#but keep an eye out since it's fall and getting colder and last thing i need is someone dead from swimming in the cold

[grandline-fics]

Green Eyes, Red Lips

DESCRIPTION: When jealousy leads to a confession

WARNINGS: swearing, some suggestive themes(maybe?) 

CHARACTERS: Zoro

WORDS: 1,386

A/N: I really liked how this came out so I might do this as a series with other characters. Feel free to request any you’d like to see.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST

“Shit, Marines!” Usopp hissed with worry. Zoro lazily slid his good eye open to spy the two uniformed men walking down the street. It wouldn’t take long for their presence to be known and that would mean a fight. His hand dropped to rest over the hilts of his swords in preparation but frowned when his crew-mate’s hand griped his shoulder tightly. “We promised Nami! No attention, we’re only here for supplies, not fights.” The sniper reminded him sharply. Zoro clicked his tongue in annoyance and kept his eye on the marines as they stopped to briefly talk to one of the locals. It seemed they were just on a routine patrol, that was good. If they weren’t actively looking for them it gave them more time.

You poked your head out from the doorway and followed Usopp and Zoro’s stares. Your mood soured to see the Marines, you and Nami were hoping to actually enjoy a relaxed shopping day on this island before having to set off. Oh well, at least the others were almost done. A movement caught your eye and you scowled to see Zoro’s fingers twitching against his swords. He was hoping the Marine’s noticed them and from the burning glare he was sending their way it was clear he wanted a fight and damn the promise he’d made when he left the Sunny that afternoon. Roughly you slapped his forearm, knowing it wouldn’t actually hurt him but it was enough to make him turn his attention to you. 

“Don’t you even think bout it! You’ve been itching for a fight since we left the last island. If you can’t control yourself go back to the Sunny.” Zoro’s behaviour had been pissing you off lately. Normally you didn’t mind his colder attitude if you knew what was wrong but this time there had been no warning. Up until the night before you left the last island things had been good. It was just exhausting having your mood spoiled by him and it was clear you were the one he was taking it out on.

Zoro glared down at you, his jaw clenched and eyebrows furrowed so tightly together you thought a vein was about to burst where they met on his forehead. “Well it’ll be a fight either way once they realise it’s us.” he ground out tightly. “Unless you’ve got a better idea? They’re getting closer.” You rolled your eyes at him and strode back into the store, grabbing a pair of sunglasses and hat from their displays. After telling the owner to add it to your crew’s bill you put them on while ignoring the curious stares you were getting from Nami, Franky, and Luffy as they were lifting the crates of supplies into their arms. 

Spotting a mirror you reapplied your lipstick and pulled off your jacket, shoving it into Zoro’s chest as you stormed by him and out into the street. “Make yourself useful and hold this.” You instructed and he was half tempted to just let it fall to the ground. But Zoro couldn’t help but grip it tightly as he watched you with practiced apathy. Despite how guarded he was he couldn’t help but push away from the wall when you looked around yourself as you walked and purposely bumped into the two Marines, even making a point to gasp in surprise, whirling to look at the two men. “Oh I’m so sorry!”

“Please don’t apologise!” the shorter of the two men dismissed with a bright smile while he looked you over with interest. “Are you lost?” Zoro ground his teeth together to hear you laugh shyly and play with the end of a lock of your hair. 

“Was it that obvious?” You asked stepping closer to the two Marines and pointed behind them, to make them turn. “I’m trying to get to the Fountain Square. Everyone says it’s beautiful at this time of day but I just keep getting turned around.” You explained looping your arms through theirs. “Could you both show me the way?”

“Oh it happens to everyone! Don’t worry you’re in safe hands with us!” the taller Marine promised as he began to walk with you and his companion in the opposite direction. While they rambled, you glanced over your shoulder and gave a single nod to Luffy before you disappeared into the crowd. 

“Looks like they’ve got it covered!” Luffy cheered with a unfazed grin. “Let’s get this back to the Sunny, I’m hungry.”

“Zoro?” Zoro stood where he was, barely registering Nami’s call. Everything told him to follow you and make sure you got away from the Marines safely but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything about it or move. If he did it would only admit the feelings he had for you that he’d been trying to kill with his harsh words and cold attitude. “Zoro come on! Don’t tell me you’re lost already. The ship is this way!” Nami called louder. The swordsman bit back a growl and turned on his heel, catching up with the crew and lifted one of the crates from Usopp’s shaking arms. With every step he took, he let his nails dig into the box. 

By the time you returned to the ship everything was restocked and you were ready to set sail. As the Sunny pulled from the docks you climbed the crows nest, knowing you’d find Zoro there with your jacket. Only when you saw it had been thrown carelessly over one of the benches you rolled your eyes and grabbed it, ready to go back to your own quarters. You didn’t want to deal with the first mate when the tension rolling off of his body was a hundred times worse than it had been that morning. “Sad to be leaving your boyfriends?” He sneered at you. Angrily you slammed the hatch closed and turned to glare at him. 

“Alright what the fuck is wrong with you?” You’d had enough of this and you weren’t leaving until you got to the bottom of this. “Did I offend you in some way? Rip your favourite bandana or something? What have I done that’s so bad for you to look at me like I’m your enemy?”

“Just forget it.” 

“No, Zoro. I won’t forget it but do you know what I will do?” You hissed viciously. “I’ll do us both a favour and leave. Unless I get an answer out of you I’ll leave at the next island we get to and never come back because I’m not dealing with this bullshit anymore.” 

Faster than you could blink Zoro was in front of you, hands slamming against the wall on either side of your head. Before you could say anything else his lips were on yours; strong, insistent, and overwhelming. Your head was spinning but you managed to regain enough control to return the kiss, hands finding purchase on his broad shoulders, pulling him closer. Hungrily Zoro’s hands slipped to grip your waist and thread into your hair. He couldn’t tell you how he felt but it all came out through his touch and powerful kiss. Finally you broke free and caught your breath enough to manage out a dazed. “Oh…so you don’t hate me then…”

“Definitely not.” You didn’t think that Zoro’s voice could get any lower and you held back a shudder to meet the burning stare that finally made sense. “Hated those assholes cosying up to you though.”

“Two nobody Marines made you jealous?” you asked with a small laugh. You couldn’t help but find it funny, the Demon Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro was capable of jealousy. “They’re far too scrawny to be my type.”

“Not just those runts. That last island-”

“Oh him!” you gasped with a grin, remembering the self proclaimed King that you and the rest of the crew helped save. “I didn’t think anyone heard him propose to me before we left though.”

“He what?!” Zoro growled suddenly making you yelped in surprise as his grip tightened and he pushed you against the wall. His lips claiming yours once more with the intention of wiping that stupid king and any other man from your memory until it was only him on your mind and you were only too eager to let him. 

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x you #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro roronoa x reader #one piece imagines #one piece fic #one piece fanfiction #one piece scenario #zoro roronoa x you

[lemonlover1110]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 17] Father and Son

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Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Satoru tries to make up for the past four years of Ren’s life in a matter of weeks. His focus drastically changes, from his work to his son. He ignores the matter of so many people knowing before him, he avoids his mother and his so-called friends. His main and only priority is his son.

You both wish you could say that your relationship has gotten better, but you don’t really speak to each other unless it’s about the son you share. You’re hopeless that it’ll progress past what you have. Neither of you have the courage to bring up the situation, either way, your attention should be on Ren. 

Ren is finally meeting the man that he’s been dreaming of, and he’s getting to know his father after four years. You’re mostly excited for your son, while also regretting hiding it when you had the chance to tell him. Your relationship is the last thing on your mind– It’s certainly the last thing in Satoru’s mind.

He visits daily, bearing many gifts for his son. Satoru has become a regular at the toy store, buying something each day for his son, something that he thinks Ren would like. He hopes that material stuff will make up for the time wasted. Sometimes he brings some candy, but he doesn’t do it often. Satoru is still his father, he can’t just spoil him rotten, he also has to care for Ren’s wellbeing. He’s slowly growing accustomed to becoming a parent.

“What’s this, Ren?” Satoru holds up a cute white cat plush, one that Satoru always finds on the bed. He wonders if that’s the toy his son has had ever since he was a baby, he guesses it is since Satoru feels like he’s seen it in the background of a picture before.

“It’s whiskers.” Ren answers, taking the plush from his father and putting it back on the bed. That’s before he turns to other matters. Ren doesn’t mind sharing his toys (because you’ve been the one raising him), but whiskers is someone that Ren doesn’t like anyone touching. Anyone and anything can get the toy dirty, and when that happens, you refuse to let the toy on the bed, at least not before you wash it and get it clean again.

Satoru doesn’t bother to ask if that’s the plush that he sleeps with, because that’s most certainly a yes. Ren wants to talk about other important matters though so Satoru gives his undivided attention to his son. Ren then asks, “Are you sleeping over?”

“Uhm… No.” Satoru answers. You most certainly wouldn’t want that. Plus, Satoru has a wife at home who has her suspicions that something is going on. He doubts that she’ll care too much, but he wants to keep Ren protected from the world. If Sayo finds out, so does her family, and if her family knows, the whole world will know. “But I’ll stay until you fall asleep, Ren.”

“I want you to stay.” Ren sticks out his bottom lip, obviously disappointed that his father isn’t staying for the night. You let him on your bed all the time and you sleep together, why can’t he do the same thing with his father? Satoru can’t help but feel bad, so he thinks of how to respond to cheer him up.

You commented how you had plans of going on a small trip with Ren before summer ended, but summer evidently has come to an end. It’s colder now and the leaves are changing color. Satoru finally decides, “We can go on a trip soon, and we’ll be together all day every day.”

“Really?” The little boy’s eyes light up, making the biggest smile come to Satoru’s lips. Satoru now wonders how he was ever happy without him– Well, with you… But that memory slowly fades away since your relationship is now filled with awkwardness. Satoru nods his head in response. He can lie and make it a business trip, it’s not an issue for him really.

“We’ll have to talk to your mommy first, honey. Then we can plan it all.” Satoru answers, and Ren turns around to go look for you. Satoru feels awkward sitting alone on a bed that’s far too low and small for him. He stands up and follows Ren. They both look for you around the apartment until they land in your bedroom. The bathroom door is closed, and Ren immediately knows what to do.

Ren opens the door to the bathroom, and you immediately make eye contact with Satoru. Your face grows hot of embarrassment, and obviously Ren doesn’t see an issue with it. Ren’s issue is when he actually steps into the bathroom, and he just has to comment, “It stinks.”

“Yeah, I wonder why. Get out, Ren, and close the door!” You raise your voice, your embarrassment getting the best of you. Ren closes the door, leaving you to it, and Satoru chuckles. He ruffles Ren’s hair as both walk out of your bedroom.

“You gotta learn how to knock, baby. Give your mommy some privacy.” Satoru says, but it goes one ear out the other. Ren isn’t going to knock, you’re his mommy. If you want your privacy you better lock the door. They take a seat in the living room, where Ren grabs the remote to put on a movie. He knows how to get the movie he wants, even when he’s just learning how to read and spell.

“Where do you want to go?” Satoru asks, wondering where his son wants to go. Ren drops the remote on the couch, putting his tiny index finger on his chin, humming and tilting his head to the side as he thinks of the answer. 

“The beach.” Ren answers, but it’s cold. They can go out of the country though, go somewhere warm. He needs to talk to you first, of course. When you finally walk out of your bedroom (after mentally cursing your son for not having any manners when others are around), you go to the living room to see what they needed.

“What did you need, Ren?” You ask, and he looks excitedly at you. Satoru is the one that speaks up for him though,

“We want to go on a trip, can we?” You almost laugh since Satoru sounds like a hopeful child.

“Where are you two going?” You respond. You can’t really say no because Satoru is supposed to have equal authority as Ren’s father.

“Ren wants to go to the beach.” Satoru answers, Ren nodding in agreement. You cross your arms, your brows furrowing.

“It’s too cold to go to the beach, do you not have any other place in mind?” You point out, making Ren pout. The pout doesn’t last long though since Satoru says,

“We can go to another country. Somewhere warm with better beaches.” You’re certainly not convinced since you doubt you’re part of the plan. You’re not letting your baby boy in another country without you– Well, technically he’d be with his father, but you’re still not convinced. Until Satoru says, “Of course, you’re included! I doubt Ren would go anywhere without you.”

“I wouldn’t.” Ren affirms, and you laugh. 

“If you plan everything, then sure. We can go on a trip. You need to give me time off though– Paid time.” You say, and Satoru nods in response. He does pretty much everything you ask of him, and you certainly can’t complain about it. Ren focuses on putting on one of his favorite movies, and you begin to walk to the kitchen, asking, “Are you staying for dinner, Satoru?”

“Yeah.” Satoru answers. He’d definitely rather eat here with his son and you than dine alone at home. He helps Ren put the movie on, and they both begin to watch the movie. He’s watched this movie around five times the past week, and to be honest, Satoru is sick of it. But he’ll watch it because Ren loves it. 

He’s grateful when you call his name, and he has to tell Ren that you need him, so he can’t stay to watch the movie. Satoru walks to the kitchen, and he finds you trying to reach something that’s far too high for you. Satoru’s eyes land on the white bowl and he reaches for it before handing it to you. You mutter a thank you, and you expect him to go back to Ren, but he doesn’t. You then tell him, “That’s all I need from you, you can go.”

“Do you need help with anything else? You know I love Ren but… I’m sick of that movie.” Satoru answers, earning a chuckle from you. You think about what he can do for a moment, and he patiently waits for you to answer.

“You can make the salad, and then set the table.” You respond, and you think you’ll regret it for a moment. Satoru has had everything done for him, he probably doesn’t know how to cut a cucumber; but then you remember that he lived alone for some time, he had to cook for himself for a while. Satoru immediately gets to work, opening the fridge to get all the vegetables that he needs. He looks around the cabinets and drawers for the cutting board and knife, and he quietly begins to cut the vegetables.

“Have you talked to Shoko?” Satoru asks, washing the lettuce throughout. Pretty much everything is wrong between the two of you, but you can’t just stand in awkward silence every single day. You have to talk to each other, after all, you doubt you’ll stop seeing each other.

“I haven’t. I’m not going to for a while.” You reply. In Satoru’s eyes, she did nothing wrong. He’s glad that Shoko told him, otherwise, he probably wouldn’t be with Ren. But in a sense, he understands why you don’t want to talk to her. “Tell her to stop calling my phone because I’m not going to answer. I’ll call her when I’m ready.”

“I’m not really talking to her either.” He responds.

“Is it because she has the hots for your wife?” You blurt out, and you bite your tongue the moment the words leave your lips. Satoru’s brows raise, definitely surprised by your words. You can’t be serious, can you? Before he can ask more questions about it, you change the topic, “Speaking of… When are you going to tell Sayo about Ren? She’s your wife, she has to find out eventually.”

“Maybe after our trip… I’m not sure how to tell her.” Satoru shares, and you understand that it’s a tough situation. He has to figure out a way to tell his wife of almost five years that he had a kid that’s almost five– And he never cheated, he just found out about him. This was all before their marriage. It’s definitely hard. Satoru clears his throat, mustering up the courage to ask about Suguru, someone else that he has been ignoring. “So… How are you and Suguru? Are you still seeing each other?”

“We’ve been busy, but we’re still… Talking.” You answer. You won’t lie and say that you don’t feel nauseous every time you talk to him, your heart nearly beating out of your chest for the simple fact that you lied to him. He has to find out that you lied eventually. “Have you talked to him?”

“I’m not talking to him. I’ve been ignoring him. I’ve been ignoring everyone.” Satoru responds. He puts the knife down, watching you as you begin to cook. He bites down his lip, holding back on saying a couple of things that are on his mind. About this situation, about you and Suguru, maybe an apology. Satoru has been a complete mess with so many things going in his mind, but not voicing any of them. He does have to ask one question though, “Is Ren the reason why you quit school?”

“Yeah…” You feel embarrassed to say it. “I couldn’t afford both. It was either my baby or school, and that was an easy choice.”

“Sorry…” He mutters, and it’s barely audible but you hear it. You don’t really pay attention to it, in the end it was your decision. Given the option, you’d do it all over again. 

#[changes] #gojo saturo #satoru gojo #gojou satoru x you #jjk satoru #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jjk gojo #gojo angst #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #gojo fanfic

[written-constellationss]

Self indulgent Adam x reader...that man....he's got one strong grip on me and idc atp :3

Adam x winged!sinner!reader

Takes place after the final episode, he gets judged again and is now a sinner in hell, new member of the hazbin hotel!

---------

Sometimes you wish you didn't bend to Charlie's will so easily when she used her puppy eyes, she knew you had a weakness for cute things despite your colder demeanor, it was this weakness that had led you to taking care of the first human, dick master as he wanted you to call him, Adam. Who nifty had swiftly killed and now lives in the hazbin hotel after being re-judged as a sinner, though still injured.

You begrudgingly walk into his room where he is admiring himself in the mirror....again. he doesn't look that much different from when he was an angel, just more demonish, kinda human in a way? His wings are now a charcoal black from being disgraced from heaven. You groan and cross your arms, your own wings tucked in since you didn't have the power to just magically retract them....that would be nice though.

"Adam. You should still be in bed, resting." You say with an annoyed tone, he just looks at you before starting to flirt with you again for the millionth time, although with more backhanded compliments and insults thrown in this time. "C'mon cold tits, you sure you wanna hide this body? I may be one of you shitheads now but I say this dick is still holy~"

....yeah no. You go over and force him back onto the bed, having forced him back into bed countless times before since he doesn't seem to grasp the fact that his wounds aren't fully healed, he grasps your wrist, quickly dragging you down successfully this time, he had tried before but never succeeded...

You land on top of him, eyes slightly wide as you keep your arms propped up so you're not on your hands and knees on top of him....what an embarrassing position, you had to get off him quick, but he was quicker. Without thinking he wrapped his arm around your back in an attempt to make you stay, smirking and winking at you as you look down with slight uncomfortableness apparent on your face. Your wings move so that he's not touching them, you never liked anyone touching your wings because their a little sensitive in some spots, although Adam had tried to disregard that boundary in favor of trying to tease me by attempting to touch my wings which earned him a slap across the face once.

His hand slipped up your back, causing you to flinch slightly, it felt weird. You thought about punching Adam, not caring about his healing wounds, until that thought was tossed out your brains window when his hand grazed the base of your wing which caused you to gasp and flinch. Dear God cock, when was the last time someone massaged there? probably no one but it felt nice, like you had just found a comfy spot on your bed, your ears slightly brushed as you felt embarrassed being this kind of vulnerable in front of him.

He instantly noticed your reaction, his smirk turning into a full blown grin as he realized he found a delicate spot on the infamously cold (name), his rough hand then pressed and moved slightly at the base of your wing which made you flinch and sigh somewhat contently.

He continued moving around the base of your wing before you full on collapsed on him, laying against his chest looking like you're about to fall asleep, he chuckles and finally says something "looks like you're not so difficult to deal with after all, cold tits"

It sounds somewhat like mockery, but he honestly has grown some feelings for you, he enjoyed a challenge anyways! Now that he's seeing you like this, all sleepy and laying against him he can't deny that he wouldn't mind being like this with you, even if you glare at him yet don't stop him as he ends up massaging the base of your wings as you lay completely flat against him.

This feels like complete bliss, even if it's by someone you don't really like, you can't deny that it's lulling you to sleep. Maybe it's because he has his own pair of wings that he knows how to maneuver his hands against your back, now under your shirt that's surprisingly, not in a sexual way. It's quite nice, actually.

....he looks down again after spacing out for a second, seeing you asleep against him. Honestly, he thinks that you and him can maybe become more than just cocky asshole and a cold sinner...just maybe.

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RAHH IM SORRY IF THIS FEWLS RUSHED THIS IS LIKE PRETTY SELF INSULGENT SO UHHHHH

#adam x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel #sinner!adam #adam x you #hazbin hotel fluff #adam x reader fluff #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin x reader #hazbin fluff #hazbin x reader fluff

[heliads]

Hi!! I miss your Derek fics so much so how’s one where you and him are in a casual relationship if yk what I mean when all of a sudden there’s a mishap that causes him to pull away and end up ghosting you because he caught feelings and is terrified of them, you still try to get in contact with him but got tired of it and that’s when Derek comes back basically begging for a chance to fix it🥺

masterlist

Derek Hale knows he’s gone too far because he’s no longer nervous waking up to hear someone else’s heartbeat next to him. Derek stays alone, always; it saves him the trouble of having to think about saving someone other than himself if he ever wakes up to another roaring inferno. Derek is good at being alone. It’s never something he’s struggled with, even as a lone wolf without a pack. He still talks to other people on occasion. It’s fine.

He’d thought it was fine. Derek had almost gotten to the point of convincing himself of it, and then he started making mistakes like entertaining himself with someone else, and by the time it occurred to him that he was long past the point of no return, there was no way he could ever end it. So he lives with it, it’s fine. Until it isn’t.

Derek Hale has never been the type to get caught up over a girl. He did it once, then swore it would never happen again. There is the idea of Derek, the lone wolf; Derek, the man with a heart colder than ice. He wouldn’t go so far as to describe himself as a womanizer, but he’s dated not one but two of the women who’ve tried to kill him and the other wolves in town, so maybe he should start thinking about raising his standards.

He did, though. That was the problem. Of all the people in this world, good and bad and outright bloodthirsty, Derek found the one woman capable of waltzing right past his best defenses and laying claim to the very organ he thought would never be bothered with again. Derek has long since assumed that, so long as it keeps beating on schedule, he’d never think about his heart unless someone was actively ripping it out of his chest, but Y/N changed that. She changed everything.

It was nothing at first. That’s what he promised himself the first time he woke up in an unfamiliar room that definitely wasn’t in his apartment complex. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he picked up on the sound of someone else breathing evenly next to him, but Y/N had woken up not long after him so they’d been able to talk things through. They’d both agreed that it was a one time thing, the result of years of rising tensions against supernaturals in Beacon Hills, and would never happen again.

The second time, Derek was no less taken aback, but a little more disappointed in himself. Usually, when he makes his word, he sticks to it for longer than a month. He’d left before she woke up that time. Didn’t stop him from crawling back, though. He can blame it on the alcohol that doesn’t affect him, the battle rush of adrenaline he’s long since learned to master. Excuses are easy. Falling is easier still.

Derek doesn’t fall, though. He won’t. Even if it kills him. Especially if it kills him. Derek can lock himself up and cut away his heart and distrust his mind until any conceivable feeling dies off from lack of oxygen. It wouldn’t be the first time. Somehow, he doubts it’ll be the last.

This is all well and good, but it doesn’t work as well as it should. Even now, blinking the last of the past night’s sleep from his eyes, Derek sits up slowly in his own bed, and the sight of Y/N there next to him isn’t surprising. Not at all. His internal alarm system stopped going off around her a long time ago. Hell, he gets more uneasy the longer he goes without seeing her instead of the other way around.

A year ago, he would have called that a mistake. Hales survive because they trust only each other. Y/N may be an ally in this eternally war-torn town, but that does not make her someone he can afford to keep around. Still, when he carefully lifts himself out of bed to avoid waking her, when she comes out of the room about half an hour later in one of his shirts, when Derek can’t quite tell where her perfume ends and his cologne begins, he wonders to himself if he hasn’t already crossed that line a very long time ago.

It doesn’t matter. None of this is real. He doesn’t make her breakfast, she doesn’t say goodbye. They just go about their lives as if the past night had never happened at all, as if none of the nights before that, all stretching out in one vast line of pale, bedsheet-white dominoes do not exist between them. You cannot topple what you do not see, and Derek’s eyes are snapped shut tight.

He’s started noticing things, though, against his better judgment. The furrows in Y/N’s brow vanish while she’s asleep, but they appear again when she looks around at her house or his in the morning and remembers something she’ll never tell him. Her shoulders always rise and pinch together right before she leaves without a word. Derek has started making himself scarce whenever she wakes up. It’s better for both of them if there’s no opportunity to stay any longer.

Most of all, Derek takes care to ensure that whatever happens at night does not affect either of them during the day. Y/N’s more closely allied with the McCall pack than whatever dregs are left of Derek’s ill-gotten attempt to seize power with his own batch of betas, but he still sees her often enough on wolf business. Derek has no doubt that Scott has caught on to the fact that they’re seeing each other, but neither of them will bring it up so long as it doesn’t become a problem.

A couple of times, Derek has felt Scott’s eyes on him like an accusation, burning holes into his shoulders whenever Y/N shows up late or seems listless during the discussions. Derek wants to throw up his hands and declare to anyone who cares to listen or blame him that he’s doing his best to make sure he isn’t the cause, but he doubts any of the younger pack members want to know that he’s specifically trimming off any stem of feeling before it takes root. He’s doing his best, at least. Surely that counts for something.

Still, he can feel their judgment like a plague, even outside of passing glimpses. When Scott McCall shows up at Derek’s door to ask for his help with a sudden hunter shootout at the hospital, Derek can still see the awareness in the back of the kid’s eyes. Y/N’s got her own thing going, Derek wants to clarify, she’s long past school-crush days just like him. They’re both adults and they can do what they please. High school sweethearts all die by hunters’ arrows. The ones who survive don’t play by the rules.

Scott will never bring it up, though, so Derek won’t, either. Instead, he just accompanies Scott to the hospital, where he slashes and stabs at anyone who tries to shoot at him. These sorts of things are becoming normal occurrences by now; Melissa McCall and the other doctors are probably sick of it, but what can you do?

Derek’s only half paying attention. He focuses enough to keep himself alive, but it’s easy to go on autopilot. The hunters will always attack, and they will always defend. Some will get hurt. They’ll heal in time to start the game over again. Nothing new.

