This isn’t a joke or a dream. You can tell that he’s serious, that he means every word he says.

“Why?”

“I don’t love you anymore.”

You can’t believe your ears.

“Just yesterday, you told me over and over how much you love me, you…you had sex with me, Satoru. Just a few hours ago.”

You can’t stop your tears from falling anymore, the feeling of this indescribable loss pulls the ground from under your feet.

“It meant nothing to me.”

His words hit you with full force, pushing you to sit down in order to not collapse onto the floor. Was all of this a game for him? And what about…?

Oh god, you feel like throwing up.

“I’m pregnant, Satoru.”

His heart stops. Your voice isn’t more than a fade whisper, almost too low for him to understand. Did you really just say that?

“What did you say?”

“I’m pregnant!”, you suddenly scream on top of your lungs.

Pregnant… You’re pregnant. You’re expecting his child, the child he told you he wants. You’ll be family! This is absolutely fantastic, you have to celebrate-

No. Satoru stops the seed of joy in his heart immediately. Now is not the right time for that. After all, he’s about to break up with you at the moment.

“I don’t care.”

His word cut through his very own heart like a knife, your face twisted in agony simply takes his breath away. You don’t deserve this, you don’t deserve any of those venomous words he spits at you. But he does it so you are safe. Yes, over and over he tells himself that this is for your best, that at least you’ll be out of the firing line. You’ll be safe and sound, you and his unborn child.

“Leave this place, stay with your parents or something. I don’t want to see you here any longer.”

In this moment, you feel like dying. Your past, present and future plays itself in front of your inner eye, reminding you of all the precious moments together. Was all of this a lie? Does he even care about you?

Like in trance you get up, grabbing nothing but your wallet and phone. You need to get away from here before you break down completely. If this is how he feels, he doesn’t deserve to see your grief.

God, he wants to break down in front of your feet, completely mesmerized by the way you carry yourself so well after his harsh words. Hopefully you will understand that he did this for you. Even though he broke your heart, you’ll live. And this is all that matters…

“Goodbye then, Gojo.”

The venomous sound of his last name out of your mouth makes him collapse onto the couch the second you close the door behind your back, tears glistening in his eyes.

Why? Why on earth did this just happen? Why did he have to hurt you like this? God, please let you understand it when all of this madness is over. Please let you be okay…

- Day of the night parade –

“Oh dear, look at this”, your mother breathes out while turning up the TV volume.

You gaze at the flickering pictures without any emotions, dark circles surrounding your eyes from all the nights without any sleep.

Satoru? You haven’t heard a word from him since that evening. That evening that altered your brain chemistry forever. That evening that showed you his real face. Since you’ve had nowhere else to go and wanted to be as far away from him as possible, you stayed with your parents ever since.

“What is going on at Tokyo?”, your father mutters.

Huh, looks like absolute chaos. Your eyes widen at the sheer amount of destruction, the reporter whose head gets ripped away by…

Your heart sinks.

This was a curse, without any doubt. What about Satoru?

No. You shake your head vehemently. This isn’t about him. What about your students, Nanami, Shoko, all the others? Are they okay? What is going on there? Suddenly you feel like standing up, too excited to sit.

You swore to never step a foot into Jujutsu High again, to start over somewhere else. But this…You can’t just sit here in silence with all your powers while your friends might die through the hands of curses.

“I need to leave”, you announce.

“What? But you said you want to stay here. (y/n), if this is about him…-“

“It’s not”, you interrupt your mother immediately.

“I need to watch after my friends.”

Yes. Screw Satoru and whatever he’s up to. Mindlessly your hands caress your little bump. This is your responsibly, the least you can do.

- At Toyko –

“Gojo-sensei, (y/n) is here”, Maki announces through her communicator as you walk through the barrier with ease.

Impossible.

His eyes widen in pure horror. All this pain and grieving over the last few weeks, all the nights he cried himself to sleep because he missed you, the countless thinking about your precious little baby.

And now you’re right here where you shouldn’t be, running into the arms of Suguru without even knowing it.

“Oh, I didn’t expect he’d be so dumb”, a painful familiar voice behind you suddenly speaks out.

You turn around, taking in the appearance of none other than Suguru Geto.

“Are you responsible for this whole mess?”, you question.

He steps forward, a satisfied grin plastered on his face. Fuck, this isn’t good. Suguru is a special grade, he could kill you without even trying. Are your students around? Maybe they are at Tokyo, maybe they are safe.

“Did Satoru send you here? Apparently he doesn’t care about you”, Suguru’s voice comments dryly.

Your heart immediately stings in agony, fingertips trembling. Just a few innocent words that break you completely after weeks of pretending you’re okay.

“He broke up with me a few weeks ago”, you clarify.

Suguru breaks out in hysteric laughter while all you can do is stare at him and hold back your tears. How is he able to laugh about your feelings? Before he went berserk, you and Suguru got along pretty well. What happened to him?

“3 weeks ago, maybe?”

You tilt your head. Why that question? And why…why is he so accurate?

“Yeah”, you mutter.

“How ironic.”

“What’s so funny about that, asshole”, you bite back.

His figure comes to a stand so close to you that you can feel his breath creeping across your face.

“It’s funny that he tried to save you and now you’re standing right in front of me, (y/n).”

His words pull the ground from beneath your feet, thoughts racing so violently that you feel like throwing up. What did he say about Satoru trying to save you? What is all of this about? You lose your cool completely.

“What the hell are you talking about?”, you yell into his stupid smirk.

“I gave him an ultimatum. But now that you’re here already…Let’s get this over with.”

You aren’t able to properly understand a single word as he hounds a curse your direction.

“Why are you even here?”

Where is Satoru? What is going on here? Where are your students? So many unknown variables, so much pressure. You need answers.

“I’m here to kill Yuta Okkotsu.”

Your heart sinks immediately. Yuta? Suguru is probably on the hunt for Rika. No, you can’t let him get away with this.

“Over. My. Corpse.”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

“Oh dear (y/n). I always liked your charm, but nothing better than that.”

It’s hard to keep up with him without any weapon. Where is your dagger when you need it? You only have your powers and your combat skills to attack him. But Suguru isn’t dumb. It’s almost frightening, the way he keeps distance between both of you.

Your baby. Fuck, you need to be careful. After all, stress isn’t beneficial for your pregnancy.

And dying too.

-Satoru’s POV-

He runs as fast as his feet carry him, vision clouded by thick fear. He did all of this for you, to keep you out of grip for Suguru. And now you’re facing him alone, his students not able to help you. What about the baby? He needs to hurry. If Suguru harms one single hair on your head…

“Get away from her. Now”, he barks at his former best friend, positioning himself in front of you just in time before one of Suguru’s curses hits you.

“Ironic, isn’t it? That you even scarified your relationship only for her to run into my open arms.”

“I never thought you would go this far. She’s not only a jujutsu sorcerer, but my girlfriend. I thought you are better than that. Keep your hands off her or you’ll regret it.”

All you can do is stare at his broad back with tears glistening in your eyes. Is this why he broke up with you three weeks ago and left you alone pregnant? To keep you out of sight from Geto?

“Leave this place, stay with your parents or something.”

These three weeks of torture, of asking yourself over and over why you weren’t good enough and where you went wrong…because he was worried?

“Why didn’t you fucking tell me?”, you cry out, slamming your fists against his back over and over.

“Why did you just leave me like that? Why did you not leave me any choice? Why would you leave me standing in the rain pregnant? Why did you do this to me-“

“(y/n)”, he interrupts you, glossy eyes darted at you in a way you’ve never seen before.

Satoru grabs your hands and pulls you closer to him.

“Because I couldn’t stand you getting hurt”, he breathes out.

“Because I knew you wouldn’t watch out for yourself. Because I knew this was the only way to keep you safe, even though it meant breaking both of his into pieces. Trust me, I hated myself every single day over the last three weeks, wondering every miserable second how you’re doing. It made me lose my mind, (y/n). And now you’re here, right here where you shouldn’t be.”

“I’ve got hurt the second you broke up with me just after I’ve told you that I’m expecting your child!”, you scream into his face.

All the pain, the grief, the longing, the waiting. Everything crushes down at you and swallow you whole. All of this was in vain.

“I never stopped loving you, (y/n). On the contrary, my love for you is greater than my longing after you.”

For the first time since you’ve met him, you can see him cry. Tears roll down his face uncontrollably, the ocean blue of his eyes disrupted by rough red.

“I don’t mean to interrupt your little moment here, but now that you’re already here, I can kill you, right?”

As if in slow motion Satoru turns around to his former best friends, hands clenched into fists so tightly that blood spills.

“I will make you pay for every tear (y/n) spilled, for these weeks of torture. You will regret your threat for every single fucking day.”

“Let’s get it on, then”, Geto remarks dryly.

...

Hope you're doing fine. If you're still able to, feel free to tell me whenever you want a part ll of this and with you. Thank youu <3

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[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Isn't The Same Without You

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1k

Warnings: angst, major character death, fluff

Summary: Ever since you started dating Spencer, you hate sleeping alone. You always try to find a way to bring him into bed with you, even if he can't be there physically.

Square Filled: breaking a promise for @badthingshappenbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

One thing you hate doing ever since meeting Spencer is sleeping alone. He has provided such a safe space in bed for you that it’s hard to sleep away from him. Thankfully, you have the same job so if he’s away on a case, so are you. Plus, he’s so warm which makes for comforting cuddles.

You startle awake with a gasp, disgusted at how dry your mouth is. You look to the right and see Spencer lying peacefully next to you. You have to get water. You’re known for sleeping with your mouth open so that’s why your throat is always so dry. You usually keep a water bottle by your bed but this time, you didn’t.

You carefully sneak out of bed so as not to wake him up. You walk through the darkened apartment expertly. If a robber ever broke in, you’d know how to escape easily with the lights off.

You get to the kitchen and open the fridge, squinting at the fridge light. You grab an ice-cold water bottle and close the fridge to drink in darkness. The ice-cold water does wonders for your dry throat and it cools your insides. You’re about halfway through the bottle when you feel arms around you.

“The bed isn’t the same without you,” Spencer mutters and kisses your neck lightly.

“I needed water,” you chuckle. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s okay. Come back to bed.”

You take the water bottle to bed and cuddle with Spencer until dawn.

Even when you’re on cases, you always find a way to make it into each other’s beds. Hotch has a rule where the men are separated from the women even though he knows that rule is broken most of the time.

Hotch has made it clear that the women were going to bunk with each other and the men were going to be on opposite sides of the hotel. You and JJ took up one room while Emily and Penelope had the other. Derek and Spencer shared one room while Rossi and Hotch were in another.

JJ went to bed nearly two hours ago but you can’t seem to sleep. Spencer isn’t next to you to provide that safe space, and you’re not sure if you’ll ever find sleep tonight. That is until you heard someone knocking softly on your door.

You smile knowing who it is.

You make sure to be quiet as you make your way to the door. You don’t even have to look through the peephole to check who it is. Spencer’s tired face smiles when you open the door.

