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aliasrocket · 7 months

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Rocketober day 1 : ‘friends’

title : stars.

hey guys! Starting this off just to say I’m still on break, my exams have barely started, I just wanted to do a quickie for the first prompt for Rocketober since I have brought it up once in a poll before. Sadly, I’m not sure if I’m able to do the rest of the prompts but I’ll try to do the ones I really wanna do. Take care everyone!

here’s the rocketober list if you’d also like to participate.

Just like the op in the link, I’m accepting requests now for Rocketober prompts, please be sure to specify which prompt you’re putting in a request for.

“Guys, this is my friend.”

Nebula spills your name and points with a glass-filled hand, champagne sloshing inside when her finger swings to point to you.

Rocket could have sworn that she had stepped aside to let the fluorescent lights beam down on just you.

You, with that dainty little wave but a red dress that said otherwise, hem ending halfway up your thigh and a black purse hanging from your shoulder. Was that even a purse?

The moment rotated, just as time does, and the light had swung around to find another muse. Not that Rocket was complaining, because you looked even better in star-stewn hues, some slivers of you hidden in the dark for him to discover again.

If you weren’t Nebula’s friend.

It was a hypothetical.

Hands stretched out from behind him, soon coming around to greet you more personally—after all, they weren’t going to be here for long. Mantis and Quill have each come back from their lifelong trips to catch up with the ol’ gang. Like things changed.

Rocket serves another glance and you were already looking back at him, a star in your eyes each. He came forward with an averted gaze and offered his hand.

“Rocket,” he said, not sure if it had been over the music but when you bent down to let him hear the name he’ll never forget, you took it and let him decide the shake’s strength.

His second round of looking away had been when there was a slight ripple in your exposed cleavage—nothing screams pervert like a speechless rat.

“Rocket,” you repeated, and Rocket took a step back. “That’s a pretty name.”

Yeah, comin’ from pretty lips. The grinding in his teeth almost matched the bass of the party music.

He gets daggers in the form of a look from Nebula, and if you hadn’t been standing right in front of him he would have rolled his eyes.

“Thanks.”

Your chest flinched and you blinked, only for a split second—and because Rocket’s the master of looking away, of drawing back, of letting the pieces fall where they may, he’s stuck looking at your heels and on the floor hoping you don’t hear the cracking noises.

And you cracked just then, too.

Well, no, it doesn’t matter. If you did, didn’t—you were Nebula’s friend. Everyone had already drifted back to their shared table, and it’s another piece of reality that had its hands roaming his throat; you were off bounds.

“Rocket, are you okay?” Mantis asked, tilting her head as her forehead crinkled in that frown he remembered so well even after time made its rounds.

“Yeah, yeah.” The answer cut into whatever had been lying at the tail end of that question. Everyone lowered their heads and held the base of their drinks, not speaking and letting the music beat against their backs.

A light flashes, and a warmth engulfed his hand before he could swipe it to his chest.

Mantis’ antennae were lowered, but the glass in her eyes reflected its light clearly. Her hand was right where Rocket’s had been.

“Fucking—Mantis! We talked about this—you know what? I don’t even have the energy,” Rocket spat. “I’m outta’ here.”

“Wait!” Mantis grabbed Rocket’s shoulder.

“What’s going on?” Quill asked, head emerging from his drink.

Mantis’ head pivoted back to Rocket’s after Peter’s question, lips pursed as the inner corner of her brows arch upwards.

“Hey, if you don’t wanna tell Quill, tell me!” Drax whispered, or made a sad attempt at doing so, but over the music he was yelling.

Quill scowled. “Dude, not fair! I asked first, I get dibs!”

“That’s not how this works at all.” Drax shook his head.

“It so is!” Quill’s head snapped back around the other way. “Mantis, Rocket, what the fuck is going on?”

A darkness loomed over Rocket then stretched its way across the table to retrieve a tissue from the very end.

His head rocked forward when some sort of ball hit him, though the impact was almost like a stroke in his fur.

“Oh, sorry.”

This voice was nothing like poets would describe them to be; but the feeling, the rush and creaking in Rocket’s alloyed ribs—it felt all the more numbing yet painfully acute.

He looked up by instinct.

The first thing he noticed was that your jaw was so defined from this angle, not quite underneath you but so close he felt your warmth over him like a hood.

The second thing he noticed was that what had hit him was not a ball at all. Not a ball at all. Your breast rubbed up against the back of his head for another half second before you finally pulled away to wipe your hands with the tissue you acquired from across the table. Rocket’s ears rung from both the music that now sounded like screeching metal and the clenching in his chest.

“Sorry, I um, spilled some wine on my hands,” you explained as you crumpled the tissue to compress it in your fist. “Which one of you is the pilot?”

“Me.”

Quill and Rocket scowled at the sounds of both their voices in unison.

You laughed. You laughed and it sounded like a laugh you’d hear on Terran TV, something of a ribbon dancing in what felt like stale air. Yeah, Rocket was going to bottle that ribbon into memory like the rest of the things he’d already learned about you, and it wasn’t much.

“Sorry, maybe I should have specified. I need something of mine fixed,” you explained a second time, and you unclasped the lid of your purse to pull out a long metal rod known to be a phone from Terran electronic stores.

Another beat against the ribs and Rocket felt a lung drop. His heart punched it right out of the park.

“I’ve been pressing the side to project the screen but it doesn’t seem to be working.” You showed the entire table the power button as your finger sank into it but came up with no response on the phone’s end.

“I think one of you pilots are engineers, right?”

Quill grinned. He gave a sharp push at Rocket’s shoulder. “This one, he’s your guy.”

He flashed another scowl at Quill.

“I get it, it’s really stupid, I’m sorry to have bothered—”

“Nah, let me take a look,” Rocket insisted, gesturing for you to come closer.

“I was hoping I could get another drink while you looked at it. Can I get you something?”

One would think Rocket would have made eye contact with you before this point, but no—this was the first time since first meeting you ten seconds ago. Those eyes, widened and round, had stars crossing its skies and at this point Rocket thought he was dreaming. There was no way someone could be this fuckin’ perfect.

The ringing in his ear had only increased tenfold; now, it sounded like a flatline, a perfect audial representation of the current situation.

“I’ll walk with you.”

Without sparing his friends another look, he got off the stool and walked around the edge of the cheering room to the bar, where you had handed him your phone with a sort of languid quality to it; was it possible for this kind of thing to be graceful? The way your shoulder lifts slightly when you look down at him, curled hair fluffing up against your cheek as you handed over the tech. He’s looking up, jaw hanging—but now, he has a reason to keep his eyes on you.

He didn’t take your phone. “You wanted to talk to me?”

“About the phone.” You gestured to the phone again, raising a brow at him as some hair fell over one of your eyes from how much she had been looking down. The eye that remained … oh, fuck.

At half-mast, hypnotic. Your features framed a dream for Rocket; someone so damn gorgeous, he knows he’d thought you up at least a hundred times before. Someone of this beauty, of this cherry lip gloss, this fuckin’ dress.

Rocket’s hand slid up the rod to the hilt, both yours and his gaze in a chain neither of you broke before he pressed a button, and a blue screen emitted from the side of the rod.

“I knew it wasn’t broken,” Rocket said, lips parted as his eyes flickered to the phone then back at your star speckled eyes. Your eyes were widened again.

He wasn’t quite sure what he liked better; the almost pleading nature of your wide-eyed gaze, or the allure of your lowered lids reeling him in by the neck like a leash.

“So, the only reason you faked a broken phone is to talk to me.”

Your drink arrived, and you thanked the bartender curtly before taking a sip.

“I do recall asking for an engineer,” you said, your eyes the only part of you facing him, “instead of a detective.”

Oh, the way Rocket fumbled with the seat next to you, there was no coming back from this, because he’d rather trip and fall off than tear his eyes away from your complexion—collection of little shiny trinkets he stole and swiped from far galaxies and arranged so delicately to form you.

Maybe that’s why you felt ethereal. You were something out of a goddamn movie. A fairytale. Your hair looked like it was floating in water. Your lip had a permanent glint to it, always moving back and forth depending on the angle at which light had danced on your body.

“Hey, I’m still your guy.”

It felt irrevocably wrong to say that. He wished he could take it back. But if wishes are made to stars, then he knows if he’d done that, you’d hear him. And he’s had enough of accidentally sending the wrong message tonight.

You cocked a brow at him, finally turning your head over. Your shoulders were shrugged to keep your elbows propped on the table, hands loosely busy with your new glass of wine.

“You’re my guy?” You smirked, teeth peeking through glassy lips.

A lump accumulated in Rocket’s throat, and it happened in a split second—swallowing that lump was swallowing a loose bolt in one of his bombs.

“Yeah, what d’ya need?” Rocket tilted his head, leaning into the bar to get a better view of her when you returned to her already emptied glass.

You raised a flimsy hand, and the bartender nodded from across the isle as he poured a drink for another patron.

“I think I should be asking you that,” your smug grin thawed into a smile as you lowered your head. Your eyes pulled up because of this—it cut that doe-eyed look straight into Rocket, but he simply readjusted his posture on the bar in a sad attempt to cover up his dry lips, an empty tongue, and his parched throat.

“You wanted to tell me something when I complimented you,” you speculated aloud. “Am I warm?”

“Smoking hot, actually—” and Rocket’s eyes almost popped right out of his skull. “Uh, both in your question and—”

You laughed again, shoulders shaking as you threw your head back. Those shiny curls slid off from your shoulder and down your back to join the rest of your styled hair.

“Don’t be so uptight!” You nudged him with your hand, and you both turn to the bartender who finally came around.

“Hi, I’d like another.”

“I’ll start a tab, her refill’s on me,” Rocket chimed in, arm stretched towards the bartender who failed to hold back a crease in his brow when he turned away from you to grimace at Rocket. “And I’ll have one for myself too.”

Your jaw dropped for the first time that night, only slightly, and even then you still looked like an actress. “You didn’t have to.”

“I want to,” Rocket insisted.

“You won’t like wine. You’re the type to enjoy beer.” You finally place the wine glass down. You folded your arms on the table, but kept your head in his direction.

“Never really liked Terran liquor in general.” Rocket shrugged before spinning his stool around to expose himself entirely to you. He would, if that was what you demanded.

“But.” He crossed his arms over his chest, feeling just a hair, a follicle too exposed, down to the very pore of his skin, he could feel each chill the situation brought. “You make it look like steak after years of prison food.”

Your smile caved deeper into your cheeks, roses sprinkled across them.

“So, what was it you wanted to say?”

Now you had rotated your stool to face him, one arm still on the table as you rested your face on your palm.

“Earlier? With Nebs?”

“Mhmm.” You nodded.

Fuck, fuckity flark. He couldn’t even recall the last time he used flark. That goddamn hum, the feigned innocence it implied—was it wrong to think about how much of a brat you probably were in bed?

Fuck. Too creepy.

But with the way your arm was positioned, your cleavage had just been a little below eye level and boy did he avoid eye contact a lot.

“I was gonna say you had a prettier face,” Rocket admitted. It almost sounded like a grunt, and he wasn’t surprised because his tongue tugged his gut all the way up to his throat to confess this.

“Is that so?”

Your tone felt carried, longer than it was meant to be. You grinned. Satisfaction painted you pink in the navy blue tints of the party. And he couldn’t hate it. He couldn’t even look away from it. The party? That god-awful music? Could be happening in a completely separate room for all he was aware of. You wiped him clean of everything else but you.

Before he even got to realize he’d been staring directly at your cleavage again, you rubbed a soft hand under his chin and lifted it.

His eyes met yours, and he hung off a cliff you were looking off of.

“Speechless, huh?”

“I—you—”

“Use your words, big guy.”

Rocket gritted his teeth before nearly barking it out. “Can’t blame me for how fuckin’ sexy you are.”

“Looks aren’t everything.”

“I’m the last guy you needa’ be tellin’ that to,” Rocket chuffed, a corner of his lips tugging up as he regained some of his spine. Oh, has he been slouching this whole time? “I know you know what you’re doin’, princess.”

“Princess?” You cocked a brow down at him again, gaze floating across the ceiling.

“I like it.”

Rocket smirked.

Oh yes, the good kind of warmth returned to him—he was settling in his seat the way he hoped he would, his eyes sitting better in the glimmer of your own.

“Yeah. You’re the type to like that sorta’ thing.”

Your brows furrowed. “How do you know what my type is?”

“Same way you know that I’m the kind to hate wine.”

A beat passed before you returned his gaze. “Just for the record, physically … I find you to be very a—

‘What’s going on here?”

You both turned to the same fuming expression, arms crossed as black crystal balls for eyes burning holes through Rocket’s fur.

“Rocket treated me to a drink,” you said, showing Nebula your glass.

“She’s a friend!” Nebula gritted through a clenched jaw when she swung her head around to face Rocket.

“I’m having a really good time, Nebby.”

And that had been the first time that night Rocket had seen the mask catch fire in the disco light. Some of that actress charm replaced with utmost honesty. Or, maybe it was another accessory Rocket had observed, one of something much more poisonous than anything he’d hoped you possessed.

Nebula shook her head. “You’re lucky I can tell whether you’re lying or not.”

“Well, yeah, and you kinda ruined something we were having,” you admitted further, and Rocket grinned, unable to withhold his chuckles.

“What is it?” Nebula grumbled, turning right back to Rocket.

“Nah, nothin’.”

“Spit it out!”

Rocket’s eyes crossed yours multiple times that night. And just about all of those times he wished he hadn’t crashed and burned right in front you to pick him apart and laugh at his … naviety? Hopes and dreams? His fantasies?

Fantasies aren’t real, yet there you were—smiling right back at him at the look he gave you, lowered head and a smirk as a vice.

“I just know we’re gonna get along plenty,” Rocket rasped in low tones.

“Yeah?”

“Oh, fuck me—get a room you two! And just so you know, I don’t approve of this! At all!”

And so began a long, endless, fateful effervescent string of kisses, bites, fucks and talks waving its filth and bliss in its galaxy-stippled wake.

#rocket raccoon #guardians of the galaxy #gotg #rocket gotg #gotg vol 3 #rocket raccoon x you #gotg fanfiction #rocket raccoon x reader #rocket raccoon fanfiction #rocket raccoon fanfic #gotg rocket #gotg3 #gotg v3 #gotg v2

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the-french-belphegor · 7 months

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So I wrote down three fic ideas for @critter-genfic-events's bingo card, one funny, one bittersweet, and one bittersweet with a heavy helping of sad, and for some reason my brain went "SAD. SAD FIRST", so here I am. Writing something with cuddling/missing someone/angst/post-campaign. I'll post it on AO3 (user name "Belphegor") ASAP.

—

The night was soft, warm, and silent. Pike barely heard the bedroom door open and a quiet footfall pad closer, floating as she was in that particular state between half-asleep and half-awake. She liked to try to stay up on the nights Scanlan played a Westruun tavern, but she was so comfortable despite the empty spot in the bed that she’d given up fighting off sleep long ago.

The mattress dipped a little on Scanlan’s side, tipping the balance towards consciousness. Then, surprisingly, nothing happened for a few long seconds.

Outside, an owl hooted.

“How’d it go?” she murmured eventually. Through the mattress she felt her boyfriend give a start.

“Sorry,” he said in a low voice. “Didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“Eh. I wasn’t sleeping anyway.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yup, absolutely,” she mumbled around a smile, very aware that she was slurring her words so much only someone who’d known her for as long as Scanlan had could make sense of them. Burying her face into the pillow probably didn’t help, either.

Scanlan didn’t make a witty remark or huff out a laugh. From what she could feel, he didn’t even move from his spot.

The silence and stillness jarred Pike awake completely.

“Scanlan?” she asked, rubbing her eyes to get them to focus faster. “Is everything okay?”

He was sitting on the edge of the bed with one leg tucked under him, bare-chested but wearing the short loose trousers he liked to sleep with.

(Scanlan liked to keep pants on at night in case of emergencies – or in case Grog barged in, which did happen occasionally. Pike had slept naked for four decades, most of them under the same roof as or a stone’s throw from her adopted brother, and saw no reason for things to change.)

When she spoke, he half turned to her and schooled his face into a smile instead of the half-lost look she could have sworn had been there a second ago.

“Sure. I should play the Golden Buck more often. You should see the fortune I made in tips!”

But the thing was, if Scanlan had known her long enough to decipher her words even when she was drunk, exhausted, or loopy from blood loss, Pike had learned a thing or two about him in that time, too. Kaylie remained the only person in existence who could tell in a heartbeat when he was lying, but Pike was getting pretty good at that as well.

She sat up and scooted closer. He’d placed a small candleholder on his bedside table, most likely to avoid tripping in the dark; the tiny flickering flame outlined the slope of his shoulders, the ridges of his worst scars, the vulnerable spot where his neck met his shoulder that she loved to kiss.

No point in calling him out for lying, even by omission. That would only be stating the obvious. Thus Pike jumped directly to the next logical step.

“What’s wrong?” she asked softly.

Scanlan’s shoulders slumped a little.

“Nothing. Just…” Emotion rippled across his face, like a breeze on water, and something about him crumbled. “Somebody requested ‘The Raven’s Wings’ again.”

Oh.

Scanlan had written many songs since the rise and fall of Vecna, mostly about Vox Machina. (Many were about Pike in some way or another. Her favourite of those was probably ‘The Lady’s Favour’, a cheerful ballad with the kind of lyrics that had to be sung after making sure the kids had all gone to bed.) A few of them were about Vax, of course, some cheeky, some solemn. ‘The Raven’s Wings’ was melancholic and haunting and unabashedly heartfelt; Scanlan had written most of it in one night while getting absolutely shitfaced with Pike and Grog. It had taken all of Pike’s powers of persuasion to convince him to actually make a real song out of it instead of burning the stained paper he’d scribbled the lyrics on.

She loved that song. Sometimes the melody snuck into her mind unexpectedly, and it felt both like poking a bruise and soothing an old hurt.

But she suspected it was somewhat different for Scanlan. Like everyone else, really.

Scanlan shivered a little when she gingerly wrapped herself around him from behind, skin to skin, scars to scars.

“It is a beautiful song, you know,” she said softly. “He’d love it.”

“It’s sappy, though.”

“What’s wrong with that?” The fact that Scanlan didn’t have a rejoinder was a good sign. Or a bad one, depending. “It’s a lovely tribute.”

This drew a sharp sigh from beneath her hands. She held him just a little tighter and waited.

“Yeah, but that’s… That’s it, it’s just a tribute. It doesn’t even say anything important about him. There’s nothing about what he was like, or… You know, like he was both really simple and really complex at the same time? I mean, he was such a shit, and he could brood worse than Percy, but also he was this ray of sunshine when he was happy… And he laughed, and he cried, and he wore his heart on his fucking sleeve and he let the whole world see it like it didn’t matter, and I never…”

He let out something that might have been a chuckle if not for the catch in his throat.

“I meant to ask him how he did that. Missed my shot in the end.”

“He made it look real easy,” murmured Pike, putting her chin on his collarbone, “but it’s really hard. But… I guess sometimes we do need reminders that it’s okay to, you know, feel things and show it. Even the bad stuff.” She paused. “Like the world’s not gonna stop because I say out loud that my friend is dead, and I miss my friend, and I’m sad.”

The worst thing about losing someone dear, Pike had found, were the regrets. The I should haves. The might have beens. She knew Scanlan still carried the weight of the wish he didn’t get to make; Scanlan knew about the quiet poisoned voice in her heart that sometimes whispered that her words to Vax – if the Raven Queen fucks with you, or hurts you, or doesn’t change you for the better, then she’s going to have to deal with me, and we’re going to have a problem – turned out to be meaningless and empty promises. She hadn’t been able to save him any more than Scanlan had, or any of them.

But at least she’d learned to stop pretending she was fine so everybody else could be okay. And start remembering they had each other to be not okay with.

Scanlan shifted a little in her arms to press a kiss into her temple and rested his forehead there for a moment.

And he prided himself on his words, that man of hers, but he didn’t give himself enough credit for his silences.

After a while, she asked him in a low voice, “Did you play the song?”

A two-tone hum answered her, then a wry chuckle. “I mean, I had asked for requests. And I know it’s not, you know, terrible music. Just… I could write all the songs I want and it still wouldn’t do him justice.” A beat. “What would you say? In a song about Vax, I mean. What would you like remembered?”

A soft smile with sharp edges. Warmth shining through sadness. Long hands with clever fingers, always gentle, even covered in blood. A trickster’s love for pranks. Mostly a heart so wide it could have contained enough love for a whole world and more.

“Fun buns,” she said softly.

“Hm?”

“We had this… thing, this little habit of doing each other’s hair up into fun buns. And… You know how he’d have a nickname for everyone? Nobody else ever called me ‘Pickle’. Just him. That’s a good thing to remember, I guess.”

Scanlan gently ran a hand up her forearm, rubbing the little hairs there the wrong way.

“I could work that into a song, if you’d like. Might even have a melody ready.”

Pike immediately shook her head.

“Oh no, it’s… That’s…”

Those memories were precious, and private, and hers. Sharing them with Scanlan, Grog, Vex, Keyleth, Percy, Tary – each of whom had their own set of precious private memories of Vax – was fine. But perfect strangers, who only knew of the Champion of the Matron of Ravens through what was essentially becoming folklore? That felt almost sacrilegious, in a way.

“…Don’t,” she finished lamely. “I know it’s stupid, but I kinda… want to keep some part of him for myself, I guess.”

“It’s not stupid,” murmured Scanlan into her hair. She could have sworn she could feel him grin just before he added, at the same low volume but in a very different tone, “Guess I’ll have to make it about the musician and the brave, strong sailor with the perfect breasts again. Sea shanties are always a win, right?”

“Idiot,” said Pike with a laugh that warmed her chest on the way up.

She knew she’d made her point, though – nicknames and fun buns would remain in the family. That still left Scanlan with plenty of material to write about Vax, anyway.

The conversation faded naturally after that. Pike blew the candle after she realised she was falling asleep right there against Scanlan, whose shoulders were still slumped, but for entirely different reasons than when he’d come in.

The night was still soft, warm, and silent. The bed felt much more comfortable with Scanlan clinging to her, one leg sprawled across her thighs and his head resting in the crook between her shoulder and her left breast. Everything was just as it should be – or the two of them were, at least. That was something.

She was teetering on the brink and starting to think him asleep too when she felt a touch of moisture on her chest, under his head, just where the corner of his eye would be. Then another.

“…Scanlan?” she mumbled.

He didn’t move; he only said thickly, in a voice so low she barely made out the words, “My friend is dead. I miss him. And I’m sad.”

Magic couldn’t fix everything, no matter how powerful. Words couldn’t really bring someone back, no matter how enticing. Sometimes the only thing left to do was to hold each other and let themselves grieve together.

Scanlan’s breathing came heavy and halting against her skin. She closed her arms tighter around him and murmured, “I know. Me too.”

They did fall asleep eventually, before their tears had dried.

—

I loved my friend. He went away from me. There’s nothing more to say. The poem ends, Soft as it began,— I loved my friend.

(Langston Hughes)

(I almost went with Bastille's "Poet" but Hughes' poem rewired my brain long before I knew about either Bastille or Critical Role, so. I'm not ruling out the song one day, though.)

Here's hoping the next one is more cheerful! In the meantime, hope you liked 💜

#critter genfic bingo #critical role #vox machina #pike trickfoot #scanlan shorthalt #vax'ildan #pikelan #fanfiction #tlovm spoilers

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fanfoolishness · 2 years

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Optimism (Dragon Age)

(Written for @calysto1395 for the @hightown-funk Hawke/Varric gift exchange! They had requested seeing what Hawke as the Herald might look like. Gifts have been revealed so I can post now!)

Marian Hawke's bad luck gets even worse when a mysterious green mark appears on her hand while the Breach roils the sky. Luckily a trusty dwarf is by her side to see her through it. 4700 words.

This? Was a disaster. And based on the massive green tear in the sky above, it was unfolding to be a disaster of utterly epic proportions.

Varric swore under his breath and patted down the front of his jacket, hoping he’d packed enough ink and vellum to get it all down. He felt the familiar weight of his writing kit and let out a sigh. At least one thing had gone right today; he’d packed his ink. The world would have to get slightly closer to ending before he’d forget that.

He glared up at the throbbing, searing wound in the sky, spilling ominous green light over everything. Including the wailing spirit-thing that had just materialized in front of him, moaning piteously as it floated over the snowy ground.

He hefted Bianca in his arms, nocking another bolt. He cast a glance at the elven mage beside him, hoping that together they’d be enough to take care of these things. But there was some kind of smaller tear in front of them, a tiny version of the monstrous wound in the sky, and it seemed as if it had other ideas.

“Beware the shades!” the elf shouted. “They’re coming from the rift!” Solas, Varric thought was his name, though to be fair Varric had scarcely been paying attention at their hasty introduction. His mind was elsewhere.

Where’s Hawke? Where the hell is Hawke? That explosion took out the Divine and half the Chantry. What if Hawke was at the wrong place at the wrong time?