It should be nothing new. It is, until Derek rounds a corner and he sees one of the hunters shooting at Y/N’s back. She’s distracted taking out someone else. She won’t react in time, Derek knows it, he can feel it in his bones like a bad frost, and Derek– he actually screams, a guttural shout of despair, and he hurls himself at the hunter. The gun goes flying out of the guy’s hands and into a corner of the room, blood spatters following it a second later. It’s alright again. Y/N is fine.

Y/N, actually, is staring at him in confusion. “What was that about?” She asks slowly.

Derek catches a hazy glimpse of himself in the glass panel of a nearby door and realizes that he looks mad. His eyes are wide, startled, glowing; his claws are out and dripping with gore. “He was going to shoot you,” he says, a little unsteadily, “You weren’t paying attention.”

She shakes her head slowly. “I was, Derek. His gun was empty. No more bullets left, I heard the empty barrel click a minute ago.”

Derek stares at her uncomprehendingly, and Y/N has to cross the room, pick up the fallen hunter’s weapon, and pull the trigger several times until Derek understands. She was right, no ammunition was shot. It was a complete misfire on his end, and something that he should have picked up on far before he decided to strike. If Y/N could hear that the gun was empty from across the room, Derek should have known it from where he stood.

He knows what this means, then. It means he’s making mistakes, and mistakes get you killed. They get everyone killed. Derek hasn’t made a mistake like this in a long time, because he never let anyone in, but he has now, hasn’t he? He’s known it for a long time. Y/N means far more to him than a prolonged one night stand. He has feelings for her, of a depth he couldn’t decipher if given a thousand years trapped inside his own head. Derek Hale has fallen in love, but this love will destroy him. It will make him weak.

And, fuck, Derek knows how this is going to end. How it always ends. He is a fire, consuming everything in his path; burning down his family home; choking the last breath from the lungs of anyone foolish enough to love him. If Y/N realizes that he loves her, if she does something so terrible as to love him back, she will fall before the year is out. They always do, and it will be his fault again, his fault like it was for all the others.

He moves before he knows what he’s doing. Y/N is calling after him, he thinks, but Derek is already rounding the corner and out of the hallway. Hunters in his path are killed by a wolf that might be Derek, if Derek was aware enough of what he was doing to act on anything more than animal instinct. Instead, he just keeps going like a bloodsoaked robot until Scott tells him it’s over, and then he leaves. He does not check in with the rest of the pack. He does not check in with Y/N.

In fact, he does not speak with her again. She tries texting him afterwards to see if he’s alright, and then even shows up at his door when he’s unresponsive for days, but Derek just waits silently in the confines of his apartment until she goes away. She can probably hear his heartbeat, but it doesn’t matter. This will benefit both of them. Neither Derek nor Y/N can afford an attachment like this. He’s already started slipping up in the heat of battle. Who knows what sort of deadly error he will commit next?

If he thought the McCall pack’s judgment was bad enough before, they’re downright diabolical now. He can’t speak to them without being on the receiving end of a thousand hateful stares. Every time he so much as crosses their path, you’d think he murdered their entire family. It’s unreal. Don’t they know he’s doing this for the best? 

It’s not like Derek enjoys this, anyway. It’s unnatural. He’s started waking up at odd hours of the night, reaching out for someone who isn’t there. Derek rises with the sun and stares at the empty other half of the bed. He starts to get up quietly and then remembers that there’s no one around who’s still sleeping, so he can be as loud as he pleases. It feels wrong when the floor creaks.

He’s started creeping closer to the door whenever Y/N stops by. He hovers right by the threshold, listening; he can tell by the inflections of her voice that she’s starting to give up hope, and then she stops coming. When a week goes by without a single word from her, Derek thinks that he should be pleased because he’s finally saved her from himself, but instead, all he feels is alone.

It’s not a good feeling, this. Derek thought he would be able to shake off any and all feelings for her in a matter of weeks, but even a month later, he’s still in a terrible state. Lydia starts taking pity on him, he thinks, and actually treats him like a normal human being again, which kind of makes it all worse. He doesn’t want her compassion. He wants–

He wants Y/N. Waking up alone again, hands curling into fists around empty sheets, Derek realizes the earth-shattering truth as if from a dream. He wants her. He wants her more than anything. If this is safety, Derek doesn’t want it. He hates not knowing if she’s alright. He hates thinking that he might have hurt her. If this is the cost of keeping them both alive, Derek would rather be dead.

He throws on his clothes, headed towards the door in a flash. He wakes up early, always has; if he can just get over to her place before she leaves to go to work, maybe it would be okay– maybe she would still want him– maybe he would be enough, now that he knows without a shadow of a doubt that she is for him–

Y/N doesn’t open her door at first, which is, admittedly, justified. Derek’s cheeks flush with shame remembering all the times he’d pointedly ignored her visits. However, she’s better than him, always has been, and opens the door eventually. He looks at her, breathes out at last, and says– “I miss you.”

Y/N arches a brow. “You do?”

“I do,” Derek repeats, “And I’ve been– stupid, really, and I shouldn’t have been. I know better than that.”

Y/N folds her arms across her chest. “What made you change your mind?”

“I realized I love you,” Derek says. It’s only five words, but it makes Y/N sway as if she’s been shot.

“You’re just saying that,” she whispers faintly.

Derek shakes her head. “I’m not the type to throw those words around. You know that. You know me better than anyone, Y/N. Tell me if I’m lying.”

He waits. She stares at him, but at last she nods slowly, and says, “You love me?”

“I love you,” he affirms. Then: “Can I come in?”

A ghost of a smile haunts her lips. “Always so forward, aren’t you?”

He laughs a little, actually. It surprises both of them, Derek the most. “I thought you liked that about me.”

“I do,” she admits, and steps aside to let him pass. Derek lingers by her side, he can’t help it. Moments like these were meant to be treasured. He may have messed up too many of them to count, but for once, Derek can start again. He intends to make the most of it.

teen wolf tag list: @mayfieldss, @rogueanschel, @lovesanimals0000, @rafecameronswhore, @bellabadacadabra, @watchreadfangirlrepeat, @23victoria

all tags list: @wordsarelife

#derek hale #derek hale imagines #derek hale x reader #derek hale oneshot #teen wolf #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf oneshot #teen wolf derek #teen wolf derek imagines #teen wolf derek x reader #teen wolf derek oneshot

[weemssapphic]

Could I request a fluff fic for Miranda :0?

Maybe the weathers getting colder, cuffing szn etc Miranda falls for one of her neighbors who keeps bringing her baked goods, she’s unaware that said neighbor likes her!!! (unaware queen). Literally anything cute and sweet to get me thru the treacherous winter of Northern Europe HAHA

A/N: Hello! Sooooo a. this became a bit more of a Christmas fic than a winter fic, I hope that's okay, and b. I also failed to finish it before Christmas as I had originally planned 🥴 buuut I do hope you enjoy anyway! HUGE shoutout to @autumn-leaves-chasing-breeze and @agathaandgwenslesbian for beta'ing and hyping me up to post this, I love you both 🥺💖

Merry Christmas, Baby

Words: ~6.3k | ao3 link in title Warnings: mentions of alcohol/drinking, cigarettes/smoking

You’ve been living in your new apartment for about three months now, after leaving home and moving all the way to Australia for work. You like to think you’ve settled in well: you’re starting to get into a routine, you’ve managed to decorate most of your apartment and make it feel like home, Sydney isn’t as daunting as it was in the beginning - you were even able to give a tourist directions the other day.

The only thing missing is, well, friends. You get along well enough with your coworkers, they’ve been welcoming and have even started to invite you out. But more weekends than not you find yourself exploring the city on your own or hanging out on your couch with takeout, watching Netflix and thinking about your friends back home. You try to FaceTime them as often as you can, but the time difference makes it hard, and sometimes it makes you sad to ‘see’ them and know you can’t just meet up like you used to.

To stave off some of the loneliness you’ve been feeling, you’ve spent the past few weeks attempting to meet more people - and one person in particular has caught your eye: your neighbor, Miranda. You met her in the hallway during your first week in the building - she’d come up the stairs as you were fumbling with your keys, struggling a bit as your arms were full of groceries. She’d immediately offered to help, her eyes wide and her smile bright as she’d rushed over to you and grabbed the grocery bags right out of your hands. The way she looked down at you, watching your every move with great interest as you unlocked your door, brought a flush to your cheeks that only got worse during the subsequent small talk. 

Your interactions since then have been a bit sparse - you keep hoping you’ll catch a glimpse of her in the hallway, but you rarely do. Sometimes you’ll hear her apartment door fall shut late at night as you’re falling asleep, or you’ll hear her footsteps on the stairs early in the morning while you’re still getting ready - wherever she works, she seems to have irregular shifts.

~~~

It’s a Sunday evening and you’re spending it alone (again). When your friend back home had canceled your scheduled FaceTime call at the last minute, you’d decided to distract yourself by baking. As you put together the ingredients for blueberry muffins, you find your mind wandering to your tall, blonde neighbor - wondering what it is she does for work, where she’s from (you thought you caught a British accent but you weren’t sure anymore), whether or not she’s seeing anyone…

The sound of the timer pulls you out of your thoughts and you turn off the oven and pull the muffin tray out, setting it on the counter. Your heart sinks when you realize there’s no way you’re going to finish them all by yourself. You suppose you could bring some to work… You bite your lip, your brow furrowing as you stare down the baked goods. Perhaps you could bring Miranda some? Butterflies erupt in your tummy when you picture her opening her front door, her lips stretching into a smile that reaches her bright blue eyes. Perhaps she would invite you in, perhaps the two of you would spend the evening on her couch, getting closer by the hour as you get to know one another. Perhaps…

You shake your head, trying not to get ahead of yourself. You’ll just stop by with a few muffins and see what happens. Maybe she’ll be busy. Or she won’t even be home and you’ll be forced to leave them next to her door. 

After preparing a small basket of baked goods and changing from your rattiest sweatpants into a pair of jeans, you slip out of your apartment and cross the hall. Your heart begins to pound, your hands turning clammy as you bring your fist up to Miranda’s door. After a brief moment’s hesitation and a deep breath, you knock.

At first, you’re met with silence - your heart sinks a bit, and you try to ignore the little pang of disappointment that begins to creep up on you. But just as you’re about to turn around, you hear a shuffling behind the door. It opens just a crack - you hear an “Oh!” - and then it swings open fully, revealing Miranda in a navy bathrobe. Her hair is wet, slicked back - one strand falls over her eyebrow and she pushes it back, a smile growing on her lips as she looks down at you.

“Hello,” she says, sounding a little breathless. You feel yourself flush as you realize you must have caught her just out of the shower - perhaps it took her so long to answer the door because she wasn’t dressed yet, and the thought makes you slightly dizzy.

“Hi.” You can’t help but gawk a bit, and the thought of just dropping the muffins at her feet and leaving before you can make a fool of yourself briefly crosses your mind.

Her brows furrow slightly and so do yours, before you realize that you should probably say something else.

“I just wanted to…” You gesture vaguely at the basket you’re holding. “If this is a bad time, I can come back later,” you manage to stutter out, focusing all your efforts on keeping your eyes on her face.

“Oh, you’re alright,” Miranda says, craning her neck a bit to catch a glimpse at what you’re holding. “Are those muffins?”

“Yeah. For you.” You thrust your arms out, holding the basket towards her. Her eyes widen, darting between you and the basket as she takes it from you.

Her entire face seems to light up with excitement - she looks positively giddy. “Did you make these?”

“Yes! Yeah. I like baking. And I made too many. So I thought I would see if you want some.”

The smile that’s broken out across Miranda’s face is one you wish you could save and put in your pocket to look at on your worst days. It lights up her entire face, making her eyes sparkle and her nose crinkle - it’s the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen. You’re so distracted by it that you nearly miss her next words.

“Would you like to come in? I was going to make some tea.”

“Sure.”

You blush as Miranda steps aside, allowing you to step over the threshold of her apartment. She shuts the door behind you then walks past you into her kitchen. Even the way she walks is attractive to you - the mesmerizing sway of her hips, the way she pushes her shoulders back and swings her arms, her long strides. Taking a deep breath, you follow her and lean against the door frame, watching as she sets down the muffins on the counter and puts on the electric kettle. 

“I didn’t know if you’d be home,” you say, breaking the silence. You’re a bit embarrassed that your voice comes out hoarse, and you clear your throat. “I don’t see you around much. Do you do shift work?”

Miranda glances back at you as she rummages through the cupboards for two mugs. She smiles softly. “Sort of. I’ve been on call a lot lately.”

“Oh.” You cock your head to the side. “What do you do?”

“I’m, uh, a police constable.”

Your eyes widen as you process the information. It makes sense, you realize - and then you feel your mouth go dry as you picture Miranda in a police uniform.

“What do you do?”

Her question breaks you out of your trance, and you can feel your cheeks turn red. “Oh, um, that’s… I work in accounting.” You swallow back your embarrassment at having a “boring” desk job, your eyes darting around Miranda’s kitchen - anything to avoid meeting her gaze. 

“Steady work then,” she says - you can hear the smile in her voice and you dare to steal a glance at her face. Her expression is soft, completely at ease, and you can’t help but feel your shoulders relax a little. “How come you moved to Sydney? Did you move here for a guy?”

A sound between a snort and a chuckle escapes your lips and you quickly look away again. “Nope.” You want to say that you’re more into women, but you get nervous and something stops you. “I just needed a change of scenery. I figured moving to an English-speaking country would be easiest, and I thought the weather here would be nicer than in the UK.”

Miranda laughs a full-belly laugh, throwing her head back. “I’m from the UK, you know.”

“Tell me I’m wrong then,” you tease with a grin.

Her eyes flicker briefly over your form, an amused grin on her face. “You’re… you’re not wrong.” She ducks her head in surrender - then the kettle goes off and she turns to busy herself with preparing the tea. 

“So why did you move to Sydney then?”

“My boyfriend at the time was Australian.” Miranda hands you one of the mugs, then leans back against the counter, taking a sip of her own tea and observing you carefully. You try not to let on to the way that your stomach sinks when you hear the word “boyfriend” - it doesn’t mean she’s straight, you remind yourself (and besides, even if she did like women - it doesn’t mean she’d like you). You nod and hum in acknowledgment, hoping to come off as casual and unaffected as you sip your tea.

Miranda sets down her mug and reaches over the small kitchen table to grab a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Once again you find yourself mesmerized as long, slender fingers pull a cigarette out of the pack, placing it between her pale lips as she lights it. 

For a moment, she seems unaware of your presence - she takes a deep drag from the cigarette, her fingers playing with the lighter as she exhales a cloud of smoke. Then her eyes fall to your face and widen slightly. “Oh, God, sorry. Do you mind?” 

You shake your head - it’s not your apartment so it’s not like you have a say anyway, and, if you’re honest, you find it a bit hot. “Go ahead, it’s your apartment.”

She shoots you a grateful smile and takes another drag from the cigarette. “You want one?”

You nod and she tosses you the pack. Once you’ve plucked a cigarette from it, she steps towards you. “Here, let me,” she says, moving to light it for you as her own cigarette dangles from between her lips. She gets closer than would probably be necessary and her proximity makes you feel a little faint - you can smell the shampoo in her still-damp hair, and the smoke on her breath. Your eyes are trained on the lighter - when the flame goes out, you glance up, only to be met with the brightest blue eyes you’ve ever seen. They’re even lighter than you initially thought and her gaze is intense - it’s slightly overwhelming.

“Thanks,” you whisper hoarsely, forcing yourself to blink and take a step back. Miranda’s eyes are fixed curiously on your face as she plucks her cigarette from between her lips. She tilts her head, her lips parting into a smile.

“What?” There’s a playful edge to her voice and her eyes sparkle with mischief. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

You freeze, your cheeks turning pink. “Like what?”

“You find me intimidating, don’t you?” You open your mouth to argue but she cuts you off, gesturing down the length of her body. “It’s my height, isn’t it? I get that a lot.”

“It’s not- I mean…” You shrug lamely, taking a sip of your tea to give yourself a moment to think. “It’s not you, I’ve just had a long day. A long few months, actually.” Okay, so you’re deflecting - but it feels way too nice just to bask in Miranda’s presence, and you don’t want it to end so soon by making things awkward.

Miranda’s face softens in an instant, little creases appearing between her brows. “From the move? It can be so hard to uproot your life like that.”

It’s a phrase you’ve heard before - people trying to sympathize with you, looking for something meaningful to say. But with Miranda, it feels different. With the way she’s looking at you, it feels like she truly understands. 

~~~

In the past few weeks you’ve gotten into the habit of bringing Miranda baked goods - always on the pretext of having made extras for work and other neighbors (though you never have any intention of giving them to anyone except Miranda). It’s more than worth the hours spent in the kitchen to see the smile that lights up her face when she answers the door. Sometimes she invites you in for tea and a cigarette, sometimes there’s only time for a bit of small talk before one of you needs to get going - but each time, butterflies erupt in your belly and you find yourself wishing you were brave enough to make a move. 

What you don’t know is that Miranda finds herself wishing the same thing. Sure, she loves everything you make her (nothing you’ve ever baked her has lasted more than 2 days at most), but the real reason her face breaks into a splitting grin when she answers the door is because it’s you who’s standing there.

Miranda can’t get enough of you - you’re easy to talk to, you make her laugh, you seem to take her as she is. And you’re damn beautiful. The most exciting part of her week is wondering on which evening you’ll come by unannounced after work, and she finds herself praying she’ll have the time to talk to you.

One such evening, you’ve come over with a tray of red velvet cupcakes - decorated with festive little Christmas tree sprinkles. Miranda’s just gotten off a shift and has the evening off, and she’s never been more grateful as she leads you into her kitchen and turns on the kettle. You make yourself right at home, settling on a kitchen chair and tucking your legs underneath you as you reach for the pack of cigarettes on the table - it’s almost become a routine now, and you look like you belong there. Miranda likes that thought more than she’d care to admit.

Still, despite how often you’ve come by lately, she feels there’s still some sort of barrier between the two of you. Your conversations are the best part of her week, yet they tend to feel a bit… shallow. She’s desperate to get to know you better but she’s holding herself back - the fear of driving you away, of being too much for you to handle, causes her to freeze up. You’re just being nice, trying to make new friends in Australia, and here she is, falling for you one red velvet cupcake at a time.

“Mir?” Your voice pulls her out of her thoughts and she looks at you like a deer caught in headlights. She tries desperately to remember what you were talking to her about, but she realizes quickly that her efforts are futile - she was too busy admiring the lock of hair falling across your cheek, the way you ran your fingers through your hair to push it back. 

“Sorry.” She offers you a sheepish smile, her cheeks slowly turning scarlet.

You smile back, and her heart skips a beat. “I asked if you’re staying in Sydney for Christmas or if you’re going back to London?”

“I’m staying here. I work on Christmas, so…” She frowns slightly - she hasn’t gone home for Christmas in a few years. Usually, she works and spends her off-hours curled up in bed watching Christmassy rom-coms by herself. She’s gotten used to it. “Are you? Going home for Christmas?”

“Nah. I blew all my savings in the move, can’t afford the plane ticket.” Something about the way you shrug your shoulders, your gaze dropping to the floor, tells Miranda that your nonchalance is a front.

“Would you like to come over?” Miranda, what are you saying? “We could cook something and watch a movie together.” Miranda, shut up! “Maybe you could sleep over and we could keep each other company.” Oh, great, now you’ve done it! Miranda’s eyes widen as she realizes what she’s saying, but she can’t take it back now - and, to be honest, she doesn’t want to take it back. Her heart hammers wildly against her ribcage as she waits for you to reply. It only takes you seconds, really, but those few seconds might as well be hours as time slows and Miranda begins to find it hard to breathe.

“Oh, it’s fine, you don’t have to take me in! I’ll be okay, I wouldn’t want to impose.” Your words come out in a rush and your cheeks are turning pink - Miranda’s heart starts to sink and she scrambles to find the right words to save the conversation.

“You wouldn’t be imposing, I’d have just had a few beers by myself after work anyway.” She chuckles nervously, before adding, “I could use the company.”

She quickly looks away from you, finding the brief moment of vulnerability too much to handle - she couldn’t bear to see the look in your eyes at the moment, certainly one of pity or judgment. 

“Oh… Well in that case, I’d love to spend Christmas with you. If that’s okay.”

Miranda’s eyes widen and she glances over at you to see you smiling shyly - her heart stutters in her chest and she feels her stomach flip pleasantly. She lets out a shaky breath, unable to stop the wide smile that’s creeping up her face. “Okay then.”

~~~

Ever since that evening in Miranda’s apartment, you’ve been buzzing with excitement. She’d ended up giving you her number so that you could plan when to come over, and it’s taken all of your restraint not to bug her every waking second - you wouldn’t want her getting sick of you and regretting inviting you over. 

But as Christmas is just a few days away, you decide to shoot her a text as you’re lying in bed at night.

Y/N: Hey there, it’s Y/N! I just wanted to ask what time you wanted me to come over on Christmas? :) 

You toss your phone aside, not expecting Miranda to text back anytime soon - it’s already late, after all. When your screen lights up moments later, however, your heart begins to pound.

Miranda: Hey! Miranda: I work until 4 Miranda: So evening I would say

Y/N: How does 6 sound? Is that too early?

Miranda: That sounds perfect :) 

Y/N: Great! Should I bring anything?

Miranda: Just yourself ;) Miranda: Wait Miranda: Actually Miranda: Do you remember the cookies you brought me last week?

Y/N: What, am I not enough for you? ;)  Y/N: (I’ll make some more)

Miranda: Are you sure?

Y/N: Absolutely!! Anything for my favorite neighbor.

Miranda: You’re too good to me

By the time you’re done texting her, you’re grinning down at your phone like an idiot. The screen goes black and you catch sight of your reflection - you blush and bury your head in your pillow. For the first time since you moved, you’re actually starting to get excited for Christmas.

~~~

Three days later you’re wrapping up a pair of Christmas pajamas (red, covered in little white snowflakes - you have a matching pair) to give to Miranda - you want to give her something for Christmas, but you don’t know her all that well yet to get her something personal. Still, you think (or at least, you hope) she’ll find the pajamas silly and fun.

Armed with the gift, a huge tupperware box full of candy cane cookies, your keys, and your phone, you pad across the hall and knock gently on Miranda’s door. You hear her muffled voice yell “coming”, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps, before the door swings open. Miranda’s eyes flick briefly down your body, over the wrapped gift and the cookies, before she finally meets your gaze. She’s slightly out of breath, and her lips curl up into a smile that meets her eyes. What you would give to kiss those lips… 

“Merry Christmas,” you say, smiling back and forcing your eyes to remain trained on her own.

“Right! Merry Christmas!” You could swear you see Miranda’s cheeks turn pink, but before you have time to question it she’s ushering you into her apartment, her hand coming to rest on your lower back as she steers you towards the kitchen. “I did some food shopping the other day. I wasn’t sure what you’d want to eat, I’m not usually big on holiday foods and I didn’t have time to prepare anything because of work.”

Miranda’s rambling has you swooning - you can tell she’s nervous, though you aren’t sure why. If only she knew you’d happily eat frozen pizza or cereal for Christmas dinner, as long as you get to spend it with her. 

“It’s fine, I don’t care much about Christmas dinner, we can eat anything.” You hope that you’re coming off as reassuring, though you can’t really tell as Miranda blushes again and lights up a cigarette.

“Maybe a curry?” she asks, chewing at her bottom lip.

“Yeah, that sounds great. Just tell me what you need help with.”

She seems to relax a bit, heading over to the fridge and pulling out ingredients. “What do you drink? Do you want a beer?”

“Please.”

The two of you spend the next 45 minutes side by side in the small kitchen, cooking, drinking, talking - mostly it’s Miranda, telling you about her workday. When she’s done chopping vegetables, she reaches for the pack of cigarettes again - “sorry, nerves,” she says with a faint smile. You still can’t fathom what she’s nervous about but you don’t want to push her, so you shrug it off and turn your attention to the curry that’s simmering in the pan. You dip a spoon into the sauce to try it, humming in delight the second the flavors explode on your tongue.

“This is really good, try it!” Without thinking you bring the spoon to Miranda’s mouth and, without thinking, she closes her lips around it. Her eyelids flutter shut and she lets out a little noise of pleasure that’s dangerously close to a moan. Heat pools in your stomach, your eyes glued to her lips as you slide the spoon out of her mouth - it’s the first time you notice a little scar above her lip, and you swallow thickly.

You quickly avert your gaze as Miranda’s eyes open again, taking a sip of your beer as you check on the rice.

“I was thinking we could just eat in the living room and watch a movie?” Miranda suggests when the curry is done cooking. You agree and help Miranda carry the bowls and a couple bottles of beer into the living room. It’s small, like yours, and a little cluttered. There’s a string of fairy lights above the window and a small Christmas tree sat atop a side table. Miranda’s eyes follow your gaze and she chuckles.

“I actually put that up two days ago, I panicked when I realized I didn’t have any Christmas decorations up at all.”

“You didn’t have to decorate on my account,” you tease, earning yourself a laugh.

“Oh but what kind of Christmas would it be without a tree?”

“Can’t argue with that.”

Miranda smiles at you as she settles on the couch, crossing her legs and setting her bowl in her lap. She gestures for you to join her. You tuck your knees underneath you, angling your body towards her. As you eat, you fall into an easy conversation - you find yourself getting even more comfortable in Miranda’s presence, feeling right at home in her apartment. You can tell she’s relaxing as well - she stretches her legs out, her toes (clad in Christmas-themed socks) touching the side of your thigh. 