“Hi,” you whisper with a smile.

“The bed isn’t the same without you in it.”

“Come in. Be quiet. JJ is a light sleeper.”

You bring Spencer inside and quietly lock the door. You make sure not to make too much noise as you two shuffle into bed. Spencer pulls you close and breathes in your scent by your hair. There, this is more like it. Exhaustion catches up to you now that your safety net has returned to you.

Spencer kisses your head and the two of you fall asleep with ease.

Even when you and Spencer can’t be together, like if you got sick or he had to stay back because his mom needed him, you two still find a way to sleep in the same bed.

You’re sick with either the stomach flu or bad food poisoning because you can’t leave the bed without vomiting everywhere. Spencer offered to stay back and take care of you but the team needs him more than you do. It sucks but it’s only for a couple of days, and you can handle being away from him for that long.

He and the team flew to California for a serial rapist who has yet to be caught while you’re stuck in bed trying not to puke up your insides.

It’s storming outside so the rain is pelting your window hard. It’s not the noise that is keeping you up, you quite like the sound of rain. No, it’s the fact that  Spencer isn’t here to help you sleep. You two have become so dependent on each other that you can’t sleep without him next to you. If you can sleep, it’s because you’re sick and your body is forcing you to.

Your phone rings, illuminating the dark room. The sound almost makes you jump ten feet out of your body but you grab it and smile when you see Spencer is trying to FaceTime you.

“Hey,” you smile when you answer.

“The bed isn’t the same without you in it,” he mumbles against the pillows.

“I know.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Like shit but I’ll live,” you chuckle. “I’m so tired. Stay with me until I fall asleep?”

“Of course,” he smiles.

It’s not ideal but knowing he is right there next to you is enough to send you into a dreamless sleep.

No one ever told you how hard this part would be. No one gave you a rule book to study beforehand. You thought the worst part was over but you’re just now realizing the worst part has just barely begun.

It’s raining hard outside so the water is just smashing against the window as hard as it can. The curtains are open so you can see the rain fall from the clouds above with the occasional lightning storm that lights up the whole sky.

You turn away from the window and let the tears fall freely onto the pillow you’re clutching. You’ll never be able to sleep the same ever again knowing Spencer won't be there next to you to comfort you. He promised to come home. He promised he’d make it back to you but he never did. 

An unsub got the better of him and now you’re left to pick up the pieces he left behind. You touch his side of the bed and refrain from screaming out in pain.

“The bed isn’t the same without you in it,” you cry.

x

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#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fiction #spencer reid fan fic #spencer reid fan fiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fan fiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds angst #cm #cm fic #cm fanfiction #cm fanfic #cm angst

[sister-lucifer]

When It Rains

Tim Wright/Masky x Gender Neutral Reader 

READ THE FIRST PART HERE 

READ PART THREE HERE

Genre: Fluff, a bit angsty but has a happy ending, not explicitly romantic

Summary: It’s been raining all day, and the gloomy weather has you thinking about what could’ve been, and especially what never will be.

Content/Warnings: Brief mentions of alcohol, brief mention of death/suicide, it’s a little sad, I guess? But that’s it. Reader just speculates on how life would’ve been if the Operator hadn’t fucked them over and gets down about it, but theres a happy ending. 

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio (request rules + masterlist in pinned post)!

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out 

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated:)

Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors!

It’s raining again. Not that that’s new. Springtime out here sees its fair share of storms. Normally you’d observe the rain from inside, but today something inside was gnawing at you for some fresh air. 

The old rocking chair creaks beneath your weight, moving to and fro softly as you watch the rain. It comes down in sheets off the sides of the cover, splattering to the muddy ground and making a shallow moat around the patio. It lands loudly on the old tin roof, rattling and groaning in a manner that is far too dramatic. It obscures anything beyond the perimeter of the cabin and hides everything in a misty haze. 

It’s going to be foggy tomorrow, you think. It usually is when it rains like this. It’ll be cold for the next few days, too, and the ground will be soggy for weeks. Miserable weather, that is. Not that that’s new. 

It’s a good day to wonder, that’s all. You’ve been doing plenty of that lately. A bit too much, maybe, but there’s no helping that. 

You’ve been living out here with Tim for…shit. How long has it been? Almost a year, you think, but your perception of time is unreliable at best. It’s just one of the many things you lost when your world turned upside down.

That’s what it’s really about. The loss. Tim doesn’t like to talk about it, but you know you both feel it, him even more so than you. He was going to go to college, get a degree, and he’d be damn good at it, too. He was going to find a place of his own, maybe adopt a dog, a big old Saint Bernard like he had when he was a boy, the only type of housemate that wouldn’t annoy him. That’s what he’s told you, anyways. Not sober, of course, not even close; he’d never tell you anything that personal without at least a bit of alcohol in his system. He’s been drinking less since you showed up, though. You noticed he was cutting back a couple months after you moved in. You wonder if you’ll ever get him to open up like that again.

But those were Tim’s plans. He was already in his mid twenties when things really went south, you were barely out of high school when everything started. You didn’t really have plans. So…what are you mourning, exactly? 

You don’t really have an answer to that. 

You didn’t really have a set path for yourself. Your plan barely existed, and it’s feeble skeleton was little more than an intention to simply float around until something caught your eye. You’d find your way eventually, there was no need to worry. At least, that’s what you used to think. 

Now where do you go?

You didn’t have any real plans, no, and you can’t mourn something that never existed, but it there’s this heavy feeling that comes with knowing you’ll never be able to choose. 

That’s what it comes down to, you realize. Choice. 

No, you didn’t have any plans, but that was because you had all the options you could ever want. Now, you don’t have any plans because you’ve only got one. 

Tim does everything he can to keep you entertained out here. Hell, he risks his life every time he walks down the path to his truck to go to town for you, or when he just steps off the porch to refill the bird feeder he knows you love to watch. Nothing outside of these walls in these woods is safe. If it weren’t raining so hard, he’d tear you a new one for even sitting on the porch. 

It’s a miserable existence, but it’s so nice to have someone to be miserable with, even if he can’t change anything. 

You just wish that was enough to push away that yearning for more, that subtle thrumming ache that only wells up in your stomach late at night, that want that urges you to just take the truck and leave, to forget this cabin and Tim and everything in these godforsaken woods. 

But you can’t. 

You’d die. And even if you didn’t, the guilt of stranding Tim would eat you alive, especially knowing he’d kill himself before letting that thing get him. 

You don’t want to think about that. You push the thoughts away before they can take root in your mind. It’s better to just not consider that possibility at all. 

You jump when you hear the front door open. You look back to see Tim standing there, one hand buried in his pocket and the other still on the door handle. 

“The hell are you doin’ out here?” He huffs, “I been yellin’ for ya, thought you up and ran off.” 

You give him a weak smile, but you can’t keep it up for very long. You pull your knees to your chest and rest your chin on them, curling up as if trying to make yourself look as small as possible. You mumble an apology, but don’t look at him. 

He pauses, then, and you can imagining his expression changing to confusion and then concern before he covers it up again. His footsteps come up behind you, the wooden porch creaking beneath him. His hand grabs the back of the rocking chair and forces it to still before he pulls it backward to get a look at you.

“…What’s up with you, kid?” 

You shrug. It’s an easier response than an explanation, but it doesn’t satisfy him at all. 

“C’mon, we both know that’s bullshit,” He says with a dry chuckle, and he’s entirely correct. “What’s goin’ on?”

You sigh, thinking for a moment about your answer. 

“…It’s just…I dunno. Do you ever, like…think about what would’ve happened if you hadn’t…you know…”

It’s a stammering, stumbling attempt at explaining yourself, but he understands. He nods, crossing his arms and leaning back against the house. 

“Yeah, sometimes,” He replies, scratching at his stubble, “But if I’m bein’ honest, it ain’t gonna do you any good. That sorta thing only gets ya down.”

He’s right about that, too. If only it were that easy to just stop. It’s just so hard not to wonder at least every once in a while, it’s human nature. You just wish you knew when to stop. You just wish you were able to ignore the ‘what if’s that piled up in the back of your mind until they couldn’t stand anymore and toppled over into a pathetic mess of rubble. They’ll crush you one day if you aren’t careful, but such an idea seems almost inevitable. 

“Do you think—“ You start, but stop short before you can get any further. Tim quirks a brow, and you don’t have to look at him to know he’s making that skeptical face. 

“…Do I think what?” He asks. 

You hesitate to answer. Is this really a question you want to ask? If this starts an argument you won’t be able to take back, will it ruin the comfort you and Tim have finally managed to establish with each other? You can’t just not tell him now, though, or you’ll just piss him off more. He doesn’t care for secrets, but he can’t stand when someone wusses out of a conversation at the last second. 

“…Do you think if you had the chance you would…like, go back in time? If you could make it to where none of this ever happened, would you?”

You feel stupid asking that, and it doesn’t help that Tim is silent for far too long before he answers. You’re already regretting this. 

Tim finally opens his mouth, and he stammers for a few moments before his sounds turn into words.

“…I don’t really think I can answer that, kid. That’s a tough one.” 

He sounds monotone, almost uncaring, but you can tell he’s doing it on purpose

to conceal whatever he doesn’t want you to know he’s feeling. You finally turn to look at him with a look that says ‘Can you please try?’ 

His eyes widen for a moment, his shoulders tensing in that subtle way they only do when he’s scared. His lips part slowly, and it sounds like he’s forcing his next words out. 

“I don’t know. Maybe? I…”

He trails off, and you turn away again. Then there’s silence for another few moments. 

Then he’s beside your chair, slowly lowering himself to sit down and doing that annoyed groan he does anytime he has to strain his back. He takes a moment to get comfortable, and you see him reach for his pocket to grab a cigarette only to sigh in disappointment when he realizes he left them inside. You feel bad for smiling, but at least he won’t be able to hide behind his smoke the way he likes to when a conversation makes him uncomfortable. 

He accepts his fate, leaning back on his hands and staring out into the rain with you. 

“I might,” He finally says, “But it wouldn’t be an easy choice.” 

“Why not?” You ask, and for some reason he chuckles at that. 

“Good question. This isn’t how I expected things to end up, no one does, but…I couldn’t just up and leave this.” 

‘This’ he says. ‘This?’ That hardly answers your question. You quirk a brow at him, and he begrudgingly continues. 

“You know, I just…I’ve gotten attached to all this—“ 

“What’s this, exactly?” You interrupt, and he winces like he was hoping you wouldn’t ask that. “I can’t imagine there being anything here worth sticking around for.”

“…There wasn’t. Not for a long time,” He says, and now it’s your turn to pause. 

“…What did you say?” 

“There wasn’t,” He repeats, “Not until…not when I was alone. But now…” 

‘You,’ you realize that’s what he’s trying to say, ‘You are the only thing worth staying for.’ 

For some reason, that hurts. Maybe you feel guilty that you ever thought about leaving him, or maybe you feel bad that you of all people are his only friend. The bar for happiness is really low around here. 

