#i have no words to explain how much i love this man
Text
the pro
Pairing: Art Donaldson x Reader
Rating: Explicit - 18+ only. minors, please get off my lawn.
Notes: My brain chose violence this morning. Not beta-read because when is it ever.
Length: 4.8K
Warnings: Slow burn; unhappily married reader; divorced Art Donaldson; infidelity; oral sex (female receiving); vaginal sex; unsafe sex
Summary: Every lesson becomes an exercise in self-control. You force yourself to try, really try, and not make silly mistakes for the sake of Art coming closer, grasping your arm or elbow, pressing close and redirecting your swing. You don’t know what you crave more these days: his praise or his touch.
He's the biggest men's tennis star since Andy Roddick.
That’s what your husband says, as if it’ll entice you. As if you know anything about tennis, about the pro that your husband says will be coming to the house to teach you to play.
It’ll be good for you. You need a hobby.
You don’t gripe or argue. You don’t tell him that five months into your marriage shouldn’t have you looking for a new hobby. You should still be in the honeymoon stage, spending all of your time with him, hanging off of his arm, off of his every word. But he works so much and he’s away so often—
I don’t want you to get bored.
It’s a sweet gesture. The maid handles the housework; you have a chef that handles most of the grocery shopping and cooking, unless you insist on making something yourself; you have a housekeeper that arranges for anything you need—dry cleaning, maintenance. And it’s no wonder that with all of his money, his power, he can just order a retired pro tennis player up to your house, like you’d order a pizza. There’s a tennis court in the back of the mansion, a few feet from the pool. You’ll get some new outfits, the best sneakers, the nicest rackets. You’ll finally have something to do to fill your days.
Art Donaldson.
You know his name before the lean, fair-skinned patrician man turns up at your front door. He trails you through the house, politely declines your offer of a beverage.
“You ever played tennis before?” He asks.
You haven’t. Before your husband arranged this for you, you hadn’t so much as given the sport more than a passing thought. You don’t have the heart or confidence to tell that to a man that’s made tennis his whole life, so you just give him a small, guilty smile and say no, you haven’t. He nods, waves you off, insists that it’s fine.
“We’ll start with the basics.”
--
Two months of lessons on the basics make your arms tired, and your hands sore. But where your swings are clumsy and your grip is weak at first, you can see improvement in the way that you move. Your steps are less clumsy when you go after a ball; you’re more aware of the service line and the base line; your forehand stroke from contact to your left shoulder is smoother; your rotation and follow-through on your backhand is coming along, but has a long way to go.
Art’s instruction is calm and steady. He explains technique as much as he demonstrates it. When you get something wrong, he doesn’t scold, just lightly corrects. When you do something well, his encouragement is constant and free-flowing. Every accurate move and motion is met with, “Nice,” or, “Perfect,” or, “That’s it.”
On the days when you don’t have a lesson with Art, you practice. You order a tennis ball machine to work on your forehand and backhand. You attempt (and fail) to learn how to slice on your own. You try anyway—you can only imagine the way his eyes might light up if you manage to surprise him.
You’ve tried to ignore the rising interest that you have in Art, but you can’t help the little…Crush that’s developed. He’s just so attentive, and kind. When you find yourself smiling these days, it’s often because of something that he said, or did. You can’t remember the last time your husband made you feel giddy this way. It was probably when you started dating—before you’d made the decision to marry for comfort, rather than love. Your husband is practical, rarely physically affectionate, more heavily involved in his job and social circles than with you.
But you’ll have to find a way to thank him. He’s given you a hobby, and a man that grins at you like you just painted the goddamn Mona Lisa when you serve your first ace.
--
“So, tell me about the Mark Rebellato Academy.”
Art smiles, dipping his head as he reaches for his coffee. It’s taken a few months, but you finally convince him to have something to drink with you after practice. Your chef is blessedly out shopping for ingredients for dinner, so you have the kitchen all to yourself. Art has watched you putter around, seeming surprised that you know where everything is. You can’t blame him; the kitchen is chef-grade, and you don’t cook much these days.
“Did your husband tell you that’s where I went?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know?”
You’re too embarrassed to admit that you’ve done some googling, and watched a couple of clips of him interviewing before and after his matches.
“I’ve just heard,” You fib. “Tell me about it?”
He leans back in his seat, eyes skating across your face as he seems to consider something.
“What do you wanna know?”
“Did you enjoy it? I mean—” It feels like a dumb question once it’s out, and you hurry to redirect, “With what you know now, if you had the choice, would you have learned how to play tennis somewhere else?”
He considers for a moment, trailing his finger over the side of his cup. Your gaze flits to his fingers, and your own flex around your mug handle. You’ve spent far too much time looking at and thinking about Art’s fingers—their length and quickness; the slight roughness of his calloused hands; the lingering tan line from where his wedding band used to sit.
“Yeah,” He admits, drawing your full attention back to his face. “I would. It was foundational, you know. I’ve been thinking of sending Lily there.”
“Lily?”
A bittersweet smile twists his lips. “My daughter.”
“Oh!” It catches you off-guard.
“Tashi, uh—” He clears his throat, “Lily’s mother, my ex-wife. She and I are thinking about schools.”
“I’m sure they’d be glad to have her. Does she play tennis?”
“Little bit. She didn’t start until last year, but she's a natural.” He clears his throat again, presses, “Are you and your husband planning on having kids?”
“Oh god no.” You blurt it out, and realize as he raises his brows that you’ve spoken too quickly. You lean back in your seat, stirring your coffee quickly to distract yourself from your growing embarrassment. “He actually has kids already. Two girls, seven and ten. They’re at boarding school and they stay with their mother when they're on vacation. I haven’t gotten to spend much time with them.”
“...He seems to be pretty busy.”
“He is.”
“So it’s just you in this big house?” He tips his head to the side, brows knitting with curiosity. “What do you do all day?”
“Play tennis.”
He grins, chuckling, and your stomach flips at the sound.
“It shows, you know,” He says.
“What do you mean?”
“I can tell you’re practicing without me. And,” He leans across the table, running his fingers lightly over the exposed skin of your bicep, “You’re getting stronger.”
You wonder if he can see or feel the goosebumps that break out across your skin at the gentle sweep, his gaze heavy on yours.
“I have a good teacher,” You murmur. Art’s lips twitch with a soft smile, his hand gently cupping your arm.
“Just good?” He plies.
“The best. A real pro.”
His smile widens, and the flash of his tongue sweeping across his lower lip makes your face go hot. You know that you’re caught when Art’s touch becomes firmer, pulling your arm toward him just a little.
The sound of approaching footsteps startles you, and you hurriedly tug your arm away. The sight of your husband makes your heart leap into your throat.
“There you are,” He smiles. “Art, how’s she doin’?”
“She’s killing it.”
You don’t dare look at him, but you can feel the weight of his attention lingering on you still. You just give your husband a smile, tipping your cheek up obligingly as he leans down to kiss it.