“I got you something, by the way,” Miranda says suddenly, leaning over to place her almost-empty bowl on the table. You follow suit, a smile lighting up your face.

“I got you something, too - wait here!” Miranda looks somewhat surprised as you jump up and rush into the kitchen, returning with the gift you’d brought. She now has a gift of her own on her lap, and she’s picking at the edge of the wrapping paper as you settle back down beside her, a soft smile on her face.

You exchange gifts and Miranda’s chewing nervously at her bottom lip as she watches you tear open the wrapping paper. It’s a cookbook for baking - you can’t help but laugh, and you look up to see Miranda’s cheeks turn pink. 

“Is this meant to be a hint?” you tease, and Miranda chuckles nervously. 

“Sorry, I-”

“I love it,” you cut her off, setting the book down beside you and leaning over to wrap your arms tightly around her torso. She returns the hug - her arms are strong and comforting and you’re immediately enveloped in her scent. It takes everything in you not to kiss her.

After pulling away, you gesture eagerly to the gift that’s in her lap. She has a look of nervous excitement on her face as she begins to unwrap it - her smile widens when she takes the pjs out of the wrapping paper and holds them in front of her.

“I hope they fit, I guessed your size. I have the same ones and you seem like the type of person who would like them.”

Miranda’s eyes widen as she looks over at you, her expression nothing short of giddy. “You have the same ones? Wear them! We can match.”

Her reaction is exactly what you hoped it would be. The prospect of wearing matching Christmas pjs is both adorable and a little intimate, and you’re filled with nervous anticipation as you head across the hall to your apartment to get changed.

When you get back to Miranda’s apartment a few minutes later, the blonde is sitting on her couch with her legs tucked underneath her. She smiles so widely that her nose crinkles, and she opens her arms to you. Without a second thought, you allow yourself to be pulled into a tight hug.

“Do you like them?” you ask as you pull away.

“I love them!” The smile on her face is genuine, her eyes shining brightly, and you can’t help but blush, your entire body tingling a bit as your eyes drift down her body.

~~~

You’re about an hour into the second movie of the night and you’re already several beers deep (you’ve lost count, to be honest). You’ve scooted closer and closer to Miranda as the evening has worn on, and now you’re practically on top of her - your legs are bent at the knee, tucked against your body and resting on the outside of her thigh, your shoulder is all but glued to her own. 

You drain the rest of your beer, then pout at the bottle. “It’s empty,” you say, more to yourself than to Miranda, who chuckles and shifts beside you.

“I can get you another one?”

“It’s fine,” you say with a giggle. “Maybe I should stop drinking.” You’re not drunk but you’re definitely tipsy - you turn your head to face Miranda a little too quickly and, for a brief moment, the room spins, causing you to burst into another fit of giggles.

Your eyes meet Miranda’s, before dropping to her lips and getting stuck there. They’re curled into an amused smile as she chuckles at your inebriated state - though the smile slowly fades as her brows begin to crease. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips and your own laughter quickly dies in your throat, your mouth going dry. You can tell Miranda’s breathing has gone shallow, her eyes falling to your lips. The air around you becomes thick and heavy, and Miranda’s gaze darts away.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles, scrambling to scoot away - before she can get very far, your arm shoots out and holds her in place. 

“What are you sorry for?” you whisper. The only sound you can hear is the pounding of your own heart in your ears as you wait for Miranda to respond. Her gaze flickers between your eyes and your lips, a lovely shade of pink rising in her cheeks.

“I-” she starts, cutting herself off as she swallows visibly.

“Do you want to kiss me?” You don’t know what prompted you to be so bold (probably the alcohol), but when a soft, barely audible whimper escapes Miranda’s throat, you can’t say you regret asking.

“Yes.”

You definitely don’t regret asking. 

“I want to kiss you, too,” you whisper, leaning in slightly as you fix your gaze on soft-looking, pale pink lips that glisten slightly in the dim light of the living room. Then you stop yourself, hesitating as the room spins again. You’ve dreamed of kissing those same lips for weeks now but something is off. 

The alcohol, you realize - you don’t want your first kiss with Miranda to be clouded by alcohol. You want to appreciate and remember the moment fully, you want to savor every second. So, as much as you’re dying to close the gap and absolutely ravage the lovely, beautiful woman sitting next to you, you decide to pull back. “But I’m going to wait until tomorrow. I want to be completely sober for that. And… if you still want to kiss me tomorrow… then I’ll kiss you.”

Miranda nods slowly, looking a bit dazed. “That’s, uh,” she starts, her voice hoarse. She clears her throat. “That’s a good idea.” She shifts in her seat, crossing one thigh tightly over the other. The air is still thick and heavy, and it takes everything in you not to say ‘fuck it’ and push her back onto the couch - but you mean it, you really do want to be sober for that. So you lean back, putting a few inches of distance between yourself and Miranda for the remainder of the film.

You feel yourself becoming more and more tired, and by the time the credits are rolling, you’re struggling to keep your eyes open. Pushing yourself up off the couch, you sway slightly as you make it to your feet, and immediately decide to sit back down so that you don’t fall over.

“You sure you can make it back down the hall okay?” Miranda teases, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she watches you lean back against the sofa.

You roll your eyes and shoot her a playful glare. “I’m not drunk. I’m just tired.” As if to emphasize your point, you yawn widely as you finish your last sentence - Miranda laughs. 

“You can sleep here if you want,” she offers - then her face goes pale and she rushes to explain herself. “Not with me of course, but the couch is quite comfortable. Or you can take the bed and I’ll take the couch, that’s fine, too-”

She’s talking a mile a minute and it’s the most charming thing you’ve ever heard - especially since you definitely would sleep with her. You’d just prefer to do it sober. Giggling, you decide to show her mercy and cut her off. “Thanks for the offer. I think I’ll take the couch if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, let me get you some blankets.” She turns off the tv and stands, leaving the room for a minute and coming back with a pillow and an armful of blankets. You get up and try to help her to make a makeshift bed for you, but your movements are a bit sluggish and you realize you’re just getting in her way, so you end up perching on the edge of the coffee table until she gives you the go. 

You snuggle into the blankets - they smell like Miranda, and it takes everything in you not to bury your nose in them and moan out loud. Instead, you shoot Miranda a smile and mutter a sleepy ‘thank you’ - she nods, telling you to yell if you need her, then turns to leave.

“Oh, Miranda?” You lift your head off the pillow and crane your neck towards the blonde.

She pauses in the doorway, turning back to face you as she runs a hand through her hair. “Hmm?”

“Merry Christmas.” You beam at her, even as your eyes threaten to close any second. The evening was far from a traditional Christmas celebration, but it was the best Christmas you’ve had in a long time.

“Merry Christmas,” she replies, her smile soft and genuine, before turning around and disappearing into her bedroom, closing the door quietly behind her.

~~~

You’re out like a light the second Miranda is gone, completely oblivious to the internal struggle she faces as she curls up in her own bed. She tries to close her eyes and force herself to sleep, but she’s not tired at all - her mind is racing and her heart is pounding, her entire body responding to the evening she’s shared with you. The laughter, the sense of familiarity and peace, the tension when you nearly kissed her. And, God, does she want to kiss you. But you’re tipsy, and you probably just said that in the heat of the moment - she gets it, sometimes alcohol makes her flirty and a little horny as well. You probably won’t remember that conversation in the morning - and you probably won’t want to kiss her anymore either. 

She can’t help the way her heart sinks as she comes to that realization, and it keeps her up for the better part of the night. She feels like she’s just managed to nod off when the morning light starts to filter in through the curtains and she groans, burying her face in her pillow. 

Thud. 

Miranda freezes for a moment, her blood going cold as she hears a noise coming from her living room. Then she remembers that you’re sleeping on her couch and her body relaxes again. She’s nervous, wondering if you’ll be awkward about the previous evening’s sexual tension, but her curiosity about whether or not you’re already awake wins out and she pushes herself off the bed, smoothing a hand over her hair and wiping the sleep out of her eyes before creeping into the hallway, careful to be quiet in case you’re still sleeping.

There’s a clattering coming from the living room though, and she finds you collecting the beer bottles from last night that are still scattered across the coffee table. 

“Hello,” Miranda says, her voice still a little hoarse from sleep.

Your head whips around towards the doorway and your cheeks turn pink. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to clean up a bit. Did I wake you?” The way you’re chewing at your bottom lip is adorable and makes Miranda want to kiss you senseless. She chuckles and shakes her head.

“No, I was awake anyway. Here, let me help.” Miranda helps you clear off the coffee table, heading into the kitchen with an armful of bottles and her empty bowl from dinner. You’re right behind her with the rest of the dishes and you immediately make your way to the sink and start washing them - it feels so domestic that it makes Miranda’s heart flutter, and she has to look away and focus on something else so that you can’t see the blush on her cheeks or the yearning that’s surely shining in her eyes. 

“Do you want coffee?” she asks, waiting for your affirmative hum before starting to make some. She’s so focused on preparing the coffee machine that she misses you turning off the sink and padding over to her - she yelps as you press against her back, placing your hands on the counter on either side of her and boxing her in. Her heart is racing, skipping beats left and right as your body heat warms her from behind. Drawing in a sharp breath, she turns around to face you.

“Miranda?” Your voice is low and a little shaky, and your cheeks are flushed - gorgeously so, Miranda finds her mouth going dry.

“Yes?” she croaks out.

“Remember how I said I’d kiss you today if you still wanted to?”

All Miranda can do is nod, her mouth hanging open as all the blood rushes to her face.

“Well, I guess I wanted to ask you if you still wanted to kiss me? Because I’m sober now and I still want to kiss you.” You look just as nervous as Miranda feels - she nods again, afraid her voice will betray how badly she wants you.

“Please, say it,” you plead, your eyes wide and earnest. “I need to hear you say it.”

“Y-yes. I- I want to kiss you.”

Your lips curl up into a soft smile and your hands move from the counter to Miranda’s waist, your grip firm as if you’re afraid she’ll run away from you. You press yourself up onto your toes until your face is mere inches away from her own. She can feel your breath on her face, warm and shallow. Her eyes are glued to your lips, wondering when you’ll close the gap - then you do, your lips soft and plush as they press gently against hers. 

She allows her eyelids to flutter shut and kisses you back, her own hands reaching out tentatively to cup your cheeks. You smile into the kiss and she takes the opportunity to deepen it - you groan softly into her mouth as her tongue brushes against yours, and she swallows the sound, groaning back in return.

“I didn’t think you’d remember,” she murmurs, her thumb stroking your cheek.

“As if I haven’t been thinking about that since the moment I first met you,” you tease with a seductive grin, before wrapping your arms around her neck and pulling her down for a second kiss, even more passionate than the last. 

x

@alexusonfire @brienneswife @pro-weems-places @bigolgay @kimiinou @imprincipalweemspet @h-doodles @bychrissi @katie-bennet @giogwensversion @gela123 @friskyfisher @justcallmelittleone @michi2504 @scream-queenlover @a-queen-and-her-throne @sequoirius @anne-lister @winterfireblond @imgayforwoman69  @Ssappling2004 @fictionalized-lesbian @i-like-reading @aemilia19 @milfsloverblog @missdowling @billiedeansbitch @The_Demon_of_your_Dream @agathaandgwenslesbian @http-sam @Cute-catx @saltrage @renravens @opheliauniverse @zillahofviolets-bayolet @scarlettssub @catechristiestuff @niceminipotato @barbarasstar @women-are-so-ethereal @thevillagegay @willowshadenox @lilfartbox1 @larissaoftarthweems @dovesintherain @fallenbutch @lunala-rose23 @ahauandthesun @thenazwife @lvinhs @sweetderacine @daydream-cement @ilovetlcc @wastdstime @ladylarissaweems @spacetoaim22 @m1lflov3rrr

#miranda hilmarson x reader #miranda hilmarson #top of the lake #top of the lake: china girl #i haven't posted in almost 2.5 months and i'm ANXIOUS #hype a girl up 😭 #i also clearly couldn't be arsed to come up with a better title i'm SORRY 🥲

[romanestuffsposts]

hi love your writing so much and you seem so sweet :) would you feel comfortable writing about reader who has to wear pull-ups and feels embarrassed about it but her daddies comfort her and make her feel better about it? maybe she even tries to take them off or hide them but daddies explain it’s ok that she needs to wear them? as someone who struggles with incontinence due to a health issue ive been very embarrassed in the past. thank you sm!

Hi there love! 💜

Thank you so much for this sweet request! I'm so sorry something bad happened and that it made you feel that way! I really hope you're doing better now <3

Enjoy <33

****

Warnings : pulls up, reassurance, cuddles, pet names, teasing, bath time, changing time

Pairings : daddies!Stucky ; Daddy!Bucky x Papa!Steve x Little!Reader

Summary : there’s nothing to be ashamed of. We love you the way you are

****

"stop moving" your Daddy groans. He grabs your little toes and keeps them in his strong hand so he can paint your toenails without being kicked.

You giggle because it's so funny to annoy him. It's been ten minutes and he only paints two nails. He's being really careful so he doesn't exceed.

His tongue even stick out of his lips every once in a while. Just like you when you're oncentrate on something really important for you. So the fact that he sticks his tongue out make you blush.

"if Daddy doesn't hurry up with your little nails we'll have to change the water of your bath because it's gonna be colder than the ice" Your Papa jokes as he leans against the armrest, where your head is resting

You laugh at his teasing while your Daddy rolls his eyes "i'm not that slow" he says "and why did you already prepared her bath ? You knew it'll take me time to do that" he complains, pointing at your toenails.

"how should i know it'll take you so much time to do such a simple thing. It takes me only ten minutes" he shurgs, winking down at you.

You grin up at your Papa and bite your lower lip as you look back down at your Daddy "get out" your Daddy sternly says. Your eyes widen because you thought he was serious but when you hear your Papa laughing behind you, your face relax.

"want me to finish ?" He asks, nodding at your Daddy's hand who's painting now your third nail. "No, I wanna do it" he mumbles as he frowns down because he tries to concentrate and everyone is distracting him.

"Okay" Your Papa laughs "We'll just add hot water in her bath when you're done" He leaves the living room to go in the kitchen to finish the dishes while your Daddy start the fourth nail.

You watch him struggling but still succeeding and after minutes, almost one hour, he's finally done.

He breathes out a long breath and sits back up "here. Done’’ he smiles satisfied as he looks down at his work ‘´we just have to wait some minutes so the last nails can dry and then, bath time’’ he winks.

Like he said, after some minutes he checks if it’s dry and since he got up and lifts you up in his arms, you assume your nails were ready.

He walks upstairs and sits you on the counter of the sink making you grimace at the uncomfortable things that’s in your pants now.

See the things is, you were having such a good time in the couch with your Daddies and then with only your Daddy that you didn’t wanted to move nor disturbing him. You really thought you could hold on until he’s done but you forget he’s much more slower than your Papa..

Your Daddy starts to undress you, he removes your shirt, he lets your hair falls down and then he lifts you up so he can grab your pants and panties.

He stops his movements and looks down ‘´oh’’ was his only reaction.

You look down, ashamed, and wait for him to yell at you or showing you how annoyed he is because of you.

But the only thing he does is kneeling Infront of you and stroking your cheek with his thumb ‘’look at me baby girl’’ he softly say

Your bright eyes meet his beautiful one. His gaze is soft and loving, the opposite of what you expected.

‘’It’s okay’’ he smiles as he tilts his head ‘’it happens sometimes, you don’t need to be ashamed of it’’ he kisses your nose ‘’we’ll just clean you before you bath and after we’ll put something that will help you if it happens again today, alright ?’´ he stands up and lifts you up so you would sit on the changing table

‘’No’ you pout as you shake your legs ‘’don wanna pulls up’’ you whine.

‘’baby doll’’ he sighs, he rests his hands on each side of you and looks at you deep in the eyes ‘’nothing will change, you would just wear those pulls up instead of your panties but nothing else will change’´ he drops his forehead against yours ‘’we will not find you disgusting or weird because you need it. You’re still our pretty, joyful and innocent little princess’’

You smile a little through your discomfort and nod your head. You let your Daddy cleans you, his soft voice that’s reassuring you each time he sees you wiggling on the table or his gentle caresses on your belly helped you getting through that.

After your bath, he changed you into your pulls up, even tho you tried to negotiate with him to not put it on you -you obviously failed- and then walked with you, hands in hands , downstairs.

He brings you to the kitchen and sits you on the counter so you can be near your Papa who’s cooking ‘’how is my big girl going ?’’ He asks with a soft smile as he peers at you.

You groan because you’re not happy with the fact that you have to wear a pulls up and kick your heels in the cupboard underneath you

‘’Hey! None of that here’’ your Daddy warns as he points at you.

You let out a crying whine before looking away. They both know you have trouble accepting the fact that sometimes you need pulls up or a bottle or a paci for sleeping but who cares ? They find it adorable and love preparing it for you.

After eating, you quickly and discreetly disappeared to the bathroom, you did what you had to do in there and then come back down immediately. They don’t say a thing because they thought you were at the toilet when in fact… you were doing something else.

When the time for changing you came, you didn’t say a thing which surprised both of your Daddies. They walked with you upstairs -since they’re gonna put you to bed right after, they’re both there- and when your Daddy went to grab a pull up while your Papa undressed you, he noticed something was wrong

‘’Buck ?’´ He calls

‘’Mh ?’’ Bucky answers as he removes your pull up.

You bite your lower lip.

‘’Where did you put the pulls up box ?’’ He asks after checking each cupboard.

‘’Where it usually is’’ Bucky chuckles, still looking down as he’s cleaning you.

‘’Yea, well it’s not there’’

Bucky frowns and looks up at his husband ‘’you sure ?’’ This one nod.

Both of them look down at you and from the moon on your face, they both know immediately.

‘’Little one ?’’ Your Daddy says. You’re not even looking in their eyes, it’s so obvious now, more than before.

‘’What did you do ?’´ he asks, both is his hand resting on your hip

‘’Nothin’ ´’

He raised an eyebrow making you wanting to look away

‘’Didn’t do anythin!’’ You shake your head ‘’wanted to pee but then I saw the pull up sumping by the window’’ you say playing with your fingers.

‘’try again’’ your Daddy sternly says

Your face drops and you look down, giving them the answer they were waiting ‘’now tell us where it is’’

‘’Under ‘m bed’’ you mumble.

Your papa goes get it and comes back with the box on his hands ‘’here’’ he gives one to Bucky

Your Daddy changed you while you stay completely quiet, your eyes fixed on your fingers.

‘’Look at us, please’’ your Papa grabs your hand and you look up at him, you see your Daddy standing beside him

‘’There’s nothing wrong with needing a pull up, sweetie. It’s just a plus, this is not for degrading you or making you feel guilty because you can’t hold it’’ he tilts his head

‘’We love you’’ your daddy says ‘’we love every aspect of you, no matter what it is. We love all of the things that make you yourself, even that’s

‘’Even that’’ your Papa repeats ‘’there’s nothing you need to be ashamed of when it comes to us’’

‘´Yeah, you’re so weird that we’re used to it now. Nothing shock is anymore’ your Daddy teases you making you giggle, just like he wanted.

‘’Now about we read a wonderful story before closing those beautiful eyes of yours ?’’ Your Papa proposes.

You nod and let him carrying you to the bedroom. You start rubbing your eyes as soon as your neck touches the mattress. Your Daddy clicked his tongue in his mouth and removes your hands, he kisses your eyes softly before laying beside you

He hates when you’re too agressive with your eyes.

As soon as the caring and loving voice of your Papa is heard, your mind is softly slipping away.

All worries with your need forgotten for the night in your Daddies bed, under the protection of their loves and their arms.

#@aagn360 #little!reader #bucky barnes x steve rogers x little reader #daddies!stucky #papa!steve #daddy!bucky #little space #steve rogers #stucky x little reader #bucky barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky fanfic #steve x bucky #james bucky barnes #bucky x steve #bucky x reader #bucky x you #winter soldier #the winter soldier #stevebucky #steve rogers fic #steve fluff #steve x female reader #steve x little!reader #steve x you #bucky x daughter!reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #bukcy barnes #james buchanan barnes

[oftidheard]

hi ml! can i request a mentor reader x coriolanus snow where they’ve both always been so close as friends until the tributes were assigned and reader starts distancing herself from him? the rest is up to you, just something on the lines of that! thank you; love your writings.

ty!! it makes me so happy to see people enjoying my writing ♡ reader is coral's mentor, and distanced from coryo because they didn't see a benefit in allying with him/lucy gray! this can be read as romantic, but reader only refers to coryo as a friend

❄ watch the stars when they fall ㅤ⠀coriolanus snow x reader ㅤ⠀↳ 1.3k ↳ angst ↳ gender neutral

the courtyard encircled by expensive penthouses used to be populated no matter the time of day. you have photos from before the war, when you were barely starting to walk and your parents had sat you next to an equally chubby little coriolanus snow on one of the pristine marble benches. you're told you'd cry whenever your friend had to leave.

you remember a fleeting memory of the greenery that used to grow boldly in neat planters and flowers lining footpaths. all else you can pull out of the mirky memory is the sun glaring in your eyes, and the smell of fresh roses.

now, after the war, the garden is a mimicry of its old beauty, flowers no longer meticulously planted nor the plants kept pruned as neatly as they once had been. you can tell which families are struggling through whether weeds have started climbing up the walls of their buildings, or if they have the money to pay a groundskeeper to keep the vines at bay.

no one rather enjoys coming out here anymore either; you don't remember the last time you caught a couple of kids making out behind the benches or a family having a picnic by the fountain. nowadays, it's just you, coriolanus, and the moon.

but you suppose some things never change, such as the distant but always present smell of roses, and coriolanus himself remaining a pillar in your life.

the thought strengthens the stiff line of your lips, and the breeze feels just a little bit colder. maybe the only thing you have left is the scent of roses.

coriolanus sits beside you on the edge of the fountain, where the two of you have always met late at night ever since you could form a sentence. you used to sit with your sides glued together, where you could feel the other's clothes scraping against your skin at the slightest shuffle, where you could be close and not have to explain it to anyone — not even yourselves.

now, if you were to stretch your hand out to him you wouldn't be able to even graze his knee. he's still wearing his academy uniform, the bright red less jarring now that the sun is down, and he sits as though the cold doesn't bother him — you think you know better than to believe that.

you're wearing several warm layers — as you'd been getting dressed you'd been torn between visiting your tribute one last time before the games, or just taking a walk to clear your mind — complete with blue gloves and a scarf that was gifted to you.

you're certain coriolanus must be freezing; the cold wind biting at his skin and seeping into the gaps between his clothes. it's a wonder his teeth aren't chattering and his skin isn't turning blue.

once upon a time, you would've closed the gap between the two of you and curled into his side. you would have wrapped an arm around him, tucked your head into his shoulder and offered him your gloves — and he'd grumble but accept the offer if you insisted enough, but he'd still hold your hands in his to make it fair.

now, your hands rest neatly in your lap, as do coriolanus's. yours are perfectly warm and still, unbothered. his unconsciously fiddle and fidget, no matter how far ahead he blankly stares, he is still sat here with a deep unease writhing inside him.

you don't truly know why he's here — well, you do, in the sense of being well aware of the rift between the two of you — but you're left confused in the way that your growing distance from him has been so natural, your smooth departure from his life has changed nothing for him; or so you thought.

maybe, he's realised why you've stopped visiting the zoo with him and no longer suggest working together. maybe he's here to convince you that his lucy gray wouldn't weigh your tribute — coral — down like you're certain she would; maybe he's here for purely professional endeavours.

but then arises the circumstances. it can't be far off from midnight, and coriolanus had admitted to you once — half asleep, he'd later claimed he was just delirious — that this was a sort of safe place for him, held in your arms and shrouded by familiarity. either he's breaking your unspoken rule of not ruining this pocket of the world with undesirable discussions — or hoping the comfort of this space may ease you into hearing him out.

or, though the thought feels implausible, he may simply miss you.

in the past, you would have claimed you'd miss him too if he had done what you'd done — withdrawn from even the politest of conversations in favour of one's own gain, all because of an entirely separate person you're connected to — but now that it's happened, you find your life is no more empty and no less sorrowful without your lifelong best friend's present.

you wonder if it's some sort of spell of his, the same one that fools everyone else into thinking he's a statue of rich strength and indifference, while hiding all that resides beneath layers of ice. maybe he can't trust you to care for him now you've voluntarily left, so he must ensure you regard him as warmly as you would a stranger passing on the street — lest emotions sprout.

though as you wonder, you don't try to conceal your glance to the boy across the chipped stone. and when his eyes — a picture of a conflict beneath his surface — meet yours, it's almost as if there is still a doorway that, though it is slowly closing, still remains ajar just for you.

coriolanus watches you, and you're not sure whether you regret it, or whether it needed to be done, when you offer him a polite — almost pitiful — smile, and the door slams shut.

his gaze that only seems to grow colder remains on you, and you finally let out a sigh.

"are you going to say anything?"

his eyes bore into yours noiselessly still. if you hadn't already decided your friendship was beyond salvaging, you may have found yourself reading his body language and understanding the stiff look in his eyes.

but it's no longer your place to try to understand coriolanus snow, so you grant him his time to silently brood as much as he pleases. that, however, does not mean you still hold the patience to sit here and wait for him to even speak a single word — that, he is going to have to learn to do on his own.

so you push yourself up from the cold stone, and for a moment you let the wind graze past your skin, eyes closed and breaths even.

you open your eyes once more to watch the prettier weeds that almost look like flowers rustle in the breeze, "we could still be friends," you say. it's not an offer — you're not going to pursue this friendship if coriolanus won't too — but rather an opening; you're leaving the door unlocked, letting him know that if he reached out, you wouldn't slam it in his face.

you wonder if he gets that same message — he knows you well enough to read you like a book, but something ingrained deeper into everything he does is constantly searching for people pitying him, and preparing himself to deny him.

perhaps that's answer enough for whether this is all over or not, that he might jump to the assumption that you intend to belittle him rather than something kinder that you've proved you held for him time and time again.

he stands up too, and you meet his eyes once more.