You slowly unfurl from your spot on the chair, letting your feet rest on the porch as you slump down a bit. 

“So…you’re saying you wouldn’t?”

You expected an immediate answer. Stupid of you, really. He’s hesitating again. You’d thought you’d get a quick yes or no. You’re not sure if this is better or worse. 

“I’m not…saying anything,” Tim assures you, “I’m just saying that…I’d at least have to think about it.” 

“Yeah, but you have to make a choice,” You say with an eye roll, and the words coming out more forceful than you intended. Fortunately, his stoney exterior deflects any vitriol you could spew at him. 

The silence that settles over you this time is heavy. It makes you slump even further down in your chair. You hate the silence that always follows when you say something that turned out far too mean. 

You don’t breathe until Tim speaks again.

“Okay, yeah…I would.” 

You don’t know how you feel about that answer, but you don’t have much time to think before he continues. 

“But only because I’d know where to find you this time.” 

That surprises you. You sit back up in your chair, looking down at him with an unmistakably confused look. 

“Huh?” You blurt out, and your cheeks warm a bit when he chuckles at your noise of bewilderment.

“I’d do it, yeah, but I couldn’t just leave you to fend for yourself,” He explains, “I’d do it, but I wouldn’t abandon you. Now I know who you are, what you liked to do, where you’d hang out, all those things from before shit hit the fan. I just don’t want you to think I’d, ya know…forget about you like that. I’d come find you, that’s all. I think we’d find each other anyways, though.”

Something in your chest aches as he speaks, and it makes you want to curl up again, but you can’t move. You stare at him for a long few moments, and you’re lucky he doesn’t look up at you because you wouldn’t be able to pull your eyes away. You can’t even blink. 

“I told you kid,” He adds, “I care about you. I always have.”

What do you say to that? 

You don’t know, so you stay silent. You want to say something, to return the monument of emotion he’s just offered to you, to somehow express reciprocity, but you don’t know how. You’re silent. 

You don’t move as Tim stands back up, cracking his back and stretching his legs. He puts a gentle hand on your shoulder, giving a small, affectionate squeeze. 

“I gotta go start dinner,” He says curtly, “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me. Don’t spend too long out here. If you get sick, Imma say I told you so.” 

You nod, but give no further response. He pulls his hand away, and you think that’s the end of it, but just as you realize you haven’t heard him go to leave you feel him leaning over you. 

You tense. You’re not sure why, but you do. 

You feel him press a brief kiss to the top of your head before he pulls away again. It wasn’t even a kiss, really, he just pushed his lips against your head for a moment, but for that moment it was like everything you’d ever worried about up until that point was arbitrary. It doesn’t last long, but it lingers in the air like the smoke from Tim’s cigarettes as he pulls away and walks back into the house. 

You’re alone again.

Now what? 

You weigh your options for a moment, but once Tim’s footsteps disappear into the house it feels far too quiet out here, even with the rain beating down on the roof above you. 

You wait for only a few moments more to make sure you won’t seem too eager to follow him before you get up, lazily making your way back inside. 

You find yourself wondering again, this time about what Tim is making for dinner tonight, and you take a second to appreciate the pleasure in such simple problems. 

There are things that will never be now, and there’s no changing that.

But for tonight, this is pretty damn nice. 

#gender neutral reader #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta #marble hornets #marble hornets x reader #creepypasta fluff #creepypasta angst #marble hornets fluff #marble hornets angst #fluff #angst #tim wright #masky #tim wright x reader #masky x reader

[zanarkandskylines]

Bakugo surprises and comforts you while you're grieving. 『 ♡ - k.bakugo x fem!reader 』 tw/cw: depression, grief, brief talks of death ⋆ ˚ʚɞ — This was completely self indulgent as I was reminiscing on an old relative who passed when I was younger. -`✧ katsuki bakugo masterlist 

It had been awhile since you’ve been back to the cemetery. The sky was gloomy, threats of rain hanging in the air as you stood before the grave.

Isn’t it crazy how fast a decade flies by?

You used to visit monthly when you were at UA High, but now that you’ve been out of school for two years, it’s been hard to visit more than a handful of times a year. Normally Izuku would come with you as company and you’d both go get crepes afterward as a pick me up, but his patrol duty as the number eight hero came first. It wasn’t able to be helped, your schedules just never aligned anymore to do the things you used to as best friends. You miss him, but understand he’s got a job to do - just like yourself.

You never really talked much about your relative’s passing and how much it affected you throughout your life. You were too young to understand death back then - the only memory of the funeral in your mind was holding your mom’s hand during the burial. It was raining that day, and coincidentally enough, has rained every time you visit.

Thunder rumbles aggressively through the atmosphere as you’re sitting on the cool cobblestone pathway. That’s your queue to head home before the potential downpour, but today? You don’t budge. Something keeps you here for a bit longer. You close your eyes, taking time to reflect as you hold your hand to the ground. A few drops of rain begin to splash against your cheeks and sprinkle onto your pinned up hair.

A moment or two later, you hear thudding footsteps heading in your direction. It catches your attention and forces you to break your mediative trance.

“Kat?” You ask quietly, confused as you see Katsuki walking toward you. He’s got an umbrella in one hand and a few roses in the other.

“You’re gonna catch a damn cold if you stay here in the storm,” he says as he approaches you. He notices your perplexed reaction, assuming you’re surprised to see him here.

“Izuku called me earlier and mentioned he couldn’t make it. I didn’t want ya to be alone.”

Katsuki places the roses on the gravestone, turning to you and offering a hand to help you up. You take his hand, rising to your feet as he shifts beside you, holding the umbrella to shield you both from the oncoming storm.

“That’s sweet of you. I can pay you back for the flowers -”

“Fuck no, they’re a gift, idiot.”

“Thanks, Katsuki. I appreciate it more than you know.” You smile at him, masking the hurt in your eyes. You didn’t want him to see you upset.

“Don’t mention it. Whenever you’re ready, no rush.”

You know he hates the rain with a passion and he’s never come here with you before. He knew about it, but never pushed you to talk about it with him. The fact he’s standing here with you, in the rain? That spoke volumes.

Katsuki grabs your hand gently, startling you at the sudden touch. His fingers interlace with yours gracefully, palm warming the rest of your chilled hand. It fills you with a sense of comfort that he seemed to know, every time, how to provide for you. No words, just a silent understanding.

The rain begins to pick up into a steady shower as your shoulders deflate, a sigh escaping you.

“Alright, we can go. I don’t wanna keep you out in the rain.”

Katsuki nods, removing his hand from yours and slinging his arm around your shoulder. He tugs you closer to make sure you’re fully covered by the umbrella.

“Which crepe place do y’wanna go to?” He asks, tilting his head in your direction as you two start walking back to the cemetery entrance.

You laugh. “You’re out in the rain and willing to stomach a sugar-packed snack? You must be sick.”

He rolls his eyes and bumps you playfully with his hip. “Makin’ an exception today. Whatever y’want. And don’t even bother fightin’ me over it, I’ll take the money right outta your hand before you can pay.”

“Okay, okay. But you gotta get the same thing I do!” You wink, wrapping an arm around his waist.

“Hell no! You always get the sickly sweet shit.”

The two of you walk together to the nearest cafe, in the middle of a downpour, to share some crepes and coffee on this dreary day. You don’t end up leaving for quite some time, catching up over things you’d both missed with one another. It’s like no time had passed at all as you talked for hours.

Katsuki always knew how to make you feel better, he had his own ways to keep your spirits up. Whether it be holding your hand for support or buying you 3 crepes until you’re complaining about feeling sick, he’d do anything to see your smile.

#bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #mha #bnha #bakugo fluff #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo drabble #bakugo headcanons #bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo #my hero academia headcanons #bakugo comfort #my hero academia #☆.rei writes

[the-xolotl]

Thundering Rain

Qí Yù | Rafayel x Reader

𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: You and Rafayel cozy up during a cold storm to enjoy each other’s company when you realize he got up for something but didn’t come back to cuddle you.

—• TAGS: Domestic fluff, kinda ooc Rafayel (? if you squint), no use of Y/N, use of the pet name my love, beta read (imagine that)

A thunderstorm had been raging outside for hours now and you are thankful, for once, about the harsh seasonal changes because not just did you enjoy the rain and the majestic flashing of light that occasionally lit up the otherwise dark gray sky, you didn’t have to go to work. You could enjoy a leisure day indoors, listening to the calming sound of the rain hitting the window and the deep thunder clapping after each rapid flash of light with a warm blanket and hot beverages.

It’s true you loved your job, loved the adrenaline of being a hunter, the thrill of battle, but it was nice to sit back and relax for a bit. And some reprieve was definitely due after these past few weeks, Linkon City had been seeing more and more Wanderers roaming inside the more civilian populated areas, your team along with some back ups had been dispatched as first responders almost every time; it’s been busy to say the least.

And Rafayel had definitely not appreciated your constant absence. You don’t blame him, you missed him too. Because your job wasn’t just turning monsters to dust and protecting innocent people; each attack meant a lot of paperwork, desk work, meetings. It meant time away from home and away from your already clingy, needy lover.

Who, speaking of, had suspiciously gotten up from cuddling you in the sofa and hadn’t come back.

The now cool spot behind you made you realize his absence. But as you were about to get up to look for the purple-head you heard his voice, “Stay where you are, how you are, for another 30 minutes…” Rafa trailed off.

He didn’t even ask politely yet you remained on your spot no questions asked and turned your head back to look outside the large, tall window that gave the perfect view to the backyard. “So that’s where you’ve been the whole time,” you chuckled softly, of course he was.

“Inspiration should never be wasted or ignored. The best master pieces ever created were in spontaneous bursts of creativity,” He stated as if it was the most honest to god truth. Yeah, alright.

Amused you simply retorted, “Is that a fact?”

“Most likely,” he shot back before taking a small pause, “Besides, you barely noticed after almost an entire hour I didn’t come back beside you.”

The last part sounded more begrudging, you didn’t have to look at him to know he’s pouting. You couldn’t help but giggle, “Yeah, my back was getting cold. That’s how I noticed you were still gone.” Rafa let out the most offended scoff, he didn’t even dignify with an answer.

The room falls silent again save for the rhythmic pattering of rain, it’s then you realize he’s actually concentrating and you can’t help the little leap your heart makes. “Are you painting me?”

“As I was coming back from the kitchen the scene and atmosphere looked perfect so I just had to capture it,” he explains, “I haven’t had the opportunity to play around with darker tones or paints in a while and I recently acquired some very high quality materials to produce stunning shades. Very rare finds, honestly.” The Lemurian continued on to explain how and where he’d manage to obtain them, of course pointedly mentioning that he needed something to do in your absence because it was just so so boring.

More than half an hour had past, that’s for sure, as you filled the time with more banter and teasing remarks.

“Rafa can I move now? I’m going to have neck pain and be stuck in this position forever if I don’t get up soon,” you whine loudly, “The painting won’t be needed to immortalize this moment then.” He only tsk’s at you, calling you over to see the painting.