“Actually, Art,” Your husband straightens up, hands resting on your shoulders. “I’m glad I caught you. There’s a charity event for a local club this month. It’s for uh…What is it?” He squeezes your shoulders for answers, and you have to keep from rolling your eyes.
“It’s a charity tennis match to raise funds to fix up the local courts. They need resurfacing and they’re raising funding to keep the fees down.”
“We could use a sponsorship from the foundation,” Your husband adds.
“Honey,” You glance back, wary of insulting Art. But—
“I’ll do it,” Art agrees. “Send me the details.”
“Excellent,” Your husband grins. “Maybe we could coax you into a match or two.”
You don’t chastise him this time—not when you see something light up in Art.
“Maybe.”
--
You haven’t seen Art play before. You’ve specifically avoided it. You’ve known that when you saw it, you would be too intimidated to do a damn thing on the court with him. But now, you can’t stop watching him. You don’t even care that you probably look so out of place—where everyone else is watching the ball, you’re just watching him.
His movements are so neat, so precise. It’s like watching a dance. He’s running the poor guy on the other side of the net up and down the court. And the sounds that he’s making—god. Every little grunt and groan is weaving increasingly filthy thoughts in your mind. You already know that you’ll seek out the memory of those sounds, as you reach between your legs later. His shirt clings to his chest, showcasing the muscles that you’ve always suspected he has. Strands of hair plaster to his forehead as sweat drips over his cheekbones, down the bridge of his nose, over his jaw.
When he scores a match point and he looks toward the cheering crowd—when his eyes land on you instantly, without having to search—it’s like you’ve been hit by a bolt of lightning. You can’t think, or move. You barely have the focus to applaud, but you manage to raise your hands and clap.
--
Every lesson becomes an exercise in self-control. You force yourself to try, really try, and not make silly mistakes for the sake of Art coming closer, grasping your arm or elbow, pressing close and redirecting your swing. You don’t know what you crave more these days: his praise or his touch.
Coffee becomes a post-lesson ritual. He starts to stick closer and closer to you as he follows you into the house until he begins to rest his hand on your lower back, guiding you to your door. He keeps nearby when you’re making it, brushes droplets of sweat off of your forehead or neck. Every touch is electrifying; you have to make a concentrated effort to keep your hands steady, your face neutral as your heart pounds and your stomach floods with butterflies.
He pushes you harder on the court, and you force yourself to meet the level that he sets for you, even when you don’t feel confident in it. But you want to make him proud.
It spurs you to lunge a little too far.
The sharp stabbing pain in your left ankle makes you shriek, and you tumble to the ground, dropping the racket with a clatter. You hear the pounding of his feet, glance up just in time to see him clear the net before he’s on the ground at your side.
“What hurts?”
“My ankle,” You grit out, hissing softly as he helps you straighten your leg out. He smooths his hands over your calf, leaning over you and gently guiding your foot in a few different directions. You whimper as he starts to guide your foot to the left.
“Okay, okay,” He soothes, “Let’s get you inside.”
For as much as you damn the throbbing in your ankle, you thank it a little, too. You lean heavily against Art, making the slow, arduous journey back to the house with his arm wrapped tightly around your middle.
When your husband comes home, he finds you with on the couch with Art coming back in from the kitchen, an ice pack in your hand.
You’d hope for concern, but your husband frowns, glances at the swelling knob of your ankle, and simply asks: “What did you do?”
“She lost her balance.” Art sits down on the other end of the couch, soothing you as the chill of the ice pack makes you shift with discomfort.
“Are you going to be able to walk tomorrow?” Your husband presses. “We have dinner at the Fineman’s.”
“I'm still going, don't worry about that."
“...Tomorrow might be a bit soon,” Art warns.
“I’ll be okay. It’s just a sprain, right?” You tip your brows up, hoping, praying that he’ll agree for your sake. His fingers flex around the ice pack, jaw ticking as he clenches it. He doesn’t say a word as your husband sighs heavily, grumbles, “I hope so. Still, we should put a pause on the lessons until she’s fighting fit again.”
Art finally tears his eyes from yours, a tight smile on his lips.
“Of course.”
--
“How’s the ankle?”
It takes you a moment to scrounge up an answer. You can’t believe that he called. You knew that Art had gotten your number when you started taking lessons with him, but he’s never used it beyond texting to confirm a lesson time now and again.
You look down at the still-swollen flesh as it strains against the thin strap of your slingbacks.
“Fine,” You lie, “It’s um—” You glance over your shoulder, listening for your husband. “It’s not that bad.”
“Good enough to walk on?”
Hardly.
“Yes.” You think you’ve gotten away with it, but when you hear Art sigh and chastise, “You should rest,” You know that you haven’t.
“I have,” You insist, “All day.”
“Are you sure you’re alright?”
“Yes.”
“You can tell him no, you know.”
Your mouth works wordlessly, body going hot with indignation. You can’t think of a thing to say. You can’t tell him that he’s wrong, that your husband’s connections are the lifeblood of his business. You can’t tell him that if your husband’s business falls apart, you won't be able to afford those tennis lessons, and then how the hell are you supposed to see Art again?
You just yank your phone away from your ear and hang up.
--
I invited Art.
It shouldn’t be a surprise, but your husband’s statement makes you feel like you’ve swallowed your tongue. You haven’t seen or spoken to Art in nearly two weeks. Your doctor recommended putting off any physical activity, which your husband surely relayed to him. He was the one whose name was on Art’s checks, after all.
Your husband has always thrown a massive party to kick off the summer. Every year, 150 of your husband’s closest family, friends, and business associates flooded into the house. It shouldn’t be such a surprise that your husband invited Art after the performance he had given at the fundraiser—$25,000 from the foundation, and ticket sales went through the roof when it had been announced that the Art Donaldson would be making an appearance. Your husband owed Art a lot, and probably saw this as an opportunity for him to network, to take on more clients. He had been evangelizing Art’s training to any of your friends that would listen—how good you are on the court, how engaged and energetic you seem to be these days.
It’s one thing to know that you’ll have to put on a happy face for the crowd, but to know that Art will be among them makes your insides twist with nerves. You can’t stop thinking about the way that he had spoken to you when you were hurt; his calm, steadying demeanor as he’d gotten you inside; the careful coaxing and gentle touch that he’d used as he’d taken your shoe off and examined your ankle more closely.
You think about it now, as you strap on another pair of heels. Your ankle really is doing well, though you have a little lingering pain in shoes like these. You’ll likely be on your feet for the length of the party; it’s going to be a long night. You look over yourself in the mirror, self consciously tipping your ankle from side to side for anything that he may spot or catch out. But there’s nothing, you reassure yourself. You slide your hands over the skirt, plastering on a smile as your husband pokes his head into your dressing room.
“Almost ready in here?” He asks.
“All set!”