"goodbye," his voice emotionless and eyebrows no longer drawn in almost imperceptibly, leaving a face you know no longer trusts you.

you nod, "goodbye."

the last you hear from him is his feet against the gravel at the same moment you too turn away. then, silence; it's as if coriolanus snow were never in your life to begin with.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #tbosas x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes x reader #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games x you #the hunger games x y/n #thg x reader #❤︎ — the mockingjay sings

[brodieland]

.˚ 𓈒 ࣪.𝝑𝝔 I'd let her light me on Fire ´ˎ˗

Leo Valdez x Fem!Reader Synopsis: after three weeks, the girls get a new roommate that Leo may or may not be quite familiar with!!! Warning(s): do I need to say cursing anymore Word Count: 2379 A/N: this is a normal AU, no godly shit 😛 why did I make Leo a lil bit of a loser?? also im gonna mention it now bc im lazy LOL, the dorms are like the ones in Gilmore girls (it makes me wish Yale was real💔) like they have the common area with the rooms connecting off of it, also writing in this pov is kinda annoying why did I do this, now lemme shut up Part 1

After a good 3 weeks in the amazing Los Angelos, it was time to go home. Well, not home, school. Weirdly enough, the seven felt a little bit homesick from being away for so long, but that cleared up when they remembered they were going to have to sit in the van for another 5 agonizing days. FUN!! And no, Leo did not almost fall asleep at the wheel, that was just Hazel's motion sickness getting to her, making her see things if you will.

When they made it back, they all felt like zombies when they were trudging back to their rooms. Safe to say the second they finished unpacking, just like in LA, they all passed out.

The next day, at around 10AM, the boys were sitting on the couch together eating cereal and just talking when Percy's phone went off.

"Yo I just got a text from Annabeth," Percy said with mouthful of cereal. "They're finally getting their fourth girl."

Leo was intrigued by this. Ever since that one night in LA, he hadn't really stopped thinking of Y/N. One thing about Leo, he never had the warmth of a family. When he ran away from his foster homes, all he had was the warmth of a fire every night to keep him going before he got dropped in a new home, one colder than the last. Now he associated the warmth of a fire with a girl, one he met once who had a crazed look in her eye when she saw the lighter go off. Leo had a thing for girls on the weirder end, but he was totally fine with that.

"We should go," Leo suggested. Y/N's voice still rang in his head, 'I gotta go now, maybe I'll see you around. Leo Valdez.' Now this was delusion at its finest, but he didn't care.

"Of course you want to meet the new girl," Jason chuckled as he got up toward the kitchen. Leo gave a half-assed laugh that no one paid mind too. Percy texted Annabeth back saying that they were on their way. Leo had a little pep in his step on his way to the girls floor. When they got there, Percy did a secret little knock on the door and Annabeth opened it, quickly kissing Percy before allowing everyone inside.

"'cough' Corny 'cough'" This earned Leo some chuckles, but was utterly ignored by the lovely couple in front of him.

"Right this way everyone, me and Hazel were just watching a movie. Pipers helping her unpack." Frank and Percy made their way to the couch along their girlfriends while Jason followed Leo toward the empty room. Well, the no longer empty room.

When Leo pushed past the door, he saw a girl leaning forward grabbing stuff from a duffle bag. She had on some low waisted baggy jeans that sat just right by her hip bone, and a crop top that showed off her figure. A beautiful slim waist and hair that flowed down her back. 'Wow.'

She stood up straight, like she sensed Leo eyes lingering and staring at her. When she turned around, a smile quickly flooded her features. "Oh my god, hey there stalker boy." She chuckled as Piper and Jason gave him the weirdest look.

"Hey I'm not a stalker! If anything, you're the stalker. How'd you know where I went to school?" Leo began walking closer and waving his finger around to make his point.

'Well," Y/N poked Leo's forehead, sending his head back ever so slightly. "I didn't. This is the boarding MY PARENTS decided to send me too."

"Can we pause for a second," Piper interjected. "Do you two know each other?"

"Oh of course," Y/N beamed. "Back like 3-4 weeks in LA, I was just minding my business, right? Then suddenly I felt eyes on me, so I turned and saw him staring at me!"

"I had to stare-,"

"Oh you HAD to stare?"

"Well, yeah?? You were literally trying to light a jungle gym on fire??"

"That's dramatic."

"Oh so that's why you came back late with a giant smile," Jason teased. Leo turned and gave him a look like 'bro your selling right now', but Y/N just started giggling and walking closer.

"Aw I had you kicking your feet and grinning," she started pinching his cheeks, swinging his head from side to side. "Be honest did you miss meee??"

Piper and Jason couldn't help but laugh at the situation their friend was in, knowing he probably didn't mind it all that much.

"Miss you?" Leo grabbed her hands off his face. "I hardly know you??"

"Yeah okay," Y/N turned back around to continue to unpack. "Well you can stand there and keep staring, or you could help me unpack." This was a hard decision. Stare at a masterpiece among art, or do work. Leo ended up helping though, not even noticing Piper and Jason excusing themselves.

While Leo continued to help unpack, he made it to one of the last book bags of clothes. When Y/N turned her eyes widened. "Leo don't open that one."

"Hm, what'd you say," she was too late. He already opened it and dumped everything inside in front of it, some landing on his feet. Though, it wasn't really clothes, more so underwear and bras. "That's what you said," Leo said lowly.

"Well um, I got it from here Leo. Thanks for the help," Y/N was a little embarrassed to say the least. How could she not be when the guy she'd been thinking about just dumped her underwear on his feet.

"No yeah you got that," Leo said as he backed away to the door, knocking into the dresser on his way. "I'll be out here," and he stepped out the door.

He left her in the room (where she stood just there for a good minute), as he joined in the rest of his friends in front of the tv. "Hey guys."

"Hey Leo-" Percy cut himself off when he looked down, and started laughing.

"Whats so funny?"

"Look down," Annabeth snickered, making the rest of the people on couch laugh as well. For a fact, the last thing Leo was expecting to see was Y/N's underwear tangled with his ankle, but that's exactly what he saw. The look on the boy's face was seemingly unreadable, but he was definitely embarrassed as he lifted up his foot and pinched the underwear off with his thumb and pointer finger. Now watch this for perfect timing!!

"Um, Leo," as Y/N stepped out the room to ask the awkward question, but she cut herself off. "Oh my god Leo did you just try to steal my underwear??"

Leo started stammering over his words as Y/N started making her way over to him, grabbing the underwear. "Uh NO! Why would I want your underwear??"

"Well, you just had it," she laughed.

"Well not on purpose obviously," Leo crossed his arms. "Like what do you think of me hello??" She started walking back to her room.

"Well, you were already a little stalker," Y/N leaned on the doorframe with the doorknob in her hand. "Now we can add pervert to the list!" She let out a laugh that made Leo think he was in heaven listening to the angels above, then he remembered why she was laughing at him as she shut the door.

He could've sworn his eye twitched. Because obviously she knew he didn't take it, she just found it funny to mess with him. Call it flirting if you will.

"Dude, that's not how you flirt with girls you know," Frank joked from the couch. Now it was their turn to laugh at Leo.

"Yo what is this, 'national pick on Leo day?'"

"The joke wasn't funny when you said it yesterday, and it shockingly isn't any funnier today," Hazel chuckled.

"But seriously, how do you get a girls underwear tangled around your ankle before getting your first kiss," Jason asked, making everyone laugh some more.

"Why does the whole village feel the need to gang up on me right now?"

"To be fair you make it really easy," Piper added. "Do you even talk to girls other than the ones in this room?"

"No and this ones really pretty so can we cut me some slack??"

Y/N stood in her dorm, leaning up against the closed door listening in on the conversation going on in their common area. "This one." She giggled as she listened to them all berate Leo for his lack of skills with girls. As the conversation died down, she spent the next ten minutes or so unpacking before walking back out and joining the others.

When Y/N arrived this morning, the girls quickly made her feel welcome. It was really refreshing compared to most, if not all, the other schools she'd been to.

She walked out and saw everyone laid out on the couch. The only space open was conveniently next to Leo, which was fine considering he had some popcorn with him (bless Piper for convincing the school to let her keep her microwave). When she plopped down next to him, she leaned closer to grab some popcorn and whisper, "what movie are we watching?"

When Leo turned to face the girl next to him, he could've sworn he felt chills go down his back. It was just like that night in LA. "We're watching Fear Street, we planned on watching all three when we came back."

He had popcorn breathe. "Oh fire, I've been wanted to watch these too."

When she saw Leo laid back and comfortable, she took her chance to sit somewhat closer, slipping her arm under his and wrapping it around, leaning her head on his shoulder. His nervous system may have rebooted but that's besides the point.

When the bowl in front of the two was now empty, Leo started to stand, quietly gesturing Y/N to follow him. Leo led her into Piper's room, where the microwave and some snacks were. As he knelt down looking for food, Y/N sat down on the bed and watched Leo.

"So, how ya been?" Leo asked. "Considering you were living on the streets."

"Oh it was so hard, fending for myself in these dangerous streets as a small feeble woman," Leo chuckled. "It wasn't that bad, I was just staying in my car. Me and my beetle against the world."

"Yeah, I get that," Leo sat on the floor while the microwave started to spin. "I lived in my van a lot, I even named it festus."

"A van? Like scooby doo type shit? Cause that'd be pretty sick."

"THANK YOU! Finally someone understands me."

"I'm a pretty open minded person." The microwave peeped.

"Popcorns ready."

"How is there even a microwave in here you," Y/N asked.

"Pipers pretty persuasive I suppose." Leo sat down with the bowl of popcorn just eating it. He patted the spot on the floor next to him gesturing the girl in front of him to sit. She slid over and started eating the popcorn.

"You know, I'm kinda hungry for some actual food." She turned over to Leo. "Is there somewhere here to get some food?"

"Cafeteria's open?" She smiled and pulled the bowl of popcorn off of Leo's lap before grabbing his wrist and pulling him up and out the door. Y/N was snickering as she pulled Leo out of her dorm into the hallway before stopping and turning to him.

"I don't know where to go, still new here."

"Well naturally," he rolled his eyes and laughed. "Follow me, m'lady."

She didn't realize how hungry she was for some real food till she caught a whiff of some Mac n cheese and chicken tenders. Popcorn was cool and all, but this was much better.

"You don't have an ID yet right," Y/N nodded. "I'll treat you then."

She smiled as she followed him to the food, "Such a gentleman. Is this an apology for stealing my underwear?"

People gave weird looks before going back to what they were doing. "Dude you can't just say that," Leo rubbed his temples.

"I mean, it's true," She shrugged and started filling her plate with some gorgeous Mac n cheese and chicken tenders. When she finished Leo paid for both their meals and they sat at a table across from each other. "God this shits good."

"You sound starved.."

"To be fair I was saving my money for gas while I was out. Shits expensive so not as many full course meals as you'd think."

"Well, while your here I could make up for that, treat you some more like the gentleman I am."

"Aw, are you flirting with me?"

"Why is it working?" Leo joked (He wasn't joking).

"Woah, big talk from a guy who hasn't had his first kiss," she laughed but Leo just dropped his forked and stared straight at the girl in front of him.

"When did you-"

"Thin walls you know," she winked.

"It's not funny."

"Maybe just a little."

"I've kissed millions of girls!" Leo retorted.

"Really? Name one."

"A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell," Leo winked and Y/N just rolled her eyes.

"Ya know if you were honest it could've been a millions and 1." He looked straight at you. "Just kidding!"

"Is your biggest joy in life just making fun of me?"

"Maybe.. yes." She said as she took the last bite of her food. The two stood up and went to throw away their empty plates. They made their way back to the girls dorm. When Y/N opened the door she saw everyone about a fourth of the way through the third fear street movie. "We're back."

"Where'd you guys go," Piper asked.

"To eat, I was hungry," Y/n smiled as she plopped down in the same seat she sat in before, shortly followed by Leo. They both slid into the same positions as earlier, with their arms intertwined as they laid their heads on each other, but this time, it weirdly felt more comfortable. This was gonna be a fun year!!!

#percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #percy jackson pjo #percy pjo #leo hoo #leo valdez hoo #leo valdez pjo #leo pjo #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez x you #leo valdez x y/n

[ghostlynachopanda]

Patch up

a/n: I felt bad for how long the last one took so I whipped this one up while procrastinating on stats hw. did I write this at 3am? yes. am I bored? yes. do I know what to write? nah. do I like a soft Wednesday? absolutely. id love to hear from yall btw, makes me happy!! enjoy this one pals