“Holy shit you weren’t kidding, the pigments are so rich!” You know little to nothing about art, any scattered knowledge or artsy lingo has definitely come from listening to your boyfriend talk about art. You study the painting detail by detail, from top to bottom. He really does deserve the fame, not that you’re biased.

Rafayel smiles big like a satisfied cat (ironically) at your praise and expression of awe.

Though the more you steady the painting the more you realize the gloomy tempest going out outside was definitely not the focus of this piece like you had originally thought, despite the fact that the oversized window gave the perfect opportunity to capture it so.

Instead you realize most of the spotlight was you. Rafayel had clearly taken his time; each curve of your features was perfectly drawn and shaded, the way the light made light and dark contrasts against the little skin that was not covered by the quilt, the shine in your eyes that reflected the lighting that occasionally flashed and the hair that framed your face. The content of your expression clearly denoting how engrossed you’ve been on the weather outside, he even included the faintest curl of the corner of your lip. And you looked cozy as hell with the blanket all the way tucked up to your chest and your hands wrapped around the (then) steaming mug of coffee.

A heat crept up your cheeks and chest. Is this how he saw you? Is this what his eyes see when he looks at you? Truly? You must’ve had your thoughts written in your face because he breaks the long silence with in a soft voice, “You are the inspiration of the painting, my love,” circling back to one of his earlier comments. You turn to face him fully, meeting eyes as he was already looking at you, as soft smile that matched the softness of his voice spread across his lips.

“It’s going to be part of the next exhibit, on a very special spot.”

“I’m sorry what?” You lamely ask, astonished but still in a monotone.

Rafayel had the audacity to laugh in your face as he gave the cavas a few strokes with the brush to accentuate some shadows. “It’s not finished yet, of course. I will accept no less than perfection,” he says slowly, words as methodical as his painting technique, “Specially when it comes to you.”

If you weren’t blushing before you sure are now. You shove him gently when he takes the brush off the painting, attempting and failing to hide how much he managed to fluster you.

Another long pause passed, but this felt more intimate, watching him closely add some details, switch between different size brushes for finer details. Rafayel sure went into his own bubble when he worked, yet he is always somehow very aware of his surroundings. At least at the moment he was.

“Not a lot of people get the privilege to watch me like this, so up close, let alone live. Are you feeling how privileged you are?” The tone of playful arrogance brings you back and pops the bubble of comfortable silence. But it does make you giggle.

These little moments make you fall deeper in love with him.

⟢ A/N: feels kinda funny posting my writing for the first time in the internet tbh. i usually only write for my friends/myself so i hope you enjoy my lil rot. it’s been raining so much in my area it gives me a very cozy vibe.

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© 2024 the-xolotl — all rights reserved. do NOT alter, translate, or repost my works on any platform without my consent, do not claim my content as yours.

—

⤷ dividers : cafekitsune ✰

#love and deepspace #rafayel #rafayel x reader #rafayel x you #qi yu x reader #qi yu #fanfic #writters on tumblr #fandom #domestic fluff #painting #oneshot #lnds #character x reader #romantic #romance #rain

[j-u-u-z-o]

“I Guess I’m Late for Practice?” (Atsumu x F. Reader) R-18+

Photo: credits to owner. ⚠️

Warning ⚠️: fluff, R-18+, Eventual Smut to SMUT, Grammar.

AN: Hey y’all! I was thinking about writing this scenario after I wrote a small Drabble the other day. I couldn’t stop thinking about it so I wrote a scenario! 🥹❤️ Also, sorry for the wait! I was too lazy to edit it but now it’s ready!

Anyway, please read the warning! Some people are so blind istg. I hope you enjoy! Please like/reblog or comment! it would be greatly appreciated. ❤️

Synopsis: Timeskip! Atsumu has volleyball practice today and his gf (reader) tags along with him because they want to spend time with him before he leaves for the next MSBY tour. So what happens next?

Didn’t read the warning? Need eyeglasses? Don’t skip! Read it again. Okay?😉

Don’t like it? Call 1-800- ignore - it or keep scrolling, Today! 📞👍

_______________________________________________

He’s late.

It’s currently 5:15pm and it’s dark outside.

The sounds of the window wipers wiping away the rain from the windshield and the heavy droplets of rain falling on the roof of the moving silver sedan is sounds depressing. “Ugh. Why does it have ta’ rain all day today.” Atsumu grunted. He was driving to practice after he picked you up from campus. You’re sitting next to him in the car because you chose to tag along for a bit. “Hm. Maybe because you’re leaving me in the next few days.” You looked out the window on your side. You didn’t want him to see you pouting.

A chuckle was heard next to you. Atsumu placed his big hand on your thigh as the other steered the wheel. “Ya don’t have to say that, baby. Ya sound like I’m leaving ya’ tomorrow morning.” He caressed it with his fingers and kept it there. You hummed and placed your hand on top of his and rubbed your thumb across his knuckles.

“It’s only for… a few months.” He said but his tone was not as bright he thought it’d be. He feels the same way you’re feeling. But he to has practice today and so on - with his team before they go on their next tour in three different countries: Argentina, Brazil and then back to their country, Tokyo.

Your hand lifted his own from your thigh and interlaced it with yours. “I know, Tsumu.” You sighed.

——————————————————————————

“Alright. We’re here.” Atsumu pulled up to a parking lot and saw a few of his teammates cars in there. “Great, is there any space for me?” He pouted as he searched for a parking spot.

“You didn’t have ta’ come with me, babe.” He said as he looked around. “You had a long day of classes today and you have a project too. Plus, I don’t want you to catch a cold.”

“I know…” you gripped his hand, gently. “But I have time to stay and…I want to watch you play.” You spoke. Atsumu turned his head to you. He lifted your hand with his and kissed it. “I love ya, babe.” He smiled. Moments passed and he finally found a spot next to Bokuto’s black suv. “Let’s go, babe.” The sounds of the heavy rainfall were so strong that you almost thought about staying in the car. However, your thought process was interrupted when he leaned over to give you a quick kiss before the two of you got out of the car.

“Wait by the door, y/n!” He quickly opened the trunk to get his duffle bag. Atsumu didn’t want you to get wet from the rain so he gave you his extra hoodie he found from the back seat. You nodded and quickly ran to the shade. You watched your boyfriend who’s wearing his black sweatsuit, grab his duffle bag, hang it over his shoulder and run to where you stood.

You giggled. “What’s so funny?” He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and opened the door. “Nothing, Tsumu.” He poked your check.

Inside, you can hear sneakers squeaking on the floor, running, the sounds of the volleyball bouncing around the gymnasium. Even the shouting of the team members.

“Alright!”

“Next ball!”

“Left, Kiyoomi!”

“Nice catch, Hinata!”

The familiar voices of his teammates ringing in your ears sounded like they were in an actual game. Atsumu opened the gymnasium’s door and called out, “Oiiii!” and waved. The members looked around and saw Atsumu. You slowly peeked out and smiled at them. “Oiiiii~ Oh! Y/n-chan!” Hinata and Bokuto shouted. The other members greeted the two of you.

They were in their second round of the game. “Hey.” You said softly as if they could hear you. “They can’t hear ya, babe.” Atsumu chuckled. So you waved instead. They waved back. Atsumu then pointed his thumb back towards the gym’s locker room and they nodded. “Be back soon!” Atsumu turned and held your hand as he walked to the “men’s” locker room.

“I’ll sit and wait for you in the gym-“ you reminded him - there could be other people from different teams in the locker room. “It’s just us on the roster today, babe.” Atsumu wrapped an arm around you and opened the door to the locker room. You walked in and noticed that it is very quiet. “See? No one.” He took you all the way to the back of the locker room where his team occupies.

You unzipped the hoodie that you were wearing and hanged it up on a rack. Astumu did the the same; now topless and he opened his locker. You sat down on the bench. He hummed a tune as you opened his duffle bag and took out his volleyball uniform. Your eyes lowered and you tuck in your lips. Number 13. Suddenly a wave of sadness hits you. You really don’t want him to leave you alone for the next few months. You want him to stay with you.

“Babe?” Atsumu noticed how quiet you are and turned his head to see you sad. “Baaabe.” He dragged out, sadly. His hands are on either side of your cheeks and he lifted your head up, gently. “Ya don’t have ta’ cry.” You sniffed and sniffed. You looked anywhere besides him to not get too teary eyed. “Y/n. Look at me.” you looked at him. “I’m not going anywhere soon. I leave in about two weeks.” He said lowly. “I know…but - ” you tried to tell him but your throat started to hurt. He kissed your lips, softly.

“C’mere.” He sat down on the bench and made you straddle him. Both of your legs on either side of his thighs. He held you close to his bare chest. “Y/n. I love you.” He grinned and you kept sniffing. “I love youuuuuu.” He said playfully and nibbled your neck.” You giggled. “I’m not a baby, Tsumu.” You smiled softly as you combed his hair with your fingers. “I know you’re aren’t, baby.” He lifted his head to look at you and wiped your tears.

Your dried tears on your cheeks; your beautiful eyes and smile warmed his heart. Your lips met his once more and you felt the deep desire to kiss him deeply.

Atsumu moaned deeply. His lips enveloped yours easily and smoothly. Your kisses echoed in the room. Just the two of you. You moaned when he pulled up your shirt that was tucked in your uniform skirt and his warm hands stroked your waist from underneath. Your breath hitched in between kisses as you felt his fingertips slowly caress your form. “Ah…” you moaned. He broke the kiss and went down to leave open mouthed kisses on your neck. You gasped when you felt his kisses on that one spot that always makes your pulse flutter. Atsumu chuckled.

You bit your bottom lip and grounded your hips to feel his clothed member under his black shorts. you grinded on him, slowly. Your covered nub seeking relief from how much affection he’s giving you right now. Atsumu groaned and held you tighter as he felt your warmth above his member. He stopped leaving kisses and hid his face in your neck - to focus on the feeling. You rolled your hips up and down to feel some relief. Atsumu helps you by moving his hands down under your uniform skirt - gripped your ass and pulled you closer to him.

“Ah!” You shivered when you felt his member poke your covered nub. Your legs are spread out above his and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders as you bucked against him. You can hear Atsumu exhale a satisfied groan. “Tsumu.” You whispered. He looked up at you - his brown eyes darkened with lust. His attention is only on you. Not saying a word, he leaned forward to meet your lips but you pushed him down on his back on the bench.

Feeling hot and needy - your breathes proving it. Atsumu watched you from below - straddling yourself better on his well built form - putting both of your hands on his chest. He held your waist as you began grinding on him. He closed his eyes and moaned. You breathes echos in the locker room. You felt how hard his member was getting every second as you watched him bite his lips - relishing your warm weight on his member.