But he couldn’t afford to think about that for long. There were demons to be slain and his own ass to save; for a moment the worry about Hawke disappeared, pushed deep into the background. Bianca sang, and the elf’s staff crackled with magics, and they fought desperately. Yet another shade joined the first, wailing just as loudly, and Varric swore again.

Until a burst of mage-fire twined with lightning sailed past him, and his heart leapt. That looked just like one of Hawke’s favorite spells --

He loosed a bolt into the burning shade, and the spirit vanished into nothingness. Varric whirled, laughing with delight.

“Brightside!” The familiar nickname spilled out before he could help himself. “I’d recognize that fancy fire anywhere. There you are! You know I was looking everywhere for you after the explosion?”

Marian Hawke grinned from the ledge above him, leaning heavily on a staff he didn’t recognize. She looked exhausted, but otherwise steady on her feet. Beside her was the Seeker, the one who’d had them both hauled here to Haven, and Varric’s relief suddenly shrank. Shit. What’s she doing here?

“More will come if we cannot close the rift,” Solas warned. He gazed up at Hawke, and there was something odd in his eyes, something cunning. “You. Quickly, before more come!” He beckoned, and Hawke’s smile vanished. She leapt down from the ledge, landing unsteadily on her feet, and joined the elf in front of the pulsing green tear.

“What do I --” she started, but Solas grabbed her by the wrist and thrust her hand into the air.

Her hand was -- wrong.

Green light, the same as the small rift before them and the vast chasm above them, rippled from her palm, even through the leather glove she wore. It reminded Varric of how Anders looked when Justice took him over, except he knew damn well Hawke had sworn to never have anything to do with spirits. The light in her hand, maybe a tear itself, flared and flashed -- the rift closed --

Solas dropped her hand and Hawke stared at him, clearly baffled. “What did you do?”

Solas looked both gratified and resigned. “I did nothing. The credit is yours.”

Hawke rubbed both hands together, but the green light remained. Not a spell, then, Varric thought. His stomach dropped somewhere into the vicinity of his boots.

“You mean this,” Hawke said ruefully, holding her left hand out in front of her.

Solas nodded, wearing a grave expression. “Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand. I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach’s wake – and it seems I was correct.”

The Seeker frowned at Hawke. “Meaning it could also close the Breach itself.”

Solas turned to Cassandra. “Possibly.”

Hawke stared at her hand, turning it over. Green shone faintly even from the back of her hand, though at least it wasn’t as blindingly strange as the light that emanated from the palm of her glove.

Solas spoke, and she visibly startled at his words. “It seems you hold the key to our salvation.”

Varric pushed forward into their conversation. Maybe he could rescue Hawke from their clutches if he could just figure out the right angle. He settled on sarcasm to start. “Good to know! Here I thought we’d be ass-deep in demons forever.”

Hawke laughed, laying her hand on his shoulder. He stiffened at her touch, his thoughts scattering at the sound of her familiar voice.

“Oh, Varric. I think we’re ass-deep in a lot of things right now. Trouble, mainly.”

“I no longer believe that it was you who opened the great rift in the sky,” said the Seeker begrudgingly. “You are not a prisoner.”

“For now, you mean,” said Hawke. “That wasn’t the case an hour ago.” She grimaced, rubbing her wrist.

“She did not do this,” Solas declared. “I cannot conceive of a mage possessing such power. If she had truly controlled whatever power caused this breach in our world, it would not have left her near death.”

Varric froze. Of course, after the Conclave explosion, he’d heard the rumors. Someone pulled from the Fade. Someone the mages had all done their best to save, until a nobody named Solas stepped in and got them stable. But he’d dismissed the rumors -- he’d been looking for Hawke in the camp, in the pub, anywhere but in the Fade.

“Near death? That was you?” Varric murmured, looking up at Hawke. She flushed, doing her best not to look back at him. Her hand trembled on his shoulder. “Maker’s breath, Hawke, I didn’t know.”

She gave him a forced grin. “Neither did I. First thing I remember after I saw you at camp that morning is waking up in shackles. Whatever happened, it gave me an absolutely wicked hangover.”

Cassandra and Solas began talking about the rift above them, and Varric used the opportunity to pull Hawke aside. He lifted her hand from his shoulder, cradling it in his own despite the green light dancing across her open palm. “Are you okay? What is this thing, Hawke?”

She flexed her hand stubbornly into a fist, her face brave, her eyes a little too bright. “Dunno what you mean,” she said with false, hearty cheer.

“Uh. That creepy green light glowing through your glove? You don’t think that’s a little unusual?”

“It’s a new fashion choice I’m trying out! Do you like it?” she attempted. He just looked at her. Her face fell, and she admitted, “I… don’t know what it is, Varric. But they think it made that. The Breach.” She lifted her face to the sky, and her hair shone with faint splashes of reflected Fade-light.

“We must press forward,” interrupted Cassandra. “Come. We are needed elsewhere, particularly if your mark can truly aid us against the Breach.” She raised one eyebrow at Hawke and Varric, and Varric hastily let go of Hawke’s hand. Wouldn’t do to start rumors. Baseless ones, anyway, he was pretty sure.

But Hawke’s gaze lingered on him a little longer than he’d expected, and he took a deep breath, wondering.

It was even more of a disaster than he’d thought, which was saying something.

They’d made it through the mountain pass to the ruins of the Haven temple, saving a group of spies along the way, pressing on as Cassandra had wanted. Solas had a plan, an idea to deal with the first rift that had opened, and it sounded like it might work.

Varric couldn’t argue. Neither did Hawke, even though they were both usually excellent at it. The Breach boiled the skies above them, wrong and horrible and everything Varric had ever hated about magical shit. They had to do what they could, he knew that. Even if there was a chance it wouldn’t work.

He’d managed to come to terms with that pretty quickly, all things considered. He’d even started to allow himself a tiny measure of hope, especially since Hawke had been able to close another rift successfully. They crept into the ruins of the temple, getting ever closer to the rift Solas said had started the explosion. How he could tell, Varric couldn’t guess, and he wasn’t about to ask.

They passed skeletons of ash, flames still flickering at the edges of what had been hands or eyes. The stench was like the ruins of Kirkwall’s chantry, a scent like drakestone, the char of flesh. Varric tried not to look at the remains of the poor bastards who’d been caught in the blast. He wondered again, how had Hawke survived?

But the question was driven out of his mind when he realized that things had, somehow, gone from bad to worse.

Red lyrium jutted out of the temple ruins, softly glowing with its own foul light. He stared at the clusters, pulsing in vermilion and scarlet as his stomach turned. Fuck, he could even hear it, a faint shrill whine he could sense in his ears and chest. Fuck. Fuck.

“Fuck,” said Hawke.

Varric almost laughed. Good old Brightside. “This isn’t the first time you’ve read my mind, you know.”

“And it shan’t be the last, if this all goes well,” said Hawke. She peered closely at the lyrium, then coughed. “Eurgh, awful. It makes me ill. I don’t understand how it could be here. I thought we’d seen the last of this dreadful stuff!”

“You and me both,” said Varric heavily. “I never wanted to see this again.”

“Perhaps it is but a sign of the blast,” Cassandra theorized. “Perhaps magic strong enough to tear the Veil could also do this.”

Solas shook his head. “This is like nothing I have seen before, even in the deepest reaches of the Fade. We must do what we can to close this rift.”

“Working on it,” said Hawke, but the green light in her hand blazed suddenly, and she doubled over with a gasp.

“Hawke!” Varric cried.

“It’s nothing,” she hissed, holding onto her staff for support. Her face was pale. “Let’s just -- let’s get through it. Buy me a pint after?” She closed her eyes, letting out a groan under her breath, and forced herself to straighten up. She wavered slightly on her feet.

Varric stared at her helplessly. Cassandra’s mouth thinned into a look of faint concern. Solas seemed as stoic as ever. Was he the only one who could see how bad this was?

“I’ll buy you six,” he managed, and Hawke smiled, looking wan and pale. That was something, at least. It wasn’t enough, but he’d take it. Maybe he’d try optimism for a change.

Anything for Hawke.

Optimism had been a terrible idea.

The demon that had leapt out of the rift hadn’t been a measly shade or a wispy bit of spirit. No, it had been a pride demon the size of a battle-tower, roaring a challenge across the field, brandishing a whip of pure lightning. But Hawke, his brilliant, headstrong, utterly insane Hawke had leapt forward with her magic flaring and her hand flashing, leading the charge.

The fighting was brutal. Bianca loosed bolt after bolt, and he crisscrossed the battlefield, laying down caltrops and scrambling out of the way whenever the thing got too close. Magic buzzed and flamed and cracked around them. Cassandra danced around the demon’s feet, drawing its ire.

But the demon was powerful, and the lightning whip lashed against them, knocking Varric to the ground. Lightning coursed through him and he writhed, muscles spasming against their will. Bianca clattered against the stones, and he struggled against the sparking whip, gasping for air, unable to call for help --

Cassandra let out a bellow of a battlecry, and the sound of steel rang clear across the field. The demon shrieked and fell to the ground with a terrible, shuddering blow. The lightning sparking in Varric’s chest vanished, and he sucked in precious air, his heart stuttering.

It had been defeated, finally. And from where he lay Varric could just make out Hawke, dragging herself upright, flinging her hand into the sky. She closed her fist --

There was a deafening sound like a clap of thunder, a shock wave that rolled through him. He blinked, gazing up at the stormy skies, trying to catch his breath.

The rift here at the epicenter had closed. He could see a faint greenish seam rippling in the very air where it had hung, a scar left behind. But the great rift, the Breach, still spooled threateningly across the distant sky. His eyes stung.

It wasn’t enough.

Struggling, he rolled over onto his chest and started to cough. He tasted blood. He reached for Bianca and pulled her close. Blearily he raised his head, searching for Hawke.

“Hawke!” he called, his voice faint.

Fifteen feet away Cassandra stood huddled over someone on the ground, someone who wasn’t moving. No. Varric staggered to his feet, lightning echoes still searing in his arm and chest, and limped to them. Maybe it was Solas, wounded --

His vision blurred. Hawke lay collapsed on the ground, still as death.

“Is she -- is she --”

Cassandra turned to him. Blood matted her hair, marred her mouth. “She is not responding.” She looked him up and down, squinting one blackened eye. “Varric, you’re hurt.”

He coughed again. “It’s a flesh wound. I’m fine,” he croaked. “Besides, like you’re one to talk.”

He sank to his knees beside Hawke, and reached out a trembling hand, cupping her cheek. “Damn it, Brightside. Wake up!”

But Hawke lay there crumpled, the green sparks in her hand faint at last, her face gray and slack. Panic seized him and he pressed his ear to her chest, only daring to breathe again once he’d realized she still drew air herself. He fell back, panting, and heard soft footsteps drawing near.

“We must get aid,” said Solas. His voice was tinny and small, sounding as if it was coming from very far away.

“They are badly wounded. We need a healer --”

Varric opened his mouth to argue, but a racking cough seized him. Black speckles crowded around the edges of his vision. Oh, shit, he thought, and then he hit the ground.

Varric groaned, rolling over in bed. He felt sore all over, especially in the chest and arm, but he had a vague sense that he was better off than he was before. He blinked, realizing that he was in an unfamiliar wooden cabin, in an oversized bed that wasn’t his.

“What the…” he mumbled. He glanced out the window, and realized the morning light was tinged in green.

The Breach.

Red lyrium.

Hawke.

He cast around the room, looking for any clues. A bedside table was cluttered with potions and bandaging supplies. A low fire crackled in the hearth across the room. And there, against the far wall —

There was a second bed across the room with a chair pulled up beside it. The person in the bed was rolled away from him, but he’d recognize that shock of dark hair anywhere -- not to mention the faint green light from the hand curled up on their side.

“Hawke,” he sighed. He gingerly scooted to the edge of the bed and slid down to the floor, cursing the height of human beds.

He pulled his blanket off to wrap around his shoulders. He’d been stripped down to his smallclothes — good thing modesty had never been one of his concerns — and in Haven’s mountain air he was freezing, even with the small fire in the hearth. He pulled the blanket closer to himself like a robe, and shuffled to the bed across the way, climbing stiffly into the tall chair at the bedside. His feet didn’t reach the ground, so he kicked them back and forth aimlessly.

He gazed at the back of Hawke’s head, his chest aching in a way that had nothing to do with lightning-burns.

“How do you manage to get yourself into these messes, Brightside?” he murmured. “And why am I always the damn fool tagging along?”

This was too much. They’d come here to try and put an end to the madness of the past few years, tell the Divine their piece once and for all, explain they hadn’t known what Anders was planning, point out all the ways they’d both tried to help Kirkwall through the years. The Seeker had promised that the Divine could clear their names if they were truly speaking the truth. After that, they were supposed to be able to go back home, sort things out, see their friends again. It was supposed to be a fresh start.

They weren’t supposed to be trapped here, with a mess far greater than anything Anders had ever done.

Varric hunkered deeper into his blanket, sighing. “I don’t know how I’m going to write this into my next book.” His words rang out into the quiet of the crackling fire and Hawke’s steady breathing. “It’s just not believable.”

“Mmm…” Hawke yawned. “What’s not believable?” She rolled over, gazing back at him through bleary eyes and mussed hair. Dark circles ringed her eyes, and a blue bruise shadowed her cheek. But there was color in her face again, and he thought she had never looked more beautiful.

“That this shit keeps happening to you,” Varric said, his face creasing into a broad smile. “Dammit, Hawke, it’s good to see you.” He reached out to tuck a stray strand of her hair behind her ear, and she closed her eyes for a moment, leaning slightly against his hand. He drew back.

She yawned again, rubbing her eyes. Then she spotted the green mark still faintly flickering from her hand, and she jerked it back as if she’d been burned. “Do you know,” she said drily, “I’d truly hoped this had all been a nasty dream?”

“Sorry, Brightside. I think it’s really real,” said Varric. “Weird shit and all. How are you feeling?”

“Mostly fine,” Hawke said, pulling herself up to a sitting position. Her blanket slipped, revealing the smallclothes she was wearing. She flushed, pulling her blanket back up over her chest. “Somewhat scantily clad. And I’ve got a splitting awful headache.”

“You and me both, on the scantily clad,” said Varric, lowering his blanket a little to show his bare chest. Glancing down, he realized there were still red burn marks lashing his torso. Magical healing only worked so well on dwarves. He grimaced and pulled the blanket back up hastily. “I guess that demon gave as good as it got.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” she muttered. “Like I said, I’d been hoping very much it was all a dream.” She frowned, brows knitting together in concern. “Are you all right? Those burns look nasty.”

He waved a hand. “They’re a lot better than they were.” He winced. “Someone’s done some healing magic, I think.”

“It never works as well for you,” she said quietly. “Don’t put on a brave face for my account, Varric.”

“Well, I could say the same for you,” he pointed out. “What about that? How’s it feeling?”

She glared at her marked hand, then poked her tongue out at it. “This doesn’t seem to hurt as much, at least, but I can’t figure out how I got the damn thing at all.”

“You still don’t remember?”

She shook her head. “I’m afraid not. It’s all still such a void. I can’t imagine any spell, any power I possess, turning into… this.” She took a deep breath, blinking back tears. “D’you think we’ll get a good story out of it, at any rate?”

“Not everything has to be a story, you know,” Varric said. “I know I’m one to talk, but this is almost too big for my kind of story.” He paused. “How are you doing? Really?”

“Really?” She hesitated, biting her bottom lip. “Oh come on, wouldn’t you rather I crack a joke and we can laugh like old times’ sake? No need to go all maudlin on you.”

Maybe she was right. Maybe he should let her put on her armor, the same sort he always wore when things got too tough, too much, too real; the armor he’d worn any time Bartrand came up, the armor he wore any time that he thought he ought to tell her how he felt. Maybe she was afraid to go without it. But if she never stopped wearing it — he’d seen what those last years in Kirkwall looked like, how it all weighed on her, and he knew she deserved better.

Maybe it’d be good for both of them to drop the armor.

Which was a far grander sentiment than what he actually said. The curse of being an author was that his interior monologue was often so much richer than what made it out of his mouth. Instead of anything poetic, all he came up with was, “Hey, it’s me, Hawke.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “You don’t have to bullshit.”

Hawke let out a long, tremulous breath. “Well, to be honest… I suppose I’m afraid.”

“I think you’d have to be crazy not to be,” Varric said. He moved a little closer to the edge of his chair, closing some of the distance between them. He shrugged. “We’re in way over our heads.”

She glanced at him, her eyes too bright. “I’m sorry, Varric.”

“You’re sorry?” Varric asked in surprise. “For what? For saving the day? Or at least, saving it enough for us to have another one? I’m not following, Brightside.”

“For getting us mixed up in all this!” she snapped. She grimaced, clenching her hand into a fist and biting her lip. “I thought if I came willingly to Haven with you and Cassandra that we’d be able to talk our way out of the Kirkwall business together, and we’d be able to clear my name and go back to Kirkwall in peace. I mean, as much peace as one could find with a war going on.” Her shoulders sagged. “But instead I’ve got myself all tangled up in whatever the Inquisition thinks it’s doing, I fear.” She shook her head miserably. “You at least ought to get out while you can.”

“Are you kidding me?” Varric snorted. “You don’t think I could have given Cassandra the slip in a hundred different ways on the way here? I could have left any time, Hawke. But I never would. Not if --” Oh, shit. This was getting close to the truth, wasn’t it? He stopped himself.

“Not if what, Varric?” Hawke asked. Her blue eyes were keen and luminous. She leaned toward him, tilting her head slightly to one side.

Words failed him. Maybe it was the fact that he was still lightheaded from his injury. Maybe he was just tired of skirting the issue, now that he’d nearly lost her. Maybe it was just that it was time to finally put aside the armor. The words tumbled out of his mouth, wholly unedited.

“Not if you needed me.”

“If I needed --” she began. She stopped, then said under her breath, “‘Always the damn fool tagging along.’ Oh.”

He waited for her to put the pieces together, and looked out the window, at the rising dawn, at the Breach, at anything but her.

“Varric…” Her voice rose in a giggly, slightly disbelieving accusation. “Look at me.”

He turned sheepishly back to her. His face felt as seared as if he’d been struck by lightning again. “Ahh, Hawke, don’t worry about it. Chalk it up to post-demon-fight delirium, if you will. No reason to mess up a good thing with a foolish dwarf’s infatuation.”

Hawke quirked an eyebrow at him. “Varric, I’ve never seen you blush so much. You’re a good liar, but even you trip up now and then.” She reached out and laid her hand over his, and his heart raced. A thought struck him, wild and incredibly unlikely.

“Weird thing is, Hawke, you don’t exactly seem surprised….”

She blinked, eyes bright again. “You daft fool, why do you think I really came along? They were going to court-martial you too. I came as much to clear your name as to clear mine. I could never have forgiven myself if something happened to you because of me, and it very nearly did with this demon, and well, just so you know, I’d tag along with you any day.” She grinned furtively. “It’s just, I’ve never quite figured out how to tell you.”

“Don’t pull my leg on this, Hawke. I mean it,” he warned, his stomach swooping. Shit. If she really means it -- shit!

“Have I ever lied to you before?” she asked, all trace of joking suddenly vanishing from her face. She looked nearly as nervous as he felt.

He opened his mouth to say yes, of course you have! But he realized that while he’d seen Hawke spin a thousand lies and half-truths through the years, that while she’d lied her ass off beside him to get out of more than one tight jam, she had never lied to him.

“Huh,” he stammered.

“I thought -- well, I don’t know, Varric, I assumed you’d only ever thought of me as a friend,” Hawke explained. “Or that you only had eyes for Bianca, wherever she might be.”

“Bianca’s more a memory than anything else now,” he said haltingly. “We closed that book a long time ago. But I thought — well, I thought you only saw me as a friend. I mean, you’re Hawke. You’re not exactly shy. If you felt otherwise, I figured you’d have said so.”

“Shy might not be the right word,” she mused. “Inept might be better. Or even just preoccupied, what with everything going on in Kirkwall.”

Varric nodded to himself, quietly astounded. Suddenly years of flirting and inside jokes and little touches here and there were clicking into place in a way they never had before. Damn. For a moment, they were both at a loss for words.

Varric finally broke the silence. “Uh, Hawke?” he asked softly.

“Yes?” She leaned in close to him. He could feel her breath on his cheeks, could count her dark eyelashes.

“We’re bad at this, aren’t we?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she whispered. “This part’s going all right.” And she pressed her lips to his in a soft, searching, clumsy kiss.

He closed his eyes, reached out, drew her close. She sank into his arms, her mouth warm against his, her skin softer than he could have ever guessed. For a moment, there was no broken world outside, no Breach in the sky; there was just Hawke, and that was everything.

Time passed; he wasn’t sure how long. At last she pulled back slightly, leaning her forehead against his and chuckling quietly to herself. “I suppose that’s one way to render Varric Tethras speechless.”

He snorted, reaching up and brushing her soft cheek with his fingertips. “I mean, it could have been a fluke. Maybe we should test this theory of yours. I’ll volunteer.”

“A shameless ploy for another kiss, I see. It’s a good thing I like you,” Hawke declared. She let out a long, sweet sigh. “Varric, do you know, I almost feel like I could face anything right now.”

“You’re telling me,” said Varric. “Hey, if we can finally figure this out --” He gestured between the two of them. “-- then the Breach doesn’t stand a chance.”

“How optimistic of you,” she said cheerily. There was that Brightside smile, beaming, bold, beautiful, and just for him. How the hell had he gotten so lucky? Maybe he’d have to rethink the whole optimism thing. “All right then, Varric. You and me against the Fade. Are you in?”

He kissed her. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

#hawke x varric #varric x hawke #varric tethras #f!hawke #dragon age #dragon age: inquisition #dai #hawke #hightown funk

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quindolyn · 3 years

Text

Wanna Hear You || James Potter

Word Count: 1497

Notes: This was not proof read, oops. But I know people wanted more sub!James so I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: smut, mommy kink, sub!James, riding, I believe thats about it

Masterlist

James was gorgeous, propping himself up above you on his forearms, rutting into you, hitting a spot deep inside of you that you didn’t even know existed until you had met James.

“Jamie!” His name left your mouth in a moan as you locked your ankles together on the small of the man’s back, your hands reaching up to scratch your fingernails up and down his shoulder blades. “Feels so good, Jamie, making me feel so good.”

The praise spurred the raven haired man on, encouraging him to speed up his thrusts, the head of his cock brushing a sensitive spot inside of you making you jolt in his grasp, moving your hands to paw at his rippling biceps.

The pleasure began to build in the pit of your stomach, the combined sensations of your body rubbing up against the sheets with each thrust and Jamie pressing further and further into you as you leaned upwards to slot your lips against his, drinking him in like ambrosia.

An idea hit you and in an instant, you had flipped the two of you. James’ body lying against the red sheets, his angry red shoulders melding uncomfortably with the admittedly soft fabric of the sheets.

You smiled down at him, huffing and puffing trying to catch his breath, his cock still buried deep inside of your warm, slick cunt which was pulsing around his length. Teasing him, hinting at the vice-like grip he knew you were capable of.

“Hi pretty boy,” You murmured, running your hands up and down his chest, pausing at his nipples to tweak them, watching his face contort in pleasure and his mouth take on the shape of an “O” at the subtle stimulation.

His large, calloused hands found your hips, hinting to you that he wanted you to move, but you weren’t going to let him off that easily.

“What, Jamie? Tell me what you want.” Your demand was stern but kind as you brushed the hair out of his face, allowing you to get a better look at his flushed, beautiful face.

“Want you to ride me,” He whined, bucking his hips up into yours.

“Come on baby, ask nicely.”

Huffing, he let his hands give your hips one final squeeze, “Ride me please darling, want you to bounce up and down on my cock please, need you, pretty please.”

“Now that’s a good boy,” You extolled, his begging triggering you to shiver as pleasure raced through your veins. Bracing yourself by planing your hands on his waist before lifting yourself off of his member so that just the tip of his prick remained inside of you. The sensitive head, red and leaking inside of your walls.

“Can you help me Jamsie? Can you help me ride you?”

His response came in the form of a muffled groan and the nodding of his head as his hands found their way to your bum, using his hold on your supple flesh to assist you in your efforts.

Breathy moans escaping your lips mingled with the grunts and mutterings of James from beneath you. Through the combination of the noises, and your concentration on the waves of euphoria rolling through you as the new position allowed for a different angle allowing Jame’s to press up against your g-spot with every single thrust, you almost didn’t hear the distinct words leaving his mouth.

Almost.

“What was that baby?”

He didn’t respond, instead turning his head, trying to nuzzle into the sheets to hide his blushing face from you.

“Nu uh,” You scolded, turning his head to face you, squishing his cheeks together in your grip, using the pad of your thumb to rub the saliva leaking out of his lips all over the pretty pink cushions. “Answer me baby, what did you say?”

After a beat he still hadn’t responded, resulting in you tightening your hold on him, “Say it Jamie, what did you say?”

After a moment of intense eye contact before James realizes you’re not going to relent and gulps before confessing, “You make me feel so good Mommy.”

Oh holy fuck.

“Say it again,” You commanded, picking up your speed, “Wanna hear you.”

“M-Mommy.”