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x reader

words: 1.3k

warning: blood, injury

~~~

You don’t know how long you've been flying, just enjoying the feeling of Otus' soft feathers. Otus, your giant owl, is carrying you on his back while flying at a dangerously fast speed. The only thing on your mind was reaching Wednesday's dorm. Your body is simultaneously feeling hot and cold, blood is soaking into your clothes making them feel even colder than the wind against your cheeks. These aren't the worst injuries you've ever received, but they are the first ones since Wednesday confessed.

You're not sure how she'll react to this, you're not sure you want to know. What you do know is that Wednesday makes you feel safe, in her own special macabre way. You're hoping she knows some first aid, not really in the mood to see the nurses. You don’t register the landing on her balcony until you hear Otus peck at the window and hear someone calling your name.

Sluggishly picking your head off the soft, warm feathers — trying to focus your eyes on the person standing next to you. You feel something crawl onto your back and hear someone talking in a stern voice but whenever it crawled on your back is gone it all goes quiet. You know you didn’t pass out, still trying to focus on everything happening around you, but it's quiet.

Finally focusing your eyes on to spot Wednesday. Her eyes were colored with concern, eyebrows slightly pinched together, stance rigid. You see her reach a hand out towards you; knowing if you move it'll release Otus, and you don’t exactly feel like falling on your face right now. You want to tell her. Tell her why you're not reaching a hand out too, tell her what happened, tell her you're just so tired. But your throat is dry, you're tired, and all you can do is stare hoping it'll get the message across.

You can't make out what she's saying, but you see Otus extend a wing for her. You see her on it, walk towards you, and kneel down to speak to you, but you don’t catch the beginning of the sentence, "-hang on just a little longer"

With that you're being lifted, Wednesday supporting most of your weight. Once your feet touch the floor, not being able to keep yourself up and Otus out at the same time, he melts into the floor. You make a mental note to apologize later, knowing that's painful for them, and focus on walking towards the warm room.  

The walk was long, or it felt that way, it couldn’t have been more than 20ft. With every step you took your feet felt heavier, hm maybe I am losing a lot of blood, you thought. You heard Wednesday muttering something, but you're so out of it that hardly any of it registers in your head. All you know is that most of what you heard was profanities, hopefully, none of it was at you.

"Sit down," Wednesday said, much louder than anything she said before. All you could muster was a nod before being gently guided down onto her bed. You closed your eyes and tried to gain control of your breathing, Wednesday seemed to understand what you were trying to do and let you. You felt a gentle, cold hand grasp your jaw, making you open your eyes and see her move a water bottle toward your mouth. "you need to drink this, right now."

The water was refreshing, and feeling the cool water slide down your throat was relieving. You went to speak, "Wedns-" she cut you off.

"It’s okay," she whispered, bringing her forehead to yours, "I've got it from here, just try to stay awake" you nod, then you're gently guided to lay down on her bed. You feel her slide your shirt up and feel her hands freeze. Wednesday didn’t realize just how bad the injuries were, she took a moment to collect her thoughts before reaching for the towels Thing brought. Her eyes completely focused on your torso, it's littered with cuts and forming bruises. Wednesday felt like crying.

The process was torturous. Every time Wednesday would accidentally press on a bruise, wipe a towel over your cuts, clean them with antiseptic, or pierce your skin with a suture needle you winced. Not enough to move your torso, making it easier for her to clean you up, but every time your breath caught or your face scrunched up she felt sick. Wednesday adored blood, never swayed by the sight or having it dirty her hands, but this was different. It was your blood.

When Wednesday was finished with the front of your torso she moved to your back. Comforted and relieved none required stitches, the other parts of your body were the same. More bruises than cuts, which she was, more or less, grateful for. Happy they were only bruised, angered by the fact someone put them there.

Wednesday asked you questions, to help you stay awake and to get information about what happened. She wanted nothing more than to hunt down the person who did this to you, to make them suffer worse than you are, to kill them, but she needed to make sure you were okay first. She needed to make sure you woke up the next morning before doing anything else, so she waited.

Sleep did not come to her that night, unable to sleep knowing you were, once again, so close to death. She decided to watch over you while she waited. She watched as color returned to your face. She occasionally checked the pulse on your wrist. Finding comfort in the heartbeat that drummed against her fingers, your steady breathing, and the feeling of warmth coming back to your fingers. She watched the gauze that covered your cuts, making sure none of them turned pink. If not for the numerous stitches on your torso, she would've laid her head on your chest. She made a mental note to show Otus her gratitude for bringing you here, bringing you to her.

Minutes felt like hours, there was nothing Wednesday wanted more than to see you open your eyes. She wanted you to smile at her and tell her everything would be okay. Instead, she was stuck waiting, stuck in her thoughts. She wracked her brain for every little detail of the night, from muscle twitches to the answers you gave. But one thing she was stuck on was the fact you were able to keep your winces from moving your torso. It was obvious you'd been in this position enough to be conscious about your muscle movements, the thought made it feel like barbwire was wrapped tightly around her throat and making her eyes sting. If she could, she would bear all these wounds herself. At least then, you would be alright, you wouldn't be suffering. Wednesday didn't know how long it had been, not noticing the sun peaking through the half-colored window.

When you opened your eyes relief flooded her system, a weight had been lifted off of her. When she saw your chest rise with your intake of air, she was able to release the one she had been holding. You're awake. You smiled at her, "Thank you, Wednesday" you said softly and Wednesday wanted to cry for a different reason.

She looked at you pointedly, "If you ever do that again I'll let you bleed out," but you both know it's not true. She would do it a hundred times if it meant you'd wake up the next morning, if you'd look at her with that stupidly gorgeous smile on your face.

"I wouldn't expect anything less, Wednesday" you reply, that same stupid smile on your face

"Now, once you're all healed up I expect you to help me," she said, almost like she ignored you completely.

"Help? Help with what?" you asked, feeling like you missed something.

“I’m going to kill whoever did this, and I expect you to help me do just that.”

tags: @alexkolax @rainbow-love4ever @o638

#wednesday addams #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader

[imyourrjoy]

The power held over me

Summary: A new duo arrives in jackson after being found in the snow, praying

Warnings : DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!!!!!!, abusive parents, toxic religion, toxic people all around, misogyny, hitting, threats, self dought,fear , stop here if it's too much the series will just get darker

Word count : 2.6k

Paring : dark!Joel Miller x pastors daughter!afab!reader

Part 1 / ?????

Masterlist

A/n : she's dark, very dark. This is your last waring, btw. And thanks so much to my pokie wookie bear @xoxo-honeyy for helping me revisit and figure most of it out she's amazing not only for that but also putting up with my dyslexic ass, ily pokie 💋 and give her love as well.

The cold was the worst, especially in a dress. Your dad gave you his jacket but you were still freezing despite the extra protection. The two of you had somehow ended up near a lake, Your father said he could hear a dam nearby, you didn’t know what a dam was, but apparently, it meant that people were near since it's on that means people near and we should be careful and should pray before we continue to pray that God keeps us safe for another day.

You kneeled down on the dense snow. Your legs against the snow made you feel even colder, but your father said to thank Jesus under all circumstances and not to complain in his name.

Your father started the prayer in a loud, confident voice, “Dear heavenly father, we kneel here to ask you for guidance and appreciation to ask for help as you guide us on your path and lead us to safety and not shen ways of harm, amen.”

Bringing your hands to a prayer position you continued praying hoping the cold would go away.

“Hands up”

Your eyes flew open and you saw your father being held at gunpoint, people on horses, and dogs barking. You almost screamed in fear. Were they raiders?, slavers?, or worse were they sinners?

“She said hands up.” Another voice barked at you.

You looked at your dad and put your hands up. The people looked warm physically and emotionally, you felt jealous of them, you tried to will the jealousy away but nothing was working. You repeated the prayer in your head, I am sorry, God, I am not jealous. I am grateful for your gifts. The people then started talking to one another.

“Send out the dog and make sure they're not bit”

“We can assure you we aren't. We are children of God just like you all”

The dogs barked and sniffed us. Then, a different member of the group walked up to us getting off of their horse, and they walked right up to you.

“Stand up, you poor thing, no pants in this weather.”

The brown-haired woman tied her jacket around your legs.

“Thank you,” You replied.

“Don’t touch her,” Your father stood up, but the lady just ignored him.

“Lower the guns. We should take them into town the get some real clothes,” The brown-haired woman seemed to be in charge which seemed odd, you thought men were the ones who were supposed to lead?

Town? You’d only heard stories about places like that. Your father told you that when your mother was alive before the devil took her for being a sinner, that's when you all lived in a little house near the water, a large lake more specifically.

“She is in more than enough clothes”

The lady shot your father a scathing look, “Tommy ride with him and take his backpack. I’ll take the girl.”

The man, Tommy, took your father towards his horse, and the lady took you to hers. When you started the long journey, you were in awe of the surroundings, but nothing could compare to the smell. The smell of fresh food, fire, and the snow falling you were utterly captured by it. When you see large wooden gates and lots of people with guns, you think to yourself i'll pray for them.

"Welcome to Jackson,"

She said as the gates opened, she'd never seen anything like that. it was a town where the stories were true? We rode in, and she helped me off the horse. You were a little worried you hadn't seen my Dad since he got on Tommy’s horse.

"He's fine. Tommy's just gonna show him around while I get you some clothes. What's your name?"

she gave her a smile of relief.

You gave them your name and they smiled warmly

She started walking and you followed her into a shop like building full of clothes she looked at some jeans and before she could hold them up you interrupted her,

"I can't wear pants."

She almost laughed.

"And why is that?"

"It's a sin,"

She scoffed.

"God would rather you live than freeze."

She handed me a pair of jeans``.” you were shocked someone would ever say his name like that.

"But my D-"

"Go change,"

She cut me off and looked for a top, a simple sweater. You were so scared you were gonna go to Hell if she put on these pants. You'll have to pray for hours for God to forgive you.

"You can change there, and trust me, you won't die over pants."

"it's a sin,"

"Honey, trust me, you're not gonna die,"

You took a deep breath and walked into the changing room. You wanted to cry. You were gonna die for this, burn in Hell for eternity, and be with those monsters. You took off the layers and layers of jackets and a dress. The tears started flowing as you put on the jeans. You felt like you had committed the worst crime in the world, and you started begging for forgiveness as you changed.

You started mumbling quickly under your breath, "Dear heavenly father, I am a sinner, and many have sinned by your grace. She prays for my and others' forgiveness. Have mercy on me, your faithful servant of God, according to your faith and love. "

You put on the top, “.” wiped your tears, and walked out of the changing room. When you came out, she the lady had a pink jacket.

"Here she'll keep you warm, and the color suits you."

She was right. The color did suit you.

"Thanks."

"Put it on, let's make sure it fits, and after I'll show you around town."

You put on the jacket and zipped it up. As We walked out, you kept your head low. You shouldn't look at other people if you are in the midst of sin. At least, that's what dad says. She showed me the canteen, a woodworking shop, and even a school. Then you saw my dad and the man, you ran up to them.

"Dad!"

You threw yourself at him and he caught me pulling me into a big hug

"Oh my love, it's ok. You’re safe, God has found us home at last,"

You smiled and saw Tommy go up to maria

"Dad, we need to find a place to pray."

You were so ashamed of the pants, and it seemed like my dad started getting angry.

"We will. They have a church we shall go there and pray for forgiveness and pray you won't become a monster like the rest of the sinners in the world, my love,"

Maria and Tommy walked back up to you and you're dad.

"Well, before we bring you guys to your lodging, we need to talk about the rules, and you all look parched. Let's go to the canteen and get some food?" Tommy said.

my dad nodded in agreement as we all started making our way to the canteen. The closer we got, the more the scent of freshly cooked food invaded your senses, it was so much different from the old canned beans we usually had. We walked into the canteen. It was made of beautiful wood, lights hanging from the ceiling, people giving out plates of food, and others eating it was beautiful.

"Here, I'll take the young lady to get some food. y’all can find a place to sit,"

Tommy walked me to the line of the canteen

"We have rabbit or sheep today, which would you like?"

"Sheep, rabbits are too cute to eat."

Tommy laughed and got two plates and started putting sheep on both.

"So I hear your names y/n is that correct?"

"Yes."

He started putting vegetables onto the plates.

"And your dad is a preacher or just a very devoted man of God?"

she thought that was a dumb question, he's a pastor he told me he was dressed like a pastor. it made you laugh.

"A pastor, of course,"

We moved over to get drinks for you and your father, but before Tommy could grab the pitcher of water you weren't sure what it was sense it wasn't water colored more like mud you're not sure.a girl younger than me grabbed you were more shocked she had pants you hadn't thought of it but a lot of girls here wear pants she should pray for them

"Excuse me,"

She filled up her glass as Tommy protested, “Ellie”

she smiled as she left

"Sorry about her, she's my brother's kid, she's very outgoing, let's say."

"She's fine, but I am worried about the number of women in pants I'll have in my prayers. Does this place allow sinning?or something?" Your voice was filled with concern.

He continued to fill up the cups and looked confused”." That's one way of looking at it for now. Let's just get you both fed,"

We all sat down at the table. You've never eaten so fast, and that water,which was apparently sweet tea, you think too yourself it's probably your new favorite thing. Dad kept telling me to slow down, but you couldn't. You were so hungry and happy to eat something real.

"So, Maria told me you have a multi-faith church?" Your dad asked as he finished eating and scraped the leftovers onto your plate.

Maria replied in a calming tone, "Yes and you’re a preacher, so I’m assuming you would like to have a mass of some sort, which is fine with me and with the council, but first we need to go over the rules the whole reason we came here"

At the mention of rules, you stopped eating and started listening.

"All able-bodied people over the age of 18 unless, unable to due to their health, a disability or lack of survival skills are required to patrol . We rotate every week, two people are in a group. We classify ourselves as a commune which means we all share everything, nothing belongs to just one person, we all respect one another. As well, pitch in and have jobs based on what skills we have or what we're good at. Understand?"

You noticed your dad wasn't too fond of the rules, but he both nodded in agreement.

"So how old is your daughter?" Tommy inquired.

Your dad sighed, "Around 19, we don't know specifically, but she was born about a year after the outbreak. My wife at the time had just gotten pregnant,"

You kept my head down, you missed your mom a lot, she wasn't like my dad she loved God and they taught me to love Him but she liked to tell me about my room shen the town, teach me to read and write she hated that she was a sinner as dad says she didn't believe enough you remember the verse we read for her after she died “For the wages of sin she's dead”. Dad says she wasn't devoted enough.

"Joy, how do you make a fire?"

Tommy asked me the question, and you laughed,"My dad makes those they aren't ladylike"

You doesn't know why he looked taken back. You're a woman. You're supposed to cook,look pretty for your husband and put God above all.

"Joy, you see that girl over there,"

Marshea pointed to a group of girls, including the one who took the pitcher, you nodded."How about you introduce yourself? Make some friends while Tommy and she talk to your dad."

You smiled and walked up to the girls. They all had tea and some food. They all wore pants as well. Before she could say anything a dark-hashered girl spoke

"New to Jackson?"

she nodded

"No way, hey”

The girl from earlier hit my shoulder playfully

"Well I’m Ellie welcome. To my humble abode, take a seat”, you took a seat next to her

"So how'd you find Jackson?” Ellie questions and then thinks for a second, “or did the patrolman find you?

" Well, my father and I just keep moving and, apparently, have traveled throughout. for my whole life moving looking for the place God wants us. And we saw the dam which is when my dad said we should start praying for people or a town, that’s what it’s called right?"

Ellshee immediately responded, chuckling a bit, “Gosh, aren’t you ancient.”

The girl, Ellshee, laughed louder, and it got to your head. Maybe she’s just not used to someone like you?. Maybe it's because you didn't know what town is was?. Either way, it, didn't feel good.

"Ellie, don't be mean" The gruff and slightly hoarse voice came from behind me.

You quickly turned my head to see an older man with graying hair with brown spots sprinkled throughout it, There were also prominent scars on his nose and temple, To say the least, the man looked frightening

"Oh come on"

Ellie protested but the man shushed her.

"Y’ know Ellie, she could probably teach you a thing or two, a girl like her shes a woman of God." He sent a sly wink towards you

He took a seat across from us and Ellie rolled her eyes, "Hi there hon I'm m Joel and this here is my daughter, Ellie don't mind her she's a bit rough around the edges"

"I am not"

she laughed at the little bantering and you got asked the same basic questions before Maria walked up to us,

"she see you've met Tommy's brother,” there was a slight frown on her face,

“come on it's time to see your new home"

You waved goodbye to the pasher and met up with Tommy and my dad again. We all started walking through the town , towards an a cute little house with a small porch and yellow panels.

"The heat, water, and electricity are on and Father you can't wait to see what your Sunday mass is like don't be afraid to reach out if you need anything."

Tommy gave my dad the keys and they walked away after saying goodbye for the night. The house was the same as the rest but it had some personality. It was dusty but rustic. It had two bedrooms and one bathroom, a kitchen that worked a couch, and TV that wasn't of any use but still, it was so nice everything was until my dad looked at me up and down.

"Why the pants? Is my daughter a monster, a sshenner, unfaithful to her lord"

You looked down and the floor,

"Marshea told me that she wouldn't burn and that shet was prac-"

Before you could finish your sentence my father hit me across the face

"Practical your put practicality over your lord and savor????"

Cold dread washed over your body.

"No Dad i-"

He hit me again making me fall to the floor, then he grabbed a fistful of my hasher

"Tomorrow you're getting rid of those pants, if i see them again i'll see to it that God knows of every sin that my child has committed and that my prayers for her forgiveness for her not to become those monsters were all for nothing as her love for him was fake"

You started crying once my dad let me go. He walked into one of the bedrooms while you sat there crying until finally making my way to bed.

You got on your knees and started your nightly prayers you needed to pray for myself, my Father, and God

You brought your hands together

"Dear heavenly father, thank you for your bountiful love and sacrifice. Thank you for leading me and my father to Jackson. I am sorry I have committed the sin of wearing pants. she shall never do it again. My lord, your Bible is the truth, and I am your faithful servant. I pray for my forgiveness as well as the forgiveness of the woman shen Jackson also guilty of this crime. I pray for my mother that though she's a sinner, you forgive her shen the afterlife, and may the devil have mercy on her. And lastly, I pray for my father. I pray that he stays healthy and bountiful. Praise the Lord as he watches over us in our sleep amen."

#tlou #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #joel miller #pedro pascal #dark!joel #dark!joel miller #pastors daughter! x joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #tlou hbo #dark fic #fan fiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #tlou show #joel miller x reader

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Waiting For Shanks To Return To Tell Him Surprising News

Shanks X FemReader

Rating: T

Warnings: Suggestive themes and a dagger is involved

Word Count: 1.7k

(A/N:) Hello readers! I should finally start getting back into the swing of things now that Christmas is here! I’ve missed writing so much and I have ideas I’ve been wanting to write especially about One Piece. Back in November I had went to see Red and to made me fall in love with the story. So now I have started reading and watching One Piece and Shanks and Zoro are my faves. So I’m starting out with Shanks but I have an idea for Zoro and an idea for Sanji so just keep an eye out hopefully I can write those soon! But I am still learning about this universe so mostly these imagines are just for funsies so don’t take them too seriously! X3 But it feels good to write again and I look forward to posting more! So until next time happy reading! ~Countess

You stood upon the shore of Foosha Village’s port watching the horizon as you did every evening as the sun began to set in the sky. The salty waves crashing the shore sent droplets of water to spatter against the hem of your flowing gown as the breeze billowed your hair behind you tangling it just enough that you would have to brush it when you got home. Nobody of the village would bother you at these moments, as you were waiting and hoping for Shanks to return and soon. Usually you were on the boat with him just another piece of his large crew. But the last time he docked at Foosha you were ill and couldn’t get well in time for him and the crew to set sail. So he left you with a house upon a private cove overlooking the ocean to see when he sailed in and in the care of Makino as he knew that she would take the best of care of you until you were well again.

“You won’t be long,” you had asked him weakly.

  He gave a gentle smile with a hint of sadness, “I’ll try my best. Wait for me to return upon that far horizon.”

“Okay,” you whispered falling back to sleep to escape another bout of nausea.

That had been six months ago and now you stood upon the sand watching and waiting with a protective hand over your swollen belly. Makino had fetched the village doctor when you hadn’t improved in several days and that’s when your pregnancy was revealed. Wedded to the notorious red haired pirate and now mother to said pirate’s child. You were nervous about how Shanks would take the news when he finally returned, yes he already had an adopted daughter in Uta, but having a baby while he was so busy was something you were afraid he wouldn’t accept. You also feared he’d leave you behind once more, only to never return leaving you alone to raise the child that he helped create. 

You kicked at the sand in frustration as the familiar ship didn’t part the horizon like you hoped. As the temperature began to drop as the sun sank lower you shivered, you decided to go back home. Your older more comfortable clothes no longer fit thanks to your large stomach so you had to make do with the flowing gowns Makino dredged up for you. With soup bubbling in the pot above the fire you dished some out and ate before deciding to just go ahead and sleep. You hadn’t been able to sleep much lately as the baby was beginning to grow more restless and keeping you awake for majority of the night with their squirming and moving. It didn’t take long for you to slip into dreamless sleep as the exhaustion was starting to get too much to bear.

Shanks knew that you wouldn’t be awake at this hour but he had pushed his crew to make it back to you tonight. He had been gone a lot longer than he intended, and while he knew you would understand he couldn’t help but still feel that pang of guilt deep inside. Since getting to know each other you both hadn’t left each other’s sides in so long. So leaving you alone without anyone there at all times of the day was a horrible feeling he never wanted to repeat. His bed in his captains' quarters had never been colder since he had to leave you behind. Now as his crew were about ready to drop he had them rush through docking the ship and making preparations to stay for at least a few days. He had much catching up to do with you and preparing you and all the supplies for an extra person tagging along once more.

 With the familiar boat docked in the bay he searched for you, it was late but he was sure that you would still be up looking for his return. When you didn’t show up rushing towards him with open arms Shanks gave his men free rein to do whatever they pleased (as he knew they wouldn’t take advantage of the good people of Foosha) he made his way towards the place he had bought you to stay. Upon the top of the cove he saw your place all dark and lifeless. He couldn’t stop the panic welling in his chest as horrible thoughts came to his mind. Surely you were okay? Shanks rushed in catching the door with his one hand before it could bang against the wall, while he was losing his mind he knew that there could still be the possibility that you were just sleeping. His worries eased as he saw the freshly dirty dishes and the smoldering fire in the hearth, but he wouldn’t be satisfied until he saw you. So to the bedroom he went where the sight that he beheld made him suck in a breath. There you laid, sleeping peacefully, warm blankets pulled to your chin. Though covered he could tell the difference in your form. Gone was the shape of the woman who was used to fighting, sailing, and climbing. Now you were round and soft and Shanks knew that the feelings that were rolling under the surface wasn’t just from seeing you for the first time in forever. 

It didn’t take a genius to realize that you were pregnant and heavily so. He sat on the edge of the bed not really wanting to wake you but having a hard time controlling his self. Reaching out with a calloused hand he brushed hair from your open mouth. Your face scrunched and you mumbled something he couldn’t make out, it made him chuckle. You immediately went into action, hand rushing to underneath your pillow, you pulled a dagger out holding it to his throat in a threatening motion.

“Who are you,” you snarled ready to slit your intruder’s throat.

“Hello to you too beautiful,” Shanks chuckled again and the dagger was dropped immediately.

“Shanks??”

“Yeah,” he sighed gathering you in his arm, “it’s me sweetheart.”

“Sorry that your first greeting back was a blade to your throat.”

“Not the worst greeting I’ve ever received,” he smiled cupping your cheek. “It’s good to know that you never lost those reflexes that you honed all those years sailing with me.”

“Well,” you pinched his cheek, “I can’t spoil my husband’s good name by being weak.”

“You’ve never been mistaken for weak and never will be. I’m the idiot who left you though in this condition.”

You hung your head ashamed, “We didn’t know. I’m sorry I didn’t send word to you. I was afraid you wouldn’t be happy.”

“How could I not be happy?! This is amazing and such a surprise. Who knew your sickness was just symptoms from being pregnant?”

“I’m sure the rocking boat didn’t help with the puking and bouts of nausea.”

“Yeah we rocked the boat ourselves on several occasions that’s what got you into this state in the first place,” the mischievousness in his gaze was not lost on you.

“Shaaaaaanks,” you whined punching his shoulder.

“Kidding,” he kissed you softly. “But not really, cause it is the truth.”

Moments passed by quietly as you just held one another basking in the presence that you both missed greatly. The sound of the ocean outside your little home bringing back so many memories over the years you both had spent on the high seas together. It was just a perfect moment that Shanks knew he had to interrupt, though he didn’t want to.

“Want to go see the crew,” he asked breaking the peace. “They’ve missed you almost as much as I have.”

Though your body was exhausted and you were embarrassed about how big you have grown, you couldn’t deny your red haired pirate or his lovable crew. “I need to change into something warmer and can you help me get there? The walk has been getting more difficult in my state.”

“You don’t even need to ask.”

Shanks held your hand tightly as he helped you down some of the steep slopes to the sandy beach below. While your little cove away had seemed so cold and lonely the last few months, this was the first time in awhile you enjoyed the walk with the warm hand squeezing yours with gentle pressure. Life without Shanks around was boring but mostly it was lonely. His warming presence was something you never really thought about until it wasn’t around. And whatever fear that had been pressing upon you, keeping you from enjoying watching your baby grow within you dissipated with his contagious grin. His ship came into view and you could see the guys buzzing back and forth taking care of the ship’s needs before theirs. You glared at your sheepish husband at seeing how exhausted his men were.

“I couldn’t help it,” he defended himself. “I was desperate to see you and so were they.”

“Treat them to a good meal tomorrow and some good ale,” you elbowed him.

“Yes ma’am,” he agreed wanting to stay in your good graces. As soon as the hard working crew spotted you with their captain a roaring cheer lifted into the night sky. You could have sworn the ship rocked even harder than the waves crashing against it with the excited men. You laughed using Shanks as a sturdy crutch as you waddled across the shifting sand. They tossed themselves overboard stampeding toward you and Shanks. Shanks pulled you protectively into his side bracing you behind him just in case his rambunctious men got out of control. But as soon as they saw your condition they skidded to a stop in awe. “Surprise,” you teased sheepishly. Silence passed before a loud roar sounded out and several sharp slaps to Shanks back left him staggering and his back stinging. Some of the men softly asked if they could touch their stomach, as they were remembering pregnant wives at one point in their lives. You agreed tears pricking at the corner of your eyes as they accepted you and the little one inside. It felt so good to have your husband and friends back and you couldn’t wait to get back onto the seas sailing with your family with a new addition in tow.

#Shanks X Reader #Shanks / Reader #Shanks #One Piece #Shanks Imagine #One Piece Imagine #Imagine #Not My Gif #My Writing

[happysadyoyo]

uh

this is another one of @pillowspace's au. may be taking some of my own spin on things but shhh

don't look at me

tw for mugging with a knife

It's well past dark when you leave work, waving goodbye to the security officer as you steel yourself for leaving the building. It's cold out, so you pull your hood up against the wind, tucking it tight around your throat. Yes, generally it's bad to cut down your visibility when you're walking alone at night, but also you're all but legally blind (mostly because you've not gone to the doctor since your last prescription stopped working). The hood makes the world seem a little less big while you march from work to home.

It's not a long walk, and it's one you're very familiar with, so it takes you a minute to realize when you're no longer alone. There's footsteps behind you, and as you slow down, you hear them slow down too. Odd. There's sometimes homeless people that hang around, but it's been getting colder and the cops swept the streets a couple nights ago anyway. Other than you, there's not many people hanging out in the business district. You want to reason this all away, but you fumble for that little can of pepper spray on your keychain anyway.

You'd barely pulled your hand free from your pocket before there's a tight grip on your shoulder, shoving you forward. You stumble and fall when the grip doesn't let up, crying out in dismay when your keys skip across the pavement. "No!"

"Shut up and give me your wallet. Now!" The mugger barks his orders at you, even as you try to feel for your keys. It had a reflector on it, just in case of a situation like this, but it's too dark here, the buildings hiding the moon overhead. You keep fumbling until a boot stomps on your fingers. "Are you fucking stupid? Wallet, now!"

"Sorry! I'm sorry. I don't have anything though, I swear." It's hard to find your wallet. Your hands are shaking, and the one that just got stomped is throbbing in time with your racing heart. You barely manage to pull the threadbare plastic leather bifold from your coat before it's snatched from your hand, your mugger ripping the rubberband holding it together off with a sharp snap.

"Bitch, what the hell is all this? There's no cash!"

"I told you! I don't have anythi---ng!" There's something very sharp pressed against your cheek all at once, and you freeze, jaw snapping shut. It's a knife, duh, sharp and cold from the night air. Your eyes feel hot in conrast, itchy, and you realize you're starting to cry.

"Hands up. And no funny business, or I'll use this." The knife digs into your skin, and you shakily lift your hands, flinching when he starts patting you down, clearly searching for any valuables. There's nothing, because of course there's not! You're smart enough to know not to lie if someone is threatening you like this! But when his hand slips inside your coat, you let out a choked up sob.