Atsumu spread his legs wider to feel your warmth and began bucking his hips up to your warmth. “T-tsu..mu!” The bouncing of your body above his interrupted your call that you leaned forward and placed your hands above his head on the bench, for a better balance. You can feel his hardened girth even more each time you landed on it. “Mmm…oh yeah.” He moaned and bucked a little faster. The bench creaked a little due to his pace that you tried to tip-toe on the floor to reduce the sounds coming from the it, but to no avail.

He wrapped his arm around you and pulled you down to kiss him. his other hand laid on your lower back to keep you above him, closely. He hissed when his tip bumped against your clothed entrance. “Fuck.” He groaned. Held held your form tightly - you’re not going anywhere - his strength is unmatched. “Tsu…mu” you breathed into his mouth. You felt the tip trying to get through your panty and into your entrance.

He clicked his tongue. He rolled his hips up. He doesn’t like the teasing. you looked at how needy he’s being that you raised your upper body and rolled your hips, too. “Yeah. Like that, baby.” His hands rose up to your clothed chest and groped them. You pulled up your shirt along with your bra. A light chuckle was heard from him and he groped them. You twitched when his thumbs brushed your nipples, softly. Each time he did that, you rolled your hips on his member. “Shit, baby.” He rose up and you leaned close to him. He licked your nipple, slowly. Swirling it with the tip of his tongue. You head fell back and you stared at the ceiling.

Atsumu held you by your waist to keep you from moving away. He knows how sensitive you are. His tongue swirled around it more, lovingly. It felt too good. Your shirt is getting wrinkled as your hands tried to hold it up. He looked up at you as he’s licked it and then wrapped his mouth around it. “Ugh…Tsumu.” You push your chest closer to his face as he sucked it and then whimpered when his finger tips traces your form, feathery. he then flicked your nipples, slowly. “Mmm…” he groaned.

Your breathless moans filled his ears that he pulled your hips close to his - encouraging you to ride him again. You submitted as your fingertips caressed his undercut and the other still holding your shirt up. Soon after, atsumu removed your top and whispered, “pull it the side, baby?” He looked at you, pleadingly. You looked at him, surprised. “Eh?” You said breathlessly. He leaves kisses on your neck - waiting for your answer. Breathless and flustered, you looked up at the ceiling to think about this risky move.

Atsumu kissed up to your jaw while he was still waiting for your answer until you stopped him. “But your training…” you whispered, sounding concerned. “just the tip.” He whispered back and you nodded. He kissed you, softly.

Lips wrapped around each other’s, gently. You pulled out his member and stroked it, slowly. Atsumu moaned and went back to kissing your neck. “Oh yeah…” he breathed out on your neck in between kisses. He hissed when you were rubbing the now wet tip with your thumb. His groans made you become more impatient for what’s to come.

You like how satisfied he looks - his head tilted, watching you stroke his length they way he likes you to. Atsumu moaned while he caressed your waist with his fingertips and the other hand on your thigh. “Okay, your turn now, baby.” You placed your hands on his shoulders and looked down in between. He smiled softly as his fingertips pushed your panty to the side. His breath hitched when he felt your arousal rub off on his fingers after he pulled the material away from your heat. “Shit, baby.” He rubbed his fingertips and dipped his fingers in between your folds.

“Wow.” He heard the squelching sounds as he rubbed your nub in circles. You squirmed and moaned when he dipped the tip of his middle finger into your entrance. “Ya so wet for me, baby.” He smirked. You pushed him down on his back. Atsumu watched as you took his length and rolled your hips in circles, on the tip. “Ahh.” You moaned as you stroked your sensitive numb around it. Soon after, you lowered your self on his length that atsumu eyes and mouth widened. “Fuuuck.” You softly smiled down at his reaction.

Up and down, just on the tip. Atsumu caressed the back of your thighs as you so. “Oh baby…”. His deep moans made you throb. You couldn’t help yourself so you took in his entire length and seated yourself. “Oh!” The room echoed. You giggled at your boyfriend’s surprised response - as if he just saw an angel. “You little minx.” He laughed and held your hips.

The wet sounds echoed between the two of you in the locker room.

“Oh yeah…ugh.” You moaned out as you bounced off his length, the wet sounds coming from your arousal, slapping his pelvis. Atsumu took your hands and interlaced them with his. From below, you look like a goddess. Your body jolting from his strokes as your tits bounced in front of his face. “That’s it baby. Use me to cum.” Atsumu’s deep thrusts met each time you came down on him. Rough and steady. The veins on his length stroking your plush walls while it rubbed against your nub.

His throaty moans filled your ears when you clenched his length. You leaned forward - your nipples rubbing against his chest and your lips met his. “Mmm.” He pushed his feet in - sneakers squeaked on the floor as used the opportunity to grab your ass and push it down and buck up into your heat, swiftly. “O-oh…atsu-“ you breathed out into his mouth, uncontrollably. His warm breathes hitching into yours. The wet sounds made him go deeper; the bench below the two of you kept rattling. “You feel so good, baby.” He smiled, lovingly.

“Y-you make me feel so good, Tsumu.” He chuckled and abruptly raised his form. You yelped and held on to his shoulders. A chuckle came from him again , “I can make you feel even more better, baby.” Atsumu got up walked to the wall. “I’m a pro. Remember?” You giggled at his smug face. Your back met the cold wall and your legs were under his grip. “This is better.” He rolled his hips up slowly - his length massaging your walls while his pelvis rubbed against your nub. “Ah…” you breathed out. He kept rolling it up, over and over that you were to fall apart. His girth hitting that spot inside of you. You started to feel putty in his hands.

His slow pace felt so good. You gently grabbed his face and kissed him, passionately. “You like that,baby?” He broke the kiss and You nodded. “I know you do.” He grinned and Your lips smacked against his again, with so much love and affection. In between the hot kisses and slow pace, you felt your walls start to pulsate. Atsumu felt it and started began bucking, feverishly. “Ohhh…yeah right there, angel.” Your arousal slapping against his pelvis and your whimpers made his body press closer to yours. You’re both breathing into each other’s faces.

“Oh…my Tsumu…” you whined. you were getting closer to your climax. His deep thrusts stroked your plush walls as pelvis slapped your swollen nub. You lost feeling of your muscles. Your leg, in fact. Dangling in the air. You kept whimpering - your walls and your nub throbbing, all at once. “Almost there. We’re almost there, baby.” He can feel how tight your walls are squeezing him - his climax is reaching for release. “Ah!” body is getting crushed by his and the wall behind you - you couldn’t move. His pelvis kept slamming against your nub - you trembled until you finally released. “Ugh!” Atsumu thrusted once more and froze. His chest heaved against yours.

You both stayed still. You whimpered - your walls still throbbing on his length. You looked at your boyfriend, flushed out. You smiled and you wiped the sweat from his forehead. Atsumu grinned. “I swear ya make me go nuts.” You giggled and kissed him, softly. “Mmm.” He moaned as he rolled his hips into your warmth. You squirmed. Still feeling the after shocks a bit as you rolled nub against his pelvis, to ride the last sparks of your orgasm.

He sighed. “I love you, y/n.” He reluctantly pulled his length out. You winced at the emptiness. He gently put your legs down but you almost fell down since you couldn’t feel your legs after being held up for a while. So he helped you sit down for a bit.

“Well! Time for practice!” He shouted randomly after a while - he helped clean the two of you up with an extra sweat towel and fixed yourselves.

With his arm wrapped around your waist, he kissed your lips once more, softly. You hummed, lovingly. You both walked to the door to the gymnasium from the inside of the locker room. “I’ll call you when I get to my friends place, Tsumu.” He opened the door, “I can drop ya off, babe.” You shook your head, “I have to go start my project. I’ll pick you up.” smiled. “Hm. Okay~.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

He watched you walk to the front door of the building and turned his head to his teammates. Looking at him in disbelief.

“What?”

“Oi Oi Oiiii!!! We’re practicing and you just have to make it obvious , huh?!” Bokuto crossed his arms.

“Hm? No…I didn’t?” Atsumu said with his signature smug face.

“Liar.” Sakusa said in disgust.

“Ohhhhh????” Hinata’s eyes widened.

“I’m serious, guys!” He chuckled and put his hands up to “surrender” but quickly moved it down when a volleyball was aimed at his crotch. “Oi!”

*blinks* “Ohhhh…” Atsumu froze.

He still has a boner.

“I can’t believe this…Hurry up and start stretching, you Idiot!” Inumaki demanded. “We better not lose because of you and THAT!”

“Mad coz ya didn’t get sum.” Astumu mumbled and suddenly screamed as more balls were thrown at him.

🤍 Tags: @darthferbert @idiotlittleme

#atsumu x y/n #msby atsumu #atsumu fluff #atsumu #atsumu smut #miya atsumu #atsumu x you #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya #haikyuu!! #haikyuu!! scenario #haikyuu!! imagines #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! scenarios #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! smut #haikyuu!! x you #anime #manga #haikyuu!! x y/n #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x you

[saintwyfe]

࿐ ˚ . ✦ THUNDER. jude bellingham

summary. he's a ten (but he's scared of thunderstorms).

cw. none

word count. 644

maybe it was the light, continuous clicks of water droplets falling from the sky, tapping the pavement they landed on, or the dark gray clouds that emerged whenever it rained—but whatever it was, you loved storms.

it was a quiet reminder of the atypical change in weather that didn’t occur much, but whenever it did, you appreciated it a lot. even indulging in a book or a nice, warm bath to sulk up in the dull atmosphere.

on the other hand, your boyfriend, jude, did not. nine times out of ten, he’s shaken up and hides under the nearest blanket, even at the smallest chant of thunderbolts. 

so, you didn’t find it surprising when you peered through the peephole of your front door to see him in the midst of a storm.

he’s tapping his fingers, scanning the ceiling of your apartment complex, and waiting patiently for you to answer. it seemed as if he was holding some sort of bag too.

you let out a slight chuckle before unlocking your door, and there he was. his eyebrows raised a bit—snapping out of his thoughts—and the corners of his lips formed a slight smile when he peered down at you.

a black, now sodden hoodie draped his shoulders, with the hood covering his face. the sweatshorts he wore turned a darker shade of gray after the rain left its mark on him. 

“aww,” you teased, your voice a bit high-pitched and wary to annoy him. “my poor little baby, chased by the storm?”

a flush crept up his cheeks, and he immediately threw his head back in shame, “shut up.”

you couldn’t help but chuckle a bit at his lack of control over small things like this. especially being older and taller than you, you’d expect him to be at least a little less... hesitant.

“come,” you chirped, scooting away from the door to make space for his entrance. his squeaky shoes tread on your wooden floors, and though it strained your ears a bit, you waited patiently as he lifted from his sneakers.

“i see you packed an overnight bag,” you turned around, navigating toward the fridge that was conveniently adjoined to the foyer.

he began to sync your steps from behind you “yeah," he said, tugging the bag from his shoulders before leaving it aloof on your kitchen counters.