The moan that left your mouth rang through your apartment as your clit rubbed against his pubic bone sending truly delicious waves of ecstasy through your core and through out the rest of your body, leaving your limbs feeling like someone has set them on fire. “Such a good boy for me, Mommy’s good boy.”

“Wanna be your good boy Mommy,” He whimpered, thrusting his hips upwards once again to be deeper inside of you.

“You are baby,” You soothed, leaning down to smooth a kiss along his cupid’s bow. Even though 5 minutes ago you could’ve sworn you were ready to go another half an hour before your orgasm hit you, but James calling you mommy had spurred you on beyond belief. “Gonna make Mommy cum pretty boy, gonna make her make a mess all over your cock. You want that baby?”

He nodded his head vigorously, gritting his teeth together as he threw his head back into the mattress, arcing his back in order to be as deep inside of you as possible. “Wanna hear you baby tell me what you want.”

“Wanna make you cum Mommy, want you to make a mess on my cock. Please Mommy, let me make you cum.”

A dry laugh left your lips at his desperation, he was so pretty begging for you, for your body. And to top it all off he wasn’t even begging to cum himself, he was perfectly content with getting you off.

“You’re gonna make me cum Jamie! Doing such a good job at making me feel good, you’re such a good boy.”

He whined at the praise, it spurring him on as he bucked into you again, the tip of his cock brushing your cervix.

“Oh fuck baby, I’m gonna cum!” You screamed as you tipped over the edge of pleasure, it wrapping around you and squeezing you similar to how you assumed you were squeezing around James’ length.

Black ebbed at your vision as you rode out your orgasm, somehow finding the strength within yourself to continue to ride the man beneath you. You could hear the blood rushing in your ears but the sound began to quiet as you came back. Quickly noticing Jamie beneath you, panting heavily, his eyes glued to your face.

“Did you cum darling?” You managed out through deep inhales.

“No Mommy,” He gritted out, his thighs trembling in the effort not to cum, not without your permission, to continue to be your good boy.

“Why not baby?”

“Because you didn’t say I could Mommy,” He whimpered, his hands balling the sheets up in his fists.

“No, I didn’t, such a good boy for waiting.” As the praise rolled off your lips a ginormous grin overtook his face. “Do you wanna cum now baby?”

“Yes Mommy,” He nodded desperately, his eyes shining at the mere prospect of getting his release.

“Alright baby then cum, go ahead and cum inside me.” You encouraged, resuming your movements up and down his cock, loving the friction of his cock slipping in and out of your sensitive cunt.

James was always vocal when he came, and this was no exception. “Gonna cum Mommy, gonna cum.”

“Do it baby, cum inside of me.” You ran your delicate fingers through his hair again, smiling as you felt him release his load into you, painting your walls in his release. You stayed fully sheathed on top of him, waiting for him to come back to you, which you assisted him in doing by unclenching one of his hands from the sheets, interlocking his fingers with yours.

“Hey baby,” You crooned, as he blinked his eyes open. “Did such a good job for me, yeah?”

“Was I your good boy Mommy?”

“Always,” You punctuated your affirmation with a delicate kiss to his nose, “Loved you calling me Mommy,” Your kisses trailed down his face to his jaw line where you began sucking hues of purple and blue into his flesh before dragging your teeth over them, delighting in the way he winced and shivered.

“Really?” He asked, sounding nervous, “It wasn’t weird or anything?”

“Of course not baby,” You leaned back a little bit to take in the entirety of his appearance, black tresses tangled and splayed out against the bed, face flushed as he panted, marks beginning to take shape on his jaw and neck. “Gotta clean you up now baby,” You said, easing yourself off of him.

But James wasn’t having it as he pulled you back down on top of him so that your naked chests were pressed together. “No,” His voice was muffled as he buried his face in your hair, “Wanna stay right here.”

“Okay then baby,” You giggled, nuzzling deeper into his chest.

“I love you (Y/N).”

“I love you too Jamsie.”

tagging: @randomoutsiders @weasleyposts @kittykylax @amourtentiaa

#harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter fanfic #harry potter smut #marauders #maraduers x reader #marauders smut #james potter #james potter x reader #james potter smut #james potter fanfiction #james potter fanfic

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papijean · 3 years

Note

Congratulations on 1k!!! Ah you’ve come a long way and I’m so happy for you 🥳

May I please request a Eren and Armin with 44&46 prompt? 👀

claire bb I hope you like

1.8k words

"Will you let us fuck you?" + "I can make you cum harder than him" + armin and eren

Dating Eren always had its ups and downs. He'd go through phases of making it hard to talk to him or see him, other times he refused to leave your side. There were your fights, your near break-ups, and your heavy make-ups. Eren was a rollercoaster when he was in a relationship, but it always seemed to be worth it.

He was the kind of boyfriend that would come up with spontaneous ideas. Traveling across the country just for a few nights to get out of the city, coming home with a new pet, asking his best friend to join you in bed...

Eren was always full of surprises.

He was quick to notice your sudden plateau when it came to sex. Eren wasn't going out of his way to find something new since he was so busy and you couldn't even muster up enough energy to agree to sex. You need something new, and it just so happened his best friend was in desperate need to get laid.

Hearing Eren nearly plead for you to let Armin join you just for one night was enough for you to begin to feel a sudden ache between your legs. "Will you let us fuck you?" God, those words sounded so pretty come from his lips. Armin's eager blue eyes to match the excitement... you couldn't say no.

Eren was so taken aback by how hot Armin looked claiming his girl as his own he couldn't do anything but watch. Armin's lips were everywhere on you, he couldn't get enough. This was something he'd dreamed of for so long and now, to finally get it, it felt surreal. He couldn't wait to hear those pretty sounds of your Eren bragged about - especially when he was going to be the reason for them.

"More," you breathed out. You felt no shame being naked in front of Armin, nor how wet you were as his fingers plunged in and out of you instead of your boyfriend's. His touch was entirely different. Eren always held a sense of neediness and roughness, Armin was's touch was like a knife. Sharp, meticulous, empowering.

"More?" Armin slowed the pace of his digits. "Is she always this needy, Eren?"

"You don't even know," Eren groaned. He wanted so desperately to join in with the two of you but he was frozen to his spot. The sight of you getting pleasured by another man was too much for him; he swore he could have cum in his pants at you. "Give her what she wants or she'll whine."

"Want you too, 'ren," you squeezed around Armin's fingers. Both of them at once? God, you weren't sure if you could even handle it. Eren was so much on his own, but with Armin too? "Please."

His hand lazily slid up and down his cock. The tip flamed red with desire. Clearly, he wanted to be a part of this too. Eren pushed himself off his seat, shedding the rest of his clothes as he made his way towards the bed.

"Baby, you're ruining the sheets because of Armin," Eren teased. One hand rested on Armin's shoulder, the other teasing your clit only for a second before retracting. You knew his teasing, how he likes to see your back arch for more. "Like his fingers better than mine? Hmm?" You couldn't bring yourself to answer.

Armin pulled his slender digits from you to show off all the juices you coated him with. Without hesitation, Eren grabbed the blonde's hand so he could suck off every drop of you. He hummed with delight at your taste, sending a vibration through Armin's body and straight to his cock that was already straining against his pants.

A quiet huff passed your lips at the lack of attention. It didn't go deaf past either of them, both sets of eyes suddenly on you and the pout you wore. Eren pulled away from Armin's slicked digits with a pop.

"I told you she'd start whining," Eren rolled his eyes. "Fill her up before she starts complaining too."

Armin fumbled with the buckle of his pants. A sudden wave of nervousness hit him and he struggled with getting it undone. If it wasn't for Eren stepping in, undoing his belt, button, and zipper, it would have been embarrassing. Instead, the simple act had his cock twitching for more.

You could have sworn drool pooled at the corner of your lips. Armin wasn't as large as Eren, but fuck was his member pretty. A blush crept up Armin's neck and face as both sets of eyes were glued to his cock.

"Please, Armin," you finally managed to speak. You should have felt guilty for asking for him first instead of Eren, but you couldn't help but feel anything but excitement at the sight of him. It seemed your boyfriend was just as entranced.

Armin roughly grabbed your hips and in a single motion, flipped you onto your stomach with your ass high in the air for him. His smooth palms glided over the squishy flesh before suddenly leaving a harsh smack. The wave of pain rippled through you, protruding a cry from your lips at the action.

The same two fingers as before teased between your folds. He loved watching your body react to his touch, maybe more than he should have.

"Gonna suck me off while Armin fucks you, pretty girl?" Eren pushed the stray hairs out of your face. You nodded at his request, eager to be filled by both of them. "That's my good girl. Armin's got such a pretty cock, doesn't he? Why don't you tell him that, hmm? Ask for it nicely."

"Please, Armin!" Your voice raised as his teasing became almost unbearable. "Please I want your pretty cock, I need you. Fuck me, please, Armin." Eren patted your cheek, giving you silent praise for listening to him.

Armin abided to your pleas. The tip of his cock replaced his fingers, though the teasing continued. He wanted to watch you squirm for him, become so desperate for his length it hurt not to be filled. Eren, on the other hand, was quick to have your lips wrapped around his girth. He couldn't handle the teasing any longer.

The lewd sounds of Eren's cock slipping in and out of your mouth, along with the near godlike face he was making because of you was enough for Armin to cave. Your sopping hole almost felt like it was fighting against him you were so damn tight. He couldn't imagine how you managed to take Eren like this, it seemed impossible.

"Fuck, Armin, she won't stop moaning because of you." The vibrations of your moans rippled onto his cock. No way he could last like this if you kept up. His whole body was lit up with pleasure, and by the looks of Armin's hazy eyes, he was too.

His thrusts were slow, but it was more than enough to have you consumed with need. He left a bruising grip on your hips, using your body as the only form of stability. Eren's moans overpowered the room, shamelessly showing off how incredible you were making him feel and hoping it would get Armin to do the same.

"So fucking tight," Armin choked out. It felt as if you refused to adjust to his size, keeping that precious hole of your tight just for him. Every movement had you sucking him back in. Your body nearly collapsed as he suddenly sped up, sending you farther onto Eren's cock with every thrust.

Eren pulled away, letting you have a breath of air and giving Armin the chance to go as hard as he wanted without fear of you choking. A plethora of moans, cries, and half-attempts of either of the men's names fell from your lips like a waterfall. He didn't hold back, especially not when he could feel you squeezing him even tighter and reaching your high.

The sounds went straight to his head. The sudden cockiness he felt earlier was back and more prominent than ever. He felt as if only he could bring these sounds out of you, not Eren, not anyone but him. You weren't his, but god did he want you to be after seeing you like this.

"Fuck, I bet I can make you cum harder than him. Bet I can make you fucking scream my name, make it the only name you know."

"Oh?" Eren looked at him with curious eyes. He felt his cock twitch at the sudden challenge. It looked like Armin was close too, not that he could blame the blonde for losing it so quickly with that perfect pussy of yours. Eren looked down at you, too fucked out to even be paying attention to their conversation. "Hear that, doll? Think Armin can make you cum harder than me?"

All he got in response was a moan as the blonde repeatedly hit your sweet spot over and over again. Armin's smirk only grew. It took only a moment for the room to change. The moan of Armin's name ripped from your throat as your orgasm cascaded through your whole body. Having you clench so tightly around him, the sound of his name, it was enough for him to follow right away.

However, it was to Armin's surprise that he felt Eren's hand wrap around his throat moments before he let go. The lack of air to his lungs only urged him on quicker. He adored the way Eren's large hand so easily fit around his neck and the look in his eyes as Armin reached his eyes. The argument of making you cum harder than ever before was quickly washed away and the reality became his hardest orgasm.

Armin couldn't help but let his load coat your walls and the jumble of a moan where no one could tell who's name he was trying to say. It was all too much for him. Armin's body shook with pleasure, overwhelmed by the duo.

"Fuck," Armin couldn't think straight any longer. Eren let go of Armin, dragging his fingers down his neck and chest. The blonde looked so pretty when he came, and Eren only wished you could have seen the view too. Pools of his cum spilled from your hole, dripping down your thighs. He adored the sight, even if he knew he shouldn't have.

"What do you think, babygirl? Did Armin make you cum harder than I ever could or do I need to fuck his cum back into you to prove a point?"

#papijean's 1k event #eren jaeger x reader #armin arlert x reader #armin arlert smut #eren jaeger smut #eren x reader x armin #eren x reader x armin smut #aot smut #attack on titan smut #snk smut #eren yeager smut #armin smut #eren smut

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weelittleweasley · 3 years

Text

love affair (g.w.)

prompt: a relationship with george weasley was all you wanted. but it seemed as though the two of you had two different ideas of what a relationship meant.

pairing: george weasley x fem!reader, fred weasley x fem!platonic reader

warnings: cheating relationships, physical violence, tiny blood warning (literally one sentence), lots of angst, language

word count: 7.5k

author note: this is an amalgamation of me getting out of a very strange relationship six months ago, driver’s license by olivia rodrigo, and two ghosts by harry styles, so take that as you will. this made me sad to write. im so sorry. i also wrote this half tired so if it doesn't make sense, IM SO SORRY LMAO

Knees curled up to your chest, you wrapped your arms around your legs, forcing your body into a coddled position as you sat upon the window sill. Forehead pressed to the glass, the coolness of it made your warm forehead ease with the sensation, condensation fogging up the window pane as your eyes stared mindlessly out of the window. Small mouth sounds fell from your parted lips as you inhaled and exhaled deeply. In the fog on the pane, you dragged your finger across the condensation, drawing little figurines as you attempted to distract yourself from your wandering thoughts that flooded with panic at the news you had received moments ago.

Your pointer finger drew a small heart into the glass before you ripped it away. The sound of a deep tenor rumble resonated outside as small water droplets began pitter-pattering down onto the window. The rain was soothing in contrast to your current state, washing over the lush landscape of the Scottish countryside that Hogwarts castle stood proudly on.

The rain renewed and refreshed the early autumnal landscape. Water struck upon delicate flowers and reached up to the pale gray sky, accepting the water gratefully. Like a stream in a forest, water rushed down the sides of the Whomping Willow as it twisted and shook off the rain as it poured down. The lush green grass absorbed the water, causing mud puddles to form in pockets across the ground. A smile creeped onto your face as you bit your bottom lip, thinking about how George would insist the next morning that you two go romp around in the mud, behaving like children. George loved mornings after the rain, the way the air was crisp, the smell of fresh dew, the soft ground beneath his yellow rain boots.

But with the thought of George, your anxious thoughts swirled in your mind like a mixing bowl. You took a deep breath in and repeated to yourself that you would not like to jump to conclusions. This could have been a misunderstanding and Patricia Stimpson had just conveyed the message incorrectly. But the churning in your gut suggested otherwise.

The rain came down relentlessly now, thunder rumbling like a snare drum as darts of lightning flashed far away. The storm was far away, thankfully, which put your mind at ease.

As a rumble of thunder rippled through, gentle knocks sounded at your door. Rather than getting up and greeting the expected visitor at the door, you lifted your wand beside you and with a gentle flick, the door creaked open just enough for him to push it open all the way.

Entering the room, George closes the door behind him. Without even saying a word, he knows you aren’t yourself. Something was troubling you and it was palpable. The way you curled up watching the rain trickle down the window as you followed it lazily with your finger. George sighs and walks towards you. “Awfully quiet today, aren’t we?” he speaks simply as he takes a seat across from you on the window sill, him sitting criss cross.

You peel your eyes away from the window and give him a gentle smile as your mind screams to tell him to leave the room, you need space. But when you look at him, your heart swells with all the love you can conjure in your body. He was your George. How could he have done something so unthinkable, but your heart still leaped at the sight of him? You pushed the thought away; nothing was confirmed yet. “Hi, Georgie,” you speak quietly. He scoots closer to you, smile on his lips as he leans forward and presses a light kiss to your forehead. “There’s just a lot on my mind today.”

George peels your arms from around your legs and pulls on them gently, making you wrap your legs around his waist as you huff, giving into his touch. Now, you were wrapped around him like a koala would be, his hands resting on your hips as he brushed a loose strand of hair from your face. “Would you like to share with the class?” he jokes as you give him a look that tells him you were serious. He clears his throat. “Sorry, darling,” he smiles. “What’s bothering you? You can tell me...I don’t like seeing you upset. Especially if it is something I can prevent.”

How ironic. You rub your eyes with the heels of your hands as you inhale a shaky breath. “I received some news from Patricia Stimpson this morning,” you start as you gently start to peel yourself off of George. It didn’t feel right to talk about something like this while being complete entangled in each other. George gives you a concerned look, a little confused as to why you would be talking to Patricia Stimpson. “She saw something that you did that is honestly quite disturbing.”

Patricia came up to you this morning after you had finished breakfast in the Great Hall with George as you parted ways for the day, him to the library and you to you the courtyard. She had a look of urgency in her eyes as she tapped your shoulder and requested to speak somewhere privately. The two of you sat on a bench in the courtyard as she gave you a sad smile and revealed information that you never thought you would receive.

Your heart had stopped beating at the mention of the combination of names strung together in that sentence. It felt like your worst nightmare had grown legs and had walked into your life. The news slapped you in the face as you just stared at her when she told you, looking into her eyes that looked at you so sad for you. “You mean to tell me,” you breathily laugh, not wanting to even think that this situation was a possibility, “that you saw George and...Angelina...”

She nodded her head, sadly with a look of guilt on her face. She hated that she had to be the barer of bad news, especially since you two weren’t that close. But she would hate to see another girl struggle to breathe as rumors flooded in when she knew she could have helped prevent the situation. Patricia gulped and spoke, “Snogging, yeah.” The thought makes bile rise in your throat as you swallow hard and close your eyes. “It happened a few days ago. They were in the library in the back. I was trying to return a book and I stumbled upon them. The two of them both froze and Angelina then yelled at me to leave and I did, I was shocked, I didn’t know what to do,” she tries to reason. “I’m so sorry, (Y/N).”

You shook your head and placed a reassuring hand on Patricia’s. “Please don’t apologize. You didn’t nothing wrong, darling,” you give her a weak smile. “There was nothing you could after seeing that except tell me. Thank you for telling me,” you speak as you inhale a deep breath, trying to understand how something like this could have happened.

George went to the library often, but he was usually accompanied by Fred or Lee to talk about the joke shoppe or sorts. He would have meetings every four days. If he had slipped away to do something with Angelina, Fred or Lee would have known. But what really stung was the fact that it was Angelina. Your first friend at Hogwarts. She introduced you to George. She helped set you two up. And now she was the one tearing you apart.

Patricia starts rambling, “I should have told you when I saw it, but I was scared that I had the wrong twin. That it was Fred and not George, but I could have sworn it was George. It had to have been.”

You speak, “Stop justifying things, Patricia. It’s okay. I’ll, um, I’ll have a chat with George about this I guess. Thank you, again, Patricia. I’ll...see you around.”

When you recounted the events to George, he just sat there and looked at you in disbelief. The way he looked at you with so much pain in his eyes made you feel guilty for accusing him of such a thing. You gulped down a dry swallow and told yourself you couldn’t cry, but that didn’t halt the tears from welling up in your eyes as you inhaled a shaky breath. George still just stared at you in shock. “Please, Georgie,” you beg, just barely above a whisper, knowing if you speak any louder, you’ll crumble. “Tell me it’s not true.”

Your bottom lip trembles and threatens to spill out a sob, but it’s stifled when George pulls you into his chest as you cry into his jumper, taking it in your hands in fistfuls. You let cries erupt throughout your body as George rubs your back soothingly, kissing the top of your head. “Don’t cry, angel,” he coos as you sob into his chest, praying to whoever was listening that this wasn’t happening. “Shhhh,” he hushes you, gently prying you off of his chest so he could look into your eyes.

Looking up at him teary eyed, George cradles your face in hands, thumbs wiping away your tears as you tremble like a child after a sick nightmare. He pressed a kiss to one cheekbone and then the other, where tears fell before he pressed his forehead up against yours. “Never in my life,” he speaks, “would I do that to the girl I love.” The fear evaporates from your body as your shoulders relax and you let out a shaky breath. “I know Patricia claims it was me, but it was absolutely Fred. He’s had his eye on Angelina for a few weeks now. Nice to know that my own twin brother doesn’t tell me when he snogged a girl,” he teases as you giggle lightly. “(Y/N)...” he speaks, his voice trailing off, almost as if it were a warning. “I love you.”

His declaration of love felt more like a statement when he said it. As if you should have known. It was firm and pressing. You shook your head as you smiled lightly, sniffling. It was dumb of you to question George’s loyalties in the first place. He loved you fiercely. “I love you, Georgie.”

And for the first time ever in this relationship, the words you exchanged felt out of place. Misused. But you knew the words still rang true for the both of you after three years of dating. If they didn’t, you wouldn’t have your lips pressed against his right now in a gentle kiss, trying to mend what had almost been broken.

--------------

A few days had passed since the rain and you found yourself happily walking down the hallway, hand in hand with George. He leaned down and whispered in your ear, making you laugh and slap his chest as he joined you in laughter. George squeezed your petite hand in his larger one before he spoke, “Freddie and I have got a team meeting in the library. We’ve got potential investors for the joke shoppe.”

Your eyes widen as you excitedly push his shoulder. “Investors? Geez, Georgie, why didn’t you tell me?!” you exclaim as he chuckles. “I’m so proud of you,” you beam, gently stroking his cheek before you place a gentle kiss to his lips. “Go on then, go do more exciting things,” you push him in the direction of the library.

George sends you a wink, “I’ll catch you after, alright?” He walks backwards down the hall. “In your room?” he asks as you smile and nod. “Brilliant.”

And with that, he’s gone as you shake your head and continue walking down the hallway. As you walk, you think about how that night between you and George had brought you closer. He wanted to be around you more, he gave you more compliments, he paid close attention to how you were feeling. It was like he was becoming a more attentive boyfriend. A new George, one that you could get used to.

You lazily walked through the halls of Hogwarts, chatting with people you knew as you passed. Now, you found yourself giggling as you stumbled upon Ron, linking arms as dancing down the hallway. You erupted in a fit of giggles as Ron spun you around and he chuckled. The two of you engaged in light chatter before he offered you a snack from his satchel, a bright red apple. “What is it with your family and always eating? I don’t get it,” you tease him.

Ron shrugs, “Always be prepared?”

You roll your eyes as you continue to walk, talk, and eat as you turn the corner and you furrow your brows. There was Fred leaning up against the wall, chatting to Lee about something before Lee threw his head back in laughter. That was odd. Quite a short meeting Fred and George had. “Oi!” you call out. “Freddie!” You drag Ron down the hallway to meet his brother and Lee as Ron throws a lazy arm around your shoulder, towering over you.

Fred turns his eyes and when his eyes land on you a genuine, happy smile appears on his face. “Oi, is my younger git brother annoying you?” he teases as Ron sarcastically laughs before punching Fred in the arm as Fred laughs melodiously.

“Piss off, Fred. Don’t you have somewhere to be?” he sneers.

You turn to Fred again, “I thought you and Georgie had a meeting about the joke shoppe. I was just with him like twenty minutes ago and he said he had to run.” You were genuinely curious and also confused. You thought an investor meeting would take more time than just a mere twenty minutes if it was a serious offer.

Fred shakes his head and tucks his hands into his pockets. “No,” he speaks, brows furrowed, confused as to why his brother would relay false information to you like this. “We have a meeting about the shoppe every other week. Our next meeting isn’t for another week.” Lee looks at you, puzzled, looking back and forth between you and Fred. There was something wrong.

Your heart sinks and your mouth goes dry. Ron watches your face drop from an excited smile to the color of parchment. He places a cautious hand on your shoulder. Before he can ask you how you’re feeling, you speak up, “Freddie,” you gulp. “This is going to sound like a weird question, but I need you to be brutally honest with me.” Fred looks at Lee completely puzzled before looking at you. “About a week ago, did Patricia Stimpson walk in on you snogging Angelina in the library?”

Lee cackles, “He wishes! Angelina Johnson wouldn’t go near our poor Fred with a ten foot pole!” Lee claps Fred’s shoulder as Fred shoots him a glare, making Lee pipe down immediately. Now was not the time to joke around. And that really meant something when it came to Fred Weasley.

Your heart sinks further and your chest starts to rise and fall with anxiety. The big red apple that was once in your hand fell to the floor and rolled away. Something was gravely wrong. Ron peels his arm off of you, knowing that you need space as you anxiously look between Fred and Ron and Lee, trying to figure out where George could be then. If he wasn’t with Fred or Lee or you, then that meant he was alone. Or...

Fred looks at you and takes a step closer to you. “(Y/N),” he speaks, approaching you with caution like you were ticking time bomb. “Look at me,” he speaks, placing both of his hands on your arms as you look upwards at him, fear in your eyes. “Where did my brother tell you he was?”

Breathing heavily, you open your mouth and no sound comes out at first, just a squeak. Fred’s eyes soften, concerned for you and moment away from kicking his brother’s teeth in. His eyes coax you into trusting him with the information you have. Finally, you manage, “In the library, with you, talking about investments for the shoppe.”

Without another word, Fred takes your hand in his and speaks directly to Lee. “If George doesn’t come back to the room tonight, don’t go looking for him,” he speaks through gritted teeth. “Ron, stay here. We don’t need more attention to the scene we’re about to cause. Or should I say, I’m about to cause.”