"Jesus, chill, no one would want to do anything with you. Fucking loser." He's frustrated, shoving you to the ground with his foot. You stay there, biting your lip so hard you can taste blood. But at least he seems to be done with you. "You tell anyone what just happened and I'll kill you." You don't reply, don't think you can. But it's enough. After an eternity, you hear him leave.

The breath you let out is a wretched thing, somewhere between a sob and a gasp, snot and phlegm caught in your throat turning it into a rattling sound. You roll onto your knees, burying your face in the arms of your coat as you let out a series of deep, dry sobs. It takes an eternity to calm down enough to move, your body stiff as you feel for your things. Your wallet was, to put it mildly, destroyed, and the tears continue unabated as you realize your cards are gone -- the gift card from work, the snap access card, and your debit card. You'll have to cancel the latter two, but there's no cash at home. No food either. You were going to grocery shop after your shift at the library.

Your keys had somehow made it to the curb, and your curl your fingers around the pepper spray like it's a talisman. Standing takes more effort, and you use the curb to sort of propel yourself up. Your balance remains shaky, and your nose hurts now from crying in the cold, and you definitely still taste blood. You try to tell yourself you're lucky you didn't get hurt (worse, you add, as your fingers and cheek throb), but that falls flat.

You force yourself forward, to get home. To your little apartment with your little brother, to let the sitter finally go home.

Fuck, you hope she'll let you pay through paypal tonight.

#human disguise au #uhhh #this one has no dca in it rn #but there will be #I just #um #things are really hard right now and it's easier to write for someone else's au than it is to think #about my own shit #anyway my big thoughts for this au include #y/n has custody of their little brother after some shit went down with their parents #they work as a janitor downtown but it means they work overnights a lot #they also keep their job as a library clerk and are shockingly good at it despite being legally blind #there's more but I should probably sleep #if the anxiety will let me

[bluestar22x]

Lost And Found

The Outcast - Part 1: Lost And Found

Summary: You stumble upon a man at death's door.

Pairing: Pero Tovar x F!Reader

Rating: 13+ (eventually 18+)

Word Count: 2,700 (ish)

Warnings: Fowl language, pov changes

Author’s Note: This one just popped into my head out of nowhere. I have so much writing for other fics that I should be doing instead, but my mind had to make this up. It'll be a short series, but how many parts it will have, I have no idea yet.

xxx

Pero Tovar had never felt colder in his life. Though he was bundled in a winter coat and wearing its hood, the chill had still managed to seep down into his bones and numb every bit of his body. It had not mattered whether the skin was exposed or not. His wool lined boots had done little to prevent his toes from freezing up after the first six hours.

They were probably frostbitten by this point, he thought dimly, but was too far gone to be properly concerned. He had to focus just to stay mounted on his horse as he slumped forward over his thick neck, gloved hands weakly entwined in the stallion's long black mane as he trudged slowly through the deep snow. It had been at least a day since they'd fled the town, still snow continued to fall blindingly fast and the wind continued to howl.

It was all William's fault, Pero thought bitterly. He was the reason why he was going to freeze to death in a snowstorm instead of dying on a battlefield or at least in a cozy bed. If only he'd stolen the black powder so they could retire. If only William hadn't finally abandoned him for some pretty damsel on the coast, tired of living only for profit, the next fight.

They'd parted on good terms, he'd even encouraged him, but fuck that bastard for listening. They were supposed to be a team. Brothers even.

If William had been with him when he entered the nearby town they could've taken them, the group of soldiers who had attacked him upon recognition. He'd fought for their enemy, and him being a hired swordsman did not matter. They'd wanted him dead for having killed friends of theirs. When he'd realized he would be no match for their sheer numbers, he'd been forced to flee the town and head for the mountains. He knew how to traverse such landscapes, but the area was new to him, and with the added lack of visibility during the storm he eventually realized that while he'd escaped the soldiers, he'd simply traded one bad situation for another.

Lost. He was utterly lost. And he had nothing on him to start a fire, not having planned to camp out in the forest at this time of year.

Without a way to start a fire and no shelter in sight, he didn't dare stop moving, knowing that if he did his number would likely be up soon after. As long as he was in the saddle, conscious, he was alive. As long as he was alive, there was hope.

As night approached for a second time real fear started to creep into the back of his mind, the reality of his situation grim. Deep down he sensed that if he did not find shelter quickly, he would not see dawn.

He desperately scanned his surroundings for any place to hide in. A cave, a valley with natural barriers to keep the wind out, an abandoned cottage or barn. Anything at all would've been better than wandering through the storm.

But he could barely see more than a few feet in any direction, and all of what he saw was barren besides the accumulating snow and a few shady things that might've been trees in the distance. Trees that were far too spaced apart to be of any use.

His eyes were getting dangerously heavy, sleep threatening to take him without his consent, but he bared his teeth and shook his head in retaliation.

"You will not die here tonight," he growled to himself with all the determination he could muster up. His teeth clacked together, his body quaked like the ground below did on occasion in the southern lands, but he pressed on.

He lasted what was likely only a couple more hours before he stopped shivering, a bad sign he knew, and then his mind blessedly blanked. He became completely dazed, staring out at nothing, feeling nothing, with no final words to speak. Not that anyone would've heard them anyway. He was at his end, and nobody would know when he took his last breath.

Not even himself.

x

It had always fascinated you, how fast mother nature's mood could change. One minute she raged, the wind ravaged, and the snow fell seemingly endlessly, and the next she found her peace, letting the sun rise and the wind deaden.

There were still flurries that early morning, on and off, and the air was still frigid, but that did not deter you from setting out bareback on Clover, your blood bay mare that had a white head marking shaped similarly to the plant that was her namesake. You'd decided you needed more meat to store away for the long winter ahead, especially with how ferocious this last storm had been. It was only the beginning and your gut told you it would only get worst.

Clover was still quite young, barely an adult, but calm for her age. She moved quietly through the forest near your cottage as you peered between trees and glanced at the ground below for any signs of wildlife, bow in hand.

You had to rely on your sight that day since the deep snow would mute most of the typical sounds wildlife made. At least any tracks you found would be guaranteed fresh, you mused.

For three hours Clover plodded through the woods as you scanned the surrounding area with no luck. You knew there were plenty of wildlife in the area, even in winter, but for whatever reason they were apparently extra wary and well hidden that day. Maybe because the snow was so deep and fresh. You doubted if even the rabbits could move around without sinking into it.

You didn't want to turn back, but you were starting to go numb, and rather than losing a few fingers and toes you decided it best to head home early to warm up by the fire. You'd have other days to hunt, and even if you didn't you could probably survive all winter on the vegetables and berries you'd harvested in the autumn and the leftover meat from your last deer hunt if you were careful about your portions. At least that was what you'd told yourself to ease your mind of anxiety.

You decided to take a short cut home through the meadow that broke up the forest, not far away from the cliff edge of the mountainside you lived on. You wouldn't dare travel through that section when it was snowing, but on a clear day there was no chance Clover would get close enough to the deadly drop to put you both in peril so you went for it.

When you and Clover entered the meadow, you spotted a muscular black horse in the distance, standing in the middle of the area like it was on guard, but you could see no other horses nearby for it to protect.

As you neared him, you realized the horse was tacked up with a saddle and bridle, so he couldn't be a domestic horse gone wild as you'd first assumed.

Where was his rider? You thought with concern. The nearest town was a day's ride away on a good day. Had someone dared to attempt to travel through the mountains during the storm? Or had this horse been running around with tack on for a long time?

Your questions were answered when you got within several yards of him and noticed the body by his feet. You halted Clover, stunned.

He was a man, or had been, you could tell. Though he was half buried in the snow and hooded, you could still see part of his masculine face and the long scar that marked the skin above and below his left eye. He was on his back, eyes shut, cheeks reddened from windburn, and he was as still as the dead, so you assumed he was.

You hopped off Clover's back and approached his mount cautiously, not wanting to startle the horse away. You couldn't afford to feed another horse through the winter, but you could at the very least rid him of his tack and leave him with better survival odds than when you'd found him. A horse as loyal as him, as one who stuck by his rider's side when they fell off, deserved at least a chance.

The stallion snorted and stared at you with concerned dark eyes when you were near enough to touch him, and shivered when you ran a hand over his neck, but did not flee.

"Easy, boy," you whispered, trying to soothe him with your voice and touch. "I'm just here to help."

He stomped his front feet and backed away from you, circling around to nuzzle the back of his rider's head.

Your heart ached for him. You imagined all he wanted was for him to get up, for them to continue their travels together.

"I'm sorry I was too late to save him," you said remorsefully - right before a quiet groan slipped from the man's mouth.

You jumped in surprise, and your eyes widened. Had you just imagined that? No. You could see it then, as you stared at the man, the shallow breath he took before you.

You gasped and fell to your knees. "You're alive! Holy shit. Can you speak?" You shook the man's shoulders, but he did not respond, and it became clear to you then that though he was still breathing, he was not conscious at all of his surroundings.

You chewed on your lip, pondering what to do. He likely would not survive without intervention, and you knew no one else would come along, but you were still hesitant to take action. It's not that you hated men, but rather that you didn't trust them. You weren't sure it was wise to bring him to your cottage to warm him up and treat whatever ailments the cold had given him. But what other choice did you have that you could live with? Besides, he would be in no shape to harm you when he first woke up, if he ever did.

You also didn't like the idea of waking up to a dead stranger on your floor.

"Hell," you grumbled. Despite your apprehension, there was no way you were going to leave this man to die. You had a thing for saving the needy. Your heart too soft for the world's evils. It was largely the reason why you lived alone.

You brushed some snow off the man and threw your coat over his torso. "I'll be right back," you promised him, springing to your feet and climbing back onto Clover, immediately kicking her into a canter, the fastest speed she could manage in the snow, as fluffy as it was.

As soon as you arrived at your cottage you hooked her up to the small sled you owned, a bunch of strong branches tied together that you used to drag dead deer and firewood to the cottage. You figured it should hold up long enough to drag the man back to safety.

It took far longer than you liked to return to him, but luckily he did not seem in a state any worst than he had been before you'd left.

After you arrived came the hard part. You were a strong woman, thicker than most, and fit, biceps better toned than some men you'd seen go to war, but the man was broad shouldered and he was wearing armor and weapons under his winter coat that caused him weigh as much as a prized buck, so it took a good amount of effort to tug his dead weight onto the homemade sled. You managed, but on your way back home with him in tow behind Clover and his stallion trotting alongside you both, you wondered how you were going to get him indoors.

It took time, but inch by inch your were able to pull him into your cottage and lay him down to rest in front of the fireplace in the main living area. You wanted to sit down next to him and catch your breath, but you knew time was of the essence. You started a fire and loaded as much wood as you could fit into the space. You then stripped the man of his armor and all his weapons (two swords and a few knives) before finally ridding him of his wet clothes, leaving him stark naked.

You tried not to think inappropriately about his handsome face, his muscular and lean body, and his endowment as you examined him, searching for any possible damage. You decided in the end that he was lucky. Besides old scars that littered his body and some bruising along his abdomen that you knew couldn't be from exposure, he didn't appear to be too hurt physically. He'd managed to escape severe frostbite by some miracle, though his face was going to be angrily red for a while.

Maybe he had a good shot at surviving after all. Then what would you do? Logically send him away as soon as spring arrived, earlier if the snow in the passage melted. If you didn't have to kill him first. You'd defend yourself if you had to, but you were hoping it wouldn't get to that point. You had managed to avoid killing people all your life, and you didn't want to start. Especially with someone you'd put an effort into saving.

You covered him with fur lined blankets, placed one under his head, and tried to get him to drink water, only managing to wet his lips before you gave up and left to tend to the horses outside. You untacked Clover and the black stallion before sending them into separate pastures, Clover with her mother, Meadow, and the stallion alone. After they were settled in you spread out hay for the horses and carried the tack into the barn where you kept the feed for the horses and the goats you raised for milk. The little mischievous black and white creatures, all ten of them, were housed together in a paddock behind the barn for the winter. You fed them too before returning to check on the man.

He was still unconscious, but actively shivering. Progress. You set out his clothes to dry then watched him as you ate a meal of deer meat and berries, sympathy making your stomach flip. You couldn't imagine how much it would suck coming back from nearly freezing to death. It would be better than being dead, you figured, but you'd still hate it, and he still looked so cold.

Taking pity on him, you stood from the chair at your dining table and slipped under the fur blankets, hugging his side closely. It was awkward, being that close to a naked stranger, but facts were facts. Body heat would help him. Besides, you were clothed, so there really wasn't a reason to think of it too weirdly. Or to have any wild thoughts.

As he warmed up and once more stopped shaking, you relaxed a bit, letting your mind wander off away from your initial thoughts of how strange the situation was to how nice it was not to be alone in your home for once, even though present company couldn't talk back and smelled like his horse - which honestly wasn't so bad. He must have bathed not long before his misadventure, you thought.

Your mind eventually dove into the past. You remembered how you'd shared a bed with your older sister when you were little since your parents were too poor to get you separate ones and then how you'd shared a bed with your childhood sweetheart when you'd both turned sixteen and had slipped away to a local tavern to explore each other's bodies, social rules be damned.

You hadn't shared a house, let alone a bed of any sort, with anyone for any reason since, and that made a shockingly long time. Almost embarrassingly when you thought about the romantic aspect of it, until you remembered why you were so isolated and the shame melted away as quickly as it had sneaked in.

You glanced up at the man's face as he began to mumble in his sleep, words unintelligible, his chapped lips twitching under a well kept mustache. You wanted to touch those fine lips and the short, narrow beard that lined his jaw, but you resisted, instead laying your head against his shoulder.

You didn't notice that you were dozing off until sleep had already won.

xxx

Tagged: @harriedandharassed

xxx

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

xxx

#The Great Wall Fanfic #Pero Fanfic (Mine) #X Reader #The Outcast Series

[itsscromp]

Hello! Since you asked for a Rocket Raccoon request im here to deliver!

I'm wondering but since it's getting chilly and the winter season is starting I'd love to see how Rocket would interact with the chilly weather? That and perhaps if he'd be a fan of hot chocolate and snuggly warm fires?

Much thanks!(⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

Winter time

Awww, this is super cute. I would love to think rocket loves the winter time. Word count:693

Christmas rolled around again on terra and your dad had invited you and the guardians to spend christmas with him. You were super excited to see you dad again after many months. Rocket couldn't help but chuckle seeing your enthusiasm.

"Bit excited are we pal ??" He folded his arms and smirked.

"Yeah, God it's been forever since i last saw him, and it's christmas too so it'll make it even more exciting. You guys get to celebrate it, run around in the snow, snuggle up by the fire, drink hot cocoa..."

"Woah up, woah up. Now you know me y/n I ain't accustomed to some Terran scut, but what the flark is snow ??" He asked as he walked beside you.

"So... Imagine rain yeah ?? But it's like really thin and frozen so it falls gently" You explained in the best sense possible.

"Hmmm... I think I get it." He said as he then sat down in the cockpit of the Milano.

"You'll see when we get their" You smiled as the other guardians set course for Terra.

You told your dad you were on your way and told him to meet at a rural part of town so the ship could dock and be hidden safely, Hyper jumping to terra and entering the atmosphere, the temperature of the ship dropped slightly on the inside.

"Flark how did it get so cold !!??" Rocket shivered and rubbed his arms trying to warm up.

"Because it's cold outside rocket, It's winter in this time of year." Landing on the ground, you could see your dad waving as he saw you.

Rushing out of the ship, you ran into his arms with excitement. "Dad !!!" You smiled, hugging him tightly.

"Oh hey, kiddo !!" He hugged you even tighter and gently kissed your forehead.

"You remember the others ??" You turned, pointing to the others.

"I do, It's nice to see all of you again" He smiled at all of them. "How you doing Mr l/n" Rocket waved at him.

"Come on, I got rooms set up for you all."

After much struggle to keep the guardians hidden, you all arrived at the house with minimal detection and were in the nice warmth of inside.

"Ahh, it's much better than out their" Rocket was relieved that it was nice and warm inside.

"I am Groot" (But you have fur, shouldn't you be warm ??) Groot spoke up.

"Look I don't know ok. I just get colder"

"Well your inside now buddy, so yeah" You smiled, taking off your jacket.

Rocket then saw the fire place, His eyes were glowing from looking at it, it looked very inviting.

"Careful not to burn yourself" You giggled.

"I ain't that stupid" He snarked playfully.

Settling in, Rocket stayed close to the fire, feeling all snug and warm. his thoughts were broken by the feeling of being wrapped into a blanket and someone sitting next to him.

"Hey pal" he smiled softly up at you.

"Hot cocoa ??'" You offered him his cup, He gently sniffed it before hesitantly taking a sip, You could see a sparkle in his eyes when the taste hit his mouth as he took another sip. "We need to get a good supply of this stuff before were head back"

"I think I can arrange something." You chuckled.

"The fire is nice... It's kinda cozy." He said as he looked back at the fire.

"Yeah... It's one of my favourite things to do with dad during Christmas or just winter in general. Snuggle up by the fire and drink hot cocoa." You smiled as you took a sip of your drink.

Rocket softly smiled and then scooted closer to your side, snuggling up to you, You responded by wrapping your arm around his side and held him close.

"Maybe tomorrow I'll teach you how to build a snow man ??" You looked at him.

"Wait you can build people out of snow ??" He looked up at you confused. Making you laugh.

This was going to be the best Christmas ever, spending it with your best friend in the whole damn galaxy.

A/N: this is definitely getting a part 2

@callofdudes @fun-k-board

#platonic #reader insert #rocket raccoon #rocket raccoon x reader #rocket gotg #gotg rocket #rocket imagine #guardians of the galaxy imagine #guardians of the galaxy

[ofduskanddreams]

A Sunshiny Sound

For @thelovelymadone. The prompt: Regency Elucien, “Is it really that hard for you to admit that I’m clever?” “Yes.”

Elucien ✦ Rated: G ✦ 852 words ✦ on AO3

“Is it really that hard for you to admit that I’m clever?” Lucien’s drawn-out taunt sends a shiver down Elain’s spine.

Rolling her shoulders back, Elain doesn’t let her mind stick on the fact that he is half a step away from crowding her against the bookshelves lining the modest library, doesn’t let herself linger on the warmth she feels rolling off of him from here. She doesn’t know how they went from having tea to this, but Elain can’t say she minds.

“Yes,” she turns to face him, fingers curling into the folds of her dress. “Yes, it is difficult, sir, for me to admit a thing I believe to be false. I prefer truths.”

“Of course, Miss Archeron.” Lucien smirks, failing to ameliorate his smugness though he attempts a differential nod, silky red hair slipping over the shoulder of his jacket. “Do enlighten me. What truths have you gathered about my character, then? I would very much like to hear them.”

Of course you would. Elain’s lips twitch into a smile but she flattens them immediately.

Lucien Vanserra, youngest brother of Lord Vanserra, occupant of Oakbridge House (the neighboring estate to Elain’s family home,) and her chief tormentor for the past sixteen years. She can still recall the day they met: Elain, age five, wandering through the fields beyond the western paddock when she’d found Lucien, age six, crouching in the grass. 

She’d surprised him—sent him sprawling across the ground and muddying his already dusty trousers—only to be lectured by this strange boy with overly bright hair dangling in his eyes on the finer points of hide-and-seek. It had been the start of an unlikely friendship, one that had weathered the fall of her father’s company and the tarnish on her family’s name despite Elain’s insistence that he keep away from her to avoid becoming the focus of any unwelcome speculations.

“Mr. Vanserra, I wasn’t aware that you were going fishing today,” Elain now allows herself to grin at the confused furrow between his brows. “Unfortunately, I believe you’ll find this particular source severely lacking in her stock of compliments.”

The words leave her without thought, and Elain wishes she could claw them back from the dust mote scattered space between them. She hasn’t seen Lucien since the late Lord Vanserra’s funeral last autumn; he's spent the last eight months in London with only a handful of letters exchanged between them. Elain had believed the dwindling communication signified the end of their friendship. It’s a thought that has kept her up on countless nights, a thought like a blade to her heart. Because her true feelings toward Lucien Vanserra extend past the point of mere friendship.

You just had to say what was on your mind, didn’t you? Elain chides herself. He’s not the boy you grew up with anymore, he is a man—a respectable gentleman of high standing.

“Forgive me—” Elain starts to apologize for the ill-mannered jab, but is cut off by a bright burst of laughter emanating from Lucien’s chest and filling the empty room with sunshiny sound.

“Please do not apologize, Miss Archeron.” Lucien manages to get the words out as he tries to catch his breath.

Elain’s breath is nowhere to be found, it’s been stolen by the expression of unmitigated joy on this man’s painfully handsome face.

“Bollocks,” Lucien whispers to himself, bracing a palm over his heaving chest.

She knows he didn’t mean for her to hear the expletive, but it’s all Elain can do to keep from laughing. It’s as if the boy he was is peeking through the polished gentleman veneer. The library, usually one of the colder rooms in the house, suddenly feels too warm.

“Please forgive my outburst. I haven’t laughed like that in a long while.” He pauses, russet eyes searching her face which Elain knows is flushed beneath his gaze. “I admit that I’ve forgotten my purpose for calling this afternoon,” he says after a time, looking slightly dazed. 

It’s then that Elain feels the burning in her cheeks—the unfamiliar but recognizable sensation of a wide smile held unconsciously for too long. She wills her expression back to a respectable placidity.

Lucien’s lips turn down in a pensive frown, his eyes are fixed on her lips and Elain’s breaths come shallowly. “I missed you,” he finally says. The admission is soft, like he isn’t sure whether he wants her to hear him. Then his expression brightens. “I called today because I am moving back to Oakbridge, permanently. I…” Lucien trails off, a dark flush blossoming high on his tawny cheeks. He clears his throat. “I wanted to see how you were, and to inquire as to whether I may call upon you regularly?”

Oh. There is no mistaking the intention between his words. Elain’s heart thuds heavily against her ribcage as if trying to escape her. Hope, a flame that had been nearly extinguished over the past year, flares back to life inside her. 

“You may,” Elain tells him, grateful that her voice doesn’t waver and allowing herself a softer smile. “I would enjoy that very much.”

✦ ✦ ✦

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#elucien #elucien fanfiction #elucien fanfic #pro elucien #regency elucien #elain x lucien #lucien x elain #elain archeron #pro elain archeron #lucien vanserra #pro lucien vanserra #acotar fanfiction #acotar drabble #kate's celebratory drabbles series

[wardenparker]

Sassenach and the Spaniard - ch 5

Pero Tovar x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Delirious with sickness and near to death, Pero Tovar finds himself on the doorstep of a village outsider who nurses him back to health just before the winter snows descend. With a black cat for company, a mask on her face, and a biting wit that intrigues him, Pero comes to find out that his new companion is more than what she seems.  ✨  Inspired and influenced by Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander series. ✨ Reader is described as disabled and having hair long enough to cover part of her face.

Rating: Explicit!  Word Count: 15k Warnings: **Blanket warnings for this fic include cursing, food mentions, references to previous sexual assault (multiple characters).** Masturbation (m and f), accidental exhibitionism, nudity, hair pulling, oral sex (m and f receiving), fingering, biting, vaginal sex, unprotected sex. Confessions! And a little something at the end that I won’t spoil 👀✨ Summary: A heavy storm locks you inside the cabin with Pero, but there is no shortage of pleasurable ways with which you can pass the time. Notes: Thanks to everyone for your kind words last week, I’m feeling much better and powering ahead in life and in creativity. Remember how we said last chapter that it was about the yearning and the tension? Well, the wait did *not* last long!

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4

Finding sleep is difficult with so much on your mind, but the old trick of basically lying still with your eyes closed and pretending to be asleep until you actually get there usually works for you, so you've been lying in bed under two blankets and the new hide trying desperately to fall asleep for what is probably an hour by now. It's much colder tonight than it has been and the snow is coming in sheets outside. The wind whips but doesn't come through the cracks in the window quite as much since Pero stuffed the open spaces with moss last week, but even thinking his name makes you wish you could just fall asleep already. He's barely four feet away in front of the fire and he's still all you can think about. If only you could just drift off...

You have been quiet for a long time, surely you must be asleep. Pero has lain quietly, willing you to sleep so he can take care of the incredible need he has. Since the conversations he had earlier, all he can think about is you – under him, taking him. Quietly, he reaches under the blankets you provided and unlaces his breaches and pulling his throbbing cock out, a small groan escaping his lips.

You barely manage to keep your eyes from popping open when you hear it, instead squeezing them even more tightly shut. That sound is unmistakable, but you can't believe you're hearing it in this space. Is he...? You swallow the lump in your throat and stay silent as the grave so as not to let him know that you're awake. Whatever does or does not happen between you, you don't need the awkwardness of him finding out that you have heard him.

He wants it wetter, imagining your cunt around his cock. you are still quiet and so he lets go of his cock, reach up so he can spit in his hand. Hissing when he wraps his hand around his cock again, he starts stroking himself a bit more eagerly.

Hearing him spit in his hand nearly makes you groan. Honest desire is about the sexiest thing in the world and the slick sound of his hand around his cock is going straight to your cunt as you listen with your eyes tightly closed.

It the low light of the night, the embers barely making a shadow over the walls. Soon he will have to build it back up, but for now, in the relative darkness – he whispers your name. Not Sassenach, the one you had murmured to him only once before. The one he had tucked into his heart and committed to memory the moment he discovered it was your scar that he bore. He whispers it to the dark as he works his hand up and down his length.

Did he just? Your eyes snap open but thankfully you’re facing away - facing the wall to be precise - and he can’t see your face. He’s thinking about you while he jerks off? Holy fucking shit…

He continues to work himself, thinking about the things that both drive him crazy and delights him about you. Which seems to be every damn thing that you do. Imagining using his mouth on you like you had talked about and hearing you cry out his name in your sweet voice... Pero groans your name again, closing his eyes.

The sounds he makes. God you could die a happy, horny woman in this moment. Instead of dying, though, you mentally throw up your hands and allow yourself to revel in it – snaking your own hand silently down to your now aching pussy. Dipping your fingertips in your dripping hole gets them plenty slick enough to rub your clit in time with the sound of his self-pleasure.

It's wrong, so very wrong. To be jerking off on your floor while he murmurs your name after you have given him a place to stay. Offered him a life that he still couldn't imagine. Still he cannot stop, rocking his hips up into his hand, hisses as he tightens his grip.

Not a sound comes from your bed even as your mouth hangs open, fingers rubbing your clit almost feverishly as he ramps up his own efforts on himself. There isn’t a hint of guilt, since you know he’s thinking of you, but there is a nagging and intense curiosity. You’re desperate to know what he feels like now that you know how he sounds.

“Mierda.” He grunts quietly, the pressure building, and he feels way that his balls are pulling up tight to his body. The scrap of a cloth he had snatched from your sewing basket is what he uses, covering his cock while he spurts ropes of cum into it. Moaning quietly through gritted teeth.

Listening to him moan and grunt through his end is gorgeous. It makes your whole body clench in the best way and just a second later your own orgasm is heralded by a tightness and tingling in your core right before the floodgates open. The blood in your ears is pounding so hard that you don’t hear the way you choke on your breath slightly – the only sound to slip past your lips.

Pero freezes, his ears straining to hear any other sounds from your bed. Praying to God that you have not woken up and heard him.

Sleep is nearly instantaneous and so wonderfully sweet that you barely pull your fingers from between your thighs before drifting off. All you can hope is that your dreams will be more of the same.

The soft snore that comes from you makes him relax. Cleaning himself up quickly, he tucks his cock as and crawls over to the wood to put more on the coals. The temperature has dropped and still plunging lower, he wants to make sure you are warm.

******

You wake up before he does in the morning, sneaking around to stoke the fire against the dip the temperature took last night and getting the morning pot of porridge on the fire before going into your stores to find the last of the fresh rosemary that has not quite dried yet. The strong scent will mask the smell of cum on your fingers until you can have a proper bath and wash everything away.

He groans quietly, burrowed into his blanket and curled in on himself. It had gotten cold last night, but he didn’t want to burn too much wood, so he had just toughed it out.

Feeling a little too affectionately toward him to tease this morning, you let Pero wake in his own time. When he is finally starting to sit up breakfast is almost ready, and you have been sitting and petting Binx since almost the second you got dressed. The storm is still raging – there will be no walks or leisure outside at all today.

“Mierda.” Pero hisses with a shiver as he climbs to his feet and moves towards the fire. “It has gotten cold.” He huffs.

“We have nothing to do but stay inside today,” you tell him, motioning toward the cottage’s few windows. “The snow is fierce and heavy.”

“That is good for us.��� He insists. “We will melt the snow for the bath. And since there is nothing to do, you can linger as long as you like.”

“You could have one too, if you wanted.” The part of you that touched yourself to the sounds of his self-pleasure wants to offer to share the bath, or maybe throw your legs open in the water and let him watch how you touch yourself. Anything to find out if last night was sincere or just a fluke.