“can i not spend time with my girlfriend now?”

you tilted your head, as discerned by his obvious attempts of misleading you. “or were you just scared of the storm?” you hummed, passing a glass of water from across the counter.

he shook his head, “no really—”

“you don’t have to lie, it’s okay to be a wimp,” you nag, interrupting his sentence.

he clicked his teeth, “i can never win with you, can i?”

you chuckled, now straying toward him. he fixed a stare at you as he took a long drag from the glass in his hands. his eyebrows slightly furrowed in confusion.

now, you were in front of him, pulling him in for a hug before he interrupted your steps, “i’m still wet—”

“i don’t care,” you retorted before engulfing him in a hug. your arms were snug around his waist, and your head was resting on his chest. you took the opportunity to pull back the hood of his sweater. he’s a bit cold, and the smell of his perfume is faint, but you can still smell the woodiness it exudes. quickly, you tiptoed up and took a peck at his lips—the ones you missed so much. pulling away, you were met with a smile that etched his face, complimenting the rest of his features. it was difficult not to be jittery when being affectionate with him, but, you treasured moments like these.

“mmph—i’m soaked now,” you frowned.

“i warned you,” he responded, causing you to roll your eyes.

an: trent fics soon?

#jude bellingham #football imagine #football fanfic #football imagines #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham imagines #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham fanfic

[littlemymyohmy]

After reading on some Welcome Home x Human Reader, I’ve come to the conclusion that these stories are mostly centered around the puppets figuring out what the heck Reader is. I think by now we all know what they think about Human Reader, but Home is a neighbor too.

So what does Home think of Human Reader? He is a house, maybe he feels sympathy for Reader not having a “home”. Or maybe he feels intrigued. I’m sure he loves Wally, but Wally doesn’t need much since he’s a puppet. But a Human. A Human almost completely relies on a house to keep warm and safe. Rooms for different needs. A kitchen to store food and to feed themselves. I’m sure Home has a lot of empty cupboards and a lot of space to fill. Heck maybe Home wants someone to cradle and protect while he sleeps (Since Wally doesn’t sleep). The little things we don’t think about might be greatly appreciated by a house: like loose hair falling to the floor from a brush, or how our hands turn bronze doorknobs into gold. Repetitive movement is engraved into the floor, walls and doors. Maybe Home longs to be “lived” in.

I think we often see our homes as a reflection of our selves. How we upkeep and decorate our homes. Home would love the different phases we go through. One second you want your walls to be blue and then next pink or maybe even green, or a picture you hung up here will go there and a different one will go here instead. He’d love learning about your friends and family this way. Home would love when you decide to hang up string lights, LED lights etc. So exciting! He must feel like a different house! Think about the excitement he must feel when you come back home and you have a gift for him. Wind chimes to sing for him or a funny little garden gnome to keep him company. Home feels so deeply for Human Reader. If he didn’t have Wally, Home would 100% take Reader in.

I’m Implying that when Reader is off visiting the neighbors, and Home is left with his thoughts, maybe he daydreams about a life with us. Our laughter from elsewhere creeps it’s way into his daydreams. Daydreams about how he’d greet you with a happy creak every morning when you wake and a happy creak every night when you sleep. He thinks you fit right into this neighborhood quite nicely. Every time we help Eddie early in the morning with packages, Home’s eyes follow until we are out of site. He’s heard from Frank’s boisterous lectures that Humans are warm, he wonders how different your hands must feel compared to the cold felt he’s used to. He’s seen you caught in the rain before and oh how he wished he could’ve swung his door open and called for you to hurry up inside before you catch a cold! He wonders which cabinet would pile all the different kinds of tupperware as you hurriedly toss a spare lid in and quickly shut the door before it all comes tumbling out.

There are some things he’d have to get used to if we took the place of Wally. Midnight bathroom or snack breaks would startle the poor house awake. Why are you up walking around so late for? He’d open and close his cabinets trying to help make up your indecisive mind about what to eat. Should you be eating this late? He’d rack his mind for any information he’s heard from Frank. I’d imagine him having to constantly remind you to wash the piling dishes. He’d probably do it himself if he could. Every time you shower he’d memorize the exact right temperature you like. The list goes on and on.

I think we as a fandom don’t include Home a lot, especially how he must feel about us unexpectedly entering the neighborhood.

Home is a neighbor too.

Note: Maybe I should write. Let me know if I’ve made grammatical errors.

#[my writing] #welcome home #welcome home x reader #welcome home x human reader #home #welcome home arg #wally darling #frank frankly #eddie dear

[sillybaekgu]

Drenched under the moonlight

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Pairing: non-idol!riki x gn!reader

Genre: fluff, extremely sweet, friends to something, awkwardly cute, very cringe too

Warnings: none

Summary: As raindrops kissed their skin, words flowed quickly into the night, confessing your love was never easy but midnight rain gave you the courage to do so.

Word count: 1.4K

a/n: FIRST POST OMG I’M SO NERVOUS. Hope you like it, I feel like it’s very cringe but I really didn’t expect to do better since it’s my first post,I tried my best so yea, enjoy<3

‑ ‒ – — ― ‑ ‒ – — ― ‑ ‒ – — ― ‑ ‒ – — ― ‑ ‒ – — ―

It was just another regular friday night for you and Riki. Since you two lived in the same neighborhood you’d usually walk together back home after spending the afternoon with your friends.

As you walked calmly through the dimly lit streets, Riki decided to break the silence “Are you doing anything later tonight?” He asked looking at you. “Uhh…besides sleeping? I don’t think I have any plans” you answered, not really paying attention to the strange question. “Oh…cool” Riki answered quietly. There was a strange feeling in your chest, a hunch telling you to ask more but you decided to brush it off. As you reached your house you faced Riki and said “Thanks, Riks, I appreciate it! You know, since it’s late and walking at night…alone…can be dangerous” you gave him a warm smile “Anytime..” he smiled back, you couldn’t help but feel like there’s something he wanted to say, and even if it bothered you, staying silent was your best choice or your cheeks would burn up anytime. It was no secret that you had developed a crush on Riki and no matter how hard you tried to hide it, you had this loving gaze towards him that gave away all your feelings. As both of you waved goodbye, you entered your home, greeting your family in the process and immediately going to your room.

Time passed by quickly and before you noticed it was almost midnight, you sat quietly on your bed wondering if you should’ve said something to Riki when you had that strange feeling, wondering if he’s ever felt the same way you do right now. The atmosphere you created in your room wasn’t heavy but it made your poor heart uneasy at the thought of being entirely wrong and mistaking his kindness for something else. The more you thought about it the heavier your chest felt until a weak sound pulled you out of your trance.

clack…clack

You stood a few inches away from the window scared to see what’s on the other side.

clack…clack

You slowly approached the window, carefully looking through the glass only to find a familiar pair of brown orbs and a soft smile accompanying them.

You opened your window hurriedly “Riki? What are you doing here? It’s very late and it’s cold” your voice came out immediately, he giggled softly and stared back at you “Yeah, I know. Remember I asked you about what you were doing later today?” He asked looking at you expectantly, you clearly remembered it since it’s what has been occupying your mind the last few hours “Yeah I do remember” he gave you a mischievous grin and asked “Do you wanna go get some snacks? We can eat them at the park, it should be empty right now” you felt the adrenaline rush coming to you, after all, it’s not an everyday occurrence for your crush to come ask you to hang out in the middle of the night.

You couldn’t give your feelings away that easily, that would hurt your pride, so you stayed quiet pretending to think whether to accept or not. After looking inside for a brief moment you smiled and said “Let me grab my coat” You ran to your closet and grabbed your warmest coat, knowing that it could never compare to the warmth you felt when you were with Riki. Silently walking down the stairs you fixed your hair before quietly grabbing your keys and opening the door meeting finally the boy who made your heart skip a beat ever so often.

As soon as Riki saw you his face lit up with the brightest smile ever. “Took you long enough, I thought I was gonna freeze out here” he said teasingly, you rolled your eyes and started walking towards the store “Are you just gonna stand there? Let’s go” he smiled once more and started chasing after you, soon it turned into a race to see who could get to the convenience store faster. Unsurprisingly, Riki won and you, out of breath, accepted your defeat. As you regained composure you looked at the sky hoping to find a beautiful starry night, instead all you saw was heavy gray clouds, your face immediately tainted in preoccupation alarmed Riki “What happened? Why do you look so worried suddenly?” His expression concerned “Oh it’s just the sky looks a little too cloudy tonight, I wonder if it’ll rain…we have no umbrella” you quickly changed your expression to a more relaxed one, you looked at him and said “anyway let’s not worry about that right now, what should we get?” And soon enough you two came out of the store with snacks and drinks on your way to the park. Arriving to the empty park was definitely unsettling at first, wondering if you’d encounter something paranormal but as you settled on the benches the atmosphere soon became much lighter while you talked about everything and nothing at the same time. Being with Riki started a fire in your heart, the warmth you felt when you were with him was unrivaled and you just wished time would stop and stay in this little moment forever. After a while, ending your perfect moment, a few droplets fell from the sky, you immediately noticed but letting go to find somewhere else because of the rain wasn’t something you felt like doing, so you ignored the rain and hoped it went away. Riki also noticed, he wanted to stay but he worried about you, he didn’t want you to get sick because of him, unwillingly he finally said “we should get going, I just felt some droplets from the sky” your heart screamed telling you to stay put but you knew better and said “yeah, we definitely should” as you cleaned up and threw the trash away the weather had other plans for you as it immediately started pouring down heavy rain and puddles forming everywhere. Riki swiftly took your hand and started to walk looking for shelter until you suddenly took his hand between both of your hands, you felt bold and this whole situation felt just right to confess your feelings. The way his blond locks stuck to his face due to the rain, the dimly lit park, the warmth of his hand, it seemed like true love possessed you as you looked at him “Riki, I need to tell you something. I know right now it’s not the best moment but I need to get this off my chest” Your heart pounding so hard you could hear it from miles away, slowly looking at him you felt how he now held both of your hands. He looked at you expectantly, a shine you could only find in his dark eyes. You held him tightly and said “I have never felt this way before, the way you make my heart flutter, the time we spend together, it all slowly became part of who I am. Without me noticing you became a part of me that’s so precious it makes me feel overwhelmed” You were right here, right now with him, holding his hands and confessing while getting drenched under the moonlight. Riki’s cheeks quickly tainted with a rosy tone, he held your hands even tighter and said “I was supposed to confess tonight but it seems you were ahead of me. Every day we spend together makes me realize I love you, I hated the idea of confessing, I thought you’d never feel the same way but now that we’ve come clean about us I want to be with you, discover this something together” He pulled you close, even if it started getting colder all you could feel was the warmth of his embrace. You slowly pulled away looking at him before saying “I love this but we’re so catching a cold if we stay under the rain for longer” Finally your chest felt lighter and everything seemed a bit more colorful, perhaps it was the rain or the midnight euphoria but this was the beginning of something special.

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#enhypen #enhypen riki #enhypen riki x reader #enhypen soft hours #enhypen fic #enhypen x reader #enhypen oneshots #oneshots #nishimura riki #enhypen niki #niki x reader #fluff #enhypen fluff #short fiction #enhypen ni ki #ni ki

[demonicbaby666]

heya if u have the time could I request a jj x female bau member reader with hurt/comfort? I was thinking something along the lines of jj helping the reader bandage their own wounds. Thanks!