Before anyone can object, Fred and you are now walking, more marching, down the halls of the castle to the library to hunt out George. Panic and fear are pumping through your veins as Fred radiates pure fury. Fred and you were always very close, even more so after you and George had started dating. In Fred’s eyes, you were like another sister to him. He felt the overwhelming need to protect in a way that was different how George protected you. Fred knew the inner workings of your mind like the back of your hand. You were the first person he came to when he had a problem and vise versa. Fred was your friend and a damn good one at that. He hated seeing you upset, especially if he knew it was the doing of his own twin.

“Freddie,” you breathe out. “Patricia came to me days ago and told me that she saw them, but I didn’t believe it. He had told me that it was you and that you had a thing for Angelina for a while and I believed it because I have always trusted George. But now I-”

Halting dead in his tracks before you walk into the library, Fred grabs your shoulders and spins you to face him. “Listen to me, (Y/N),” he commands your attention. “I love my brother. He’s my other half. But something he can be that the guy who is down right dick. And if he did, or is doing, what we’re thinking, then he’s even worse than I had ever imagined. And that is on him.” Fred’s words bring you peace, but also a wave of nerves. Could George ever be unfaithful? Did the relationship have that many cracks that he allowed himself to slip through one? Fred’s brown eyes that looked so like George’s stared into yours as he gave you a smile. “You’re the best girl I know and George is a fucking idiot if he’s letting you go. Regardless of what happens in there, I am your best friend first and foremost. I’m here for you no matter what he does.”

You nod your head and sigh before pulling Fred into the tightest hug you’ve ever given anyone. With all your might, you hold him close as he sighs and hugs you back, knowing the outcome of this situation before it had even unfolded. Fred thought to himself how could his brother be so selfish, so childish, so moronic to do what he had done. There was no going back now. You can feel the hot tears stinging the back of your eyes, but you don’t dare let them fall. You were still clinging onto the last bit of hope before you entered the library. “Thank you, Freddie.”

His arms gave you one last squeeze before taking your hand in his. “Are you ready?” he asks, eyes genuinely searching yours for your answer. Fred was ready to go in there without you to confront his asshole twin and your once best friend, yelling and screaming. Rage was pumping through his veins, but he tried his best to conceal it in front of you. Fred didn’t want you to see him like this.

With a weak nod, you inhale a shaky breath. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

The two of you walk into the library and you feel your heart drop into your feet when you step in. You didn’t like the way the library felt in this moment. It was cold and hot at the same time and you felt stifled. But that didn’t stop you from chaotically walking to the back of the stacks to find your boyfriend.

You peer down aisles trying to find that familiar tuff of red hair, but all you find are diligent students reading, some joking around with each other, others peering through the stacks to find books. “Where the bloody hell...” you whisper to yourself, growing frustrated that you couldn’t find George. Your nervous energy was now being channeled into anger as you balled your first beside you.

Before you can flip around and ask Fred where he thought his brother could be, you hear a familiar low voice and girlish giggle from behind you. You look at Fred, your eyes wide and stomach churning. Fred opens his mouth to say something, but you are already walking to the back of the library to find exactly what you expected.

The red haired boy your heart belonged to was now pressed flushed against your once best friend, lips connected to each others as her fingers played with the hair that stuck up on the back of his neck. George’s hands were placed on her hips before running down her sides to squeeze her bottom cheekily as she giggled. You inhaled a sharp gasp at the sight, wanting to vomit at the sight of George and Angelina pressed up against each other like this. Your mouth hangs open as the detach themselves from their embrace, faces falling from smiles to sheer horror.

“Fucking hell,” you breathe out, the tears that threatened to fall outside now flowing down your cheeks freely. You feel Fred’s presence behind you as George and Angelina’s eyes dart between you and Fred. Angelina stutters for a moment as George’s hands fly off of her body and into his pockets. “So is Angelina your potential investor?” you ask, bottom lip trembling in horror as Fred steps right behind you, placing his hand on yours giving it a squeeze, letting you know that he is right there with you.

George steps away from Angelina and Angelina fumbles with her words, “(Y/N)-”

You scoff, “Oh, shut up, Angelina. You have no excuse. You were supposed to be my best mate, but instead you decided that you’d rather fool around with my boyfriend behind my back, eh? Some fucking friend you are.”

Angelina’s face contorts with sadness and guilt as she looks down at her feet, playing with her fingers. “I didn’t mean for it to happen,” she tries to defend herself.

With pure fury rushing through your veins, you laugh. “Well, I’d bloody hope you didn’t plan on it!” you exclaim. “I always knew you to be competitive, but not like this. This is low. Even for you,” you shake your head before looking at George who has guilt slapped all over his face. He opens his mouth to say something, but you stick up your hand. “Don’t even say anything to me. Don’t you dare even look at me. You’re a liar and a cheat and loathsome. I hope you’re happy. Angelina, he’s all yours.”

You turn away and let a hand fly up to your mouth to conceal your sob as you run out of the library with Fred draping a protective arm around your shoulder. “Come on, now,” he whispers to you as some people notice your state. “It’s over. They’re both done and that’s it. You can cry, darling, it’s alright.”

Fred whisks you out of the library quickly and the moment you step down the secluded hallway, you collapse into Fred’s arm as he holds you, brushing your hair calmingly. The sobs rake through your body, causing it to tremble hopelessly in his arms as he holds you tight. Seeing you like this filled Fred with rage as he kissed the top of your head as he allowed you to cry into his chest, holding onto him for dear life. You sob and mumble things into his jumper as he nods his head. “I’m here, it’s alright.”

That’s when you hear his voice. “(Y/N), please let me talk,” George pleads, pain evident in his voice, but immeasurable to how you felt in this moment. You don’t dare look at him, burying your face deeper into Fred’s chest as his grip grows iron on you.

“Back off, mate, haven’t you hurt her enough?” Fred defends you as he rubs your back. “What has gotten into, George?”

George’s jaw clenches and his fists bundle up beside him. “Piss off and let me talk to my girlfriend, Fred,” he speaks through gritted teeth. “Please, (Y/N),” his voice changes when he addresses you, more gentle and coaxing as you sob harder into Fred’s chest. “I need to tell you my side of the story.” Fred laughs as you peel yourself from him, wiping your eyes, hot with tears. “There’s no explanation needed, dear brother,” Fred sneers at George who with a sarcastic smile presses his tongue to his cheek in sheer annoyance. “She caught you in the act. What are you going to explain? How your tongue accidentally found its way into Angelina’s mouth?”

George takes a step forward, challenging his brother. “Shut the fuck up, would you?” he bellows, anger in his eyes as Fred doesn’t back down, unafraid of George. You watch as the scene unfolds in front of you, still sniffling. “All of a sudden you’re interested in my girlfriend? You trying to scoop her up while she’s vulnerable?” he pushes Fred’s chest.

“Scoop her up?” he pushes back. “Are you mental? And if she hadn’t made it clear already, I’ll do it for you. Ex-girlfriend. She’s your ex-girlfriend,” Fred corrects his brother. “Not to mention, (Y/N) has always been my friend, even before you started dating. I’m not trying to scoop her up, George, we’re friends! I will always protect her! Especially when you fail to do so,” he spits at George.

That’s what sends George over the edge. With a yell, he sends a gruesome punch to Fred’s jaw who nearly falls over from the blow. “Godric, George, stop!” you yell out at he goes for Fred again, but Fred sends a punch to his twin brother’s nose as George stumbles back, blood trickling down from his nose.

People start to notice that the twins are now in a full on fight, grabbing and swinging at each other as they yell profanities at the each other. A crowd starts to trickle in, cheering on either side of the boys as you watch in horror.

“Fucking hell, get off of each other!” you scream as you grab Fred’s arm as he holds it up to send another punch to his brother’s nose. “Knock it off, you fucking dickheads!” you throw yourself in front of Fred as George and Fred catch their breaths, chests heaving. “Can we not make this a public affair?” you scream again, gesturing to the small crowd that has formed to witness the Weasley twins having it out at each other. “We can talk about this in private,” you say in a hushed angry tone to George. You turn to Fred and take a look at his face, no blood, but definitely lots of bruises and a split lip. “Episkey,” you wave your wand at his face, sealing his broken lip as well as managing to take away some of the swelling of his eyes.

Fred hisses as his face stings as it heals. “You don’t need to talk to him, (Y/N). He doesn’t deserve to hear what you have to say,” he sneers at George who takes another challenging step at Fred.

You hold Fred back again and hold a warning finger to George. “Don’t you dare. You’ve already hurt enough people today,” you spit at him who immediately retaliates. You speak to Fred with a soft, calm smile. “I’ll be okay. I can handle him, Freddie,” you insist as Fred gives you sad smile.

Slowly looking away from Fred, your eyes land on George as your heart breaks at the sight of him. He wiped his bloody nose on his shirt sleeve as he glared at his brother, eyes eventually trailing to you as his glare fades into a guilty look. The brown eyes that you loved so much suddenly made you feel cold and alone as you inhaled a shaky breath. George tries to offer you his hand to walk somewhere more private to discuss things, but you just scoff and walk past him, letting him follow you. The audacity, you thought to yourself.

The two of you walk into an empty classroom as you close the door behind you and leaning against it, arms folded in front of you as you glare at George. You could feel yourself wanting to cry again, but you refused to let him see you cry again. He wasn’t worth your tears. Instead, you let rage course through your body instead of sadness.

George gulps before speaking. “I never wanted this to happen...” he trails off.

“No, you never wanted to get caught,” you correct him as he lets out a disgruntled sigh. “I never thought you would ever do this to me, George. Nevertheless, do it to me with my best friend,” you shake your head. “I thought that if you didn’t love me anymore, you would at least have the decency to tell me,” you throw your hands up in defeat. George remains dead silent. “But somehow, you thought this was a better option.” He quickly replies, “It just happened, (Y/N)!” You furrow your eyebrows. “We were in the common room one night, studying for an exam and we started talking and then for some reason, one thing lead to another, and we kissed,” he admits as your heart breaks. So they had kissed before the time Patricia caught them in the library. This wasn’t a one time mistake he made. George had repeatedly kissed Angelina. Godric knows what else they did. “It was a huge mistake, (Y/N), and I’ll never forgive myself for it. You mean so much to me,” he tries to rationalize with you, begging at this point.

You just scoff and say, “A huge mistake that you did again and again and again. If I hadn’t caught you in the act, you would have kept seeing her, wouldn’t you?” George just shakes his head and gulps, taking a step forward. “Don’t lie to me, George...not again,” your voice cracks, but you refuse to cry. “Instead of telling me how you really felt, you kept telling me you loved me.”

George takes your hands in his and speaks, “I have always loved you, (Y/N). None of that was ever a lie.” Your eyes search his eyes, searching for a truth. Something to tell you why you should stay with him. But instead, you found nothing. “I don’t know what I was thinking,” he whispers, tears filling his eyes as he truly feels sorry when he understands what he losing. “We’re just not who we used to be, I guess,” he shrugs his shoulders, trying to shift the blame on both of you.

Pulling away from his hands, you spit back, “No, you’re not who you used to be.” You shake your head. “In fact, I don’t know who you’ve become. But you’re not the George I fell in love with,” you take a deep breath in as George’s heart breaks. What George did really ripped your heart out of your chest, but this is was ripped it into a thousand pieces. Leaving him. “Goodbye, Georgie.”

George shakes his head, “(Y/N), please don’t.”

But you were already gone.

-------------------

Being without George for the first weeks of the breakup were difficult. You missed his touch, his voice, his eyes, his laugh, his smile; you missed it all. Even though what he did rung your heart out, there was a part of you that missed him more than words could say.

People took notice immediately about how you didn’t sit next to George during meals in the Great Hall or converse to Angelina in between classes. This all earned you sorry glances in your direction as people found out what happened. It was embarrassing, having everyone know exactly what went down between you and George and Angelina.

You tried to distract yourself with other friends and schoolwork and other hobbies to keep yourself from thinking about George. But somehow, you always thought of him and how he so harshly betrayed you. No matter what you were doing, something had made you think of him. It came down to the point that you had to distance yourself from Fred, your closest friend after Angelina, because just the look of him made you think of George. That fact that your best friend had to be the identical twin of your cheating ex-boyfriend was enough to drive you mad.

But after a few weeks of healing and distancing yourself from everything that reminded you of George, you finally decided you couldn’t let him prevent you from seeing Fred. Fred was not only George’s brother, but your friend and you were’t going to let that stop you. When you had seen him for the first time since you and George broke up, tears welled in your eyes, you missed him so much. Fred gave you the tightest hug and profusely apologized for his brother’s behavior. Fred was insistent on helping you in every way possible to move on from George; he wanted you to know that no matter what he would be there for you, no matter if it was his twin who had done the damage or not.

Fred along with the help of your other friends helped you get over George and move on. They helped you regain your confidence and have fun and you couldn’t be more grateful. Soon enough, George was the last thing on your mind. His presence in a room no longer made you sad, the mention of his name didn’t make your heart stop, and the sight of him didn’t make you miss him. You were over George Weasley; something you never thought you would be able to say.

Even though you were over George, you didn’t think that you would date someone else after four months after your break up. But funnily enough, you were. The relationship that had blossomed between you and Roger Davies started as something very innocent. You had always been friendly with Roger, but not very close. So when you had initially started studying in the library, you didn’t think it would lead to hanging out in the courtyard, to your first date to Hogsmeade, until your first kiss on the moving staircase.

Roger was so refreshing. He was gentle and kind and shy, but he was affectionate and loved showing you how much he truly cared for you. He would be in the hallways with his friends and spot you across the way before running over to place a quick kiss on your cheek before running back to his friends. Or he would see you studying in the library alone and then immediately find the chair next to you to keep you company. It was the little things he did that made you feel so loved.

When word got to George that you and Roger started dating, he was didn’t take the news well. Unlike you, after the breakup, George wallowed in his guilt and couldn’t stop thinking about how foolish and careless he was. He cursed himself for letting he and Angelina share that kiss on that late night in the common room. He hated the fact that he let himself come back for more when he had someone like you in his fingertips. Someone who loved him fiercely and would do anything to prove their love. When Fred told him the news about you and Roger, George sat there with sad eyes and dryly gulped. “Why him?” he spoke. He was sad, angry, disappointed, jealous at the fact that Roger had just scooped you up.

“She found someone who she cares for and who does the same,” Fred tells his twin. “You should be happy she found someone like that after how the relationship ended with you two,” he tells him as George just closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I know you miss her, George, but it’s over. You messed up.”

George just looked at his brother with the most pained look on his face. George knowing that he hurt you in a way unimaginable sat with him like a rock in his stomach. “It was the worst thing I ever did, Fred. I fucked up big time and I can’t fix it. I really can’t fix it this time,” he spoke, pools welling up in his eyes as Fred gave his brother a sympathetic gaze. “I really messed up, Fred.”

---------------

Winter break rolled around and it would be your first holiday with Roger, but the first holiday without the Weasleys. The thought made your stomach churn. The Weasley family took you in as their own the moment they saw you. Molly and Arthur felt like a second set of parents and you were so grateful that you always had a home with them. You sadly smiled at the memories of the Burrow and the holiday season. You had spent the past four Christmases with the Weasleys and each year just got better and better. You had thought your seventh year would be the best yet, but you had to cast that thought away before you grew sadder.

Shaking away the thoughts of the Burrow, you smiled at the thought of spending the holiday with Roger and his family. You were more than nervous to meet his parents and his older brother, but Roger made it abundantly clear that his family was thrilled to meet you. “I’ve talked to my mom about you before and she is so excited to meet you. She says you sound lovely,” Roger kissed your forehead as you danced nervously around your dormitory room.

You gave him a nervous smile. “I just really want them to like me,” you shake your hands nervously as he takes your hands in his, laugh gently at your nerves. “I’m serious, Roger. I love you and I want your parents to know how much I care for you,” you stand in between his legs as he sits on your bed.

Roger smiles and kisses your nose gently. “They’ll love you because they know how much I love you and how much you mean to me. Let’s be honest, though, what’s not to love about you?” he pokes at your sides as you giggle.

And he wasn’t wrong. Roger’s family was so warm and welcoming to you. Practically the moment his mother spoke to you, you saw how kind and lovely she was and how the whole family took you in instantly. You couldn’t be more grateful to have a boyfriend who had a family that was kind and welcoming like the Weasleys.

On the first night at Roger’s home, you laid in bed next to Roger as you played with the hem of his jumper. “My family bloody loves you,” he whispered to you with the largest smile on his face. You smiled wide and pecked his cheek. “I’m serious. You even impressed Chester and that’s not an easy feat,” he refers to his older brother.

You beam, “Your family is wonderful. Truly. I love them already and it’s just the first night.”

“It’s only going to get better from here,” Roger wiggles his brows as you giggle before he presses his lips to yours.

When the Weasley students arrived home from Hogwarts, they were all tightly embraced by Molly Weasley who peppered each of her kids’ faces with kisses, making them all lovingly groan. “Ah! Harry, there you are,” Molly beamed as she kisses the top of Harry’s head. “Good to have you back home again, my dear,” she spoke before doing the same to Hermione’s head and giving her a tight squeeze. Molly looked around the living room, searching for something or rather someone. “Where’s (Y/N)? Georgie, did you leave her at Hogwarts as a mean prank?” she teased before noticing her son’s hollow face and everyone tense up as Molly spoke of your name like it was You Know Who. “What happened, Georgie?” she looks at her son with a stern look in her face. She knew something was very wrong and she had a bad feeling about it.

George gulps before saying, “(Y/N) and I broke up, Mum.”

Molly’s face drops with sadness before looking at Arthur whose face resembles Molly’s. “Really? Oh my dear, I’m so sorry, Georgie. (Y/N) and you seemed so happy. How did it happen?” she implores as George stiffens and Fred sighs and rubs his face.

This is the part that George Weasley was dreading; the reason why you split up. Everyone else in the room was scared for him too, Merlin’s sake. With a deep breath, George said, “Um,” and swallowed hard. “I wasn’t a good boyfriend, Mum. I betrayed her trust.”

And that’s when Molly’s face dropped into a serious expression. Molly always taught her children how to care for others and always be loyal to the ones who treat you with love. George’s behavior spoke a different story. “George Fabien Weasley,” she shook her head. “I thought you knew better,” her heart broke for you and it hurt her to know that one of her own boys did that to you. “Your father and I taught you better than that,” she told him with a disapproving look on her face.

It was all she needed to say in order to make George feel more disappointed in himself than ever. He sadly looked to Fred who gave him a sad smile. Losing you was the worst thing he’s ever done. He not only lost you, but he made his parents feel disappointed in him. You meant so much George and he threw that all away for a silly fling that he could never take back. George nervously bit down on his lip before huffing his way up the stairs, needing to be alone with his thoughts for a while.

The Weasley siblings dispersed throughout the Burrow as they all felt the strange shift in the energy of the house. The house was feeling the weight of your absence. When everyone was in the Burrow, the home was full of life. But with you gone, it was like one piece of the puzzle was missing and wouldn’t be found.

As George opened the door to he and Fred’s room, the memories of previous holidays flood George’s mind. The two of you laying on his bed, him on his back, you on your stomach as you comb your fingers through his hair. He would steal kisses from you every now and then and poke at your sides, making you giggle wildly. George would hold you close in his arms and whisper how happy he was that you were with him. You would pepper his face in kisses, telling him how much you adored him in between pecks.

The memory made him smile as he entered the room, the more he walked in, the more memories resurfaces. He thought of the time you two watched the sunset out of his window, or the time you two laid on your back on his floor and reread a muggle book of yours, or the time he told you he loved you for the first time in the middle of the room on Christmas Eve all those years ago.

“You alright, mate?” Fred’s voice interrupts George’s thoughts. Fred gives is brother a sad look. “I know it must be hard this time of year, George,” he puts a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “But you’ll be alright. And so will she.” George shakes his head sadly. “Listen, George, even though what you did was still very wrong, you’re my brother and I love you. I’m here for you.”

George gives his brother a sad smile and shakes his head as if to say thank you. He looks Fred in the eyes and just shakes his head, “I want the best for her, Freddie. I want to be the best for her.” George has tears in his eyes and chokes lightly on his words.

Fred’s heart hurts for his brother. George rarely cried in front of Fred, he usually liked to be alone if he was going to cry. He didn’t like Fred seeing him upset. But this was too much for George to hide. Fred holds his brother’s arms and speaks, “I know, George. I know. But right now, what’s best for her is space. You both need to be away from each other. That’s what’s best for both of you.”

That made George realize that his brother was very right. As much as he hated to believe that you two couldn’t be together, George knew it was true. And he would have to be okay with that.

#Fred and George #george weasley imagine #george weasley imagine #george weasley #george weasley x #george wealsey imagine #george weasley x reader #george weasley x reader imagine #george weasley x fem #george weasley x femreader #george weasley smut #george weasley angst #george weasley x angst #Harry Potter #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfic #Harry Potter Smut #harry imagine

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miraculouslycool · 4 years

Text

Laser Pointers

Summary:

"Alright, you want an explanation? Do you know how your animal tendencies carry over? You purr sometimes and your teeth become sharper?" Plagg asked grouchily.

Adrien subconsciously touched his mouth as he nodded.

"Do you know how cats chase after laser pointers? They can't restrain themselves from catching it, no matter how many times they miss it?"

Adrien nodded slowly. "But I don't do that around laser pointers..."

"Yeah, you don't. Because Marinette is your laser pointer."

-----------

In which Adrien has the uncontrollable urge to not let his good friend Marinette fall on her face and he doesn't even know why.

Read in Ao3:

Adrien Agreste felt like his lungs were going to burst.

Destroyer had taken far too long to destroy, it took him two Cataclysms and two Lucky Charms in Ladybug's case. He had already missed his first two periods and Mme. Mendelieev was going to kill him for sure-

"Dude, there you are!" Nino waved to him from the stairs.

Adrien dropped his bag and panted, pressing his palms to his knees. He didn't know if gaining all that extra stamina from being a superhero was overwhelming or exhausting.

"What happened? Where were you?" Nino asked, concerned.

"Photo...shoot...took too long, bodyguard wanted...to drive, but I was late already so-"

"You ran?" Nino guffawed, pulling out his water bottle from his bag, offering it to his agitated friend. "Dude, you are either the chillest guy I know or the craziest. Did you know you missed History and Chemistry? Marinette was earlier than you today!"

"Aw man - wait, Marinette-?" He barely got the words out when they heard a panicked wail coming from the right, and Adrien's eyes widened as he saw Marinette's foot get caught in someone's bag.

She managed to gain her footing on the street, but it still wasn't enough. Her foot twisted and she went flailing, about to land face first into the ground.

Adrien immediately stepped forward to catch her by her shoulders, leading to her kneeling in front of him with her hands on his chest.

She blinked at his chest for a moment before slowly raising her eyes up to him.

"Are you okay?" Adrien asked genuinely worried. That would have been a nasty fall if he hadn't intervened. "Nothing broken?" He looked her up and down, his eyes lingering on her knees, checking if they had been bent the wrong way.

"No!!!" Marinette jumped up, raising her hands and standing up properly. She didn't seem to be in any pain. But still, after a fall like that...he was about to offer taking her to the school nurse when she spoke again. "I'm all okay!"

Oh. Adrien shrugged and nodded. Nino tipped his cap at her, and he grabbed his bag from the ground as they proceeded to climb up the stairs.

Nino was saying something about perfume bottles and he vaguely heard Rose's name, but all Adrien could think about how his hands were tingling.

He stared down at his hand, shaking it briefly. Maybe he was numb and all the blood had rushed to his head? It wasn't like this all morning.

"Dude, you okay?" Nino clapped his hand on his back.

"Oh!" Adrien turned to him, nodding. "Yeah, I'm..." he saw the street from the corner of his eye, but Marinette was nowhere to be seen.

"I'm okay." He said, confused and vaguely disappointed.

--------------------------

"Hey, babe," Nino turned to his girlfriend sitting behind him. "Is Marinette late again?"

"Don't go after my girl, Nino." Alya joked. "She is getting better at being early!"

That put a smile on Adrien's face. He didn't even know why, he just liked hearing about Marinette's quirks.

"No, she's just grabbing the books from the teacher's cupboard. Madame asked her to since she is running late. Class rep duties and all."

There was a heaving sound from the doorway, and a pair of short legs wearing pink jeggings appeared from underneath a large box. "I got the boxes!!" Marinette proudly declared.

A ripple of worry passed through Adrien. That box looked pretty heavy, even if Marinette didn't seem to have trouble carrying it.

She was taking careful steps though, since she couldn't exactly see in front of her. He knew she was short, but he never realised she was so tiny.

Maybe she could use an extra set of hands.

"Hey, Marinette, let me help you!" Adrien said, getting up from his seat in the front.

Immediately, like a switch had been flipped, Marinette's feet trod over each other, and she yelped as she keeled over backwards, taking the box with her.

"Careful!!" Adrien reached over, grabbing one of her hands, preventing her from falling over, and placing a hand underneath the cardboard box, catching it as well.

"Woooo!" Alix cheered, to both their surprise.