--
He doesn’t come over to you. On the crowded patio, you can feel him watching you—you’ve gotten so used to seeking out the sensation that you can’t ignore it now. The first true look at him is agony. He watches you from just a few feet away, a glass of champagne in hand as he speaks with your husband and the Finemans. He openly looks you over, eyes drifting over your body to the flash of ankle revealed by the slit in your dress. He tips his head to the side just a little, squinting before his eyes flit back up to your face, lips twitching with a small smile.
You want to hate how good it feels; you want to be angry with him for his smug knowing, his insistence of You can tell him no, you know. But it feels so goddamn good to have his attention again that you can’t bring yourself to be annoyed. You know that you’re staring—that you both are—and you force yourself to turn away and excuse yourself from the conversation you’re in. You go inside, murmuring your thanks for the waitstaff that pass you along the way.
The house isn’t nearly as busy as the patio, and you're able to slip into your darkened study unnoticed. You leave the lights off, certain that if you turn them on, people will be drawn in to bug you, like moths to a flame. The party’s lights and music filter in through the partially-closed blinds.
You lean against the desk, circling your ankle and wincing a little. You’ll hide for a few minutes, let it rest—
Your breath catches in your throat as the door opens. You expect your husband, ready to scold and usher you back to the guests.
You only have a second to get a look at Art before he shuts the door behind himself, plunging the room back into darkness. Your fingers tighten around the edge of the desk as you use it to ground yourself.
“...Do you need something?” You ask, voice wobbling with nerves.
“Wanted to come say hi.”
“Well. Hi.”
You hear him chuckle, his footsteps muted by the carpet.
“Thanks for the invite.”
“It wasn’t my idea.” It’s not polite to admit, but you want it to sting him, just a little. Maybe it does; in the dim of the room, you can’t see Art’s expression as he comes to a stop just a couple of feet from you.
“Do you want me to go?” He asks. You know what you should say, but you can’t bring yourself to say it.
“No,” You whisper. You feel the heat of him as he comes closer, his hands resting on the desk and caging you in. You bite your lip as gently brushes his nose against yours.
“He isn’t taking care of you.”
“My ankle is fine.”
“I’m not talking about your ankle.” He lifts a hand, smoothing it over your hip as your breath mingles. Art’s fingers drift from your hip to stroke over the apex of your dress’s slit. His fingers slip further down, and you nod as he palms your thigh. Before you can say or do a thing, Art sinks to his knees. He curls his hand around your left calf, lifting it. You shiver as his lips press a gentle kiss to your ankle. His hand and lips travel up, easing the fabric of your dress higher with each second. The first brush of his knuckles against your panty-covered clit makes you jolt. Your hands dig into the wood of the desk as his fingers hook between the fabric and your skin. You lift your hips without a word, allowing him to draw them down.
Art presses a kiss to your mound before he lowers his head, giving your lips a sweet, sucking kiss. You gasp softly as his tongue swipes across your clit. You look down despite the fact that you can’t see him well. You can just make out his blissful expression, his eyes closed as his laps broadly across your aching cunt. You lower your hand to his neat hair, winding your fingers through it, unable to help grasping it. His heady moan vibrates against you and you nearly cry out at the sensation. You manage to just catch it, the sound dying in your throat as Art buries his tongue inside you. He sweeps his thumb over your clit in rush, harried circles, panting against your heated flesh. You rock your hips down against his lips, tightening your grip on his hair as you guide him. He lets you do as you please, whining against your skin as your movements become less controlled.
“Art,” You warn, “I—Oh, oh god—”
He hums in encouragement, sucking your clit back between his lips and lashing it with his tongue. Your jaw drops open, your hand shoving Art even more tightly against your skin as you cum suddenly. A stunned, breathy moan slips from your lips as Art leans back, smearing his lips against the inside of your thigh.
You use your grasp on Art’s hair to draw him back up off of his knees, giving him a crushing kiss as he catches his balance. You swipe your tongue across his lips, whining against his lips as you taste yourself on him. He presses close, his hard cock straining against the fabric of his pants. You reach down, palming and squeezing his length as you trade slick, messy kisses. He steers you back onto the desk as you fumble to undo his belt, button, and zip.
“Condom?” He asks.
“Pill,” You reassure, shoving his pants down. You lap broadly across your palm, grasping Art’s length and guiding him closer. He brushes the tip of his cock against your still-throbbing clit, smiling as you whine. You’re going to ache tomorrow, but you’ve never been so happy to be sore.
“Art.”
“Sssh.”
“Please—” It’s hardly out of your mouth before he shoves his hips forward, seating himself fully with a single thrust. You bite down on your lip to quiet your moan, curling your arms around your shoulders. He rocks into you with firm, quick strokes, his mouth covering yours. You can hear things on the desk rattling with each thrust, kisses growing less controlled as he hoists your thigh up around his hip.
“Oh, god,” You breathe, “We have to be quick—He’ll come looking—”
“Not until you cum for me again,” He urges. “I need to feel it, sweetheart.”
“Art—”
“When’s the last time he did this? Hmm?” He presses, “When’s the last time he made you cum? When’s the last time he tasted you?”
“Never,” You admit with a shiver. It seems to renew Art’s passion, his thrusts and hold growing more intense. You squeeze your eyes shut, hands hooking tightly in the fabric of his jacket. He yanks the front of your dress down, bowing over you and drawing one of your nipples between his lips. You whimper as he toys with the bud, tugging it gently with his teeth before swiping across it. You arch into the slick heat, using your leg to tug him even closer as you chased the swelling curl of your orgasm.
“Just like that,” You urge, “Ffffuck—yes, yesyesyesyes—”
Your eyes squeeze shut as your hips buck down against his, pussy pulsing as he spills into you. Your heart pounds in your chest as the two of you slow and still. Art rests his forehead heavily against your neck, peppering gentle kisses across the exposed skin. You have to move—now. You don’t know if anyone heard you, but if someone did, you’re screwed. If no one did, your husband will probably be looking for you anyway, ready with a scold for neglecting your hostess duties.
“...I have to go,” You warn softly. It takes Art a moment to move, but he does, gently drawing himself back from his still-throbbing cunt. You hear the clanking of his belt buckle as he tucks himself away, and you reach down, righting your dress where it’s been pulled away. You take up your panties from where they’d been discarded on the floor, tugging them on before you straighten your skirt and hurry out of the room.
--
“Can I see you?”
It’s only been an hour since the last guest has left, and you are so, so fucking tired. You glance toward the bathroom door. You know that you locked it, and you’re certain that your husband can’t hear you over the shower running, but you can’t help but be paranoid.
“You just saw me,” You remind him.
“Tomorrow,” Art clarifies.
“Where?”
“I’ll send an address.”
You bite your lip, toying with your earring. Your pussy is still aching from the stretch of him, your ass sore from getting fucked on the desk.
“...You regret it?” He asks.
“No,” You don't give your answer a second thought.