"I will bathe after you do." It's practical, using the same water. And it's not intimate, at least it wasn't before now. He has had to share water in public bath houses many times. Right now, though, even if he had jerked off just hours ago before he slept, his cock twitches at the thought of your naked body soft and wet.

“Good then.” What else is there really to say? You have a near-perfect visual in your head for how he will look in the bath since you stripped and washed him while he was sick. You may not remember the exact shade of golden skin that lies under his clothing, but you certainly remember how thick his cock is.

The tension that was there yesterday is still hanging in the air. He can’t quite put his finger on it, but it’s there. Heavy and thick. He groans again, stretching the sleep away from his limbs as he tries to tell himself that he’s imagining things.

Don’t react to that sound, you tell yourself sternly, but end up biting your lip despite yourself. Today is going to be just impossible – all because he doesn’t know that you want to drag him into your bed and show him exactly how good things can be.

Pero relaxes slightly and hums. “As the snow builds, the cottage will be more insulated.” He offers, shivering slightly. “But the next two days are going to be bitterly cold.”

“We will do what we must.” The fleeting thought of having him in your bed crashes through your mind again, but you tamp it down as best as you can. “Snow can be made into hot drinks as much as we need.”

“It will be made into your bath.” He reminds you. “I will collect it to get to the horse and your chicken.”

“I will be a much better smelling companion in a little while’s time,” you joke, trying to stop your mind from immediately making every single thing he says into something suggestive. The thought of washing your hair, though? That does make you sigh happily.

“You are always sweet smelling.” Pero blurts out before he can even think to stop himself. The scent of sweet herbs clings to you as well as something he can’t quite identify. It had driven him crazy over the weeks and he wants to burrow his nose against your skin and drink your scent in until it’s etched into his memory.

“You flatter me.” And because of that you really just can’t make goddamn eye contact with him this morning. It’s not knowing that he jerked off thinking about you that makes you shy, of course not. It’s the same damn compliment you would get for using literally any Bath & Body Works product.

“I tell the truth.” He huffs, rolling his eyes slightly. “Used to smelling sweaty men and horse shit.” He grins. “You smell like flowers and something spicy.”

“The truth can still be flattery.” You point out, trying not to look too pleased. The soap blend you use is one that you made yourself to avoid the horrible lye soaps of the time. “Come…we should break our fast.”

Nodding, he follows you over to the table and sits down. He watches when you lean over to spoon up the porridge. "You should tie your hair back." He murmurs. "It will be easier for you."

“I—” Keeping your hair over your eye has been habit the entire time he has been with you, even while you wore the mask. The idea of protecting him from being forced to look at your shared scar had dug into your mind very deeply. “I will wear the mask, then,” you murmur, setting the pot down on the table.

"Why?" He doesn't know why you are hiding from him, but he knows that is what you are doing. Reaching out when you go to move away, he captures your hand gently and tugs you back. "Why do you hide yourself?"

Claiming that you aren’t would be a fairly useless lie, and you end up sighing quietly. “It is bad enough that I have forced you to live with this,” you say finally, motioning to your useless eye and the scar across it. “I would not force you to look on it day and night.”

Pero scoffs, rolling his eyes and tugging on your hand again to have you look at him as he stands. Reaching up, he brushes your hair back and his thumb traces the bottom of the scar gently, feeling the mottled skin that is echoed on his own face. "Mirar a una mujer hermosa no es una dificultad." Looking at a beautiful woman is not a difficulty He murmurs in his own tongue. "It is a mark of courage and will to survive."

You really could just fucking break down and cry right there, but yesterday was full of too many tears and he didn’t seem to react well to them, so you hang on to composure with all of your might despite the riotous way your heart is beating. A small nod against his hand is the best gesture you can offer that doesn’t seem overactive, but it’s also not big enough. Not enough to say thank you for the permission to just exist that he has given you which you never give yourself. For something ‘big enough’, your body seems to act all on its own – leaning forward to press a kiss to his marred cheek before you can stop yourself.

For a man who has lived through what he has, seen what he has, he's stunned. Rooted to the spot right where he stands by a simple kiss. Especially since he has had much more involved ones with you. This one is one of thanks, for what he doesn't know, but it makes him burn. He stands there for a long moment before he turns and moves over to the table where he had been working on the hides, picking up a leather string to give to you. To tie your hair back. "Show your strength proudly, hermosa."

******

The morning moves easily after that. The tension between you doesn’t rise but it never dissipates, smiles and flirtatious remarks punctuating your time together instead of loaded sexual comments. He calls you hermosa twice more and you swear you could melt, feeling like you’ve hit schoolgirl crush levels of giddiness without trying.

When Pero opens the door, the snow is knee high. Making him click his tongue and huff as he grabs the buckets you have. It will be difficult to break the path between the cottage and the barn, but it is better to do it now than when the snow is higher. "Get your kettle ready.” He warns as he looks over his shoulder.

“We can fill the cauldron as well.” The suggestion almost makes you grin. Even after years, you still love the aesthetic of brewing in a cauldron. “You can see your bruja at work.”

He huffs and shakes his head. "If you can turn water into wine, I will get on my knees for you." He teases as he closes the door.

“Guess I should try.” Grinning at the closed door, you shake your head as you move around the cottage. “It might be worth it.”

Bucket after bucket is brought back into the cottage as he works. Gathering several at a time before he opens the door, knowing that every time he is letting more cold into the room. Although the fire is roaring, he does not wish for you to be more uncomfortable than you need to be, finding the buckets empty when he goes to trade them as you start to fill your kettle and cauldron with the quickly melting snow.

The bathtub is much larger than it looks, you find quickly. Every cauldron of water that heats to steaming is poured in so that the great, heavy pot can be refilled with snow, and you find yourself longing for a bubble bath with a glass of scotch and a romance novel before the thing is half full. It will feel like heaven to be clean again – truly clean – and you’re so grateful that he was able to catch that second deer. To trade it for something as luxurious as a bathtub is extravagant, but fuck is it going to feel good. Some dried flower buds go in, perfuming the water with scents that would not taste good but smell wonderful, and you sigh happily. This might be the first snowstorm you’ve enjoyed in years.

Pero pants, working in the snow as he finally reaches the barn. He is sweating, can feel the heat warm his body even as the extremities are colder. He will check on the animals and gather more wood to bring inside along with the snow. Eager to sit in a hot bath with the fire roaring and even more, he would like to catch a glimpse of you at your bath.

******

It’s almost another hour before Pero returns, and you had decided that undressing and getting into the bath before he returned would be gentler to both of you than having to shield him from a striptease inside the small cottage. The clean set of clothes from your trunk is laid out in the edge of your bed and Binx is snoozing away in the spot of winter sun illuminating your worktable, making the whole place quite tranquil when he opens the door one last time to come back inside for good.

Bare shoulders are the first thing that he sees when he walks into the cottage, immediately making his eyes widen before he realizes he should look away. That he should give you privacy. It makes him turn his back slowly, dragging his gaze away as he slides the bar back down over the door. While he did not worry about man bursting in, the wind could blow the door open and send icy snow inside, so it was best to have it barricaded.

“How are the animals?” Treating it as conversationally as if you were sitting doing any random chore, you take the wash rag – a new one, you couldn’t find your old one with your sewing things – from the side of the tub and begin to wash your legs under the water.

"They are fine, I broke the ice on the water trough and made sure there was plenty of hay." He chuckles. "Your hen was sitting on the horse's back." He moves towards the bedding that had been moved so the tub could sit in the warmest spot.

“Karen is fond of softness and warmth.” It’s the dumbest possible name for a hen, but the plume on the bird’s head had reminded you of the infamous Karen haircut and it made you laugh to scold the creature when she clucked at you as if you could possibly have a manager. “I will not take much longer. And there is a new cauldron of snow heating to make your bath hot.”

"Take your time." Pero insists. "I am not in a rush. Linger and enjoy it." He can hear the splashing and imagines your wet form, closing his eyes slightly as he tries to determine what your tits would look like bare. "It is a long day and we have all of it."

“Some of the salted venison is in a bowl of snow to become dinner tonight,” you tell him, still going about washing yourself fairly efficiently despite being told to take your time. “I thought to roast it in a way you might not have eaten before. You may like it, since you like spice.” It isn’t as though you’re trying to seduce him with a romantic meal – something that seems both unnecessary and a little odd under the circumstances – but you wanted to do something nice for him since he worked hard to get you this tub. “A year ago a merchant from Calabria came through with foods from his homeland and he had spicy peppers with him, so I bought as many as I possibly could. There are still a few left.”

Pero grunts and practically licks his lips at the prospect of a spicy meal. "I am sure it will be warming." He has to tell himself not to look over his shoulder at you, sitting in the tub and scrubbing at your skin. "We will warm some ale to go with it."

“Actually…” you glance over your own shoulder only to see the very deliberate way he is facing away from you with tight shoulders, like he’s having to force himself to behave. You nearly snicker, but keep it to yourself. “And you ever had truly cold ale? I know it will not fight the cold, but it is delicious.”

"I have not." He frowns slightly at the idea of cold ale. "It would be better when it is hot outside, no?"

“Yes.” A cold beer at a concert even during a Florida summer was a thing of beauty and it makes you sigh wistfully. “But sometimes just having something delicious is enough.”

"Then I will put the ale outside in the snow." You seem to want it, and he is finding that it is hard to deny you things that you want. He moves over to take the small cask off the table under the window to do just that.

“Thank you for indulging me.” It’s bitter cold for just a moment while he nestles the ale in a snowbank but he is back again in no time and the door is barred once more.

He chuckles quietly, keeping his dirty thoughts to himself about how else he could indulge you. Instead, he keeps his eyes on the fire as he creeps closer to it in order to throw some more logs on the fire and build back up the warmth for you.

“Be careful,” you bite back a giggle seeing how aggressively he is not looking anywhere near you. “One of us has already lost half their sight. You should not sacrifice yours too.”

He huffs and rolls his eyes, hearing your teasing tone. "Would you rather I stare?" He asks, as he stokes the fire and feeds it. "Make you uncomfortable?"

“I…” It’s definitely not going to make you uncomfortable. Horny, maybe. But not uncomfortable. “You are allowed to look at me, Pero.” You’re probably digging your libido’s grave, but so be it. After last night, you’re not about to deny him.

"When you are dressed." He huffs, trying not to turn his head to look at you. "Not while you are in your bath and vulnerable."

The smile that brings to your lips is small and shy – not disappointed at all. More like…impressed. “There is more than one way to be a good man, cariño. I will remind you of this next time you claim to be otherwise.”

His shoulders round slightly, flustered at the praise. And especially the endearment. “You are my soulmate.” He grunts after a moment, as if it explains all.

“Yes.” You hum, dipping your head back into the water to speak your hair. “Thank goodness.”

“You—” His head whips around to face you and catches an eyeful of your tits pushed high as you wet your hair. “Mierda.” He hisses and looks quickly back at the fire. “You are pleased I am your soulmate?” He asks, completely puzzled to why you would be thankful that you are soulmates.

“Pero…” You giggle a little at his reaction, finding it just fully amusing that he’s being so virtuous when last night he was moaning your name. “I trusted you enough to tell you my story after only a few days. And then I asked you to come back with me. I would not have done that if I—” If I didn’t have feelings for you. “If I did not think so well of you.”

He feels guilty. Guilty that he had tugged on his cock and whispered your name in the dark. Guilty that he cannot help the way his cock twitches and hardens while you are bathing, bathing. It should not make him burn as badly as it does. Gulping, he nods, trying to find the words to respond to that. "I think of you— well." He manages.

The part of you that is truly a ball buster wants to tell him that you know exactly how well, but that would only spoil the moment. “I am glad.” Is what you tell him instead, and simply reach for your soap to wash your hair.

The silence isn't heavy, but it falls between the two of you. The only sounds the very intimate ones of your bath. Pero bites his lip, hot from the fire and from the heat of his attraction but he does not move a fraction of an inch away from the small groans you give as you lather your hair.

The water is nearly cold by the time you reach over the side of the bath for the length of cloth you use as a towel. Your fingers are pruned and you’ve scrubbed every inch of your skin, giving you the most satisfying clean you’ve felt in…years, probably. “I’m getting out.” You tell him, wondering if he’ll continue to avert his eyes, and figuring he deserves the respect of a warning if he is trying to be respectful.

"Okay." Pero croaks out, biting his lip as he sees you stand out of the corner of his eye. Why had he thought he could be in the same cottage as you while you bathe? He huffs and tries to get a grip on himself, feeling his cock hardening.

It isn’t difficult to maneuver around him, wrapping yourself up in your towel and drying off just enough that you won’t soak through your chemise when you pull it over your head. Years of changing in large tents at summer camp or in gym locker rooms has helped you know how to do this quickly and easily, but that doesn’t mean you don’t thoroughly enjoy the way he’s struggling with his thread of self-control as you tie yourself into your stockings and stays, and then pull on the woolen tunic dress that keeps you properly clothed. You know you’ll be struggling just as hard once he’s the one who is naked, but for now it’s a nice little boost to your ego to know he wants you.

Shuffling to his feet, Pero can't hide the tent in his breeches as he moves to draw out a few buckets of water to reheat and add the water that is still in the cauldron to heat the bath back up. Giving him something to do that isn't staring at you.

“Take your time and enjoy.” His one spare set of clothes that had been protected in his saddle bags is out and ready for him and you set yourself down at your worktable to begin preparing supper. “As you say, we have plenty of time.”

He knows that, but he still spends more time heating up water than he needs to. Trying to give his body a chance to calm down but like the traitorous thing that it is, it does not. His cock strains against his breeches still when the steam curls up from the tub and it is probably hotter than he should have made it. Leaving him no option but to start stripping down.

You should be fine. The man was naked and unconscious for you-can’t-remember how long when he came to you and you stripped and washed him. You should be fine. But he was ill then, racked with it, and despite thinking he was well built you had forced yourself to ignore the rest. Since then? Since then you have been fully pressed against that body, and despite there having been clothing in the way those times you had imagined so much from it. The strength and breadth of him is undeniable — and puts him squarely in the category of full fucking three course meal as far as your attraction goes. So you did not need to accidentally glance up from your knife right as he was starting to unlace his breeches. No. No you definitely didn’t need the extra focus that it brought to the tented fabric. Jesus Christ he’s going to be the death of you, you think as you try not to squirm.

Pero has no issue with his nudity, he is not a prudish man. However, he is embarrassed that he is fully hard and unable to make it soften as he pulls his breeches down and steps out of them. His cock bobs as he moves, tenting his loose linen shirt before he is pulling it over his head to drop down onto the other clothes.

He was polite and respectful and didn’t leer, and you know you shouldn’t either. You know you shouldn’t. But the one tiny glimpse you get of Pero getting into the bath is unintentionally perfectly timed to give you a glimpse of his fully hard cock and you genuinely might just melt into the floor. It’s an utter miracle that you don’t make a sound, but you immediately avert your eye back to the mushrooms you were cutting. Do not imagine riding him in that tub. Do not do it…

Pero groans and hisses as he lowers himself into the tub, having to cup his cock and balls to keep from settling into the hot water too quickly for the sensitive flesh. Groaning again when he gets settled and can lean back in the hot water to relax. The perfumed water smells like you and it doesn't help the state of his aching cock.

“Bueno?” You have to clear your throat slightly, but the question comes out evenly enough.

"Bueno." Pero rasps out, leaning his head back to hang between his shoulder blades as his arms perch on the sides of the tub.

“It is a luxury.” From where you are sitting, all you can see is what is above the rim of the tub and you smile softly at his blissful expression. “But one we have now, thanks to you.”

"Worth giving up the meat and hide." He groans, feeling his muscles relax and his eyes close as he soaks.

"It will be good for you." With all the physical labor necessary in this time, a hot bath to let the tension out of his muscles is a very good thing from time to time. "Every time it snows, we will celebrate with a bath."

He chuckles and rolls his head over to look at the white out window. "We will stay very clean this winter I think." He jokes, settling a bit deeper in the water and groaning again. "Mierda."

"So much the better for us." You hum, returning to your work. "We will be the best smelling and cleanest outcasts the village has ever seen."

He huffs and shakes his head. "They are the ones that suffer from casting you aside, hermosa." Pero tells you, turning his head to look over at you at the table.

"I am grateful for the friendship of the few people that I care most about." Having Arwena be less afraid to come and see you has warmed your heart and made you miss Beth, seeing some undeniable similarities between the teenager and your best friend back home.

"You have friends back in your time?" He asks curiously. "People who will be missing your presence? Worrying about you?" He wants to know if you have a lover you left behind, but it is none of his business.

"Well, I can't say for sure what they're thinking or feeling, but...I think so." Laying down your knife again, you look at him curiously, trying to figure out what he's really asking. "I have a best friend. So close that I call her sister. A few friends at the place where I work. My family lives far away, but I try to see them once a year."

The idea of women living far from their parents without being wed is strange to him but he doesn't comment on it. Instead he watches as you carefully cut up the vegetables that you have in front of you. "My mother would have liked you." He murmurs. He smiles as he imagines his mother's reaction to having a soulmate like you.

"Oh?" Smiling curls the corners of your lips and you can feel your cheeks heat despite the chill outside. "My parents would like you, too."

He snorts and shakes his head. "No man likes the man his daughter sleeps with." He drolls, remembering the moaning of men in all the taverns he had visited, drowning their sorrows over their daughters leaving home.

"Then I guess you still have time before he'll hate you." You quip, shooting him a teasing smirk.

He flushes slightly, when he realizes how you took that comment. His cock twitching below the water and breaking the surface. "How much of a time difference is there between us?" He asks, suddenly needing to know.

"Um..." The question makes you cringe, not knowing how he will process it all. It is such a large difference. "I will not be born for almost one thousand years."

"Fuck." Pero blows out a breath and tries to imagine that amount of time. "So you obviously prefer older men." He grunts out.

The fit of giggles that pulls out of you is fully unexpected, but it's so very much a joke that Beth would make that you get a big extra laugh out of how little people have really changed over so much time. "I do, actually, but usually not this much older. I've made an exception for you."

"Why?" That is the question that has nagged at him. Eaten away at his thoughts. You are from a different time, a better time. Why would you choose him. "Is it because we wear the same marks?"

"Because—" His confusion definitely sticks a pin in your laughter, and you tilt your head at him slightly. "Because despite the two of us being so very far apart in time and space, we're still so similar." You tell him, when you can finally wrap your head around the thoughts you're trying to express. "We are stubborn, and passionate, and caring in similar ways. We have the same sense of humor and we love to tease each other. We fight but never end the day angry. We disagree but never let it stand in the way of sitting down to supper with smiles on our faces. You are such a good man but not in the ways you think you should be and so you won't ever believe it, just like I will never believe that I could deserve to be loved in the way I desperately want to be. Just because we were born a thousand years apart does not mean that we are any different as people. It...it might actually prove that people have always been the same in their hearts." You shake your head slightly, feeling the tightly wrapped hold he has on your heart as surely as you draw breath. "It is not because we wear the same marks, that I feel so strongly. But perhaps it helped me to admit it to myself more quickly than I would have otherwise."

"You deserve more than me." Pero admits, lifting a hand to silence you when you frown and open your mouth. "You do deserve more than what I can give you, that what any man can give you." He insists. "You are kind when you have every reason to be spiteful and cruel. You are giving when you should be selfish. You are strong and stubborn and yet you have a grace and goodness that cannot be taught, it is ingrained in your very soul." He takes a deep breath. "I am not worthy of a soulmate like you, but I am selfish enough that I will hold on tight to the gift I am given."

"I hope you do." Though neither of you are ready to say the words, the air around you hangs heavy with their meaning. For two people who were strangers bare weeks ago, you have come together so easily that you truly are certain that the universe was correct in putting you together. "Whatever ideas of our own worthiness we have, only you can determine what is right for you, and only I can know what is right for me. It just...is fortunate that we seem to agree with the universe's decision."

He smirks and shakes his head, lifting a brow as he looks around the cottage and then up at the roof. "It isn't like we have much of a choice right now." He teases. "You would have starved, and I would have frozen to death." He gives a shrug and sinks into the tub deeper. "Now you are warm and your belly is full and you can soak in a tub of hot water." He sends you a playful wink. "We apparently work well together."

"You would have been dead long before the first frost if not for me." Clicking your tongue at him is just playful teasing, but you do have to admit now that the idea of losing him tears at you in a way that you cannot articulate. "But I am glad that it was my cottage you happened upon and not anyone else's."

"I am too." He admits fondly, readily admitting that you had saved his life. "Even if you tried to poison me with that foul brew."

You snort, shaking your head at him as you pick your knife back up and go back to work. "Tease me about it more and I will make you drink it again," you warn, though the threat is entirely empty.

“Bleh.” Pero grimaces and shakes his head. “I will pass.” He picks up the soap that you had left by the tub and starts working up a lather with it to scrub his body clean.

Silence falls again, as he washes and you work, and before long you are setting a pot of venison, parsnips, mushrooms, carrots, and chilis on the fire to stew. It will be enough for multiple days, but this is something that you are certain he is going to like so you have put plenty of confidence into it. "That will take some hours," you tell him, trying not to peak at him in the bath. "But it will smell divine."

“What do you do while you wait?” He asks, sluicing off the soap from his skin and reaching for the bucket to wet his hair. “When you were alone before?”

"Talk to Binx. Perhaps sing to her. Sketch, if I have a spare surface." Paper is expensive in this time, but sometimes stretches of canvas or planks of wood have been surface for your mediocre artwork.

“What do you want to do now?” He asks, soaping up his hair to scrub clean. After doing that, he will trim the hair on his face again.

The honest answer to that is still ride him in the bath, but you shrug as innocently as you can and reach for the kettle of hot water which will make both of you hot cups of lavender tea. "I do not mind," you admit quietly. "We could sit in silence and I would still enjoy being next to you."

“It is going to be colder tonight.” Pero hums. Finding the weather to be a good topic is boring, but it’s safe. “We might have to stuff rags under the door.”

"We might." The suggestion sticks in your throat, wondering what he might think of you being so forward in a world where women are expected to submit and obey. At its core, though, you're really just thinking practically – even if it does have a few fringe benefits that you would both enjoy. "Or we could use your mattress to block the cold...and we could share the bed?"

Pero drops the soap into the water. “Shit.” He hisses, scrambling to find it. “That— that would be— uh, yes.” He nods, not wanting to sound like an idiot and failing miserably. “Warm. We would be warm.”

"More blankets and body heat." You nod, as though no other reason had ever crossed your mind. "And I know it will be more comfortable for you."

It sounds so innocent when he is anything but. “I should not.” He groans, dropping the soap that he finally locates into the side of the tub and slides down to dunk his hair. His still hard cock lifts out of the water as he moves. “I will be awake all night. Disturbing you.”

"What is the harm in lying awake sometimes?" Lifting your head to look at him is terrible timing, as the water moves and reveals the fact that he is still painfully aroused in the bath. Good lord he's thick... "I—it...doesn't..." your mind has suddenly gone totally blank and you shake your head like a wet dog. "It does no harm. The worst thing that happens is that we sleep late tomorrow."

Sitting up again, Pero groans, wondering why you cannot just let him freeze. The price of being cold is a small one to pay instead of admitting he would be rock hard all night and itching to sink into your body, burrow into your skin and just stay there. "I am a man..." he offers weakly.

“Yes…” You’re about to say that you don’t see the big deal since you’re both adults, but then it hits your thick skull that that is exactly why it is a big deal. You might not have a problem lusting over him because you know he reciprocates – but he is still worried about offending you. “If you would not be comfortable, I understand.”

He sighs, hating how you phrased it. Growling at the way you are pulling this out of him. “I ache.” He hisses, standing up in the water and revealing the heavy length of his hard cock jutting out from his groin, standing proud. His scowl is defiant and embarrassed. “How can I share a bed with you and not touch you? When this is my state just by being around you?”

Full-on confessional was not where you expected him to go in this moment, but you do appreciate his honesty first and foremost. It takes you longer than you are proud of to tear your eyes away from the sight he has shown you, but you manage it, lust curling around something heavier and more meaningful in your belly. “Why can you not touch me? When was that law set down?” You challenge, wondering if he has some kind of rule in this mind about your imagined virtuousness.

Pero inhales sharply, cock twitching again and he growls under his breath, low and pained. “You— our— when we…talked.” He manages, water dripping down his body and he sloshes slightly as he steps out in front of the fire, making no pretense to cover himself since he has already bared all to you. You are not screaming or banishing him outside. “You did not tell me I could.”

“Forgive me, then. I should have been more plain.” Getting up to hand him cloth to dry with, you swallow the thick wanting in your throat and force yourself to meet his eyes and nothing else. “If you lay beside me tonight and are consumed by passion once more, please understand that I am in a similar state. Quiero que me toques, Pero.” I want you to touch me.

Pero's eyes are hot, liquid pools of desire and his breathing is stuttered in his chest. He wants to touch you now. Nighttime is too far away for his liking. Instead of taking the cloth, he grabs your wrist and drags you closer. "We are clean." He ventures, water still dripping out of his hair.

“And wet.” There’s still an abundance of your modern, dirty sense of humour in you, and the double entendre slips from you before you can even stop it, making you grin. “If I take you to bed now, we will dampen everything and make it freezing for ourselves tonight.” There is not, of course, any reason things can only happen in a bed, and you press in a little closer to him - as close as you can with him still dripping water onto your clean, dry dress.

He grunts, knowing that is true and he looks around the cabin, slightly frustrated that this is happening while both of you are wet. "Then we will dry off." He decides, reaching up and taking a handful of your wet hair and wrapping it around his hand. "Then I will touch you until you tell me no."

From the look on his face, he was not expecting you to moan when he tugged unexpectedly on your hair. The casual show of strength shoots right to your core, and you let your head drop back as if by command, biting your lip to keep from embarrassing yourself by whimpering. Hair pulling has always been a turn on for you, and it’s been so fucking long since anyone did it.

Hissing, he feels like he's about to cum right now, the urge to flip you over you and pull your skirts up so he can sink into you is nearly overwhelming. His hand tightens in your hair again and he's rewarded with another little moan, not as loud but it shoots straight to his cock. "Mierda." He pants, looking down at your tits as they heave. "You are— you like that?"

“Yes.” You narrowly avoid the urge to add sir to the thought, not wanting to overwhelm the moment with too much new information that he might have trouble wrapping his head around.

He growls, dragging you closer and fusing his lips to your desperately. Needing to touch you in some way. The need is as mutual as it is immediate, and you open up for him without hesitation. A kiss with the promise of more has you wrapping your arms around him without a single further thought for getting wet. At this point your aching pussy feels like it's dripping down your legs anyway, so who cares?

Pero plunders your mouth, his aching cock pressing against your belly through the material of your dress. Kissing and panting into your mouth for long minutes before he remembers that you are dressed and he is still wet. He has to take your shoulders and physically push you back because he cannot pull away. "Take off your dress." He orders you roughly.

The heat of the fire keeps the room warm but you swear that the heat rolling off the two of you rivals it right now. Pulling your tunic over your head takes no time, but the stays you just laced are slightly more stubborn. Loosening them just enough to pull those over your head too, the thin chemise that you wear close to your skin is effectively see through, giving him a moment to see you before you toss that aside to be naked again in the fire light.

He stands there, looking at you for a long moment, reaching up again and pushing your hair back behind your shoulder so you are not covering your face. Wanting to see all of you just as you are. "Hermosa."

Your bodies are littered with the proof that he has survived many battles and the few that have marked your own life. Bearing everything for him is easy in some ways, because he has seen every way your body has been marred already. But in others it is the most vulnerable you have ever been. Beyond any other attachment – he is your soulmate. If anyone is going to bring you to that place of breathless pleasure, it’s supposed to be him. And it’s supposed to make you inseparable. You just…you can only hope that that is true.

"I want—" He pauses, pressing his lips together for a moment before he starts again. "The things that you spoke of— the acts, I want to try them with you." He confesses, skin flushed and nearly scorching from his lust and the fire that crackles. "I want to see if it is as you say." He wants to explore you with his mouth, spread you out on the table and feast in the light from the hearth.

“All of them?” Clarification is for his sake, because you know that he is thinking of touching you already. That was said explicitly. But you wonder if he is even thinking clearly enough to want anything beyond just burying his cock inside you and cumming until your walls are covered in his seed. When there are other things – things he has not yet experienced – that he could also enjoy.

His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows heavily, licking his lip and nodding. Peering into your eyes and wondering if you had been blustering for the younger ones when you had spoken of such things. "Whatever you will— it is your decision." He will be happy with your hand on his cock and allowing him to slide inside your heat. He is a simple man with even simpler ideas of pleasure, but he knows that you are expecting more.