Bandages

One shot | Criminal Minds Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Jennifer Jareau x fem!reader

Genre: comfort/fluff

Words: 2k+

Warnings: mentions of neck wound, brief mentioning of blood

Summary: JJ helps you clean your wounds and looks after you after sustaining injuries in the field.

A/n: I hope this lives up to your expectations! It’s nothing too angsty and I tried to keep the mentions of blood and gore to a minimum and focus on the comfort side of stuff <3

The rain. It’s cold on your face. Raindrops roll down your cheeks, trickling down from your hair down to your chin. It’s refreshing, if not a little uncomfortable. It’s nice, though, to feel the roars of the sky fall upon your skin and coat it with a shimmer reflected only on the side of your face from the light inside.

Hands wrap around your waist, pulling you into a full chest, contrastingly warmer to your back, that is now soaking wet having collected each droplet of rain as though it were a rare coin worth millions.

“What are you doing out here?” JJ asks. Her hand rests over the cotton bandage sticking to your neck, “You can’t get this wet.”

Without meaning to, you flinch, then relax back into the body of the woman you know will always catch you.

“Hey,” you whisper your reply, turning in the warm embrace, making sure not to break away from it or tempt JJ to loosen her grip in any way. You’d never tire of looking into those azure eyes, feeling your feet tingle under their warm gaze. A gaze filled now with worry and wonder.

“Hey,” she scans you over quickly, not quick enough that you don’t notice, but you let it slip, “ready to come in?”

The rain begs you to stay with each pitter and each patter against concrete. You want to stay, yet it’s something else inside you that says no. It’s the feeling of knowing something that feels this good, in excess, can do more harm than not, like candy.

JJ hadn’t likely meant to instil this message or the sudden revelation you were having when simply asking whether you were ready to come back in. Nonetheless, she had, and it wasn’t unwelcome. JJ had a way of doing that, secretly, telepathically or unknowingly. She broke down walls you didn’t you had up, and you loved her for it.

“Yes,” you nod and offer a smile.

Her fingers intertwine between your own as she returns your smile with one of her own, and though it’s pitiful and lacks the energy of her usual smiles, you appreciate it.

She pulls the both of you into the warmth of the house, and you close your eyes for a few moments, feeling the blood in your veins warm up, and the goosebumps on your arms settle. When you open your eyes, you see JJ scanning your body again, spending extra time on your soaked bandages and healing wounds that didn’t require covering.

JJ’s headstrong, she always has been, she’d call it resilience, whereas some would say stubborn, but either way, you’d never minded it when it was so easy to see past it. With her looking you over, you know she wants to help, mainly because it had killed her to know she couldn’t prevent what had happened.

“They’re wet,” you point out, following her gaze, “Help me change them?”

To say she was beaming at the opportunity would be inaccurate, but her smile changes from sorrowful to hopeful. It feels more genuine, and your heart swells at the sight of it.

Since the attack happened, JJ watched you change with each passing day. She saw your smile fade and your energy level dissipate. So, to hear you wanted to take care of yourself, with her help or even for her benefit, is a victory.

“I’ll get the stuff,” she begins to walk away, stopping momentarily before turning back around with a sudden purpose and longing in her eyes, “I could help you shower before we change the dressings. Maybe you’ll feel more comfortable if we get all that dried blood and grub off you.”

She’s not wrong. A shower would help. It’s the fact you’d have to come face-to-face with the damage done that's prevented you from doing so. And for some reason, anything you should be doing to look after yourself seemed the worst thing imaginable.

You look at her, the word ‘no’ dancing on your lips, but seeing the hope in her eyes makes you feel like saying it would just about shatter your heart.

“A shower couldn’t hurt,” you run your hands through your wet wire-like hair, “I guess I need one…”

She chuckles, and it’s like hearing pure sunshine. The brush of bright yellow splattered across a blacked-out canvas. For the first time in days, you feel that the grin on your face is genuine. It’s something you want more and more of; it’s been bubbling under the surface for days - that feeling of hopelessness - and that laugh has saved you, provided you that droplet of hope that you can cling to.

You take her hand, and things seem that little bit brighter, that little bit easier, and you fall that little bit more in love with the woman pulling you upstairs.

Honey. It was one of the first things you noticed about JJ; she smelt like honey and vanilla. Luckily it was something that, despite a year of dating, had yet to change. It was three months into the relationship when you realised it was her hair that smelt like honey because of her shampoo and her body like vanilla because of her body wash. Body wash that she was now gently and ritualistically lathering all over your body.

There’s something innately intimate about showering with someone, especially when anything sexual did not enter that small steamy cubicle, when wandering hands only had the purpose of cleaning and when love-filled eyes only looked into one another with unspoken words of affection and encouragement.

JJ’s hands run through your hair, distributing honey-scented goodness through each lock, then return to massage your scalp. There was nothing you could do to prevent yourself from closing your eyes and falling back into her for the second time that night. Hot water streams down the front of your body as the smell of JJ engulfs you, and you let her surround you, contently humming.

“You okay, baby?” JJ asks, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Mmm hmm.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” She laughs, and god, that laugh. The piping-hot water pales compared to the sheer heat that radiates and coats your body when you hear that laugh.

After the shower, JJ walks you to the bed, insisting you get into your pyjamas and lay comfortably in bed. Once convinced, she makes her way back to the bathroom, and you listen, whilst changing, to her gathering the needed bits and bobs.

When she returns, you bite your bottom lip, trying not to laugh. Instead, you smile in awe as JJ walks towards you, trying to carry a whole hospital's worth of medical supplies. You dare not say anything because, after all, it’s JJ, and you know she wants nothing more than to be thorough.

She holds the disinfectant spray in her hand as though she is scared of it, and she thinks she's doing an excellent job of masking her hesitance. To her credit, she probably is. It's only that you've known her so long you can notice her moving ever so slightly slower and gripping into the bottle tight enough for a while tinge to appear over her knuckles.

“Ready?” the question, you have a feeling, isn't only aimed your way. Nevertheless, you nod along with her, and she studies her hand.

“Ready.”

JJ sits beside you on the edge of the bed and starts removing your gauze bandages, prioritising the one on your neck. It’s unmistakable. She looks at the wound, battling her own intuition knowing what will happen. She looks anyway, her eyes sadden, and her shoulders slump.

“It wasn’t your fault,” you tell her, placing your water-wrinkled hand atop hers, “It could have been any of us.”

“But it was you,” tears start to form in her eyes. She continues, “And I couldn’t protect you.”

Her tears seconds ago were born of sadness, yet now with her jaw clenched and her hand balled into a fist, it is evident sadness is no longer the predominant emotion.

“I should have been faster; I should have figured things out quicker; I should have-”

You cut her off, and she thanks you as her body relaxes into the sudden but welcome kiss. After you're sure her tears are dried, and her jaw is relaxed, you finish the kiss with one final peck and sigh against her lips.

“I'm okay now, and that's what matters,” you lean your furrowed forehead to JJ’s, “you found me. You saved me, JJ.”

“I’m supposed to be the one looking after you, and here you are trying to make me feel better.” she sniffles as she finally smiles again. It's a welcome sight.

You bring your hands to her tear-stained cheeks, taking your time to admire - despite having just been crying - how beautiful she is. When she sniffles again and shoots you a curious look, your heart swells, and your head drops to the side in awe.

“We take care of each other,” and by no means did JJ make looking after her an easy task, but you took the challenge every time, “and we always will.”

Prying one hand away from her face, you wriggle your pinky in front of her. She rolls her eyes but smiles, lets out an amused huff of air from her nose, and then somewhat playfully grapples onto your finger with her own.

“Always,” she says with sureness in her eyes and a sudden straightening of her spine before kissing your forehead. Her gaze lowers back to your neck, “let's finally change these.”

The hesitance previously displayed was nowhere to be seen. Now JJ moved with confidence and a kind of expertise. She pulls the gauze plaster entirely off your neck, rubbing away any leftover tacky bits left from the glue; they seem to bother her more than they bother you as she starts waging war on them, trying and failing not to rub a little harder than necessary.

She then sprays the disinfectant around your stitches, cleaning the surrounding area. Only twice, the cotton pad brushed against your wound, causing you to grimace, but you smile the second you see JJ grimace along with you. The look on her face is priceless and causes both of you to burst out laughing.

“I love you,” you whisper once the laughter dies down, “thank you.”

She doesn’t respond immediately, and you worry, but you see why her attention is elsewhere. Her bottom lip is wedged between her teeth, and she’s squinting at the numbers on the plastic packaging in her hands.

“It's this way,” you try to show her how to open it, and it's funny because she could do this sort of thing with her eyes closed, yet she slaps your hand away and continues to read. It's endearing, really, that she wants to make sure she's doing everything by the book, but the air is beginning the irritate your wound, and if it's not covered in two seconds, you might just-

“There!” JJ proudly exclaims, peeling the plastic layers away and covering up your wound, “Oh, and I love you too, and you're welcome.”

She's happy. She's proud. And though you were close to ripping your stitches out, it seems unimportant because JJ’s taking care of you, and more importantly, she wants to. So, you push your impatience aside and close your eyes as she cleans your other wounds and redresses them with the utmost care, and by the time she’s finished, you feel yourself floating off the bed in a tranquil state.

JJ sneaks away to dispose of all the old bandages and scarlet-coated swabs. When she returns, she slips onto the bed behind you, slides her legs beside your thighs and wraps her arms around your waist. Her nose nuzzles into your hair, and though you don’t see, you feel her lips curl as she smells her shampoo in your wet hair. Closing your eyes, you settle back into her, brushing your cheeks to her forehead and breathing in honey, letting the scent calm and wash over your whole body.

“I could fall asleep like this.” You mumble into her hair.

“I don’t think my back would thank you for it if you do,” JJ banters, her warm breath tickling your neck and warming your cheeks with a crimson hue, “but I’d do it for you.”

Pulling yourself forward and turning in JJ’s arms, you place a feather-light kiss on her soft lips. She responds quickly, tightening her grip and pulling you closer so there is no remaining space between your two bodies. Her lips move languishingly but purposefully.

“Bed?” you breathlessly murmur over her lips.

“Bed.” she eagerly nods.