“I’ll send an address. Whether or not you see me is up to you. Just…think about it. Okay?”
“Okay.”
You lower your phone, hanging it up and watching his contact information blink away. It’s only a moment before a text with an address lights up your phone. You don’t have to think about it. You already know what you’re going to do.
--
You know that you’re staring, but you can’t bring yourself to stop. Art has spent so much time in your home, so you feel entitled to look around a little bit. You eye the row of trophies on his mantle, photos of him playing when he was young. You come to a stop at a picture of him with a young girl, a racket in her hand and a medal around her neck.
“Is this Lily?” You ask.
“Yeah,” He nods. “First competition.”
“Already getting gold,” You smile. “The Mark Rebellato Academy isn’t ready for her.”
Art chuckles, nodding as he steps around you.
“You, uh…You want something to eat, or drink, or…?” He trails off, tucking his hands into his pockets as he takes a couple of steps back toward his kitchen. You turn to face him, taking him in more fully.
“Art?”
“Yeah?”
“Why am I here?”
He doesn’t answer for a few moments. You can see him weighing his options before he comes closer.
“I…I’ve been thinking about last night.”
Fear shoots through you, but you force yourself to stand tall. “Okay.”
“I could lie and tell you that it should be a one-time thing, but I can’t remember the last time I got through a day without thinking about you. And I think you’ve been thinking about me, too.” Art stops as the tip of his shoes brush against yours, and you let your eyes slip closed as he rests his forehead against yours.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” He pleads. “Tell me to fuck off right now and I will never say another non-tennis related thing to you again.”
--
When he fucks you, he curls close, chest pressing against yours as he catches your lips in a kiss. You sink back against his pillows, your head cradled by his broad palm as he rolls his hips achingly slowly. You don’t bother to hide your whines and moans, and you revel in his. Every grunt and whimper and groan that Art lets out lights you up.
And when you cum, you don't have to quiet yourself. His name tumbles out of your mouth, cushioned between expletives as your nails dig into his shoulders.
--
"What time is he home tonight?"
You don't want to think about it. You want to stay in this cozy little bubble, trailing your fingers over his muscled chest as he massages your nape and kisses your forehead.
But you know that you'll have to let the world back in sometime.
"I don't know," You admit. "Late."
"...Could stay."
"He'll be suspicious if I'm not home when he gets there."
Art sighs softly, running his hand down to rub between your shoulder blades.
"This isn't going to be easy, is it."
"What?"
"Letting you go every day."
"Every day?" You tease, pushing yourself up to get a better look at him. "Don't get greedy, Mr. Donaldson."
He smiles, raising his hand and cupping your cheek. "Is it greedy to know what I want?"
You shake your head a little, lowering your lips to brush against his.
"Not when I want it, too."
Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @amneris21
@ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity
@millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ;
@buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @lorecraft ; @kmc1989
#Art Donaldson x Reader#Art Donaldson x You#Art Donaldson/Reader#Art Donaldson/You#Art Donaldson fic#Art Donaldson imagine#the pro
837 notes
·
View notes
Text
take me home, country road
[ao3]
You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description.
Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 12)
[note: trigger warning for a pretty rough spanking scene with a belt and minimal aftercare. if you need to, you can skip to the midway point (there's a line between the first half and second).]
first chapter >> last chapter
-
He keeps your hands tied behind your back on the ride home.
All that does is confirm the fact that he must know. Graves must have tracked him down or perhaps he was approached by someone who did consider your sudden arrival in town suspicious. Why else would the sheriff chase you all the way into the mountains on horseback and then take you back with him? He would’ve within his rights to leave your thieving self to wander alone in the woods and succumb to the elements.
John doesn’t say a word the first hour of the ride back. You can feel the anger emanating from him though. He almost shakes with it. His anger somehow upsets you more than whatever is left to come.
“Anytime you wanna start talkin’, I’m all ears,” John finally says, breaking the silence.
You keep your lips pressed together, stubbornly silent. There’s no use giving yourself away before you’ve learned how much he knows. You haven’t built this life of yours with loose lips.
“I don’t know what in the Sam Hill has gotten into you,” he continues, and his voice is cobblestone tread rough in the night. “Running off all by yourself. There ain’t nothing out in these parts except outlaws and highwaymen. There are men out here that’d love to get their hands on a woman like you—not even a knife to defend yourself with. You haven’t even got a scrap of food on you, never mind water. You’d’ve been dead in a week if the men out here hadn’t picked you off themselves.”
His words make your stomach ache. You know that there are worse things out there. A thousand gruesome ways to die. You’re less of a lady than John might think—you’ve heard stories. You’ve brushed close to that reality yourself. You wonder how he’d take it if you were to tell him about what had happened back east.
Maybe running away this time hadn’t been your smartest idea, but it had been your only. You can’t fault yourself for the instinct to survive.
“I know,” you mumble, dropping your chin to your chest.
“You gonna explain to me why you stole my horse and ran off in the first place?” he asks.
It’s the strangest interrogation you’ve ever heard of—sitting on the same horse with your back to the man questioning you and your hands tied together at the wrists. You wonder if you leaned back whether you’d feel his heart beating furiously in his chest.
You remain mulishly silent though, reticent to answer the question.
“Maybe I’ve been spoiling you,” he continues, trying to rationalize it to himself. “After the fuss you put up those first few days, I thought a bit of structure and discipline would do you well, and it did. Giving you a bit of slack was my mistake.”
You frown at that. Those don’t sound like the words of a man with any knowledge of the circumstances leading to you running off. He might not even have come across Graves at all in the hours since the man made his appearance in the general store. Otherwise, you can’t imagine how he wouldn’t make the connection.
Still, you can’t make yourself come right out and say it, even though every iota of your being aches to let the truth out. Call it nerves overpowering the need to be truthful and good. You vacillate between honesty and self-preservation, but each avenue feels like being dropped into a nest of vipers.
But he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know. If he knew, he wouldn’t question you like this. It’s a boon you can’t give up, not yet. Not when the thought of his inevitable righteous fury fills you with dread and self-loathing.
“I don’t have to explain myself,” you spit out suddenly, and it’s not you saying those words but something ugly and sad in you. “You’re not my owner.”
“I damn sure am your husband though,” John growls, winding his free hand around your hair to tug you back into his chest. “And I know these parts far better than you, little miss. Beyond running off on me for no good reason when I thought we put your reticence behind us, you went and put yourself in danger the likes of which you couldn’t even fathom.”
“I’m not an idiot,” you snap. “I know what men are like.”
“You’re telling me you pulled that stunt knowing what kinda danger is out there in the woods?”
“I wasn’t thinking!”
“I know you weren’t,” John grunts. “That’s the issue.”
The rest of the ride home is uncomfortably quiet. John keeps one hand clamped on your waist while the other holds the reins of both horses, the two walking alongside each other back down the trail towards the house. The ride home is a lot longer than the ride out into the woods since John refuses to let either of them go faster than a slow trot while your hands are tied behind your back.