“Good.” He is tense as a bow string in front of you, holding himself back with every ounce of restraint he has, and you lean in to kiss him once more before stepping back again. Only when he’s watching you with hungry eyes again do you sink down to your knees, knowing he needs relief much more than you do right now.

He forgets to breathe. Thoughts gone from his head as he watches with wide eyes. Your form sinking down and your smirk playful while you are inches from his cock. He reacts physically, stomach lurching and a small tremor rushes through his muscles as he realizes what you are going to do. “I— I’ve never—” he stammers, even though you know he’s never had a woman’s mouth on his cock. He told you that, but he tells you again.

“I know.” You remind him gently. As badly as you just want to reach out and greedily gulp him down, you don’t touch him yet. Not until he’s okay with what is about to happen. “Will you let me be the first?”

“Fuck. He whispers, nodding quickly, almost making his teeth rattle with how hard he is bobbling his head in agreement. “Anything you want.”

“If you don’t like something I do, tell me.” Is the last instruction you give him before leaning forward to lick up the precum leaking from the purple head of his cock.

The noise he makes. It’s loud, obscene as it echoes through his head. The wet heat of your mouth is shocking, although it shouldn’t be. Maybe it’s the fact that your tongue is pressing against the slit.

Inside your own head you’re giggling evilly, wondering how fast you can reduce this fearsome mercenary to his knees with just your tongue, but the first time is not for that. Instead you hum, pleased with his initial reaction, and reach up to steady yourself with one hand on his hip so the other can wrap around the base of his length as you sink down on him. While he isn’t overly long, he is thick, and you may not be able to take him all the way down your throat because of it. At least not this time – not when you’re out of practice.

Pero groans, his hand flying to the back of your head and he holds it there, certain that his knees are about to buckle. “María, madre de Dios.” He pants. Mary, Mother of God.

This time when you hum it’s around him, making the sound vibrate through his body and making his cock twitch heavily against your tongue. It’s stunning, the way something as simple as the way you swirl that muscle around the head of him before using it to trace every ridge and vein makes him sound like he’s going to collapse or explode - or both - and you love it. Working his rest of his throbbing length with your hand is easy given the way your spit and his precum is leaking from the corners of your mouth, but you’re not going to stop for anything. The bath water is right there: if you need to wash your face after, then that’s what you’ll do.

Another flick of your tongue and Pero is gone. His body tenses up and to his utter relief and mortification, he starts to cum. A gasp is all he can manage, not even giving you a warning before his seed is spilling down your throat.

You don’t mind that it happens quickly - in fact you were betting on it from how long he had been that hard and the fact that this was his first experience with oral sex. That was kind of the whole point of you going down on him first - so he can calm down a little and enjoy things more if he decides that he still wants to explore with you. You drink down every drop that you can but it is a big load, and a few drops escape the corners of your mouth despite your best efforts. Moaning happily around him, you can feel yourself practically dripping in the cottage floor, but you’ll wait until he’s ready. Even if he needs hours to recover mentally and physically, you’ll still wait. He’s worth that respect.

It was a hard decision, closing his eyes in complete surrender or watching as you drink down his cum. In the end, he watches you under heavy lidded eyes, panting and whining while you continue loving him with your mouth. Shuddering when the slight pressure becomes too much, and his hips pull back slightly.

Rocking back on your heels so you don’t fall forward, you pick up the strands of cum that your mouth couldn’t catch on your fingertips and lick them clean, looking up at him with curious eyes. “Was it what you thought, cariño?”

Pero grunts, shaking his head and reaching for you to drag you up to your feet. "No." He rasps out gruffly, pressing his lips to yours. "Better."

You practically giggle against the kiss, glad to hear him so enthusiastic about trying something new with you. “We can rest as long as you need, hermoso.”

He frowns and shakes his head, pulling back and searching your face. "You do not want me to do the same?" He asks, disappointed by the prospect of not being able to explore you and give you the same pleasure.

“Of course I do.” Gently, one of your hands leads his to the meeting of your thighs, letting him feel that the dampness coating your curls is not water. “But only when you are ready.”

He grunts, again and lifts a brow at you in suspicion. "What kind of men are from your time?" He huffs, fingers sliding through your curls as he turns you around to guide you back to the table. "When I first spoke of this – I was meaning putting my mouth on you."

“Men are as changeable as women,” you gasp slightly when one of his long fingers probes deeper inside you but make it over to the worktable without incident. “You may not know every word I speak, but you know more than many men in my time if you know that a woman can find pleasure in many ways.” The number of men you slept with who thought the clitoris was a myth was shameful.

"I want to learn." He breathes into your ear. "Hear your sweet cries and watch you pant in pleasure." His hand doesn't leave your wet cunt as you sit on the table and move back, giving him room to sit in front of you.

“Y-you should have looked to the bed last night, then.” You tell him, gasping and squirming slightly as your body cries out for much more than his first, gentle touches. “You would have seen much.”

"You were asleep." He grunts, guiding you to lean back and he spreads your thighs wide in front of him. The light from the fire is enough for him to see your cunt clearly and he groans when he sees the slickness coating your lips.

“I was faking.” The grin on your lips curls into a smirk when you see him utterly fixated on your dripping pussy. “Bringing myself pleasure while you moaned my name in the dark.”

Moaning in embarrassment, his face turns hotter than the fire. His eyes fluttering slightly and he huffs a curse under his breath. “You touched yourself to my sounds?”

“I could not resist.” Sitting up, you press kisses to his forehead, nose, and lips without pushing too much. There are plenty of men who don’t like to taste themselves. “Knowing you wanted me as much as I wanted you? Set me on fire.”

He growls and captures your lips again – kissing you and biting your bottom lip sharply before he pushes you back slightly. "Good." He grunts. "Now I want to see if you enjoy my mouth as much as I enjoyed yours."

“I can all but guarantee it,” you promise him, laying back on your worktable propped up on your elbows so you can watch every single moment of this. Your legs spread completely, giving him plenty of room to see and explore you even as his fingers have never stopped dancing over your aching slit.

“Tell me what you like.” He demands, spreading your lips apart while he looks his fill. You are more experienced in this than he is. He is not so proud that he would not learn from someone who can teach.

“I like to be explored.” It sounds like a line, probably, but with his fingers stroking your pussy as he studies you, you’re biting back whimpers at every turn. “When you have licked along every part of my pussy and I am begging you for more, then focus on this.” One of your hands draws his attention to your clit, swollen and already aching with need just from having him so close. “Lick it, suck on it, whichever you like better. But no teeth. I like pain with my pleasure but not in this.”

He listens carefully, nodding and studying your cunt like it the outline of a battle plan. “This is where you like your pleasure, not inside?” He asks, sliding a finger over your clit.

“Both.” The whimper that passes your lips when he touches you is downright pitiful. “If you curl your fingers inside me you’ll see how much.”

“I will.” His fingers are wet with you, sliding around the hole that flutters so prettily for him. Groaning slightly as he pushed two fingers into the first inch of your velvet walls, his eyes finding your face while he sinks them in deeper.

Part of the challenge, you can see right away, is going to be patience. Not letting your hips be insistent or searching for pleasure or pressure but letting him explore and rewarding him with those moans and whimpers and encouragements that show him what you like most. Expecting him to understand your body’s nonverbal cues would not be fair at all, and only end up frustrating you both. “That’s it,” you nod, sighing audibly when his fingers delve a little deeper. “Just like that.”

He likes that. Pero’s fingers push deeper at your encouragement, feeling the slickness on his rough fingers as if it were his cock. He loves the breathless tone and he wants to hear more. His other hand caresses your hips, sliding down over your mound and grinning as he moves through your curls to press his palm against your clit as he curls those fingers up.

“Ah! Fuck. Yes.” The dual sensations take you by surprise, having been too caught up in watching the smirk on his face to pay attention to his hands. Your head drops back for second and you whine, loving the thickness of his calloused fingers. “Feel that?” You ask him, feeling him experimentally press against your g-spot with his fingers and making your hips buck and squirm a little each time. “That feels so good for me.”

“There?” His brow furrows as he presses up against that spot and your hips buck up off the table and another curse falls from your lips. His growl of delight matches the nearly feral quality of his grin as he starts to focus on that spot as he pumps and curls his fingers.

“Fuck!” Keening with the intensity of his strokes, the heat in your body has nothing to do with the roaring fire and everything to do with the man between your legs. It’s been so long since anyone touched you besides yourself and Pero’s attention to detail is so startling, that you can feel the knot in your belly already start to tighten. “Oh god D-do you—think you can suck on my clit at the same time?” You would be begging in a rambling mess of incoherent words if you weren’t trying to so hard to stay focused and teach him, but fuck if he isn’t a quick study.

His palm comes away from your clit and his mouth descends. It’s awkward, his shoulder folding in so he can keep his fingers moving inside your cunt while his tongue flicks over your clit experimentally. You taste warm, tangy and musky. The notes of your soap and skin hit his tongue and he groans, pushing his face deeper into you as he takes your clit into his mouth.

It’s almost a pity that you’re climbing to your peak as quickly as you are, wanting to savor this feeling as long as possible, but your body is responding to his attention so earnestly that it only takes a minute or two more before you’re gasping out a warning and bearing down tightly on his fingers with a cry of his name that echoes in the little cottage.

Pero groans again, feeling the hot rush of liquid on his fingers. Letting go of your clit and starting to rub his tongue all over your lips and again over your clit, noticing that your hips buck up again when he does.

The point of overstimulation is almost beautiful considering it shows how eager he is, but you have to nudge his head away with a groan - one that ends up a giggle when he pouts at you fiercely. “You’re a natural,” you grin, chest still heaving as you try to get your breath back.

“You enjoyed it?” His fingers are still buried inside you, unable to slide them out from your still fluttering cunt. He loves the noises you made and he wants to hear them again.

“When I scream your name, it is a good sign.” He still looks so hungry that you shiver a little and push up on your elbow to see your own slick shimmering on his lips and chin in the firelight. “You want more, cariño?”

“Yes.” He’s not going to deny it, wanting to see you fall apart again. He’s always been a greedy man, wanting more and this is no exception. Especially when there is no time limit on this, no where he has to be than right here in the warmth of the cottage with you stretched out for him to feast on.

“Tell me what you want.” With snow outside and the only other occupant of the cottage – Binx – disappeared somewhere out of sight, you have no desire to do anything but let him explore you.

“Tell me what else you like.” He demands, curling his fingers up inside you again. His cock is still soft, but he knows he will be hard again soon, once he has recovered.

There’s a lot. You won’t deny that, knowing that you have a couple of kinks that could come out in the future but not wanting to give him too many new or ‘modern’ things all at once. Assuming that he knows that tits are a sensitive pleasure center all their own, you reach down and thread your fingers through his wet hair indulgently. “I like things a little rougher than other women. As you saw when you pulled my hair. There’s also places I like to be…bitten. Unless that sounds too odd to you. We can go to bed, and I can show you another way to lick my pussy if that is what you wish.”

He tilts his head curiously and looks down at your cunt again. “But not your cunt, correct?” He asks of the biting, remembering your earlier words.

“Correct.” It actually makes you grimace a little. “That could be like me biting your cock.”

He grunts and shakes his head, his fingers curling gently. “Don’t do that.” He asks. “I don’t want to hurt you, want you to feel pleasure.”

It’s been just long enough that the feeling of overstimulation has faded, and you hum softly when he starts to move his fingers inside you again. “I won’t ever hurt you intentionally,” you promise, knowing that humans are clumsy and accidents happen. You can’t swear never to hurt him, but you’ll do everything you can to avoid it.

“What else do you like?” There is something incredibly indulgent about talking with you while your naked and his fingers are moving inside you. “Tell me, hermosa.”

“There is—” It’s hard not to gasp with him slowly finger fucking you again, but you would never claim not to love it. “A way for us to lay together…where we can have our mouths on each other.”

Pero growls, eyes darkening in delight. “You will show me.” It’s not even a question, he knows you will.

"On the bed." You tell him, glad that you rightfully guessed he would immediately love the idea. "Always on the bed. For comfort."

He groans, not even wanting to pull his fingers away from you yet. His eyes watch you for another moment before he shakes his head. “After.” He huffs, leaning down again. “After you cry out again.”

He's going to be the death of you, you can tell already. The entire winter will be spent wrapped up in each other if Pero has his way and really, you would be lying if you claimed to be upset about it. "Whatever you want," you agree, too distracted by the way he is spreading his fingers apart inside you to worry about literally anything else. It draws a moan from you, and you grind down on his hand unconsciously to get more of that gorgeous sensation.

This time there is less hesitation, more confidence in the flick of his tongue and the pressure of his fingers. Listening to the sounds you make and cataloguing them with tremors of your body. He's surer the second time, one hand digging into your flesh and shoulders holding your legs wide open for him to have a full view whenever he opens his eyes. The curiosity is still there but this time it's hungrier, understanding a little better the way your moans and shaking legs lead him toward your pleasure. A second orgasm is slower to build but Pero never backs off, never hesitates, just keeps pushing you up and up that mountain until you're teetering on the edge once more.

The sounds you make are gorgeous, this time going to his cock and stirring it again. Making him harden as he works you towards an orgasm while every flick of his tongue before he pulls your clit into his mouth and sucks on it as he watches you.

The way your thighs are squeezing him, if they were around his ears he’d have completely muffled hearing by the time your body tenses up and draws his fingers in tightly, coating them in another rush of cum as you cry out his name into the cold afternoon. The stars bursting behind your vision keep you - temporarily - from seeing the pleased flash of desire in his eyes right before he doubles down on drinking every ounce of your pleasure and prolonging the spasms of your climax as long as he possibly can. It’s like drowning and floating all at once, held steady by the broad shoulders, strong hands, and plush lips of the man determined to devour you whole.

This time he does not need you to push him away, sitting back and watching your breasts heave while you come down from your high. He’s smirking, smug in his ability to bring you pleasure twice now. Happy that he could do that.

"Fuck." The groan is accompanied by a low giggle, though, as the lingering adrenaline of orgasm makes you feel like you're floating instead of lying on a table. It isn't until you sit up again that you see the nearly feral smirk on his face, and you draw him into you so you can kiss him more easily. "You deserve to look that smug."

“That is fun.” Pero hums against your lips. His arms wind around you and pull you closer, still disbelieving that he is allowed to touch you. His soulmate.

"You can do it anytime you want." He tugs you into his lap, easily having you straddle his thighs in the process. The insistence of his renewed arousal is right there for you to feel, heavy against the inside of your thigh as you brace yourself over him and nip his bottom lip between kisses.

This is what his mamá was telling him about. The feeling that was indescribable when you are with your soulmate. Pero squeezes you tight and his answering bite to your lips is just as passionate as yours.

"Pero..." So many friends had described this moment to you in the past. This first moment of real intimacy with your soulmate being such a telling thing between the two of you - and it's stunning to you how right they were. The way he wraps his arms around you and breathes you in is astounding, and he has somehow become your only source of oxygen. If you ever stop kissing him it will be far too soon.

His eyes are closed, relaxed. Not that he’s been on guard around you, you literally found him at his weakest. Just this moment is monumental for him, swearing that his heart stopped beating for an instant and started to beat in time to yours.

You're the first to move again, body demanding more despite already having cum twice. The feeling of him beneath you is just too good and you grind down in his lap to roll your hips over his cock and feel him buck. "Amor, por favor."

The breath he lets out boarders on a whine, fingers digging into your back and hips while you grind down on him expertly. If he didn’t know better, he would say that you were a most talented whore, sent to empty all his pockets of coins, but the heat and tenderness in your touch tells him that it’s so much more. “Amor.”

The word had slipped from you without realizing it, too caught in the honesty of the moment to censor yourself or even catch the unconscious truth from emerging. Opening your eyes, you lean back slightly and cup both of his cheeks in your hands to bring his gaze to yours. "Amor." You whisper, knowing that you don't need to be any louder than that for him to hear you. It's like breathing him in had awakened something inside you that you never knew was dormant, bringing it all right to the surface.

Pero is strong. One of the things that he is proud of is the fact that he has strength that would rival plenty of men. With that strength, he grunts, lifting you up to carry you the short distance to the bed.

He laughs when you squeal, throwing your arms and legs tightly around him as he starts to get up to cling to him even though it takes him all of five steps to get to the bed. No one has ever done that with you before no matter how sexy you always thought it would be, and it gives you a sort of giddiness that only makes your accidental confession better.

Pero doesn’t toss you down, but both of you tumble to the bed and he makes sure that he covers your body with his own and his might immediately attaches to your neck.

If you thought he was broad before, it is only thrown into even sharper relief with him hovering over you. It doesn't seem to matter to either of you, though, as your fingernails dig into his shoulders to keep him close and his thighs continue to keep your legs spread in this new position. All that matters right now is that he never stops, and the heavy weight of his cock against your inner thigh has you wet all over again.

“Sassenach.” He groans, kissing down your throat and biting gently on your skin. Keeping your comments about enjoying being bitten in mind.

There's going to be a trail of bites along your skin tomorrow that are ever so slightly tender but you really could not care less. It will be a gorgeous reminder of being spread out beneath him, feeling the weight of him pressing you into the mattress while delicious anticipation builds all over again. Each nip makes you gasp, back arching off the bed to press your chest against his.

Pulling back, his dark eyes bore into you, “I want to be inside you.” He groans, nearly begging for permission as his hand caresses your thigh. “Can I have you?”

That twist in your chest says you can have me forever, but given the slip you had a minute ago you just nod, crushing your lips against his before shifting on the bed to spread your legs a little wider. "Please."

He’s practiced in this. Sex is something that he knows. Wrapping his hand around his cock and pumping, pulling back the foreskin as he shifts his hips and lowers them so he can press against your entrance. “Amor.” He murmurs, kissing you while he starts to push forward.

It has been a hell of a long time since you've been in this position – not taking the chance on forming connections in the past had been a line you fed yourself for years until ultimately being solitary became habit. Even before arriving it had been several months since your last encounter, making it something like eight plus years since you had had anything but your own fingers between your legs. That might be a part of the reason it feels so fucking incredible to have Pero's cock slowly spearing into you, but you know it's mostly him. Your soulmate.

He’s grateful that he had cum earlier, the hot velvety grip of your cunt has him in a chokehold. Making him grunt as he slowly fills you. Bracing his elbows in either side of your shoulders and staring down at you in wonder.

You shift almost immediately, hitching your legs up high on his waist and letting them wrap around him to take him deeper and letting out an appreciative moan when you can feel the head of his cock nearly bump against your cervix. It's an impressively full feeling, one that has your eyes rolling back in your head for a moment as you pant under him, eager to feel how perfect it will be when he's fucking you into the mattress as hard as he damn well pleases.

The first thrust is experimental, wanting to see if that sense of liking it rough is different from his. Often he can be harsh but never cruel as he worked out his frustrations but he doesn’t want to be too harsh with you.

It’s like being in another world altogether, that gorgeous snap of his hips making you moan and rock against him as he finds the rhythm that he wants. Gentle or rough doesn’t matter to you right now, knowing there will be more than enough time for fucking as well as love making in the winter to come.

Pero moans, loving how easily to take him, the eagerness in the way your legs tighten around him. You name falls from his lips when he buries his head at your throat.

The pace he sets isn’t rough, per se, but it’s eager. Wanting to see how deeply and entirely you can take him and how sharply he can make you cry his name in pleasure. The grind of his hips makes you gasp each time and nearly see stars, and the deliberate strokes make it entirely clear to you as you cling to him - if Pero Tovar fights half as well as he fucks, it’s no wonder he never had trouble finding someone to sell his sword to.

He’s never felt anything quite like you. Maybe it’s in his head because you are his soulmate, maybe it’s that your body fits his perfectly - but it’s like you were made for him. His hands curl under your back, pulling you closer as he bears down, every jolting thrust met with a cry of pleasure that he’s quickly growing addicted to. “Mierda.”

Moments run together, making time meaningless as the entire focus of your world is narrowed to the man inside you - surrounding you, anchoring you to the world. His own grunts and growls vibrate through him, making your body tingle with every sound he muffles in your skin.

He can feel your grip tightening on him, squeezing him. He knows that you will cum soon, groaning as he pushes his hips a little harder and the echoes of his skin slapping against yours is heard.

When you finally tense beneath him one more time, the rambling praise and cries of his name are louder than any other sound in the little cottage, echoing off the walls and coming back to his ears like music. Your fingernails dig into his shoulders as you cling to him, back arched to press you against his chest and body heaving with the effort of the most intense orgasm you can remember. It might be that it’s just good sex – but that bursting in your heart promises that it’s because he’s your soulmate.

You are perfect beneath him, wonderful and he can’t even remember the last time he has felt so much pleasure. Your pleasure makes him rush headlong into his and within a few short thrusts, he is pulling out of you, not even touching his cock as he grinds against your belly and paints your skin with his release as he whines out your name again.

The only sound for a long time is the two of you panting for breath, punctuated by soft kisses exchanged in the firelight. For as greedy and demanding as your need for each other became, this moment is full of tenderness. It is also, unfortunately, a little dishonest. Or at least not containing the full truth. “You didn’t need to do that,” you murmur softly, voice tinged with regret as you look down at the Pollock-like work of art his cum has turned your skin into. You should have told him. He deserved to know before you got too close, says your mother’s voice in your head. Guilt attached to something you had absolutely no control over. Over something you never chose.

Pero frowns, shifting to his side and shaking his head. “I have no desire to plant a baby in your belly right now, amor.” He murmurs softly. “Even if you have the means of dealing with it.”

“Th-that…is good.” When you turn your head to look at him, he has settled on the pillow beside you and is gazing at you with such affection that you frown and look away again. “Because I cannot bare your babes no matter how often we might try.”

Pero frowns again, sending you a confused look. “You know you cannot?” He asks, tucking an arm behind his head and stroking your side with his other hand so you will look at him. “You have tried and failed to have a baby?”

“In my time, there are doctors…those who specialize in the health of women.” How do you explain a gynecologist? Or a Pap smear? It used to give you panic attacks just to think about - having to one day tell your partner that you couldn’t have kids. Now you find yourself heartbroken all over again because of how difficult it is to explain. “Mine discovered that I am barren. It was not through trying and failing, but because my body…my womb did not form properly.” You shut your eyes, exhaling deeply before opening them again to find him with your singular gaze. “I should have told you before this. I am sorry.”

Reaching out, Pero captures your chin in his hand and holds it firmly in his grip. "Do not apologize for things you cannot change." He tells you firmly. "You cannot have children. I never imagined actually having any." He admits. "Never thought I would live long enough."

“I had always thought to adopt, if my soulmate wished for children.” Despite the slight tremble in your chin, you’re grateful for how steady he is in this moment. So many other people had considered you less of a woman for something entirely beyond your control. “But that is…a question for much later, I suppose.”

"Adopt?" He furrows his brow and tries to understand what you mean.

Right. Vocabulary. You frown at yourself, but there is no difference in the already displeased expression on your face. “Take in a child in need. A child without a family of their own.”

He nods, understand what you mean now. "Taking in a bastard or urchin." He grunts, not opposed to the idea at all. "If you wanted to, I would not stop you." He promises. "If you wanted to not do that, I would not look down on you." He pulls you closer. "I do not care about your womb." He stops and smirks slightly. "Except for the knowledge that I can fill you without worry."

“As often as you want.” It is a relief to have what would generously be called your confession over with, and you lay your head on his shoulder. “I did not think we would ever be in this position.” The entendre makes you grin. “Or any other that we tried today.”

He chuckles for a moment and holds you close, his fingers brushing over your skin gently as the two of you lay on the much more comfortable bed you sleep in. "You were upset when you told me." He doesn't like that and his voice is gruff. "Why? Did you think I would toss you aside?"

“I—” You have to resist the urge to turn away or look elsewhere again, knowing that you need to be honest with him. “Yes.”

He grunts at that, rolling his eyes slightly before he catches himself. He doesn't know what it would be like to know he could never have children if he wished. He reaches up and caresses your cheek as you lay on his shoulder. "I am not." He promises you. "You are my soulmate." He reasons softly. "If God or the universe wished it—" He shrugs his other shoulder, not mentioning that he would have assumed that if it was supposed to be then it would be possible. He is not a man who dwells on what he cannot change. "It is good that you know so you do not fret when you cannot give me a child."

All the imaginary conversations you ever had with imagined versions of your soulmate over the years come brimming to the surface and you bury your face. “If the day ever came when you decided you wanted a child of your own, I would understand.” It would break your heart; you know that now. But loving someone means wanting them to be happy, and calling him amor was not an exaggeration. You do love him.

Pero snorts and decides that you need to look at him. Rolling you over and pinning you under him again. "Listen, Sassenach." He grumbles at you. "I have no need of a child of my own. And I will not be breeding a bastard on someone." He scowls slightly at the mere idea of it. "You will have your gato and maybe more chickens and a goat to love on. If you want a child, I will drag home some urchin for you to love on and worry over, but I do not need you risking your life and body to bear me a child in order to be happy."

“I have said my piece.” There is no way to escape his gaze like this, and you know that that is what he intended. For a man who could be coarse and frustrating at nearly every turn, he has a gentle sweetness and care that you wish you had the words to describe properly. It’s like having a special place to sit that is all your own, perfectly tailored to be the exact comfort and care you need without having to ask for it. Plus orgasms. “Gracias, amor. For accepting it.”

"De nada." He hums and leans down to press his lips to yours again. He senses you do not want to discuss it anymore and he will not push you. He would not dream of pushing you to talk about things like that. Instead, he just concentrates on making you moan into his mouth softly.

“Tomorrow we will give Caballo the hay from your mattress.” You tell him, glad to see the smile return to his lips and feel it on your own. “And the cloth can be saved for whatever need may arise. I wish to lay with my soulmate each night.”

Pero hums and nods. “I will never deny you.” There’s a small smirk and a flash of a wink. “Your bed is comfortable and we will be warm.”

“And you will never need to touch yourself late at night again.” It’s too good to resist teasing him just a little, since it turned into this.

He huffs at you, biting your shoulder and pouts slightly. “I did not know you were awake.”

“I was afraid to say something and frighten you from providing me such a beautiful sight.” You admit, pressing a kiss to his cheek before he can lift his head away.

“You saw me?” He could disappear right now in embarrassment.

“Only a glimpse.” The blush on his cheeks is not something you would have guessed at, but it is so endearing that it earns him another kiss. “I had to be sure that what I was hearing was true.”

He snorts and shakes his head at his luck. Although he doesn’t really mind it since it had allowed him to touch you today. “You could have invited me into your bed last night.” He grunts at you playfully.

“I could have.” That thought did flutter across your mind, even though it seemed too fantastical to be a real possibility at the time. “But then our baths would have been much less dramatic.”

He chuckles quietly. “I did imagine you in your bath when I told the boy to get one.” He admits, ducking his head and nipping your shoulder.

“Was it worth it?” It was certainly worth seeing him in the steaming hot water. You would kill to get him under the powerful shower head in your apartment back home.

“Yes.” He groans happily and nods. “So much so that I would do it again tomorrow, or the next day.” Having a tub in the house is a luxury and it feels decadent and rich to watch you bathe in the large tub he had provided.

“I am glad.” Nipping at his skin in turn, you soothe the small bite with a kiss and offer him an honest smile. “We will pass an extremely pleasurable winter this way, I think.”

“Much more satisfying than I had imagined.” He agrees. “I had imagined sneaking out to the barn to relieve myself as my want for you grew.”

“We will leave the barn to the young ones.” It warms you to know that his feelings were growing the same way yours were - both emotionally and sexually - and that neither of you had to hide it any longer. “But perhaps we will see next time if that bath can hold the both of us?”

If he were younger, he would be spreading your thighs again. For now, he had can only nod and occupy himself with another kiss.

“Rest, amor.” The suggestion is soft, accompanied by your hand carefully searching out the edges of the blankets and furs on your bed to pull them up. “It will be hours yet before supper is ready. And we have had a great deal of excitement today.”

He hums and shifts slightly, his leg thrown over yours while you draw the covers up over both of you. “We have. Sleeping next to you is just what I need right now.”

“Then we shall sleep.” One more kiss to his lips and another to the pronounced bridge of his nose for good measure, and you tuck yourself into his side to rest. A well-earned afternoon nap is calling both of your names, and you’re sure it will only be the first of many for the season.

______

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