"Dude, what?!" Kim gaped.

"Awesome catch, Adrien." Alya drawled smugly.

Adrien had ears for none of their praises.

Quickly placing the box on the table, he turned to Marinette, who had frozen in place.

"Are you okay, Marinette? That looked like a nasty fall!" His hand still hadn't left hers.

"I'm gokay - I MEAN, I'm good and okay!!" She blabbered, pulling her hand out of his, gesticulating wildly.

"I'm sorry," Adrien said sheepishly, trying to ignore that feeling of pins and needles in his hand. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"No! It's okay! You can make me fall anytime - NO, uh, I meant, it's okay, you didn't mean to. Thanks for catching me!" She said quickly,straining a smile at him as she ran to her seat.

Adrien nodded, stuffing his shaking hand in his pocket, relieved he didn't cause too much damage.

He was walking down the stairs at school, when he saw Marinette talking on the phone on the ground floor, her hand reaching behind her to lean against the railing, but he immediately realised with a wince that she had heavily miscalculated just how far the iron bars were, and she was just about to stumble backwards when-

"Gotcha!" Adrien said, appearing behind her, his hands on her shoulders, saving her from a nasty bump on the head.

"A-Adrien!" Marinette spun around, facing him. "Thank you, I really should be more careful."

"No problem." He said, giving her an easy smile and a wave as he left to wait for his car.

"Oh shut up, Alya!" He vaguely heard Marinette say into the phone.

He hoped she wouldn't be too careful, though. He would really miss the thrill of getting to catch her.

Wait, what??

Did he just want Marinette to fall more just so he could catch her? How much of an idiot was he?

Had the numbness in his hands spread to his brain, preventing it from functioning properly?

He hit the side of his head in frustration, ignoring the weird stares he got.

-------------------------

It soon became apparent to Adrien just how new he was to school life.

While he found Marinette tripping over herself to be very alarming, everyone else around him just took it in stride.

"She always catches herself." Alya would shrug.

"Yeah, Marinette is pretty clumsy, but she's great at handling it." Nino would say.

"She's always been a no-go on roller blades." Alix said, affectionately rolling her eyes.

"Marinette is awesome! She's clumsy, but who isn't?" Rose would always have a kind word to say about everyone.

Adrien simply didn't understand it. How did someone see Marinette about to fall and not want to catch her?

They were playing dodgeball in P.E, and it was unsupervised by their teacher.

So needless to say, chaos reigned.

The less athletic Max, Rose and Mylene were the first to be out, and Ivan soon followed. He was great at getting people kicked out, but not so good at dodging, owing to his large frame.

Whereas people like Alix were nimble as mice, effortlessly dodging everything. Kim had already gotten half the class out.

If one got to watch the whole scene unfold as a spectator, it was clear to see two people in particular stand out, in both offense and defense.

Marinette weaved in between Nathaniel and Juleka, while flawlessly finding her ball's target in Sabrina AND Chloe at the same time. Adrien was the only one who was able to dodge Kim's relentless pursuit of attacks.

The hairs on the back of Adrien's neck tingled suddenly, and his head whipped around. Marinette was standing there, cheering because she had just whooped Kim's butt, not noticing Lila Rossi smirking heavily from a distance, holding the ball up above her head like a missile (which was completely against the rules of dodgeball!).

"Not so fast!" Adrien declared in his head, racing ahead, throwing himself in front of Marinette.

Lila's ball came flying at him, almost smashing his face. His lightning fast reflexes saved his and Marinette's life (and his modeling career), and his palms were wrapped around the ball.

There was dead silence for a while, but that was nothing compared to the loud pounding of Adrien's heartbeat in his ears.

He was nothing short of furious. If he hadn't intervened, Marinette could have gotten seriously injured!

"Hey, Lila!" He said, his voice laced with venom. "Friendly reminder that the ball is supposed to be thrown from below the waist!" he tossed it with perfect aim, and it hit the lying girl's thighs, leaving her shrieking.

"You could seriously hurt someone." He said, glaring at her.

He turned around, looking a shocked Marinette up and down. "Are you okay?" He asked, reaching out to touch her, but recoiled his hand immediately like he had been electrocuted. Damnit! He thought for sure that the numbness had gone!

"Yes, thank you." Marinette said shyly, backing up a few steps.

To his surprise, she pummeled him in the chest with the ball he hadn't even seen her carrying.

"Wha-hey!" He pouted, placing his hands on his hips.

"And Marinette is the winner!!" Alya shrieked, and their entire class (barring Chloe and Lila) cheered.

Wait, really? He hadn't even noticed they were the last ones left.

"Sorry, Adrien." Marinette fixed a competitive smirk at him. "All's fair in love and dodgeball. I'll make it up to you someday." She grinned, and Adrien was struck by how tall and unflinchingly she stood, and that smug smile! He could have sworn he had seen it before!

"Yeah, you do." He stammered, giving his head a little shake. "Uh, owe me, that is."

Truly, he didn't even mind losing. Because ever since that day, seeing Adrien Agreste rush to protect the klutz that was Marinette became the new normal.

------------------------------

"Why the long face?" Plagg asked him one sleepless night, several weeks later.

"What long face?" Adrien asked.

"I can always tell when you're moping. I know because I do it too!" Plagg said, surprisingly innocent.

"It's just-" Adrien got up, his sleep shirt rumpled and his hair sticking up in every direction. "I've been feeling weird, lately."

"Weird how? 'Your cheese stock is depleting ' weird or 'Roquefort or Camembert' weird?"

"No!" Adrien said exasperatedly. "I mean, I've been feeling numb and weird, especially in my hands and it always, always happens around Marinette, especially when she's about to fall or get hurt."

"Yeah, no kidding. You looked like you wanted to cry when she fell over today after tripping on her bag. Relax, you're just worried about her well-being, it's normal."

"No! It wasn't like that, I mean, of course I was happy she wasn't hurt but-" Adrien buried his face in his hands. "It feels different. Like I was disappointed that I wasn't the one to catch her. No, disappointed is putting it lightly, I felt like a failure!"

Plagg blinked. "Uh, maybe it's just your Chat Noir tendencies peeking through? Like how you're always on high alert when you want to save Ladybug?"

"I don't feel tingly around Ladybug. Yes, I do want to be on high alert for protecting her but I don't feel like there's something abnormally....deformed in me when I do it!"

Plagg gulped. He knew what this was. His boy was head over heels for Pigtails and he didn't even know it.

"Have you ever considered that you only do it around her? I don't see you rushing to catch your other friends."

"Gee thanks, that makes me feel so much better." Adrien said sarcastically.

"Don't you take that tone with me, young man." Plagg snapped. "Alright, you want an explanation? Do you know how your animal tendencies carry over? You purr sometimes and your teeth become sharper?" He asked grouchily.

Adrien subconsciously touched his mouth as he nodded.

"Do you know how cats chase after laser pointers? They can't restrain themselves from catching it, no matter how many times they miss it?"

Adrien nodded slowly. "But I don't do that around laser pointers..."

"Yeah, you don't. Because Marinette is your laser pointer."

"What? I'm chasing after Marinette because you think that's somehow comparable to cats chasing after a little red light? Plagg, that's ridiculous!"

"I'm ridiculous?! You're the one asking me stupid questions at 3 AM!" Plagg said, annoyed as he flew back into his cheese cabinet. "Now go to bed!"

Adrien didn't sleep at all that night.

How does one process having....laser pointer...syndrome?

----------------------

Ladybug had called for an early patrol today, stating that she had some work in her civilian life to catch up with.

He was there first, as always, waiting for his lady to show up. The sunset glowed in hues of pink and orange, making him sigh almost wistfully. What would it be like to have Ladybug next to him, watching this beautiful sight together?

He imagined dark blue hair, bright expressive eyes, a sweet, kind smile - and that was when his eyes shot open. Why did he just imagine Marinette?

Wait, no, there was no way he was imagining Marinette. He just forgot to imagine Ladybug's mask, that's all.

"Hey, kitty cat." He started when he heard a familiar voice, and he turned to see Ladybug. She was smiling at him, though he couldn't help but notice it didn't reach her eyes.

"What happened? Is everything okay?" He asked, walking up to her.

"What? Noooo, everything is fine." She laughed it off. "Come on, let's go to-" she cut herself off as he saw a clear grimace on her face.

"Ladybug, what happened? Are you in pain?" He gasped, holding her shoulders. "Did you get hurt? Was it an akuma?"

"No, no!" She said, desperately, trying to quell his fears. "It's fine, I just twisted my ankle."

"You JUST twisted your ankle?!" His jaw dropped. "M'lady what-?"

"It's nothing much, I just fell down the stairs."

"Fell down the stairs?!" He paraphrased in horror.

"Are you just going to repeat everything I say?" Ladybug said, exasperatedly, even if her eyes softened. "I'm fine, the suit absorbs most of the pain."

"Is that why you are favouring your left foot more than your right one?" He snarked, kneeling down on one knee in front of her.

"Chat!" She shrieked. "What are you doing??"

"No worries m'lady, if I'm going to ask for your hand in meow-ridge, it definitely won't be over a broken foot ." He winked.

She groaned. "Two puns in one sentence?"

"Just show me." He asked gently, cupping his hands together so she could place her foot on them.

"Chat, really, there's no need for this." She muttered, embarrassed. Her cheeks were glowing red.

"Please, m'lady?" He pleaded, giving her his signature kitty eyes combined with a pout, a tactic he knew for sure was going to work on her.

Sighing heavily, she did as he asked, and he quietly inspected her suited foot with gentle fingers, being careful to not push or prod too much and hurt her.

"Does it hurt to be lifting it?" He asked, without looking up at her.

She didn't answer for a while, which made him look up at her. "M'lady?"

"Y-yes?" She squeaked suddenly. "Sorry, I zoned out a little."

"I was just asking if it hurts you when you lift it." He repeated his question.

"N-no. I mean, like I said, if I was unmasked, it would be hurting me but now that I am wearing the spots, it isn't as much." She said, and he raised an eyebrow. Why did she look so nervous?

"Okay." He said, placing her foot down gently. An unmasked Ladybug. Imagine that. He thought longingly, before putting it out of his mind. There were more important things right now.

"Right, so my bug senses tell me-"

"Excuse me? Bug senses?" Ladybug couldn't help but laugh.

Well, he couldn't exactly call it Laser Point Syndrome without blushing!

"It's short for my Ladybug senses, you know, the ones that let me know whenever you are in danger, is prescribing a diagnosis."

"Oh yeah? And what's that?"

"You're going home."

"What?!"

"I'm not letting you patrol like this. Not when you can barely walk."

"I can walk! How do you think I got here in the first place?" She said indignantly. To prove her point, she took a few steps forward, and her face went promptly crashing into his chest.

"You were saying?" He raised an eyebrow at her as his arm automatically slung around her.

"But, patrol-!"

"I'll handle it. Trust me on this." He grinned. "Just tell me where to drop you off, and I'll be on my way."

Ladybug stared back at him, daring him to change his answer.

"You do realise you're important, right? Not just because you're the guardian now." He said, his resolve hardening. Ever since he messed up big time in New York, he was trying his hardest to be the partner Ladybug needed. He would never leave her behind again.

"Chat..." her stance was weakening, and she let him scoop her into his arms.

"Alright, where to?" He asked, holding her close.

"Just...just drop me off at Francois Dupont. I can find my way from there." She said quietly.

"Done." Chat said, walking over to the edge of the roof.

"Chat?" Ladybug said suddenly, making him stop.

"Yeah?" He asked, and she surprised him by kissing his cheek.

"Your Ladybug senses rock."

It was a miracle he found his way to the school. She had reduced him to an incoherent babbling mess.

----------------------

"Dude, we need to talk." was the first thing Nino said to Adrien when he opened his car door.

"Uh, good morning to you too?" Adrien said, confused.

"There's something going on with you and Marinette, isn't there?"

Adrien choked on his own saliva. "Nino!"

"What? So you aren't dating Marinette?"

"Y-you can't just say things like that!" Adrien grabbed his arm and pulled him inside the school building. "And no! Of course not! You know she's just a-"

"-friend you'd drop literally everything to catch when she falls? A friend you don't stop gushing about? A friend you look at like she's your whole world? A friend you danced with and couldn't get past an automatic door with?"

"Who are you? Alya?"

"Buddy, look, you know it's okay to like Marinette, right?" He asked seriously. "I mean, we all saw the way you two looked at each other in New York-"

Adrien made him stop by putting his hand up. Oh no. His hands were tingling again.

"Hold that thought!"

He didn't know how, he didn't know why, but he knew that Marinette needed his help. He ran out of the building, only to find Marinette and Alya carefully crossing the road with a crutch and her bag slung over her shoulder. There was a cast on her right leg.

His heart pounded in shock. How did he know? Seriously, how did he know?

What did he even call it? Laser Pointer Syndro- no wait, that was STUPID. Plagg was getting to him.

Ladybug senses?

'Yeah, way to give yourself away, Agreste. Why don't you tattoo 'I'm Chat Noir' on your forehead?'

"Hey, do you two need a hand?" He asked, ignoring his stupid thoughts.

"Sure!" Alya said almost immediately, grinning as she handed over Marinette's bag to Adrien. "Take care of my girl Adrien! She better come back in one piece!"

"Adrien!" Marinette stammered nervously. "It's okay, really, I don't want to bother you."

"It's seriously not a bother, Marinette, I promise." He said warmly, slinging her bag over his shoulder as he took her hand.

"O-okay. Thank you." She took his hand and squeezed it back.

"Ready to take the first step?" He asked, guiding her over to the stairs.

Marinette placed her foot first, but that turned out to be a mistake, because she put too much pressure on it.

"Careful!" Adrien warned, his arm going around her upper back. "I'm sorry, Marinette," he rubbed her arm gently. "Does it hurt too much?"

"Yes." Her lips wobbled involuntarily. "I really should have been careful on the stairs yesterday."

He hated seeing Marinette so upset, so he tried to uplift the mood. "Hey, you know, my laser- uh, intuition tells me that if you place your crutch first instead of your foot, it should help."

"Intuition?"

"Intuition...senses, whatever you want to call them, bug - they tell me if you're in trouble." He said without realizing who he was talking to. "Told you it works."

"Nice try, mon chaton. Did you know that I hurt my foot while you were nestled up in your house far, far away?"

"Of course I did. Nothing is too far for me when it comes to you, m'lady." He said cheekily.

It took a full minute for them to process everything.

Adrien let both the bags on his shoulders drop exactly in sync with Marinette's jaw.

"IT'S YOU?!" They both shouted at the same time.

---------------------

"You know, Alya. " Nino said, looking at their two friends from inside the school. "I think when you asked Adrien to bring Marinette back in one piece, you jinxed it."

"What do you mean?" Alya asked, confused, and in reply, Nino turned her chin towards the bird's eye view of Adrien and Marinette, standing frozen at the top of the stairs, not taking their eyes off of each other.

"Great going, babe." Nino said, sighing. "You broke them."

The very next second, Marinette dropped her crutch and threw herself into Adrien's arms.

They didn't let go of each other for a long time.

Alya elbowed her flabbergasted boyfriend, smirking widely. "Did I?"

#miraculous ladybug #adrien #marinette #adrienette #ladynoir #ladybug #chat noir #my fics #fluff #humor #identity reveal

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aries-rising-on-an-aquarius-tide · 3 years

Text

Helter Swelter

Rating: MA, NSFW

Spoilers: None

Trigger/content warnings: alcohol, semi-public sex, implied voyeurism

This is for the IN THE POOL square of @thatesqcrush 's Sexy Summer Bingo, and was requested!

-----------------

"This is a fucking disaster," Olivia sighed, throwing her bag onto the bed in frustration.

Amanda rammed the heel of her hand against the sputtering A/C unit in the window and frowned. "I don't know why you ever expect anything more from Daddy Dodds than a fuckup," she muttered.

Liv ran a hand over the nape of her neck under her hair, finding it moist with sweat, and surveyed their room. Dodds had told her that he had booked them at a high-class hotel for the Extended Learning conference that weekend. A five-star, full-service, swanky joint, he had sworn.

Yet, here they were - sweltering during the peak of a heatwave, in a barely passable room with one double bed and a busted A/C unit. Even better, they weren't even in the right city for the conference - a fact discovered when they called Dodds upon landing to tell him that nobody had heard of the hotel he named.

Fuckup was putting it mildly.

"I'll go talk to someone at the check-in desk and see if they can do anything about the air conditioning," Olivia announced.

"I'm going to take a cool shower in the meantime," Rollins said, palming sweat from her forehead.

The young man at the front desk looked at Liv as though he'd fallen asleep and she had walked out of one of his fantasies into the lobby. Handyman? Not on weekends, it turned out.

"The pool's open 'round the clock though," he shrugged. He finished up by giving her some info on what was available to order from the kitchen, then went back to the glare of his cell phone screen.

When Olivia got back to the room, Amanda was already out of the shower and had changed into light cotton shorts and a sports bra. Liv shrugged apologetically and tossed the info about food to her on the bed.

"No-go on the A/C. There's a pool though." She stopped at the bed long enough to grab her bag. "My turn in the shower, I guess."

Amanda nodded disinterestedly, perusing the menus as the brunette disappeared into the small bathroom.

The clock in the room was ticking past 1:30am. On the coffee table in front of the room's armchairs was a plate of mostly-eaten chicken nachos, and what was left of a six-pack of beer, still sweating condensation.

On the bed, the SVU detectives were also sweating, awake atop the bedclothes. Olivia was on her back, eyes to the ceiling, Rollins was on her side. They breathed the overwarm air and tried not to move too much, but neither could sleep. Amanda's tossing and turning was more irritating with every creak of the narrow mattress.

Tick -

Creak

Tock.

Always followed by the dying, strangled hum of the useless A/C.

This is it, this is how I'm going to lose my mind, Olivia decided.

Tick. Tock. Tick -

Creak.

"Amanda!" Liv snapped, "Can't you stay still for five minutes?!"

"I"m sorry!" the blonde whined, "I can't fucking sleep!"

Liv rolled her eyes. "I thought you grew up in the South? You must've had nights hotter than this."

"We slept out on the porch in the Summer."

"Be my guest and go sleep in the parking lot if you'll be more comfortable."

Amanda gave a surprised huff that was partway between amusement and annoyance. She leaned up on her elbows, shot Olivia a look, then rolled to her feet. "I'm going for a swim," she announced.

Liv's head turned on the pillow. "Amanda - it's nearly two AM."

"It's still almost 97 degrees! I can hardly breathe, I'm so hot," the blonde groaned. "Plus, I bought an expensive new bikini to wear at the hotel Dodds promised, and it's a damn crime for it to go to waste."

She crossed to her suitcase and unzipped it. "'Sides, you don't have to come. Stay here and melt, if you'll be more comfortable," she mocked.

Ten or so minutes later, both women slipped into the elevator, dressed in thin complimentary hotel robes, bikinis and sandals. In their robe pockets they had tucked cans of the warming beer from their earlier order.

On the main floor, they followed the signs to the door that lead to the pool and pushed outside into the thick, hot night air. The pool was somehow cleaner than their room, and they had it all to themselves. It rippled and beckoned under the starlight and the few florescent lamps that lit the tiled area around it.

Amanda stopped alongside a lounge chair and emptied her pockets of beer before she slipped off the robe. "What do you think?" she asked Liv, hands on hips.

Olivia swallowed dryly, glancing quickly at the bikini and then away. "Very nice," she murmured, busying herself with her own robe and cans. As Amanda walked away toward the pool's edge, Liv took another, more surreptitious look at the bathing suit. It was a dark green color, highlighted with square, gold rivets along the straps, the band under the bust, and along two split straps at the front of the bottom, which tied at each hip.

She popped open a beer and took a long pull from the can. I've seen underwear with more material than that entire suit, she mused. Her own suit looked conservative by comparison: a sporty black two-piece with boyshort bottoms ruched at the sides, and a crocheted, mesh high-neck top that covered her cleavage.

Amanda let out a loud, satisfied groan that startled Olivia out of her bikini thoughts, nearly dropping the drink in her hand.

"Oh my God that feels so good!" she cried. Blood rushed into Liv's face and groin simultaneously. "Hurry up and get in - and bring me a beer!" Rollins urged excitedly.

Olivia shed the last barrier between her bikini and Amanda's gaze, and grabbed two cans of beer. She leaned down to hand one to the blonde at the pool's edge.

"Thank you," Amanda said, and smiled genuinely for the first time since their plane touched down. It raised a relaxed twinkle to her blue eyes, and Liv stared until she caught herself.

She let herself down carefully on the tile and then scooted to the pool's edge, stretching her long legs into the water. Amanda was, of course, right - the water felt fantastic against the cloying heat - and Liv sighed with relief, letting her head fall back as her eyes closed.

The Southern blonde smirked and drank her beer, feeling more herself now that she wasn't sticky and uncomfortable. Setting her drink down, she plunged under the water and wet the rest of her body, kicking hard. When she split the surface, she was a few feet away from Olivia, who was still kicking her legs, watching.

"You didn't come all the way down to just sit on the sidelines, did ya?" Amanda teased.

"What, you wanna play Marco Polo?" the brunette tossed back, smiling as she raised her can to her lips.

"Don't make me drag you in here, City Girl!"

Liv set aside her drink and rolled her eyes, pushing her weight up and over the side with both hands against the concrete tile. The soothingly cool water ribboned over her warm skin, sending goosebumps racing in every direction.

"Better?" she grinned.

Amanda put a finger to her lips thoughtfully. "Mostly . . . " she drawled, "just - " Then she spread both arms wide and used them to scoop and splash water at Olivia, laughing.

Liv opened her eyes as the water settled, letting drops drip from her jawline and hair. "I'll make you regret that, Dixieland," she said calmly.

Rollins laughed and tipped backward into the water, kicking her feet and floating along the surface. Liv ducked under the water to finish cooling off, then swam back to the side for another drink. The dehydration from the heat was making the beer go to her head more than usual; she felt good, and she was enjoying Amanda's flirting.

"You'll have'ta find me, first!" Rollins giggled from behind Olivia.

Rolling her eyes, Liv swallowed what was in her mouth and replied, "Right, because the pool is soo - " she turned around to face the water, finding herself alone, " - big," she faltered. Scanning the pool she didn't see ripples or bubbles - no sign of the blonde mermaid.

Olivia shivered, partly from her lowering body temperature, and partly from the eerie silence of standing there in the water alone.

"Enough, Amanda," she called. "you're not funny." When there was still no response or sound, the brunette turned defiantly back to her beer. The quiet, early morning dark wasn't so peaceful, suddenly.

With absolutely no hint of movement or sound of warning, Amanda tunneled up out of the water behind Liv, the noise breaking the surface like rolling thunder as splashes rained down. Liv let out a gasping yelp as she startled, then Amanda's arms locked around her middle from behind.

"Marco Polo!" she shrieked in glee as she pulled Olivia underwater against her.

Sputtering, they broke the surface again together after just a beat, Amanda still holding tight. "Jesus, Rollins!" Liv coughed out, "You gave me a heart attack!"

They stilled as Liv caught her breath, heart pounding from being caught unawares. Slowly, the feeling of Amanda's wet body wrapped around her from behind began to register with her senses: their legs, sliding against each other, cool skin on skin, the press of hard nipples against her back where Amanda's wet suit pressed. It sparked another shiver, but this one went to Liv's center.

"I don't think that's how Marco Polo is played," Olivia murmured softly.

"Well, we didn't play it that much in Georgia," Amanda chuckled, her warm breath tickling the back of Liv's neck. Then, just as suddenly, she let her go.

Liv pushed away slightly, back to the side and the drink that had been interrupted. But her mind was buzzing about more than beer now, wondering if Amanda's flirting was purposeful, natural or beer-induced. She kept her eyes on the stone tile as the blonde floated over and resumed her own drink. Their bodies were unnervingly close. Liv's breathing shallowed as she bored a hole in the spot she focused on.

Then, Amanda's foot, sliding against Olivia's ankle. Too pointed to be an accident. Higher - the leg was slipping against calf. Underwater footsies, Liv mused, a little drunkenly. Still, she refused to turn her head, not wanting to break the tranquility.

Rollins drained the can she was holding, then set it poolside before shifting her body so that she was directly behind Liv again. Cool, wet lips pressed against the nape of Olivia's neck, and she drew in a ragged breath, held it.

The kiss warmed and went on, lips dragging over the water drops on the sensitive skin there until finally her tongue joined in. Liv's eyes closed, relaxing into the touch as she exhaled. Next there were fingers at the strings where her bikini top was tied, tugging slowly, gently, giving plenty of opportunity for the brunette to call the stops.

All of it felt too good, however, for stopping to enter Olivia's mind. The water, the touch, the buzz from the beer - it all beat an Extended Learning conference to hell and back.

Amanda pulled the ties away slowly, one side at a time, kissing and nibbling warmly over Liv's shoulders, while her legs continued to playfully rub and slip around and between Liv's underwater.

Liv felt a hand return to her middle, pressing firmly, while the other arm crossed her upper chest. Amanda tipped Liv's head to the side with wet fingers to the jawline, then licked the point of her tongue up the curve and pulled an earlobe into her mouth.