He snorts in derision at your suggestion to undo your binds. “That eager for your punishment?”
That gets you to zip your lips.
When you get drowsy, John tips your head back and makes you sip from his waterskin. His hand fits carefully around your throat to hold your head in place, his fingers curling around to just graze the nape of your neck. Your throat pulses under his palm when you swallow. It’s far too intimate for how restless you feel, damn near shaking out of your skin, but it briefly shushes the voice in your head until he pulls his hand away.
A shadow under the doorway of the house startles you at first before it takes a step into the faint light of the setting sun and you recognize the bristly blond of Simon’s shorn head and the red bandana shrouding the bottom half of his face. The tension ebbs back into you when you realize with creeping humiliation that the black horse you rode home on must belong to him.
He watches the two of you approach with predictable disinterest, his eyes betraying nothing. The shame is excruciating.
John brings the horse to a halt some feet from Simon, not bothering to greet him. You wonder if it’s the anger choking him or if this is just routine, men trading favors in silence lest a word in gratitude break the spell. After dismounting himself, John helps you down, all but picking you up and lifting you off the horse.
Simon doesn’t say a word to either of you when he takes the reins from John’s hands, giving him only a curt nod and you a cursory glance before leading his horse away to mount. He doesn’t spare you a backwards glance before taking off back towards town. You watch him over your shoulder while John guides you up the porch steps and into the house, until the shape of him disappears into the horizon. Then the door shuts behind you.
Alone now, your attention turns back to John. He stares down at you consideringly, a hand planted on the door he just shut until he lets it fall to his side. You can see the gears turning in his mind, weighing something out.
It wouldn’t be right to call it anticipation; it’s not quite dread either.
“I don’t make idle threats, you know,” he says, apropos of nothing.
His words make you frown until you glance down to find him undoing his belt. Your blood turns to ice. He tugs the thick strap until it comes sliding out of each loop around his waist. The buckle rests heavy in his palm, thick fingers curling around it, and when he bends the belt in two, you already know that he intends to follow through with his threat from earlier, the one you said you’d gut him for.
“I’ll scream,” you warn, heart in your throat. It almost chokes you. “I mean it. I’ll scream like the devil.”
“Don’t go makin’ no empty threats now, darlin’,” he says in a low voice, almost taunting. You can hear the hard edge in his voice though. It’s not something he craves, but he’ll take it.
“You touch me with that thing and I’ll never forgive you.”
John’s eyes go hard. “I’ll just have to take that chance.”
And then he’s on you.
He hooks an arm around your waist when you try to rush past him back out the door and it forces the breath out of you.
You struggle as best you can with your hands tied behind your back, trying to wriggle out of his hold even as he heaves you up into his arms and climbs the staircase towards the bedroom. The steps creak under the added weight of you in his arms. The screams come tearing from your throat, ripping your vocal cords and nearly sending you into a coughing fit.
“Let—me—go—” you shriek, kicking out wildly, hoping to catch something that’ll make him lose his balance.
“All that squirmin’ ain’t making me feel more merciful,” he growls.
John kicks the bedroom door open with his foot when he reaches the top of the staircase. The room looks ominous without the oil lamp lit, the shadows growing in the corners swallowing up the end table. The bed is just as you made it this morning, the sheets pressed tight and neat, and you only get a second to take that in before he marches towards the bed and throws you down onto it.
You hit the bed hard, bouncing slightly. He sits down heavily enough to jostle you and when you try to roll away on instinct, a hand catches you by the bicep and pulls you back. He hauls you across the bulk of his thighs this time, far different from your first meeting back in the sheriff’s office all those weeks ago. Your feet don’t even touch the floor this time around, dangling in the air and flailing for purchase.
“You brute—you bastard!” you screech.
“I’m not gonna be as charitable this time,” John says, yanking your dress up and your drawers down until your bare bottom is exposed. You gasp at the cold air, murmuring something like please, please, please under your breath. “Even if I knew why it was you decided to run off, that doesn’t excuse the fact that you did. You coulda been hurt or worse out there, darlin’, and I’d never have forgiven myself. I’m gonna make sure the lesson sinks in this time.”
He folds the leather belt to hold it in one hand, leaving the other to pin you down over his thighs, making sure you don’t wriggle out. The leather is cool at first when he drags it over your butt. It makes your breathing pick up. It’s so gentle that you can almost trick yourself into thinking that it’s all he intends to do.
The first lash comes so quick that you barely register it. The second knocks the wind out of you, and then the pain sets in.
It stings something fierce. Where his palm hurt that first time he bent you over his desk and spanked you, the belt burns. It goes deep and it lingers when he pulls the leather away from your stinging bottom.
“Hurts like the dickens, don’t it?” John asks, not bothering to wait for confirmation before bringing the belt down again. “You’re lucky it’s only ten this time.”
You howl into the bedsheets, eyes tearing up and spilling down your cheeks. When you try to cover your ass with your bound hands, John grabs them and pins them to the small of your back.
“What’ll you never do again?” he growls.
“I—I’ll—”
“Say it, darlin’: I’ll never run off on my own again.”
“I’ll—n-never gonna—oh, it hurts, John—please—”
At some point, you must say the words he’s looking for. You lose count of how many times his belt has struck across your ass. Like thunder coming after lightning, you feel it and then you hear it. The sharp snap comes as a second wave of agony in and of itself.
Your throat is stripped raw by the time it’s over. The aftermath finds you with a puddle of drool under your cheek, hair matted to your face. Sweat slicks the backs of your thighs and down your spine. Even the gentlest brush of John’s hand over your backside, the belt deposited off the side of the bed, makes you flinch, the skin there tender to the touch. You’ll surely feel it deep in your bones come sunrise.
Too exhausted for anger, all you can do is lie there. It sits heavy in your stomach though, a pit at the center of you. You want to say, who gave you the right? The answer burns a ring around your finger though. You want to say, you don’t understand, it had nothing to do with you. It has everything to do with him and you.
You can tell he wants to say something. It gets choked in his throat, but you can hear it in the way his breath draws in, like he’s trying to coax it from his chest but it simply won’t come out.
“Stay right there,” John rumbles instead, shifting you onto the bed to let you lie on your belly.
You moan in pain when he moves you, sniffling into your arms. The crook of your elbow is sticky with your tears and snot.
The bed dips under his weight when he comes back. You flinch violently when he draws the skirt of your dress up again and smooths his hand over the tender cheeks of your backside, spreading a cool salve over your skin. The first touch of his hand makes you hiss, tears beading in the corners of your eyes again, but then the cool sinks in, alleviating the ache.
He does that for another few minutes in silence. Gentle, tentative touches, only stopping when the salve has been spread evenly over your bottom. He’s quiet when he shifts you up the bed until your feet are no longer dangling off the end. You’re distantly aware of him taking off your shoes and tucking you into bed, but the events of the day have finally gotten the better of you. It would be easier to push a boulder up a hill than crack even one of your eyelids open.