Tags: @aws-l @babygirlscout @red1culous @7thavenger @sapphicprentiss @five-bi-five-mind @12fluffybunny12 @asensitivecookie @summoned-lust-demon @maxinehufflepuffprincess @whosprentiss @imlike-so-gaydude | click here to be added to my taglist

#jennifer jareau x reader #jennifer jareau x you #jennifer jareau #jennifer jj jareau #criminal minds #cm #jennifer Jareau fluff #jennifer Jareau comfort

[f1bordeaux]

If You Cared (Part 5) | mv1

It's been years since you've indulged in a vacation. What better time is there than summer? Your family, the beach house in Italy-it seems perfect. But, for things to be just like good old times, your family needs to invite his. So of course you are having mixed feelings as the boy who broke your heart re-enters your life like nothing happened. Warnings: None Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader Word count: 2.3k Poetry style | Story style A/n: This is it! It's once again rushed because after tonight I wont have my laptop until late October and I really wanted to get this out. So forgive any errors please. I'll rewrite one day! Also, later on I'll write a sequel if you guys want me to because I love this story and the characters. Anyways, enjoy and to those of you who came along for the whole ride, I appreciate you more than you know<3 Cheers and I'll see ya in October! Part One|Part Two|Part Three|Part Four|Part Five

Once your last suitcase was in the trunk, you were ready to go.

One flight took off the following morning at 6. You were willing to sit in that small, grocery store sized airport for a few hours. Anything not to see or think about him. Right now, every room in the house was drowning in memories. You were suffocating.

“Y/n, come inside please.” Your mother begged. It was pouring down rain, and you were sitting on the patio just watching the droplets ricochet off the pool water. “You’ll catch a cold.”

“I don’t mind.” You said.

She sighed, a signal of her defeat. When you left from the charity dinner, taking your mothers rental car with you, nobody but Mia followed. About an hour later, they all pulled into the driveway. Nobody said a word as they walked through the front door to see a pile of suitcases lined up. Nobody dared to even cough as they watched you throw them all in the trunk in the pouring rain. You were done. You’d had enough. Elba was just as dead to you as he was.

Mia begged you to stay the rest of the week, saying that it was Max who should leave, but you couldn’t explain to her how every square inch of the beach house reminded you of his touch. The kitchen brought back memories of his small, butterfly kisses when you both cooked dinner or when his hand would rest on your thigh at the kitchen bar. The living room just reminded you of all the times you fell asleep in his arms during a movie and how he would carry you to your room. Your bedroom was the worst spot of them all. Your sheets still smelled like him, the mirror still displayed his reflection, his clothes were still on your floor.

“I need to go home.” Was all you could say to Mia as she begged you not to.

“Y/n?” The patio door slid open softly, but you didn’t bother looking. “Can we talk?”

“I don’t really feel like speaking to you.”

Luca didn’t sit next to you, he didn’t walk up to you or approach you. Instead, he stayed behind you, speaking to your back. Never before had you or either of your siblings had a situation like this. The three of you had always been close but this. Luca had really done it this time. You also had a little resentment for Mia, too. She’d known for a while and still let you fall head over heels for Max. Was it her fault? No, but she could have said something. She should have said something.

“I’m sorry, y/n.”

“Wow,” You scoffed. “Suddenly everything is all better! Me and Max are getting married tomorrow, want to be the ring bearer?”

“Y/n-”

“What was going through your mind, Luca? Hmm? Can I just ask you that?” You shook your head. It was hard to understand this whole situation.

“I didn’t think he’d take this seriously. I thought he’d say no and laugh it off.”

“But playing with my feelings in the first place was alright? Because you thought he’d say no it was alright?”

Luca fell silent. Obviously it wasn’t right, that much was known. But he didn’t know how to express how sorry he was, or how he didn’t think it would go this far. No matter what he said, you would come back and rebuttal his comment with something more emotional, something more meaningful. Luca wasn’t one with words, he never was and never would be. In this moment, he wished he was.

“Here.” He dropped five or six envelopes on the table next to you. “Maybe you wont forgive me, but this wasn’t his idea.”

Before you could say anything, he was inside, closing the glass door behind him. You looked at the off-white envelopes. They had your family's address on them, but your name was clearly written on there. The return address? The Verstappen house. Not Sophie and Victoria’s house, but the childhood house that Max and his father lived in.

Your heart sank.

After finding the oldest one, dating back to only a few months after he broke up with you, you slid it open and pulled out the paper. A photo fell out, alongside a dried up, flattened rose petal.

Y/n.

I miss you. It might sound selfish to say, but I really do.

I don’t think I ever realized how important love could be in life. I saw it as more of a form of entertainment rather than a necessity. I knew my feelings for you were real, I knew they were physical and emotional and everything in between, but I didn’t know how hard they’d be to get rid of. Leaving you hurt, it hurt so bad that I felt like I couldn’t breathe on my way home. But, I thought they’d go away once I was back with dad. I thought they’d be like a stomach ache or migraine. Like I said, though, they are much harder to get rid of than that. Seeing all the love that other drivers have at the track, seeing their girlfriends and moms and families hurts me. All I have is dad and, well, you know what that's like. I’ve realized that I need someone like you, someone I can laugh with, someone I can talk to, someone who will tell me it's ok and that I won't fail in life after a bad race. I need someone on my side, not someone who is only team Max when I win.

I think of you every time I race. I dedicate every win to you-and mom of course. In the photo I sent, I won my first F3 Grand Prix. It’s a huge step in the right direction and at this pace, I’m set to be the youngest F1 competitor if I can make the Toro Rosso team in a few weeks. I hope you’re there to see it.

I get it if you don't want to talk to me. I know I broke your heart and ruined the rest of your summer but please, if any drop of your feelings were real please write me back. I could use the support.

Love, Max.

Sure enough in the photo a young, 16 year old Max was hoisting a trophy in the air as champagne was sprayed on him. You picked up the rose petal and it crunched in your grasp. Where had these gone? Why didn’t you get any of them? You didn’t move out at sixteen, why didn’t you get them?

The other ones followed the same idea as the first; I miss you, I messed up, I’m making promising moves in my career, please answer my calls or reach out, I love you, Love, Max. And sure enough, every single one made you cry. Near the end of the last one, however, Max wrote;

Take this as my final goodbye. I hope you’re getting these but I’m not getting any response so maybe you’re not. I deserve this, I know. But, I was really hoping things would be different. I’m sorry for the pain I caused you, y/n. If I could take it back, I would.

Dad told me to stop wasting time writing silly letters that get no response, so I guess this is my last one. Hopefully we can reconnect someday. I hope you're watching me on TV. I hope that a piece of you still loves me, as selfish as it sounds. There will always be a place for you in my heart, always.

Goodbye, y/n. I’ve always loved you, and I always will.

Max.

Your hand came up to cup your mouth. These letters were similar to the ones up in your room. Max loved to write, and on your 15th and 16th birthday, he wrote you two beautiful letters that you said you’d cherish forever. You left them in Elba when he broke your heart.

Without even thinking, you stood up, turning on your heel so quickly you were afraid you’d fall. With the letters cradled in your arms, you ran inside. The house felt empty. Nobody was around except for-

“Mia-” You called out in between tears. “Where is-where are-Max, where is Max?”

“He left-”

“What?”

She nodded. “What’s wrong?”

“I need to talk to him. Where did he go?”

“There’s a ferry leaving in like, thirty minutes. He’s going to get on that.”

You shook your head, tossing the letters on the counter before running to the front door. You grabbed a pair of keys and darted through the rain as your sister called out your name. Max at least deserved a chance to explain himself, right? Maybe he was too prideful, too nervous, too scared to speak to you himself. That was alright. You’d just go to him.

The drive was long, you were afraid you’d miss the ferry. It left at five am, you assumed, and it was 4:48 when you pulled into the dock. He was probably already on the boat, no? He was probably already in his seat waiting for the departure to begin. That wouldn’t stop you.

Maybe fate was on your side, maybe it was meant to be. Whatever it was, Max was standing in line to load onto the boat, suitcase in hand. “Max!” You shouted. He was still in his suit, you were still in your dress. Neither of you looked as elegant as before, but it would be wrong to say you thought he looked bad. 

He turned to look at you, his eyes wide when he saw who was calling your name. “Y/n?” Max turned out of line and walked near you.

In seconds your arms were around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug that took him a few beats to reciprocate. You then pulled away, looking him in the eyes as tears flooded yours. He was confused, taken aback, even. “We need to talk.”

“But I’m leaving-”

“Please stay.”

-

“I’m mad at you, don’t get me wrong.” You said, looking off into the distance. There was a small cafe near the dock that was open for breakfast. So, the two of you sat outside and drank tea whilst looking like complete lunatics.

“So why’d you come get me?” He asked. “You could have completely let me go.”

“What good would that do? I would just hate you forever and it would eat me alive. Just like it did last time.”

Max shrugged. “I don't think I deserve a second chance.”

“Luca gave me the letters you wrote me as a kid.”

Max turned pale. “What?”

“Yeah,” You nodded. “I never got them as a girl or trust me, I would have written you back-or texted you at least.”

“I know you never got them.”

Did you hear him correctly? He knew? In the last letter he assumed you didn’t get them. “How’d you know?”

Max looked at the sunrise that was touching the horizon. The sky looked beautiful. There were no clouds, only bright shades of reds and yellows, blues and purples. The water from the ocean reflected the scenery perfectly. He didn’t know how to answer your question. It would be embarrassing if he did. He never planned on you seeing those even though he sent them.

“I was writing your address wrong. I was one number off or something, so they all got sent back at once. I sent them back after fixing it, but I called Luca and told him not to let you get them.” He said in one breath, cheeks igniting with a blush. “I was too embarrassed.”

That's why you didn’t get them.

You were torn. If he really cared he wouldn’t have taken the bet, right? If he really cared, he would have let those letters get to you. What if this was just another elaborate part of his plan? You wanted to believe it, you wanted to see the truth in Max’s story, but you couldn’t trust him. You couldn’t read him as well as you once could. A piece of you was saying, shut up and take it, he's your dream man, and another piece of you was saying, do better.

“Did you ever really care about me?” You asked.

Max looked at you with wide eyes. “What?”

“This summer,” You reiterated. “Did you ever really care about me? Be honest with me.”

Without missing a beat he said, “I didn’t just care about you, I loved you. I don’t like to admit my feelings-mainly because I grew up in a house where feelings didn’t exist-but I couldn’t hide the love I have for you. I’ve never been able to hide it. Ask dad, mom or Vic.”

You sighed. “The scary part is, Max, even after all this, even after I found out one of the worst things, even after I felt used and objectified, I still want you. Every part of my body is screaming no, telling me to run and leave without turning back but one small, small sliver of me is begging to stay.”

Max leaned across the table, palm coming to cup your chin. He smiled softly, his breath dancing across your cheek. It felt refreshing. It felt like summer. Perhaps things would be ok. Perhaps things would always be ok.

“So stay.” He said. “I promise to love you, y/n. I will love only you.”

Your lips connected to his. It was a soft kiss, one that reminded you of your first. Did you know what was going to happen once he went back to racing and you went back to work? No. Did you know if he was your boyfriend now? No. Did you know if things were going to work out? No. But honestly, nothing in life is for certain. But damn, sitting in front of an italian coffee shop, watching the sun rise over the ocean with Max’s lips on yours felt nice.

You were excited for a lifetime of moments like these. All of them with your childhood boyfriend by your side.

And yeah, you did feel like you could call him that now. You could call Max whatever the hell you wanted to.

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