A moan escaped Olivia as she wriggled against the blonde's hold, turning in her arms. "You taste like salt and flowers," Rollins smirked, her voice thick and deep. It was all she got out before the brunette framed her face with dripping hands and kissed her mouth.

Her tongue was a shock of heat in comparison to her hands, and Amanda gave back everything she received, their kisses as deep and wet as the pool itself. The turning in her embrace had taken care of moving Liv's top out of the way, and Amanda could feel the brush of wet breasts as the brunette made out with her madly.

She fought to get her hands between their bodies, then the smooth weight of those same breasts filled her palms. The sensation sent a ripple of desire throbbing through her swollen center. Amanda's thumbs grazed over the hard peaks and it finally broke their kiss, Liv's head lolling back.

"Fuck," she hissed, spurring the blonde on to rub harder. When she couldn't take it any more, she pushed her hands under Amanda's arms and grasped the bottom of her bikini top, yanking it over her head.

Olivia ducked low, her mouth just as hungry for this as it had been for Amanda's tongue. One cold, dripping nipple, then the other rolled under the brunette's tongue and pebbled under the scrape of her teeth until Amanda was panting, fingers slipping in their search for purchase on Liv's shoulders.

Kicking her feet, she steered them back to the pool's side until she could leverage her weight to regain dominance. Amanda pushed her knee in between Liv's thighs and made contact with the place she wanted to touch most. Immediately, Olivia's head dipped to the blonde's shoulder, her breathing quickening. She turned so that her lips were just under her ear and breathed, "I want you to make me come."

Without a breath of hesitation, Amanda buoyed Liv's weight up with her hands spread on her outer thighs, and deposited the dark haired woman on the pool's edge. Both hands tugged on the bottoms Liv still had on, until they rolled down and were tossed to the tile with a wet splat.

Amanda pulled Olivia's ass flush to the edge and wrapped her arms around her tan thighs, then lowered her tongue to the dewy pink valley between. Her clit was swollen and aching, twitching as Amanda nosed over it and sucked it gently.

Impatient, Liv bucked her pelvis into every touch of Rollins' sweet mouth. "I'm so fucking wet, Amanda, please . . . "

"Patience is a virtue," Amanda grinned. "Guess they don't teach that in the city," she teased, running her tongue down and inside Olivia's dripping entrance with a moan. She brought two fingers into the mix, slipping then inside carefully, then rubbing firmly against the G-spot.

The normally restrained SVU detective was sprawled on the pool tile, propped on her arms with her head dropped back and her legs over the Southern blonde's shoulders. Mouth open, thighs quivering, Olivia could hear the roar of her blood rushing and the sound of Amanda's talented fingers fucking her blind.

"Oh God, Amanda . . . don't stop, please . . . don't - yes, fuck me fuck me . . . " she babbled, unsure if she was even coherent.

Rollins couldn't stop grinning as she sucked and fucked the trembling brunette with fervor.

"I'm going to - oh fuck, oh oh Amanda! Ungh I'm going to come!"

"Damn right you are," the blonde mumbled as she pulled her fingers out and replaced them with her tongue again. Olivia squeezed her thighs and rode her orgasm out on the thrust of Amanda's tongue, dripping hot juices.

Pleased with herself, she released her grip on Liv's thighs and cupped pool water in both her hands, dousing her face and hair to cool down. "God, you're fucking incredible," she grinned.

Liv let out a laugh. "You did all the work! Get up here, Amanda."

She did as told and joined her on the cool cement tile. Olivia liberated her from her bikini bottom, then straddled over her on all fours. Delighted to once again be presented with Liv's slick, pink pussy above her face, Amanda wasted no time in sliding her fingers back inside. She was distracted this time, however, by the long, gentle brush of Liv's own fingers, spreading her own pussy open.

"Fuck, look how wet you are," Liv praised, gathering the slickness on her fingertips and swirling them around the blonde's hard clit.

"Jesus!" Amanda cried, her hips quaking at the touch as she remembered to pick up her thrusts into Liv.

A greedy race to the finish line started as both women worked to make the other come first with fingers and tongues as the pool threw reflections of light and the stars winked down on them.

When they returned to their room, the morning was rushing toward dawn. Olivia opened the door and was startled to hear the hum of the now completely functional A/C unit.

"I'll be goddamned," Amanda drawled from over her shoulder.

Liv crossed to the unit and put her hands in front of it to make sure the air was cool. As she did so, Amanda found a new six-pack of cold beer on the coffee table. A post-it was stuck to the table beside the cans.

"Fixed your A/C, beer's on the house," Amanda read aloud to Liv, followed by, "But please feel free to enjoy another night swim anytime." She looked at Liv quizzically.

The front desk kid. Liv rolled her eyes and chuckled. "Oh, God."

"Good thing we ended up in the wrong place, after all," Amanda giggled, and pulled open another beer. "Cheers!"

END

#thatesqcrushsummerbingo #law and order svu #olivia benson #amanda rollins #svu #rolivia #hearteyes4mariska #my writing #in the pool #helter swelter #heatwave #fluffy smut #rollivia #tw: alcohol #tw: semi public sex #my fanfic #requested #semi public sex

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dikiyvter · 3 years

Text

UNPROMPTED ./ @melodicbreeze:

Sounds were simply sounds, movements of the airwaves, nothing more and nothing less. But even so, when those ripples start to come together, start to pool, to grow, they become something more. Not just words, not just sounds, but the emotion behind them.

Something nagging in the back of Venti's head, as the sounds of someone trying to work but slowing, slowing, but still going invade his head.

It could be any number of people, theoretically, but Venti knows that the sounds that stand out in his head, that have gotten past his practiced wall of blocking them out, are either important- or someone he knows. Cares for.

He thinks it's Jean, at first, and so he carries on with his night. He knows that nothing can dissuade her, and besides, it's hardly his place to scold her for working too hard. But, no, it's not from the knights' headquarters, is it?

No, it's from the Grand Goth Hotel. Which could only mean...

Venti debates with himself, for a moment, if he should act on this whim- something he doesn't always do, but Rigatello was one to be handled a bit differently, lest he earn his ire. But no, the nagging in the back of his head would not stop, and so Venti went.

Not straight to Riga's room, no. It was easy to sneak in when you were one with the breeze, and it wasn't as if the Fatui here had any reason to guard against him. It was for the reason that he made his first stop the kitchen.

Now with a mug of warm milk, given just a touch of honey and spice, he made his was up to Rigatello's room. This was trickier, but still manageable, with how the air carried the sounds of breathing, of foot steps, letting him know where each guard was.

Standing at the door, he gave a gentle knock- not wanting to startle Riga from what rhythm he was in, after all, and letting himself in would simply spell disaster.

"Rigatello? Might I come in?"

The quill falls from his grip a few more times after that. Thrice as many times does it still in his hand, hover above an area whose name he’s forgotten, shake with the effort merely of holding it up, of keeping his eyes open, of trying not to smudge the ink ( but smudge it he does, and in such short time much of his writing has become a smeared mess and the artificial skin of his hand is stained in ink ).

The sound of the knock at the door rouses him from the blankness that had for a moment overtaken his mind, and for a long and silent moment does he merely stare in its direction. He could have sworn that he had heard a sound, a knock, a voice, but surely-- surely he is simply imagining it. Few in the hotel are awake at this hour, save for the rowdier of agents getting drunk downstairs, a spare maid or two scuttling through the halls, Luke whose presumably still stood guard at the door-- None of the names on that little list would come searching for him of all people. His reputation in this place proceeds him, and Dottore’s name carries with it the weight of rumored atrocities the likes of which smiles and friendly behavior could never hope to outshine.

Tired and with limbs near-numbed, Rigatello lets the quill fall against the paper of the map once more, slowly pushing himself up from his seat with cracking joints and aching limbs from the many hours he’d spent sitting there. Little mind left to think too hard on it, the fuzzy constricting sensation crowding the corners of his mind as he walks quietly over to the door, hand hovers still above its handle for a long and quiet moment before coming down clumsy against it, cracking it open just enough to peer outside.

A familiar face. One he did not expect, and one that brings many questions.

“...How... did you get in here?” Rigatello mutters softly, stepping back to open the door fully, ushering Venti inside with a little wave of the hand as he checks one way down the hall and then the other for any intruding eyes. But all the doors are closed, and all the lights are dimmed, and there is not even the sound of the creaking wooden floors. Just the same impending silence.

Satisfied with the privacy of this little impromptu meeting, Rigatello closes the door, fumbles in his pocket for the key to lock it, and then for good measure clasps the chain on the door for the extra peace of mind. Though peace of mind means little, right now; The automaton turns to address his guest and suddenly the room feels stifling, and in the silence he is left feeling stiff and uncomfortable.

Teeth gnaw momentarily at the inside of his lip, brows furrowed in quiet thought as he gathers together the scattered remnants of his mind and finally, with a sigh and an awkward glance cast off to the side, he speaks.

“I doubt Luke let you in...” as useless a door guard he could be at times, loose-lipped as he was...

“Why are you...” Gaze returns to Venti and then slips down to the mug in his hand, confusion evident only momentarily in the raise of a brow and the deepen of the frown on his face.

“...Are you... stealing food, now?” A sigh and a shake of the head, steps heavy with exhaustion bringing him back to his seat at the desk. He is all too tired for this. “What... do you want, Barbatos? I’m trying to... I’m...” hand rests against the map, mind fallen into blank once more for a long and painful and empty and aching moment, and then Rigatello gives a little shake of the head.

“What do you want?”

#melodicbreeze #❄ ⤚ ᴘᴀᴄᴇ ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ ʙᴀʀs ( ic. / riga. ) ⇾#❄ ⤚ ᴛᴏss ᴀ ᴍᴏʀᴀ ( inbox. ) ⇾

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savagesbonergarage · 4 years

Text

Heat

Savage Opress x reader

Prompt from @secretnerd00 "Could you maybe write some Savage Smut, with his s/o, who is a virgin but has a really dirty mind an goes just wild once there finally alone and ready for some sexy time?"

(a/n: Okay, so I went a bit crazy with this 😅 I haven't written smut in six years so honestly I have no idea if it's any good. There's some angsty bits beforehand, also because I'm not sure if the smut is good, this might end up being a part 1 and I'll write a part 2 if it's well-received. If you get to the end and you're like "that's it?!" yell at me and I'll write the second part lol.)

Warnings! Past sexual abuse (Savage), blood, fits of anger, heat cycles, striptease (kinda?), Masturbation, oral fixation

It had been days since you'd seen him. Even in situations where his presence was usually required, like at his brother's side in the throne room of the Sundari palace, Savage had been absent. Even stranger still was that no one seemed to have a reasonable explanation for why this was, and when you confronted Lord Maul about the issue he uncharacteristically fumbled a rushed response.

"I've sent him off to...hone his skills."

His gaze didn't have the signature menacing expression that he usually did when you dared speak to him without his brother present, yet something else about his tone convinced you not to implore further. If you didn't know any better, you could have sworn there was a semblance of concern in his voice. Even though you were unsatisfied with his answer, you walked away without any reassurance about the well-being of your beloved zabrak.

The entire situation didn't sit right with you whatsoever. Had Savage truly been sent away to train, he would have informed you of it beforehand. He wouldn't have wanted you to worry about him the way you currently were. Moreover, he would have instigated the tradition you both developed of finding a secluded spot to share a kiss goodbye before either of you left.

Something weighed heavily in your chest as you considered the implications of this unusual occurrence. You decided there was no use in spending the night pondering the possibilities; you were going to find out for certain on your own. It wasn't permitted for someone of your status to access the floor that contained Savage's quarters despite the fact that the two of you were on friendly terms, however that wasn't going to change your mind about getting there.

An hour later you stood inside the elevator that would finally take you to your destination, the limp body of the death watch guard stationed in the area crumpled at your feet. Sheer resolve and determination had given you the power to knock him out. You hoped in this case that following your instinct would be worth it, as attacking a fellow palace dweller was sure to have it's consequences if you were discovered.

The shaft finally opened and you snuck through a large hall until you came upon the door that unmistakably belonged to Savage. Creeping closer to better listen wasn't necessary since as soon as it entered your line of sight you heard deep, agonizing groans of pain. Your intuition had been right.

"Savage!"

Stealth was no longer a priority as you flung your body against the door and beat against it with your palm.

"Savage, it's me. Are you okay?"

You heard him approach the door, but rather than open it he lingered behind it. His voice was plagued with concern and he spoke between heavy breaths.

"You shouldn't be here. Leave, now."

His words did little to distract you from your mission.

"Savage, let me in. I won't leave until I see that you're okay. At least let me look at you. Please."

There was a moment of hesitation before you heard the latch click. You stood back as the door slowly opened just enough for you to see the full figure of the man you loved towering above you, clad in only a dark pair of shorts. Your face flushed as your eyes danced along all the defined ripples and crevices that accented the patterns of his tattoos that you hadn't gotten the chance to see until now. His chest was rising and falling with each quick breath he took, and the halo of the moonlight spilling in from a window far behind him caught the beads of sweat that peppered his skin. Maker, he was beautiful.

His resoundingly deep voice brought your attention back to his face as he spoke with firm authority.

"I'm fine. If you're satisfied, go."

You weren't. You knew that he was lying, that he was hiding something from you. From the moment you saw him you rattled your brain trying to decipher the real reason he isolated himself. Something was afflicting him, that much was certain, but you couldn't tell what. He didn't seem sick, he seemed desperate. Your chest thumped as you began to put two and two together.

"Why didn't you come to me?" The words left your lips with a hint of remorse and you found it difficult to conceal the pain in your eyes as you studied him, your revelation serving to stir up the embers that settled within you.

Savage's breath hitched.

"What-"

Before he could properly react you darted through the space between his calves and rolled onto the middle of the floor in his room. As you got up, you took notice of the carnage. Broken furniture, scratched surfaces and obliterated pillows with feathers still wafting around littered the entire space. Your heart sank.

"I knew it. You're-"

Your back hit the ground again as your wrists were pinned above you by his strong arms, eliciting a small cry of pain from your lips as one of his long horns grazed your cheek in the motion. The sound shook him, causing him to pause and look down at the little bit of blood that trickled down your face. He was clearly horrified by his own actions. He swiftly got up and roared in anger as he raked his claws across a shelf, sending everything crashing down with it.

You sat up, watching him with sadness as he knelt and held his face in his shaking hands.

"Savage..."

"I hurt you."

"Savage-"

"Stay back!"

He flung the side of his fist into the wall, a significant crack running up into the stone slab. His horns lowered and he hid his eyes from you in shame, speaking between shaky breaths as he shook his head.

"I couldn't come to you. I would have destroyed you. You're so frail, and I don't...I don't trust myself."

The zabrak had never uttered a sob in his life, but you could tell he was close. You crawled a little closer but still maintained your distance, not out of fear, but out of respect for Savage's concerns. It felt like a weight pressed down harder and harder onto your heart the longer you saw him in this state.

"Why do you insist on suffering? On isolating yourself like this?" Tears threatened to well up in your eyes. "This isn't healthy. What is your plan, to just endure this until it passes?"

"Do you not recall what just barely happened?"

He finally met your gaze with an anger in his eyes that was reserved only for himself.

"I'm a monster, but at least I'm aware of it. I can prevent hurting the one I love by staying away. If I foolishly gave in to this...sickness, I would have no concern for you. I would be no better than them."

You knew who he meant: The Nightsisters.

Everything started to make sense. Savage was afraid of hurting you intimately because he himself had been hurt. The thought had never really crossed your mind, but it was entirely plausible that the witch who changed his fate had also used him as so many others used the nightbrothers they claimed for themselves. His life belonged to her and he had to oblige her whims, despite never truly consenting to it.

The tears finally came. Your heart was breaking for him now more than ever before.

"Savage."

You couldn't help it. Ignoring his groans of protest, you approached him on your hands and knees and threw yourself onto his chest, enveloping him in a tight hug. He recoiled at your touch, but said nothing.

"You aren't sick. You're in heat."

Your hands travelled up over his shoulders and around the nape of his neck until they rested on either side of his face. He was trembling as you pulled back to look at him. You wanted to ease his suffering in any way that you could.

"I trust you. Do you trust me?"

He shook his head.

"Don't."

"You won't hurt me."

"I already have."

"I don't care."

"Then you're a fool."

"I agree."

He removed your hands from his face and you reciprocated by planting your lips firmly against his. An aroused groan escaped him and filled your mouth, causing the fire in your loins to flare up that much more. You deepened the kiss and guided his right hand to your breast. He winced as though he were in pain and broke your connection, and you knew he was doing all he could to hold himself back.

"I'm not some helpless animal, Savage. You think you're a predator and I'm the prey, don't you? You think you'll devour me and that will be the end of it."

His reflective golden eyes were screaming with agony.

"I know it. I won't be able to promise your safety."

"Then don't."

He looked at you as though you were signing your own death warrant. You sighed, frustration starting to get the better of you.

"Do you think I would only help you out of obligation?" The notion made you shake your head. "Have you ever considered, Savage, that maybe..."

You wrapped your arms around his neck and your thighs around his waist, bearing down so that the outline of your heated sex pressed against his growing erection. The sensation drew a mewl from your lips as your own breath hitched before you continued.

"...maybe I'm the kind of prey that yearns to be devoured."

Your name stumbled breathlessly from his panting mouth. You returned his hand to your neglected breast and guided his fingertips to the swollen nub that bade your clit to throb when it was touched. You moaned for him and you felt his impressive cock twitch beneath you, however he still held back. Your eyes were half-lidded and your face flushed with desire.

"I love you, Savage."

You planted another long kiss on the corner of his mouth. As your lips lingered there, a warm wetness trailed against your cheek. The tear was his. You held his face in your hands again and looked deep into those wanting eyes, reassuring him with a smile.

"I may be inexperienced, but I'm not as frail as you think."

Savage was about to break. He offered one final retort.

"I wouldn't be so sure."

It was meant to be a warning, but you took it as a dare. A quiet "oh?" escaped your mouth as you sensually trailed kisses all down his burning neck and chest which caused him to swear. If he was so adamant about how he was going to behave, you were going to make him prove it.

"I think you're making assumptions about your 'prey'."

Suddenly, you retracted your hold on him and backed away completely. For a moment you saw the yearning he tried so desperately to suppress flicker up to the surface. He didn't move. He didn't have to. You wanted to watch his every reaction, every movement from a distance. You stood and took a few steps back.

"Do I have your attention?"

He groaned.

"Always."

"Good. Keep it on me."

He swallowed as his eyes followed you to the foot of his bed. There was a subtle strut in your step and a knowing smile on your face. Truth be told you were nervous as hell, but you didn't care. Your love for Savage was all the resolve you needed. You turned to face him and extended your arms in front of you.

"Don't take your eyes off my hands."

His expression was confused to say the least, but he responded with a slight nod. You tested his listening skills by moving one hand this way and that, and sure enough his eyes followed. You almost laughed, but you weren't there to make him feel like an idiot. Slowly, ever so slowly, you brought your fingers to collar of your shirt and began unfastening the ties. Savage groaned in protest once again.

"Don't-"

"Hush. Remember what I told you."

The zabrak pursed his lips. He might not have been aware of how this strange behavior of yours was keeping him grounded, but oddly enough, it was. For now, curiosity overpowered his carnal instinct. He watched as you continued to make work of your pesky layers, slowly peeling them off one by one. You pulled your bottoms down over your knees and let them fall to the floor, leaving you in only your underclothes.

You could sense Savage's arousal from across the room. Even so, he remained right where he was, gaze still tracking your hands without fail. If there was one thing he was determined about, it was following an order that was given to him. You leaned back against his bedframe as you brought one hand up to cup your breast and guided the other down under the waistband of your panties. You looked to your lover, who was gritting his teeth at the show you were putting on for him. The outline of his dick was fully pronounced through the thin material of his shorts, the sight of which drew a loud moan from your lips as your fingers circled your clit and dived down between your folds and back. You darted your tongue out of your open mouth as you curled two fingers inside and gradually pumped, the back of your hand stretching the fabric of your panties with the motion giving the horny zabrak a peek of the real action.

He cursed. You watched him tremble with need as he grabbed the base of his cock over the fabric of his bottoms and lightly stroked, nearly sending you over the edge. You pulled your hand away before you got too close, Savage's eyes following intently as you brought it up to your face and you carelessly brushed your fingers against your cheek, leaving a streak of moisture that glistened in the moonlight.

The beastial sounds you elicited from the melting man on the ground made you want to beg for him right then and there, but you had an idea you wanted to follow through with. You dragged the tips of your slick fingers to your lips and kissed them, once, twice, a number of times. The kisses became more sloppy until your tongue had flicked across every inch down to the base of your hand. You didn't normally taste yourself, but the reaction you were getting from Savage made you want to behave this way even more. You brought your other hand up and wrapped it around your knuckles, holding your slick fingers in a way that made it allude to something more phallic.

He knew what you were doing, but the anticipation of it almost made it worse for him when you started sucking. If you were able to hear him from outside the door earlier, surely the entire palace could hear him now. You watched as a dark spot appeared on his clothing where the tip of his dick rested against his thigh. You might have been able to tease him further had your own arousal not been demanding you get to the point. You pulled your fingers from your mouth with a loud pop, a string of saliva trailing between them and your bottom lip.

"What are you thinking, Savage?"

You knew damn well what he was thinking, but you wanted to hear him say it. He struggled to get the words out past his groans of desire.

"I'm...envious."

"Of what?" You brought your knuckles up to your lips as he continued to lightly stroke his length.

"Those fingers."

You started mirroring the stroking motions the zabrak was making on them, a shit-eating grin on your face.

"Why?"

He growled, knowing that you were seeking a confession. It was clear as day that you both wanted each other, and there was only one thing keeping you from rutting on every surface in the vicinity.

"I want you to suck my cock. Suck me off just like that and I'll have nothing to worry about."

Those dirty words sounded like magic coming off his tongue, and Maker, were you more than happy to oblige.

Part II!

#star wars #savage opress #savage opress smut #savage opress x reader #savage opress x you #lol take a drink every time reader says his name #no y/n #sorry if this sucks

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devil-in-those-eyes · 4 years

Text

One Day part 4-Rudy Pankow

Alright, my lovelies. I really hope you enjoy this part, i’m slightly nervous about it but fingers crossed.

Warnings: Cursing, angst(?)

Taglist: @thebendslikebendover @awkwardnesshabitat @dpaccione @danicarosaline @infinityspacesuniverse @pogues-never-say-die @collectiveuniverses @jjmaybankx @1d5sosddl @k-k0129 @popcrone818 @starlightstories @jeyramarie @obxlife @angvelic @sovuckie @abigailpankow @rudypankow-whore @y0ungandfuckingdumb @her-silent-gaze @sunwardsss

~~ Y/N

You wanted to bang your head against the table, mentally yelling at yourself for the events that unfolded two days ago. For the past forty-some hours you’ve been constantly talking down to yourself, trying not to relive the moment you let your emotions take over your head.

You had a lot of How could you’s and an immense amount of you’re so stupid. Why did you let it happen? Was it being tucked away in his room, thinking about the last summer you spent together? Hearing that he hadn’t gotten rid of any pictures to do with you? The feel of his broad chest warming your back? The whisper of his breath across your shoulder and cheek?

Whatever it was, you ended up shirtless with your nails racking down his chest and his tongue doing delicious things inside your mouth. It happened so quickly, one moment your looking at his pictures and the next you’re hearing him whisper I love you into your mouth.

Fuck, I love you.

It was such a sweet whisper, filled with desperation and following a hungry kiss, but it was enough to douse ice cold water over your whole body because as soon as you pushed him away, you saw the look in his eyes and it scared you.

He meant it.

Every time he told you that he loved you, he got this look in his eyes. As if electricity just rolled through his eyes and made them shine almost neon. As if he was discovering what heaven felt like, just by looking at you. Like you were his whole world and held his heart in your dainty hands. And when he told you two days ago, he had the exact same look in his eyes.

You could see he was shocked by his own confession, like it rolled off of his tongue without a warning but instead of admitting you were still in love with him as well, you felt the tears well up in your eyes because he just once again shattered your heart, without even trying very hard.

In the end, Rudy was leaving. You would be left as a memory inside his head, soon he’d forget his feelings, but you would be left with everything. The heartbreak. The sadness. The abandonment. The love. For a split second, you let yourself believe that one day was starting in that second, but with his murmur you were reminded that his career was just starting and his Hollywood life had no room for you.

“Breakfast really that bad, hon?”

You lifted your head from holding it up above your food and looked to see Penny sliding into the booth across from you. You cleared your throat, straightened your back and looked at your coffee, blinking a few times to get rid of the tears that were welling inside your eyes.

“Hi, Penny,” you said softly, giving her a smile.

Penny’s eyes stayed round as she nodded to your plate, “Not hungry?”

“My eyes are bigger than my stomach,” you said, relaxing into the booth.

“Honey… you haven’t touched it since it was brought out twenty minutes ago.”

You stared at Penny and she briefly tilted her head, you looked over her shoulder and saw Alec and Henning sitting in a booth across the restaurant, they both gave a little wave before Alec threw a piece of toast at Henning, starting an all out food war.