Time passes slowly; sluggishly. Your thoughts can’t quite catch up with it, either too quick or too slow. You’re stuck in thoughts of the desert, caught in a sandstorm that manifests too suddenly for you to take cover. All you can do is close your eyes and wait it out.
Morning comes like a brutal summoning into the waking world.
It hurts, but you expected that. Before your eyes even open, you’re aware of a throbbing pain coming from your backside. You wince when you shift to your side, squeezing your eyes tight. You contemplate rolling over and taking your chances with John’s temper. The thought isn’t as appealing in the light of day though.
It takes some time to get out of bed and when you do, you have to step tentatively from floorboard to floorboard, the ache making it decidedly uncomfortable. You can’t imagine what sitting down will be like. Riding a horse is just out of the question.
From the bedroom window, you see John standing in front of the house with Simon, back again not even twelve hours later. With the window closed, you can’t hear their conversation, nor can you read their lips. Their exchange doesn’t last long though. After another minute or so, and a nod goodbye, Simon walks back over to his horse standing nearby and lifts himself up and over onto the saddle, taking off towards town.
When John turns back towards the house, you see him glance up towards the bedroom window where you stand. The circles beneath his eyes are dark, pronounced. On another day, you might’ve ducked out of sight or jumped away from the window, but now you hold his gaze.
He breaks your stare first this time, heading back inside. It’s less satisfying than you thought it’d be.
You spend the day resting in bed and avoiding John for the most part. He spends the majority of the day out of the house. You hear him downstairs in the kitchen around midday, fixing himself up something to eat, and you listen attentively to the scrape of the chair across the floor and the pan on the stovetop. Like the day he brought you home, he brings you up a tray only to leave it at the door, rapping the door with his knuckles to let you know before heading back downstairs.
When he comes up for bed, you’re already lying down with your back to the door, the oil lamp left unlit. John doesn’t say anything to you as he changes into his nightwear. He smells fresh when he climbs into bed, like he bathed in the creek out in the woods. You breathe in deeply, trying to keep your breath quiet enough to not disturb the silence. The pillow under your head is saturated with his scent. You turn your nose into it when he lies down on his back instead of curling into you like he usually does.
Your chest aches at that simple denial. There’s a wall between the two of you and you know where it came from. Any trust that you’d built lies in ruins now.
Perhaps that’s not quite right though. It’s a romantic notion that you’ve been building something together all this time, but it doesn’t feel right now that you have the wherewithal to look back and reflect. All this time, whenever you’ve touched, you’ve held him steadfast and at an arm's length away, stopping two degrees short of intimacy.
Deliberately effusive; and worse, you’ve called it affection.
The tenderness in your heart is the worst of it. There’s a bruise there, and it’s been there awhile. It’s only grown with your recent troubles. You tell yourself every year that you’ll air it out come spring, but then the winter comes and it freezes over again.
The pillow under your chest grows damp with your tears.
Your dress the next morning is cornflower blue. The wheatfields are golden stalks swaying in the breeze. It’s a pleasanter day than how you feel.
The ride into town is as painful as you thought it might be. You wince with every stride, your bottom still tender as a rose. John’s arm tightens around your waist when you squirm, like you might slide off the saddle and try to flee again, and you bite your lip to hold back the urge to snap.
The little bit of independence you’d grown to enjoy is snatched away from you. You expected that as well, but that loss of privilege comes with a biting ache. You fight the urge to gnash your teeth and bark at him that you’re not a child when he grips you under the arm and leads you down the road. It wouldn’t do you any good.
When John leaves you off at the general store, you’re surprised to find Kate back, hale and hearty. She looks up when the chime over the door jingles and raises her eyebrows in greeting. The sound makes you flinch, memories coming back unbidden.
You look over your shoulder to say something to John before he leaves, but the door is already closing behind him by the time you turn around. Your lips are pursed on a word that dissolves in your mouth. It has a bitter aftertaste.
“Thought you wouldn’t be back for a few more days,” you say instead, turning back to Kate. There’s already a chair pulled up for you by the wall and you make yourself comfortable there, grimacing at first when your sore backside touches the wood before settling in.
She shrugs. “Plans changed. Gaz and I made it back late last night.”
You frown. “Gaz?”
“Kyle Garrick. Sorry—slip of the tongue. You’ve met him already. He used to go by Gaz way back when.”
“Way back when?”
“Not my story to tell. You should ask one of them, if you’re curious.”
You are, but not enough to ask. “Maybe.”
The two of you lapse into silence after that exchange. Before leaving the house, you remembered to bring with you some needles and wool to pass the time. They’re not as familiar in your hands as you’d like them to be, but you suppose, barring the possibility of Graves or another bounty hunter showing up in town to cart you off, you’ll have time to learn.
The thought leaves you anxious. It feels distinctly more possible now.
“You met Miles while I was away?” Kate asks, out of the blue.
Your head comes up at her question. “Miles?”
“He was minding the store for me while I was away. Said you came in the other day.”
You swallow reflexively. “Oh. Yes, I suppose I did meet him. I didn’t stay long, since you were gone and all.”
She hums and looks back down at the book in front of her. You feel nervous all of a sudden.
“He said you were very helpful,” she says abruptly, breaking the silence. You flinch. “Told me some gentleman came by with a warrant for a murder back east and you were kind enough to take it to your husband for him so he could keep minding the shop.”
Your throat constricts. She pins you under her gaze, unblinking eyes staring into yours but not looking for anything. Wispy blonde bangs brush along her forehead when she tilts her head ever so slightly.
You nod instead of answering.
“Did you give it to him?” she asks.
“I didn’t have a chance to. The day got away from me,” you say tersely.
“I heard something about that. Kyle said John had to borrow Simon’s horse the other day. Said something about him taking off in a hurry.”
Again, you don’t answer. It feels like without knowing it, you’ve crossed over a threshold.
“Do you still have it?” Kate prompts when again you don’t respond. You don’t tell her that you don’t because in all the fuss the other day, it must have slipped out of your pocket and drifted off into the wind. “The warrant?”
“No,” you whisper, shaking your head.
“That’s alright. I have a good enough idea about what it might’ve said.”
Sweat beads on your upper lip. She all but says it outloud. You’re as still as a ferrotype under her gaze, imprinted in place, unable to move so much as a muscle or force a word past your stiff lips.
“You’re under no obligation to tell me or anyone,” Kate says, and her voice is suddenly gentle, softer than you’ve ever heard it before. “I’m sure you had your reasons. I won’t be telling John, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Oh. Thank you,” you breathe, throat so tight that the words almost don’t come out.
It’s the closest you’ve come to admitting to it, tangentially or not, and even now it’s spoken only out of the corner of your mouth. You don’t think you have it in you to recite the events sequentially. Even in the privacy of your memory, it comes piecemeal, in fragmented images that flicker across your mind because maybe to remember it whole would be too much.
You don’t say much more after that, and neither does Kate. That wasn’t the point of bringing it up, you think. You'd know if it was.
When John comes to fetch you at the end of the day, you leave without saying goodbye to Kate. Only a stiff smile before heading out on your way. If she returns your smile, you don’t notice it. To John, you simply duck your head and follow him out the door, letting him help you up onto the horse without a word.
If it bothers him that you refuse to speak to him, he doesn’t show it.
It’s so many steps back that you might as well be back where you started. Maybe even further back, a voyage gone so wrong that when you look over your shoulder, you can’t make heads or tails of where you came from. The trees from the other side of the trail never look quite the same.
If you could open your mouth and say it, you would. If you knew he’d listen. But you don’t think John is that kind of man. Against the gold of the setting sun, he cuts a figure from times of yore. He speaks plain while you tend to speak in fricatives and bilabial stops, incapable of enunciating the words.
You feel like a wound on the world. Getting it wrong again and again.
It’s an old pain, one that started back when you were too small to hold it all. Now, you’ve grown large enough to hold it, though it holds you back in turn. You remember your parents studiously ignoring first creation like some noxious cloud billowing from the chimney. There’d been too many children for them to care about the runt. Shipped off to your aunt’s and uncle’s just for the cycle to repeat itself.
It’s an old grief, this one, friendly because it nudges at your hips when you brush by, striking in the blue-green. And when it burns, it burns.
“John, I—” you say when he helps you down back at the house.
He stares down at you, waiting you out. Your mouth goes dry, the truth beyond your grasp again. Your heart aches when his brows furrow and the lines around his eyes crease again, frustration welling beneath the surface.
You understand. It sits under your skin too.
"Go inside," he says instead when you don't go on. "I'll bring in the horses and start supper."
Your God sits at the edge of the bed, wholly lacking praise. It’s not His fault that it’s been awhile. These days, you can hardly muster up the energy to say hello. You gargle saltwater before you bathe and scrub your skin free of blood, waiting for the next morning to come.
And you think, lying on your side while John sleeps on the other side of the bed, wouldn’t it be lovely to get it right now, rather than in retrospect?
#ceil writing#cod mw2#cod x reader#john price x reader#price x you#price x y/n#price x reader#price/reader#john price/reader#captain john price
773 notes
·
View notes
Text
a promise he'll keep.
requested! -> also “who did this to you” with astarion would go absolutely bonkers. food for thought
requested by! -> @the-sunflower-room
a/n -> thank you for your request! i saw your other one as well and definitely plan on writing it hopefully soon!
also! i literally have been in love with this man since the game came out but im so nervous about writing for him i never gained the courage... tho, meeting neil yesterday made it feel like its only write i finally commit and write to him!
tw -> mention of blood, bruises and cuts/violence
pairing -> astarion x f!reader/tav
blood poured from the rather large cut across the side of your forehead, staining your skin and seeping into the tiny cuts littered across your cheek and jaw. bruises lined your neck, in the shape of a hands, and astarion was sure that the rest of your body mimicked the damage across your face.
armour torn, shaking and hurt, astarion's heart burns with a rage he's not felt in a long time.
long ago had he forgotten about the bloodlust of fighting. long ago had he healed from the trauma of his past. years had passed since astarion had first met you and years had passed since the both of you, along with the rest of your companions, healed yourselves from the parasites in your mind and effectively, saved the world.
your bodies had never quite healed though. the trauma of what you'd both experienced had never faded and most likely never would. you'd both accepted that as a fact of your lives and used each other as a means of healing from it.
it had been years since astarion has seen you bloodied and hurt like this, and it feels ten times worse then it ever had before. never a fighter, the second you'd no longer been forced to fight for survival, astarion knows you'd given up that part of your life.
you were strong. there was no doubting that. you could hold yourself and you'd proved that well enough given what you'd done for the world and most importantly, your companions. more than anything, you'd proved that with how you saved astarion from his tormentor and the horror of his past.
but you look so vulnerable in that moment; broken and hurt and bruised and his chest tightens, nails digging into the palms of his hands as the rage coarses through him, burning his veins and has him desperate to make whoever hurt you pay.
painfully.
"who..." and his words hesitate, the fire his chest making it hard to find his words. he doesn't want you to think any of his anger is directed at you... "who did this to you?"
you twitch at his words, arms coming around to hold yourself as you shiver, hesitating.
astarion's face falls.
taking a step towards you, he reaches out for you, hands moving to cup your cheeks, gently and wary of your wounds. he worries you'll pull away, given how afraid you are, but you know astarion and recognize his touch and some of the rage fades with concern and love for you as you lean into his touch.
his fingers work to brush the blood from your face, get rid of the dirt and grime that clings to your skin and tries to soothe you.
your eyes flutter shut in response.
"i'm sorry," astarion whispers. "i'm sorry, i don't mean to scare you."
you shake your head, humming in disagreement. "you didn't scare me."
astarion hates the way your voice trembles.
"i don't want you getting hurt for me," you explain. "you don't deserve that."
and astarion shakes his head. "it doesn't matter if it's you." he assures and he frowns when he realizes he might've not made that clear enough. he had a lot to make up for if you think that he wouldn't do anything for you. "i can't let them get away with hurting you like this."
"i'm okay," you try to deny.
astarion just tightens his grip on you, not enough to hurt you, of course, but enough to pull your attention on him. "you're not," he argues, desperate for you to understand how much it pains him to see you hurt like this. "you're bleeding, y/n. and fuck... you're hurt, badly. it breaks my heart to see you like this."
your eyes fall on him at that. wide eyes meeting his own as your lips part, as if shocked by his admission. maybe shocked wasn't the word—he likes to think the expression on your face is one of reassurance at how much his heart burns with love for you.
the tears that you'd been holding back fall then, your bravety and strength fading at astarion's warming and soothing words. they build at the corner of your eyes and astarion is quick to brush them away.
"i'll never let them hurt you again," he promises then, meaning every word of what he says. he says them with confidence, desperation and sincerity, eyes softening with a plea as he holds onto you, afraid you might slip from his very fingers. "them or anyone else."
your hand grabs his, squeezing.
"i know," you whisper, "this isn't your fault."
he just shakes his head; "it's whoever did this to you's fault," he assures, although the twinge of guilt that festers in his belly is undeniable. he should've been there with you, keeping you safe; even if you knew you were capable of keeping yourself safe... having him there would've assured him and would've stopped this from ever happening.
"y/n," he calls again, voice soft, measured and even as he stares into your eyes and doesn't let you pull away. "who did this to you?"
and your lips part, breathing shakily but there's an ease that washes across your expression and then the names of the men who hurt you come pouring from your lips.
astarion memorizies them, keeps them trapped in his mind as he nods. "thank you." and he is thankful. thankful that you trust him to do what he'd promised. thankful that you know he won't fail you.