“I’m just not feeling well,” you tried to say, but it came out as a question.

Penny breathed in deeply before resting her arm on the table, her chin in the palm of her hand. “I feel like I have pretty good mother’s intuition, yeah?” she asked, “good relationship with my sons?”

Your eyebrows pulled together, wondering where Penny was going with this. You nodded slowly before she continued, “I don’t do a lot of meddling in their lives to make things easier, I let them work out problems, right?”

“Um,” you hummed, still confused as hell.

“I watched you and Rudy pine over each other for two years. I watched you two learn how to love, I was there for every fight, almost every happy moment.” Her soft smile faltered. “I didn’t tell Rudy how bad of an idea it was to break up with you, because I knew you two could do long distance. I saw you both fall apart and try to pick up the pieces.”

You chin wobbled at her words and you quickly looked away. Along with Henning, Penny was another person you didn’t talk about your heart break with because she was Rudy’s mom. You had your own to run too and you never wanted to put her in an awkward position, but her words were really hitting you square in the chest.

“Honey, I can’t sit back and watch you two do this to one another.”

“He’s leaving,” you whispered. “He’ll forget about me.”

Penny went silent for a moment, and you could have sworn she was agreeing with you in the midst of the silence until she said your name softly. “Y/N, he hated this pretty girl for about three months. When they ended things, his one explanation was, and I quote, ‘She wasn’t Y/N’.”

You looked up at her, surprised but Penny wasn’t. She offered a half smile and slid out of her seat. She stood next to you and kissed your head, “give him a chance.”

You looked at her as she stepped away, heading back to her sons. You sighed, her words leaving your brain feeling jumbled. Instead of her easing your on going mental war, it only made it worse and you ended up just not touching your breakfast and going to work with your head in the clouds.

“Listen, I gotta tell you something, but I don’t think you’re going to care.” Kennedy said as you sat in your family room and watching some TV.

You two had been on the phone for the last twenty minutes. It was late evening and your parents were out at dinner with friends, you didn’t really feel like being social so you opted out of meeting some friends at a bar and Kennedy had just walked into the bar because you could hear the music in the background. “What’s up?” you asked, laying down on the couch.

“Tucker is here, wrapped around some girl.” Kennedy said with hesitation clear in her voice.

There was no blow, no hurt that rippled through your chest because technically you two weren’t together. It almost made you feel better that Tucker was with someone else, so you didn’t have to feel guilty for being stuck in your feelings about Rudy.

“Good,” you murmured, “maybe now I wont have to have the ‘we shouldn’t see each other anymore’ speech.”

“That would be ideal,” Kennedy said and sighed. “Are you sure you’re okay, Y/N?”

“I’m good,” you lied. You just wanted to be alone tonight.

“Rudy’s here,” she said softly. “You should come out.”

“I just want to be alone,” you said and tried to give your tone a bit more pep. “Listen, have fun tonight, okay?”

“Yeah,” Kennedy sounded unconvinced but you two hung up.

Penny’s words rang deeply inside your head and had been doing so all day. You were almost over it, over the self doubt and the sadness and heartbreak, but you needed one last night before you started to pick yourself up again. You didn’t see a light at the end of the tunnel, but one day you would. Soon, Penny would see that you and Rudy weren’t meant to be.

The idea of a future without Rudy in your life made tears well in your eyes.

I’m not ready for that…

You groaned and sat up. You made your way into the kitchen and grabbed out bottle of wine, but when you started uncorking it the doorbell rang. You first thought was that it was the girls coming to your rescue because you guys never allowed each other to wallow alone. Then the thought of Jamie flickered across your mind because you knew Kennedy would flap her lips to him and he would fly to you, but when you opened the door you realized you were completely wrong.

“Hey,” Rudy breathed, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and looking at you.

“Rudy,” you stumbled over his name, confused. “What’re you doing here?”

Rudy stood in front of you in dark jeans and one of his old high school soccer sweatshirts, his light hair still unruly but he had shaven and his cheeks looked smooth. His eyes looked tired as he looked down at you, breathing in your sweats and t-shirt. For a split second, you wondered if his mom spoke to him and if she did, what did she say to him?

“Kenn, uh, she told me you were staying in tonight,” he said, as if that gave him a good excuse as to why he was standing on your porch at 10:30 at night when all of your friends, plus his co-star, was at a bar in town.

Remembering Chase, you looked around him to see if his friend was in his truck, but no one was there, so you looked back at him. Rudy closed his eyes and breathed out in a heavy puff of air, when he pried them back open he stared at you and began to crumble.

“I just,” He groaned, “fuck.”

You stomach swirled nervously as you held onto the doorknob, steadying yourself. He pulled a hand from his pocket and he touched his stomach, “I just gotta say something, then I’ll go. I’ll leave you alone.”

You went to say his name, tell him not to bother because you couldn’t stomach it. You didn’t want to hear about how he still loves you, or how he couldn’t continue believing in one day because either way you would be left heart broken. He tells you he loves you, then what? Long distance?

“I’m not giving up on us, I can’t give up, Y/N.” he breathed, as if his words knocked the air out of his lungs and he was struggling to breathe as he looked at you. His blue eyes searching yours. “I know you think I have but forgetting you would be impossible, learning to unlove you is like me trying to learn how to perform brain surgery, it’s just, it’s impossible, Y/N. It’s never going to happen.”

Your bottom lip quivered as a barely there smile touched his face, hanging a hand on the doorframe. “Rudy,” you whispered.

“I don’t expect you to love me the same way you did when we were kids, you have walls up and your guarded and scared, but I’m going to keep pushing. I’m going to break down these walls, you will love me unconditionally again.” He said, bringing his free hand to his chest, touching the space where his heart lay. “I refuse to give up on the way I feel about you, because fuck the distance. If I have to fly out every month to see you, or fly you to sets, I don’t give a fuck anymore, Y/N, because I love you.”

Tears rolled down your cheeks and you quickly wiped them away.

“I’m not standing here, expecting you to tell me you feel the same way, because I know it’s going to be a fight.” He reached out and touched his hand to your chin, tilting your eyes up to look at him. “Baby, if you want to date other people then that’s fine, but they better be prepared to fight for you, because we both know I love to play dirty and I’ll do whatever it takes to make us happen.”

Stunned. Shocked. Astounded. All of the above was how you felt by his words. Rudy’s thumb brushed over your cheekbone as he took you in. No words passed between you two for a few seconds, his words ringing around inside of your head.

Rudy stepped closer and leaned down, your eyes fluttering closed as his face neared yours. You felt the soft glide of his lips in the corner of your mouth. It was soft, a barely there kiss but your heart fluttered so deeply you felt it in your toes. He smelled delicious, like his musky cologne mixed with the Alaskan fresh air. He smelled like Rudy and it warmed your body.

When he pulled away, his fingers dragged down your jaw and over your neck, sending goosebumps throughout every inch of your skin. He was still wearing his gentle smile when he turned away from you, leaving you melting on the floor because you believed every gentle threat in his words.

Rudy was about to give the fight of his life, and he wasn’t letting you go so easily.

#rudy pankow #rudy x reader #rudy x you #rudy pankow imagine #rudy pankow smut #jj x reader #jj x you #jj maybank x y/n #jj outer banks #jj maybank #pope #pope wayward #kie obx #sarah cameron #john b #john b routledge #chase stokes #madison bailey #madelyn cline

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mst3kproject · 3 years

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Atlas in the Land of the Cyclops

Here we have a movie with a big, brawny hero in a very short skirt, whose hobbies include drinking potions, napping, and bending prison bars! He stars in a film that is poorly-made, mythologically questionable, and deliciously ripe for heckling. What more could a MSTie possibly want?

Long ago, Ulysses blinded the cyclops and outsmarted the witch Circe, and they’re still pissed about it. As the movie begins, they’re on the verge of completing their revenge by murdering Ulysses’ last descendants. The last king of Ithaca is killed in a raid, but his young son is smuggled away and left in the care of an old shepherd. Upon hearing of the slaughter, Maciste goes to the land of Sadok to save Queen Penope and the other women of Ithaca, who have been taken captive by Circe’s descendant, Queen Capys. On the way he saves Capys from a rockslide and they fall in love, each not knowing who the other is… which goes on to make things very awkward later. Nobody in the movie is called ‘Atlas’.

Nobody Named Atlas Goes Anywhere Near the Land of the Cyclops is a bit oddly put-together. Theoretically the plot – the need to protect baby Prince MacGuffin from Queen Capys’ soldiers – is established quickly, but then it seems to take a while before anybody makes any progress. This is because a lot of the early plot developments happen by complete accident.

After making sure the baby is safe, Maciste sets out for Sadok. He quickly finds out where Capys is keeping the Ithacan prisoners, but this isn’t clever detective work – it’s just a coincidence, when some soldiers ask him to help them carry a giant amphora into the palace. Meanwhile, Capys has been told that somebody named Maciste knows where Baby MacGuffin is, and orders her soldiers to find this man and bring him in alive. Her Vizier, Ephetus, does so – but again, it’s an accident! He arrests Maciste for wandering into ‘The Forest of the Vestals’ and sentences him to death for that before ever learning his name!

Once Maciste is in Capys’ custody the movie finally seems to figure out where it’s going, but this over-reliance on coincidence makes the first half of Nobody Named Atlas Goes Anywhere Near the Land of the Cyclops feel very muddled. The only thing that really needs to be an accident to make the plot work is Maciste and Capys meeting in Circe’s cavern without knowing they’ve already sworn to destroy each other. Following that with more coincidences feels like filling time.

The bit where Maciste is arrested is really weird, actually. The Vestals appear to be playing Blind Man’s Bluff, and Maciste just wanders into the middle of it. The blindfolded woman bumps into him and feels up his pecs for a moment while he stands there grinning awkwardly, then she pulls her blindfold off, screams, and faints. Soldiers then run out of the bushes and arrest Maciste.

So that was odd… then there’s the way Ephetus decides to have Maciste executed for harassing the Vestals. They put him on a board over a lion pit (every ancient kingdom has a lion pit) and tie a long rope to each of his wrists. Then six white guys in green skirts pull on one rope, and six black guys in white skirts pull on the other. Eventually, of course, Maciste overpowers both teams and everybody but him gets to be Fancy Feast. Only once that’s all over does Ephetus realize that this is the guy the queen wants delivered to her alive.

There’s other weird shit that goes on, too. In another sequence, Maciste is getting his ass beat by Ephetus’ flunky Mumba (Paul Wynter from Mole Men Against the Son of Hercules, still buffer and oilier than the guy playing Maciste) and, having recently been drugged, is barely able to fight back. He gets a second wind when Mumba throws him against another giant amphora, which breaks, dousing him in wine. Maciste blinks a few times, and then suddenly becomes unstoppable. Was it the alcohol, or the blow to the head? There’s a truth serum that is administered by pouring it into an enormous wine goblet… and this isn’t just a thing for Maciste, either, everybody in this movie drinks booze from glasses the size of their own head. Nor can we forget the guy who gets thrown overboard from a ship, and out of nowhere a shark just appears and eats him immediately.

None of these are a full-on WTF Moment but all of them are kind of bizarre and many of them got a laugh out of me. A lot of them also tie in to the movie’s main obsession, which is Maciste’s Feats of Strength.

We are treated to many of these, all of which go on a little too long. They are filmed in loving detail, particularly focusing on the muscles in Maciste’s back, which are so well delineated that they almost comprise an anatomy lesson. We get the obligatory lion-wrestling scene (totally separate from the later lion pit scene), in which we are relieved to learn that yes, Maciste does have underwear beneath that miniskirt. We get him holding up a stone roof that’s threatening to collapse, there’s the giant amphora and the inevitable prison bars, all while Maciste makes some very constipated faces.

My favourite bit is when Maciste rolls a giant boulder into the middle of a road so the soldiers can’t follow him. What makes it funny is that this is clearly not the first take: the boulder has been rolled repeatedly, and there are places where the paint has come off to show the white Styrofoam underneath.

All this emphasis on Maciste’s rippling trapezius muscles makes the movie feel just a tad homoerotic. One shot where the camera pans slowly around Maciste’s body while Capys walks a circle around him could be an attempt to depict the female gaze – a very rare thing in movies. But I don’t know what to tell you about the Maciste-vs-Mumba fight scene, which is either trying very hard to be sexy or else I’m just looking through tumblr-coloured glasses again.

The climactic battle with the cyclops is pretty great. The cyclops is played by a normal-sized stuntman made to look like a giant through camera angles, which means that Maciste can never be in the same shot with him. There are ways to do this well but Nobody Named Atlas Goes Anywhere Near the Land of the Cyclops does not use those – instead we just get some really funny jump cuts.

According to the movie, the reason Queen Capys wants to carry out her ancestress’ revenge on Ulysses is because until it is complete, she is under a curse. Capys herself describes this as being ‘forced to live in hatred’, but it is very unclear what this means. Early on, Ephetus confesses his love for Capys and she replies that she doesn’t know what the word means – this made me think perhaps her curse was an inability to fall in love. A few minutes later, however, she has laid eyes on Maciste and his sheer manliness thaws her icy loins in a matter of seconds. So… is her curse supposed to be that her subjects hate her? They hate her because she keeps feeding them to a cyclops! She could stop that at any time! Her curse can’t be that nobody can love her, because Ephetus and Maciste both do!

I mentioned that Nobody Named Atlas Goes Anywhere Near the Land of the Cyclops shares an actor – Paul Wynter – with Mole Men Against the Son of Hercules. It also shares a director, Antonio Leonviola (he also made Thor and the Amazon Women, the movie that runs over the opening credits of Cave Dwellers). Maybe that’s why both movies have an evil queen who is supposed to be redeemed by her love for Maciste. You may recall that I didn’t think Mole Men did this very well – Halismuya continued torturing people even after her supposed change of heart. Land of the Cyclops does a bit better.

We don’t actually get an impression of Capys’ journey, but we do see the beginning and end of it. As the movie begins, she’s callously throwing victims to the cyclops and looking forward to breaking her curse by killing Ulysses’ last two descendants. At the end she sacrifices her life trying to save Baby MacGuffin despite knowing that it means she will never be free. Her motivations for switching sides are unclear – she says that knowing Maciste has ‘changed her nature’ but we don’t ever see him trying to convince her that this child deserves to live. She does remark that when she’s with Maciste she’s ‘only a woman’ rather than a queen… so maybe he brought out her maternal instincts?

I also don’t know what Ephetus’ determination to kill Queen Penope along with her son is all about. She’s not a descendant of Ulysses, but he actually puts off killing Baby MacGuffin – the thing he believes his queen wants him to do – until he has identified the child’s mother. The movie also never explains why this kid, whose father was the king of somewhere else entirely, apparently has the right to succeed Capys as ruler of Sadok.

Nobody Named Atlas Goes Anywhere Near the Land of the Cyclops is a pretty lousy movie, but it’s a fun lousy movie. It’s kinda racist and kinda sexist, but no more so than a thousand other movies of its vintage. The only complaint I might have about its entertainment value is that it needed more crappy monsters. The cyclops is pretty bad, but he doesn’t show up until the very end. Fortunately, the rest of the movie has plenty of other stupid shit to fill it out.

#mst3k #reviews #episodes that never were #my cheese steak #atlas in the land of the cyclops #nobody named atlas goes anywhere near the land of the cyclops #60s

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qtheronie · 4 years

Text

Sensitive to the heart

Jae ha x reader

Fandom: Yona of the dawn

Genre: Some cute fluff

---

Jae ha had woken up due to the bright moonlight shining in his face. The man squinted and rubbed his eyes, trying to adjust to the brightness and mostly trying to get used to the fact that he is no longer resting. Groaning, Jae ha stood up, looking around, noting that everyone was sleeping and then spotted Yoon’s bathing bag, which contained towels, shampoo, and body wash.

‘He wouldn’t mind if I took a bath right now, would he?’ Jae ha thought.

Jae ha shrugged and grabbed the bag before walking off to the nearest lake.

-At the lake-

Jae ha set the bag down and stared at the lake, looking at its glow from the moon. The lake was calm, with no ripples, no waves, just quiet steadiness. He soon began to undress. Jae Ha pulled out the ribbon in his hair, letting it fall behind him. And then removed his robe and pants, allowing them to pool at his ankles. Once he was finished removing all of his clothing, he stepped in the lukewarm water, sighing at the warmth. Jae Ha stepped further into the water till it was above his stomach. He closed his eyes and slowly brought his head into the water before walking over to the supply bag and reaching over to find the shampoo bottle but only to realize it wasn’t there. He could’ve sworn that he had brought everything with him.

A loud cough snapped him out of his thoughts and brought his gaze up to a girl who was sitting in a tree with the shampoo bottle in her hand. “Are you looking for something, Jae Ha?” she teased, tossing the bottle in the air and catching it.

“What are you doing up?” Jae ha asked entirely, ignoring the girl’s question.

The girl sighed and jumped off the tree, tossing the shampoo bottle to Jae ha. “The moon was too bright, plus I was cold,” she explained while sitting down on a rock and taking off her shoes before dipping her feet into the water. “Why are you up?”

“The moon as well, it was quite bright.”

(Name) nodded as she watched her feet make ripples as she swung them back and forth. Jae Ha walked to where (name) was sitting and rested between her legs. The girl shivered as she felt the drops of water from Jae Has hair drip on her leg and lightly pushed the man away.

“Don’t you wanna join me, (Name)? Not every girl gets this opportunity to see me in such a state.” Jae Ha cooed as he swept his hair behind his ear, watching (name) giggle.

“No thanks, I already took care of myself earlier. And lucky me, getting to see a naked man! My favorite thing to do at night.”

“Your lost, sweetheart, I guess you could just watch me, but I don’t think you’re the type of girl who watches people take baths.”

(Name) giggled and was about to push herself up but only to have Jae Ha grab onto her ankles and pull her back down. “I thought you wanted me to leave Jae Ha?”

“I was kidding, don’t leave me. At least not right now.”

“Mhm, okay.” (name) replied, “What do you expect me to do? Sit here and watch you take a bath?”

Jae Ha placed a finger on his lip before snapping his fingers at her. “I know what you can do! You can wash my hair! You always know how to wash my hair right.”

(Name) laughed and signaled Jae Ha to come to her. “Okay, I’ll wash your hair. I can’t miss a perfect opportunity.” So (Name) grabbed the shampoo bottle and poured some into her hands before washing Jae Ha’s hair.

Jae ha moaned and leaned back into (Name), telling her how much he loves it when (Name) washes his hair. Which caused her to giggle and lightly tug at Jae Has hair making him yelp.

A few minutes later, Jae Ha had washed out the shampoo and washed his body as (Name) was picking up his clothes and folding them to be there when he needed them. Once Jae Ha was done, he made (Name) turn around.

Once (Name) heard his towel drop she closed her eyes and turned around, immediately walking into his chest and hugged him. A blush rose onto Jae ha’s face as he felt her embrace tighten around him. Jae ha slightly chuckled and wrapped his arms around her. “What’s this for (Name)?” He asked while burying his head into her neck.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” She suddenly asked, making Jae ha lose his breath. “I love everything about you, Jae Ha.”

“Even my ugly leg?” He mumbled.

Even though Jae Ha has hated his dragon’s leg and always thought of it as ugly and people wouldn’t like him for it, (Name) always did. She wasn’t lying when she loved everything about him. (Name) had always thought that his leg is what made him for who he was to this day. His leg has saved tons of people from death or being hurt. She thought his leg was great.

“I should smack you for saying that. But I won’t cause, you’ll still say it no matter how many times I do it.”

Jae ha chuckled and tightened his grip around her, “I’m sorry (Name).”

(Name) sighed and rested her cheek over his heart listening to it pump. “Jae Ha, I love your leg. Your leg has saved multiple lives including mine. Whatever low life loser said that nobody would accept you were wrong. You have many people accepting you for who you are! Including me. I’ll always accept you Jae Ha, that’s an oath on my life! What do I need to do to make you see how I see your leg?”

Jae Ha was stunned. Nobody had said that to him. Is this the feeling of being loved for what you are? More thoughts entered his mind as he thought about (Name). He felt tears form in his eyes as he pulled away from (Name) and smashed his lips onto hers. The girl was taken back but shortly kissed him back. He put his hand on the back of her head and drew her head closer to his face.

They both pulled away with bright red faces and panting for air. (Name) rested her forehead onto Jae Ha’s. She then placed her hand onto his leg and gently stroked it and whispered; You should probably put your clothes on.

“I thought you liked what you were seeing.” He grinned before picking up his clothes and putting them on.

“Don’t get me wrong. I could stare at your body all day and never get tired of it. Now, if you excuse me, I’m heading off to the camp. Come join me when you’re finished.” (Name) said before walking off. But Jae ha was quick and grabbed onto her wrist, bringing her into his chest and hugging her tightly.

“Thank you (Name),” Jae Ha spoke, “Thank you for always being there for me. And I love you too. Never forget that.”

(Name) smiled and nodded her head, “I’ll always be here for you, Jae Ha. Grab Yoon’s bag and i'll be waiting by the trees, and we can walk together.”

“I was going to make you walk with me either way. Someone might kidnap me.”

“Nobody would kidnap you, and if that was to happen; they return you in no time.”

“Oh, gee, thanks.” Jae Ha grumbled as he let go of (Name) and grabbed the bag and towel.

(Name) laughed as she stood there waiting for him to get back, “Come on,” she said as Jae ha walked up to her, “You make me tired.”

And with that, they walked back to the camp hand in hand and made sure that Jae Ha didn’t get kidnaped.

#anime #akatsuki no yona #angst #pleaseread #yona of the dawn #yona of the dawn x reader #so cute #jaeha x reader #green dragon #inscure #fluff #jaeha

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queenxxxsupreme · 4 years

Text

Lost But Not Forgotten

A/N: Italics are telepathic conversations. Also there’s a part in here that is sort of a nod to Trista Mateer’s quote “I still remember you as a little girl who overwaters plants because she doesn’t know when to stop giving.” Thank you so much to my lovely babe @writingawaymylife you’re the best ever <3

Warnings: none, just fluff with some angst

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: Eskel finds his long lost sister.

“You know, it’s very hard to concentrate when you’re humming so loudly.” Your apprentice, Vayenn, glanced up at you through her lashes. She was trying to read a book about healing herbs but you were humming and distracting her.

“Concentrate harder.” You grinned just a little, wiping down an empty shelf. You had just gotten in a shipment of dried herbs and you wanted to fill the shelf.

“That’s hard to do when all I hear is you.”

“Perhaps you’d concentrate more if you were in another room.”

“I won’t learn anything being in another room, Y/N. I want to get better at this but it’s just so damn difficult!” She groaned, placing the book rather roughly down on to a table. She then folded her arms up and rested her head on the table.

“You can’t learn herbalism overnight, Vayenn. You need to have patience.”

The bell above the door to your shop rung softly, silencing your conversation with Vayenn.

You turned and put on a welcoming smile. There were three men, two of them witchers from the magic auras that came off of them and the final one human.

“Hello, gentlemen! Welcome to the Golden Sparrow. Is there anything I can help you with today?”

“No, thank you.” The human flashed you a smile. “I believe they know what it is we are looking for.”

“Alright, just let me know if there is anything I can help you with.” Your eyes flickered up to the witcher standing closest to the door. His shoulders were broad, dark hair mostly pulled back in a low ponytail. Twin blades were strapped to his back. Your eyes very briefly caught sight of deep scars that cut through his lips and possibly his eye too. You didn’t let your gaze linger for long so you couldn’t tell where they began.

You turned to Vayenn, who had closed her book and appeared to be studying the two witchers.

“Vayenn.” You snapped your fingers, catching her attention. “It’s rude to stare.”

“I wasn’t.” She mumbled.

“Keep reading that book. I want it finished by tomorrow’s market, or else you won’t be going with me.”

She sighed again and opened the book.

You looked back to the three customers. They had migrated to the shelf containing jars of various monster-related body parts.

You went back to the empty shelf you had previously been working on. Now that it was clean, you could start putting jars of dried herbs on it.

“We don’t need that, Jaskier. We need a katakan liver.” One of the witchers spoke.

“I could’ve sworn the old man said a kikimora liver.”

“I’m positive I heard right. It was katakan.”

“What makes you think you heard right, Geralt?”

“Because I’m a witcher, Jaskier.”

“It was a katakan liver, Jaskier.” The second witcher said. The human gasped, rather dramatically putting his hand over his heart.

“And to think that you were on my side all this time, Eskel.”

The jar in your hand slipped and fell to the floor, shattering into a billion pieces. The dried herbs inside broke and cracked.

You looked over to the customers at the same time that they looked to you. Your eyes fell on the one the human called Eskel.

Your lips parted and all the breath in your lungs escaped.

No, no, no. There was no way this was your brother. There was absolutely no way. He had died decades ago, you were sure of it.

“Y/N?” Vayenn said your name, standing from the table she was at. “Y/N! Are you okay?”

When she shouted your name, you flinched, coming back to reality. You turned your head to look at her, opening your mouth to say something but your voice didn’t work. You looked back at the witchers and the human, your eyes focusing on the dark haired witcher.

“Y/N?” The witcher repeated quietly, furrowed his brows together.

“Who, um, who is this, Eskel?” The human asked. “A friend?”

Eskel didn’t answer him immediately. He wasn’t sure if it was you, if you were his sister.

“Y/N of Vedette.” He responded quietly.

Your vision blurred with tears as you gazed at him. Your stomach twisted up with the grief you still carried from your childhood.

“Are-Are you him?” Your voice was broken, weak. Your heart raced like a hummingbird’s wings in your chest, begging to be freed from its cage. “Are you….?”

You couldn’t say his name out loud. You hadn’t said his name in ages. It caused too much pain.

He took a few steps towards you as if he wanted to approach you. But at the last minute, he changed his mind and stopped. His fingers curled into fists by his sides.

“I am Eskel of…. of Vedette.” Eskel had never claimed his home as his own, not since he was taken away by an old witcher. But seeing you standing just across the room from him, breathing and staring at him like he was a lost treasure, it felt right.

You were frozen in place, unable to move, fearing this was some sort of dream. Perhaps you accidentally ingested an herb or something.

Eskel looked back to the white haired witcher, Geralt of Rivia. The two shared some sort of silent and brief conversation.

“Come on, Jaskier.” He moved past Eskel and towards the door to your shop.

As the two left, you couldn’t take your eyes off of Eskel. It still felt unreal.

You didn’t notice Vayenn disappear to a back room, taking her book with her.

“How-How are you still alive?” He asked you. He wanted nothing more than to close the space between you two and embrace you. But he didn’t want to scare you away. He didn’t want you close enough to see everything that was wrong with him, everything about him that had changed since you last saw him.

“I’m-I’m a-I’m a mage.” You stumbled over your words, nearly silent with your answer. His voice was so deep and raspy, a stark contrast to the eight year old boy you remembered. “Is this real?” Your voice trembled, tears slipping from your eyes to make damp trails down your cheeks.

“Yes.”

That was all you need to confirm that this was reality, that you weren’t hallucinating or dreaming.��

You ran across the room, practically throwing yourself at Eskel, at your brother. He caught you in his strong arms, holding you around the waist while you clutched to his shoulders.

The tears you’d been trying so desperately to hold back came free, flooding down your cheeks as you cried into his shoulder.

“You’ve gotten so big.” He chuckled, though you could hear the strain in his voice. He was trying not to cry.

You pulled away from him, wanting a better look at his face, at how the years had changed him.

Scars that pulled on the right side of his face. Yellow eyes gazed down at you, glossy and softened as he looked at you.

Your brows drew together softly and your hand came up to cup the right side of his face. He flinched from the contact, eyes closing firmly.

“My gods, what have they done to you?” You breathed out, ghosting your fingers across the rippled scars on his cheek. “And your beautiful green eyes….”

He let his head fall forward a little, hanging in shame. But you wouldn't allow it. You shook your head softly, tilting his head up and brushing a few pieces of hair out of his yellow eyes.

“I’m not judging you, dear brother. I just…. I can’t believe you are alive. Mother said you were lost in the woods.”

“I did get lost, but a witcher came along…. He took me.” Eskel opened his eyes but looked down. He couldn’t meet your gaze.

“Come, let’s sit.” You took his hand and guided him over to the little round table Vayenn had been sitting at.

He sat down in one chair and you pulled yours closer to him. You kept your hand in his, holding his scarred and calloused fingers tightly in your own.

You studied him for a few moments, the way his eyes cautiously flickered around the room. He wasn’t completely relaxed in his seat, unwilling to get too comfortable. He was on guard.

“Nothing here will hurt you, Eskel.” You told him with a soft shake of your head. His eyes flickered back to you. “You look…. uneasy.”

“I…. I just….” He didn’t want to tell you about his guild, about how getting too comfortable could get him killed. He didn’t want to tell you about all the nightmares he’d faced in real life, all the horrors he witnessed. After seeing what he had, there was no way to be other than uneasy.

“A witcher.” You said the title, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze. “Who would have guessed my sweet little brother would turn into a protector?”

“A monster.” He corrected you, eyes falling to his hand embraced in your own.

“A what?” You furrowed your brows together.

“A monster. Not…. Not a protector.”

“My brother, you are no monster.” You shook your head. “If you are even half the sweet boy I remember you to be, you are no monster.”

“I’ve-I’ve killed, Y/N.” He admitted, heart racing in his chest so violently that he was afraid it may burst. He was ready to confess to every sin he’d ever committed, to tell you of everything horrid he’d ever done. He wasn’t the hero you thought him to be, and he wouldn’t lie to you like that.

“We all have.” You smiled sadly, your voice a soft whisper. “We kill the people we used to be in order to survive this cruel world.”

He took in your words, almost smiling. But then he knitted his brows together and shook his head, pulling his hand from yours.

“We all do things we aren’t proud of.”

“But what I’ve done…. Y/N, I’m no protector.”

He was still just as stubborn as you remembered. You could see the pain in his eyes, his unfamiliar yellow eyes. Even though the color and the shape of the pupil was far from what you remembered, you could still see the little boy who was so eager to water flowers in the garden even though he always overwatered them. He never knew when to stop giving.

Had the world succeeded in breaking him? In breaking the sweet boy you called your brother?

You released his hand, leaning back in your chair and crossing your knees.

“I spent years and years trying to find you.” You told him, glancing down to a ring on your right hand. It was your mother’s wedding band. She had given it to you just before she passed. “I searched the entire Continent. Mother tried not to give up hope, but she was never the same after you went missing. I promised her I’d never stop until I found you. I found a mage from Aretuza. She told me that she could help me find you. After I finished learning what I needed to become a mage, she told me that you were dead and finding you would be a waste of my talent.”

You paused for a moment to take a breath.

“So I left the Lodge. I bounced around for a while before settling down here.”

“It’s a nice village.”

You nodded.

“Tell me, dear brother. What brought you here?” You tilted your head to the side a little, a knowing smile coming to your lips.

“A…. A contract. There’s been people going missing in the woods outside of town.”

“And you wished to stop whatever beast it is?” You raised your brows.

Eskel crinkled his brow at you, confused as to why you were asking him such things.

“You might believe that those witchers stole your kindness and your good heart, but you protect people from monsters.”

He said nothing, eyes falling to his hands as he took in your words and tried to understand your reasoning.

The bell to your shop rung quietly. You lifted your head, looking to the door. It was an elderly woman, a regular of yours. She often came by for remedies for her arthritis.

You looked back to your brother, opening your mouth to excuse yourself.

“It’s okay.” He spoke before you could, smiling softly. “Go.”

You rose to your feet. His yellow eyes followed you as you went to the customer. You took a few steps away from him before turning back to make sure he was there. Your stomach began to twist up at the thought him being gone when you looked back.

But he was there, still sitting in the chair and still watching you. You nervously messed with your hands at your waist, picking at your nails.

“Don’t you dare think about going anywhere, okay?”

He nodded, afraid that if he spoke, his voice would crack and give away all the emotions he was desperately fighting.

A little smile tugged at the corner of your lips. You took a few steps back, eyes lingering on your brother, then finally turned to go take care of your customer.

Eskel quietly cleared his throat and took a deep breath.

“Never again.” He quietly promised, nodding softly.

Taglist: @pressedinthepages @MishaFaye @whitewolfandthefox @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @wolfyland07 @belalugosisdead @persephonehemingway @romancebibliophilia @keira-hulmaster @dinonuggs69 @greatestauthorofmygeneration @shadow-hunters-lover @dancingwith-thesunflowers @tedi-fach-las @thecomfortofoldstorries @raspberrydreamclouds @natkowaa @disasteren @weathervanes-my-oneandlonely @onlyhenrys @wackylurker @criminaly-supernatural @magpie343 @permanently-exhausted-witcher @hina-chans-stuff @the-space-between-heartbeats @havenoffandoms @carriebee1 @ger-bearofrivia @writingawaymylife @reaganjenelle @badassspaceprincess @theawkwardpedestrian @naominami @scarlettwitcher @runawayolives @badassspaceprincess @just-a-sad-donut @summersong69 @an--actual--human--disaster

#eskel x sister!reader #eskel angst #eskel fluff #eskel fic #eskel witcher #eskel #the witcher

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javierpenaspinkshirt · 4 years

Text

House Keys & Cocktail Umbrellas

Horacio Carrillo x F!Reader

One shot - 18+

Warnings: smut with an attempt at story line, oral sex, daddy kink, dom!Carrillo, orgasm denial, edging, swearing, Horacio Carrillo is his own warning, the willful disregard of canon, and some nasty formatting.

Words: 3.7k

Summary: set in the early/mid 80s before he became everyone's favourite Colonel, Horacio Carrillo comes home from a week away to find his girlfriend waiting to greet him.

A/N: it was about time I stopped thirsting in the tags and actually wrote something, right? So here's a totally self indulgent attempt at a pre-canon Carrillo smut-fest.

House Keys & Cocktail Umbrellas

Your heart skipped as you slid your new key into his lock. He’d given it to you a week ago when he’d left and you hadn’t used it yet. You liked to think there was a romantic symbolism to being given a key to his apartment, a signal as to the direction in which your life together was headed. But you also suspected he’d had the same thought as you had and was secretly hoping you’d be here to greet him when he got home.

You would be.

Horacio had been away for a week. Occasionally his job demanded that he and his fellow officers do a week’s residential training somewhere. Last time had been in a safe house in Bogotá doing urban assault drills, this time it was at a repurposed coke lab somewhere in the jungle that had been seized by the Colombian military and then used as a training facility for narco policing.

Horacio was an officer in the Colombian National Police. He was currently a Captain but he was fast approaching the rank of Major. You were sure he’d be a General in no time. But for now he was Captain Carrillo, fiercely proud of his country, sworn to protect his people, and hopelessly in love with you.

It was probably your favourite thing about him; the juxtaposition of the tall, strapping Captain, feared by many a drug lord across your country and the next, and the soft, kind, dimple-cheeked man you knew him as. You loved that he commanded respect wherever he went but at home he was like warm wax in your hands, soft to your touch and endlessly pliable under your fingers.

You entered his apartment cautiously like it was the first time you had ever been there. It wasn’t, you had been countless times over the year or so you’d been together. Though you remembered the first time well. It was your eighth date, you’d made him wait and prove he wasn’t just some squaddie looking for a hook up. He’d brought you back to his after a meal out followed by several many drinks at your favourite bar in the city. You had spent the night and had ruined his bedsheets. Not through any amorous activity, nothing of the sort. In fact you had thrown up your strawberry daiquiris in a horrifying projectile all over his bed. How he hadn’t kicked you out then and there you didn’t know.

Instead he had looked after you… and then subsequently taken the piss every time you’d walked passed that bar since.

You’d bought him new bedsheets the next day. You’d taken the gaudy blue sheets with little red and yellow cocktail umbrella detail you’d found at the market to his front door in an apology and he’d laughed hard and pulled you into his arms, telling you you were a fool but you were his fool.

His sense of humour was such that he’d actually put the gross blue umbrella sheets on his bed the next time you came to visit. You’d laughed so hard together and ended up making love all night under them. Now they sat in his linen cupboard. He hated the garish bright colours and the badly stitched pattern, but they made him smile every time he went into find some bedsheets that weren’t ugly blue.

You considered putting the umbrella sheets on his bed as you closed the front door behind you and dropped your new key into the bowl next to the door where he usually kept his. You decided against it. As much as you loved the way he laughed when you brought them up you wanted his attention to be solely on you tonight. You’d worn that dress he liked so much, a white sun dress with delicate yellow flowers dotted across the skirt. It was garishly girly and not wholly appropriate for the time of year as the weather began to change and the cold seeped into the city, but he liked it and that was good enough for you.

You’d been shopping in the week after work and bought new lingerie that would horrify your mother and give your grandmother a heart attack. The friend you’d gone with had waggled her eyebrows at you when you’d picked it out causing the both of you to burst into fits of giggles in the shop. She’d laughed knowing what you were planning for the weekend.

You were wearing said lingerie now. You’d had to wear a jacket over your dress to stop the red lace being so obviously visible as you sat on the bus to get to Horacio’s. The only person you wanted looking at your new red lace was him, not the bus pervs.

You slipped your jacket off and kicked off your shoes and made your way to his kitchen. His apartment was small and open plan all save for the bedroom and bathroom. It was light and airy and surprisingly tidy for a man who lived his life in organised chaos. You had seen his desk at work.

He would be home soon and you knew he’d have nothing substantial to eat at his place. Food shopping was his least favourite chore. You dumped your bag onto the kitchen counter and began stacking his fridge with meals you’d cooked for him. Just enough to last him the weekend, you weren’t about to start cooking every meal for a man you didn’t even live with yet. But he’d need the weekend to catch up on rest after his week away, so you’d allowed yourself this one domestic nicety… just this once.

You packed the last Tupperware tub away in his fridge when you heard the key in the lock. You spun round and leapt onto the couch, attempting to look as causal as you could, pretending to read the old TV guide left on the coffee table.

Horacio closed the door behind him and caught sight of you, sat nonchalantly on his sofa, flicking through his discarded newspapers and magazines. You turned to look up at him and batted your eyelashes at him, unable to keep the smile from spreading across your face.

It was a rare day that he wore his uniform home, but today was just such a rarity. He was dressed in his khaki greens, Captain’s rank slides displayed on his shoulders, and his name emblazoned across his chest. His broad shoulders were barely contained by the short sleeved shirt and his tanned arms were very much on display, muscles rippling as he reached out to take your hands and pull you up to stand in front of him.

You expected him to make a comment about the dress, or about the red bra strap he could see peaking out from beneath the neckline but instead he surprised you,

‘I missed you’, he smiled as he said it, showing the dimples you loved so much and that sparkle in his eyes reignited as he looked you over.

He pulled you into a hug and you buried your face in the crook of his neck. He was warm and strong and you could smell the remnants of cigarette smoke and cologne on his shirt.

He slowly dragged a hand up your body, reminding himself how soft and good you felt beneath his large palm, and stopped as he reached your chin, gently nudging you to look up at him and kiss him.

You obliged and sunk into him as his lips chastely brushed yours before pulling you in for a bruising kiss. You had missed him so much. It had only been a week and you knew you sounded like some love sick teenager but as he splayed his palm against your back, pulling you hard against him, at least you knew the feeling was mutual.

He broke the kiss and grinned down at you, your height difference never more apparent than when you were stood up close to each other.

‘How was your week, mi amor? How much did you miss me?’ He winked at you as he squeezed your ass, pulling your dress up so he could feel your hot skin against his palm.

‘Oh you know how it is’ you ran your hands up his chest, working your way up over his shoulders and up to his jawline, cleanly shaven and smooth. You threaded your fingers into the short hair at the nape of his neck and stood up on your tip toes so you were eye level with him, ‘I guess I thought about you maybe once or twice’.

Your words elicited a growl from your captain who grabbed at your thighs and pulled you up, your legs wrapped around his waist and your back against the wall. He easily supported your weight with one arm and palmed at your now exposed thighs with his other, pushing your dress up as high as he could, catching a glimpse of your new red panties, your arousal beginning show itself.

‘Don’t be like that, niñita, tell daddy how much you missed him’.

You dug your nails gently into the back of his neck, letting him know his words were having an effect.

A shit-eating grin was plastered to his face as he pressed his forehead to yours. You hated how easily he could make you come undone. He loved it.

You shifted to try and steal a kiss but he was wise to you and pulled away.

‘You haven’t earned that yet, baby, you have to earn that’.

He pulled a whine from you as he dragged his fingers slowly over your folds, your underwear giving away your slickness.

Horacio laid wet, lazy kisses up your neck, pausing only to suck on your pulse point, leaving a blushed purple mark you’d be wearing for the next few days. He kissed along your jawline tentatively and stopped to bite gently on your ear lobe.

‘Are you going to be a good girl for me?’ He whispered before pulling back to look you in the eyes.

You couldn’t help yourself as you responded, ‘yes, Captain’.

His commanding stare wavered and he let out a laugh, knowing full well you were taking the piss, before kissing you quickly then dropping you down back on to your feet and taking your hand.

He lead you into the bedroom and set about pulling your dress off you.

‘I’m so fucking glad you didn’t put the umbrella sheets on the bed’ he chuckled, recognising with relief the white sheets he’d left on the bed a week ago.

You laughed with him as your dress was yanked over your head, leaving you standing in only your underwear.

He paused for a moment to take in the sight of you.

‘You are just… god I love you so much’ he looked at you with what you could only describe as adoration.

He was domineering in bed, in control at all times and loved to hear you call him daddy. He would edge you until you were begging him to let you cum, loving the way you writhed underneath him, clawing at his back and up his arms and all but crying his name as he worked you the way he wanted.

But other times he would look at you like you were the only person on Earth that mattered to him. Sometimes he would look at you in a way that could break your heart clean in two. You hoped that would never change.

You sidled up to him and began unbuttoning his shirt slowly. You peeled off the khaki layer, letting his shirt fall to the floor as he stood perfectly still for you. He would take control in a minute, but for now it was your turn.

You untucked his white undershirt, tugging at it to get him to take it off, you couldn’t reach up high enough to take it off him yourself. He did as you wanted and pulled his T-shirt off as you dragged your nails over his bare chest. He sighed and lolled his head back at your touch. Just like putty in your hands.

You inspected his torso, running your fingers over every new bruise and laid gentle kisses over each one. You didn’t know what exactly they did on these training weeks, but it was rough. He always came back battered and bruised. He couldn’t say much, wouldn’t even if he was allowed to, but what he did tell you made you worry about him. He was a dedicated officer, he believed in his country and believed that he was serving it to the best of his ability. But everyone knew the narcos were beginning to tighten their grip around Colombia’s throat, choking their own home land to make a point to the rest of the world.

And who was meant to stop them? Your Horacio. The man almost whimpering before you as you kissed down his ribs. You knew he could be fierce, you feared he could cruel, but you couldn’t believe it right now, not as he threaded his hands into your hair as you dropped to your knees before him.

You wrestled with his belt for a moment and finally managed to pull it through the loops of his slacks, letting it fall to the floor as you looked up at him, eyes locked on his, as you unbuttoned his trousers and went for his zip.

His hands grasped yours and before you could do anything more and suddenly he was squatted down on his haunches in front of you, eyes level with yours with a smirk on his face.

‘No baby’ he crooned so smoothly, ‘you haven’t earned that’.

He scooped you up in one movement and dragged your legs around his waist again, his cock pressing firmly against your inner thigh. He sucked another purple bruise to your skin just above your collar bone then knelt to drop you down on the bed.

He stood above you, tall, shirtless, a sheen of sweat beginning to form across his body. You looked up at him, lying on your back on the bed, your hands above your head and legs bent at the knees hanging off the edge. His eyes raked over you, taking in the soft flesh of your hips, the way your chest was rising and falling in anticipation, the bruises he’d left on you blooming nicely, the purple of them complimenting the way your skin blushed under his gaze.

He leant down over you, kissing up your belly and pulled at bra down until he freed both of your breasts and rolled a nipple between his finger and thumb. He took the other into his mouth and you let out a low moan, making him pinch hard with his fingers and lick up your chest, up your neck until his lips crashed against yours.

There was less composure this time, a mash of teeth and tongue as you pulled on his hair and held him close to you. He pulled away as he felt your grip on his hair tighten and slipped down off the bed and sat to remove his combat boots and trousers, leaving him in just his boxers.

He knelt on his knees and positioned himself between your legs.

‘Were these expensive’ he asked, a sly grin on his lips as he ran his finger under the waistband of your panties.

‘Very’ you crooned as you leant up on an elbow and unhooked your bra with your free hand, pulling it off you and leaving your chest exposed. Your grin matched his.

‘Good’ was all the response he gave before he ripped your panties off you, tearing the lacy fabric easily with one hand.

He dragged his hands down your thighs and grabbed your ankles, hooking each knee over his shoulders and dragged his tongue hard over your clit. You gasped at the sudden sensation and let your head drop back as you collapsed down on the bed.

Horacio dove in, licking and sucking at you like it was the last time he would ever get to do it. He set a relentless pace before he slid a finger into you, making easy work of finding that spot that made you moan. Your thighs tensed as he added another finger, all the while bearing down on your clit, feeding off every moan and whimper that left your mouth.

You felt the heat rising in your lower belly, knowing you were just moments away from release, his name dripping from your lips when he stopped. He knelt up and looked at you from between your thighs, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and arched an eyebrow at you.

‘What’s the matter, baby?’ He teased.

You knew he wanted you to beg but you weren’t going to give into him yet, you wouldn’t let that smug satisfaction bloom across his face so soon. You leant up on your elbows again, meeting his gaze.

He saw your refusal to play a long and leant down to lick slowly up your folds and swipe lightly across your clit. You bit your bottom lip hard and let your head fall back to your shoulder blades.

He kept his eyes on you, fascinated by the way he could pull you apart with just a flick of his tongue. Instead he ran his hand up your thigh a pressed his index finger to your clit, his cock jumped as your body jolted against his touch. He rubbed hard circles on your bundle of nerves until your breathing hitched and he felt you right on the edge of orgasm and pulled away again.

You stared at him again, pupils blown black but refused to beg. You wanted more and you were going to get it.

‘Not going to be a good girl for me hmm? I’ll show you what happens when you’re not good for me’ he stood quickly, unhooking your ankles and pushed your further up the bed. He pulled off his boxers and let his cock spring free. You ached for him.

He positioned himself above you and leant down to kiss up your neck. He pressed the tip of his cock to your entrance as he felt you clench around him, desperate for him.

He grabbed your arms, pulling them above your head and grasped them both with one hand, using the other to lean himself above you.

‘You don’t get to cum until I say so, you understand? Don’t you dare cum until I tell you you can’ he demanded in your ear. You could hear from the strain in his voice that he was almost as desperate as you were, he was just better at controlling it.

Your response was low and breathy, ‘yes, daddy’.

He groaned as he pushed into you, deep and throaty, a string of curses whispered into your ear as he gave you both a moment to adjust.

The heat had coiled up in your belly again and god did it feel good just to have him inside you. He was so cocky and demanding but you could feel him fighting back his own release already. He slowly began moving his hips, building up a rhythm that didn’t have you both coming undone too soon.

You were hot and tight around him, your legs wrapped around his hips as he picked up his pace, chasing his high but denying you yours. He knew just how to hit that spot inside you, knew just how to make you moan low and utter his name like it was the dirtiest of curse words. But he denied you until he was snapping his hips against yours, the filthiest of sounds filling his small bedroom.

He released your hands from above your head and you instantly raked them up his back, nails digging in to his soft skin, feeling every movement of every muscle. He dragged his thumb across your clit, causing you to clench down on him. His eyes snapped closed and his head hung as his pace faltered slightly. He slowed, catching his breath and denying himself release until he had you right where he wanted you.

Your eyes were lidded and your breath quick and shallow as he pressed his thumb to your clit again, his forehead against yours, his gaze meeting yours.

‘Tell me, princessa, tell me what you want’ he slowed his thrusts even more and you moaned, your orgasm so close, held back only by your stubbornness.

You gave in.

‘Fuck me, Horacio, please, let me cum’ you pulled his hair and barely managed to form a sentence before he leant down and bit your bottom lip, pulling and sucking on it as he thrust into you, rubbing his thumb over your bundle of nerves.

His touch had you seeing white, you gripped his biceps, sure you were going to leave little indentations with your nails.

‘I’m gonna-’ he cut you off before you could say it.

‘Cum for me, mi amor’ the last word came out as a moan as he felt your body tense under him.

You moaned his name and clawed at his shoulders as you were finally allowed your release. It washed over you as you felt his hips stutter and his head dropped down to your shoulder. He bit at your neck as he filled you, unapologetically pulling at your hair and sliding the hand that had been tending to your clit up to grab at your tit, squeezing hard sure to leave bruises.

You felt him slump against you as he came down. You pulled his body against yours, letting the mattress take the weight of both you, spent and sweaty as your skin stuck to his.

He kept his head buried against your neck as he caught his breath and willed his heart rate to slow enough to let some blood flow back to his brain.

You traced circles on his back, feeling marks and indentations from your nails raking over his tan skin, the aftershocks of your high waning. You knew he liked the marks you left on him, knowing under his shirt he was marked and owned was a secret just between you two.

His breathing slowed and he leant up on his forearms to brush the hair from your forehead and smile down at you.

He placed a gentle kiss to your lips, soft and loving and you felt him smile against you.

‘Glad to be home, Captain?’ You bit his lower lip and smiled back.

He groaned as he pulled out of you, keen for the next round but spent for the moment, and flopped down on his back next to you.

‘I’m really fucking glad I gave you that key’.

You laughed and agreed, you were pretty fucking pleased too.

He turned to look at you and brushed your cheek gently with his hand, ‘and I’m really really glad you didn’t put the umbrella sheets on the bed’.

#i forgot that i queued this and it posted randomly yesterday so have it now instead #horacio carrillo x reader #horacio carrillo #horacio carrillo x you #colonel carrillo #colonel carrillo x reader #colonel carrillo x you #carrillo x reader #carrillo x you #narcos #narcos fanfiction #narcos fanfic #maurice compte #horacio carrillo x f!reader

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