"i'll make it better, okay?" he whispers, his thumb stroking across your cheek as he pulls you into his arms, a hand falling on the back of your neck to press you into his chest. "i promise."
you hum your response, leaning into his touch before letting him guide towards your home so he can dress and clean your wounds.
and most importanly, shower you in the love you deserve.
#baldurs gate 3#baldurs gate x reader#bg3 x reader#bg3#astarion x reader#astarion x tav#astarion#neil newbon
388 notes
·
View notes
Text
Letters Never Sent (Yandere Malleus x Reader)
---
A letter wrote by Malleus Draconia, never sent to the object of his desires. Why don't you open it up and see what's inside...
masterlist
---
Dear My Child of Man,
I am writing this letter with no intention of you receiving it.
Maybe this is "silly" as you would describe it, but I find myself slowly losing the restraint on my emotions as the days go by. My heart fills with unfamiliar feelings as I think of you, mixing together into an ever present sense of desire that makes me near shameful.
I find myself thinking of you always, from the moment I wake, to the moment I fall asleep. You seep your way into my dreams, where for but a moment I can relish in the fantasy that is you. I dream of your soft voice, your comforting gaze, your addicting presence. You are so captivating that I often forget I'm dreaming, until I awake with an aching feeling I've come to know as longing.
I long for you, I've learned.
I long for your voice, for your gaze, for your presence. I long for every essence of your being to be directed towards me. Some may call me a fool, scoff my way and paint me a madman, but I am nothing without my love for you, so it bothers me none. I often wonder if you think of me as intensely as I do you. I have to admit it is exciting, the mere thought of you reciprocating my feelings warms me so. It is intoxicating, even as a fantasy, simply imagining a life with you is enough for me. Somedays, I imagine gifting you with an unending dream, one where it is just us, away from the rest of the world. Away from duty, and work, and anything else that could distract us from each other, from our love. We would be together and we would be happy until the end of your days, and even after you're gone, I would continue loving you.
You were always so opposed to the idea, immortality. I remember the look on your face when you realized just how long I had lived, the sadness, the remorse, the pain. At that moment, it was not something I feared, more accurately not something I thought much about. It was not until I met you that it dawned upon me that at some point, you would leave this world, and that it would keep moving. Time would progress, people would grieve, but they would move on, plants would sprout and grow and wilt and eventually grow again, but I would remain stuck. Stuck with my dreams and fantasies. Stuck with the memory of you so present it would be like you never left in the first place.
Even now, I fear what the world would be like without you. Not much fills me with fear, my Child of Man, but I've found myself scared lately. The thought of you leaving, of going back to your home, and never returning scares me. It is almost comical in a way, I find myself dreading the thought even while writing this. You should be proud, how easily you are able to terrify me is an excellent skill, one many would love to possess.
You were my first true friend, did you know that? I have Lilia and Silver and Sebek, but I've always been treated as above them, as something untouchable. You were the first person to treat me like an equal, to bless me with the wonderful feeling of friendship. I often find myself racked with guilt, why should I desire more from you when you've already given me so much already? It is selfish, to seek out your love so desperately when I've already taken so much from you. You are my friend, and I should value our friendship above all.
But that is why I fear, because my love for you goes beyond the boundaries of friendship. I would even say it goes beyond the boundaries of love. It is a longing so deep I wonder if I'll ever be the same again, all while knowing that I am too engrossed in the feeling that is you to ever go back. A longing so deep I yearn with desire unexplainable to man, desire so profound and raw that I am sure you have changed something within me. A longing so deep the closest word to describe it is obsession, but even obsession doesn't explain the hundreds of letters, all unset, pilling away, all centering you.
Fear, love, what do distinctions matter if every single one of my thoughts center you.
I have no desire to send this letter, my Child of Man, but I hope with every meeting, every passing day, every time we are together, you are able to feel the love I hold for you. I hope my longing, my devotion, my never ending, boundless obsession is clear to you, my love.
Because I fear what will happen when I run out of paper.
---
A/n: here's to me hoping that this will break my writers block.
#yandere x reader#soft yandere#platonic yandere#twisted wonderland x reader#yandere twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland#twst malleus#twst x reader#yandere twst#twst
159 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hii I love your work so much!! I was wondering if you would do Frank Castle x reader based off of Sunlight or Francesca By Hozier? I don’t know I just feel like with how deeply this man feels that one or those would be perfect for Frank and the reader.
I WOULD DO IT AGAIN ➵ F. CASTLE
Summary: A glimpse into the way Frank feels for you.
Warnings: Fem!reader, violence, reader has unspecified mental health issues
Word count: 1.2k
Author’s note: I fell in love with both these songs thanks to this request!! I tried to combine both of them, though I suppose I got more out of Francesca. I’m a little on the fence about this one shot in general, but I hope you like it! Thanks for your patience <3 Also, I keep forgetting to say this, but thank you so much for 700 followers!!! It means so much to me that we’ve created this little community of traumatized Frank lovers :)
There was nothing Frank wouldn’t have done for you. He had known that quite early into your relationship, his devotion for you growing more and more every day, even if you weren’t officially dating. In fact, your feelings for each other had gone unspoken ever since you had met, but he couldn’t deny they were there — he cared for you so much it terrified him, it kept him up at night.
He thought about the first time he met you often. He’d never forget the way you looked in that dress you had dug out of your closet just for the occasion, how the warm bar light illuminated your starry eyes and how you had been nervously gnawing on your lip while glancing at your phone for the millionth time.
”Whoever’s standin’ you up would regret if they saw you in that dress”, he had spoken up from across the mostly empty bar counter, and you had immediately looked up only to find a man so attractive your stomach did a somersault. Rough around the edges but undeniably easy on the eyes, even more so when the corner of his mouth had twitched upwards in a sneaky smirk, even when his stare was focused on the crowd behind you. You had shuffled on your feet, looking around to see who he was referring to, but when you had turned back to him, you found him gazing right at you, making your mouth run dry.
”I was supposed to have a date”, you had explained over the music, ”guess it was a waste of a pretty dress.”
He had chuckled at that. ”Well, for what it’s worth, you made this old sucker’s heart skip a beat”, he had shrugged before gesturing at the empty seat next to him. ”Buy you a drink?”
And ever since then, he had been hooked on you. You made him feel alive, you gave him a reason to get up in the morning. So when you had told him you felt like you were doing the opposite, his heart had shattered in his chest.
”I realize I have a lot of baggage. So I don’t blame you if you want to, I dunno, check out now”, you had explained meekly, distance between you as you both stood in your kitchen at an ungodly hour, fresh stitches on Frank’s abdomen. ”I guess I’m not a very easy person to be around, is what I’m saying”, you had added with a quiet chuckle, and at that, Frank had closed the space between you, his hand coming to rest on your cheek as he swallowed all the air from your personal space.
”You think I am?” he had stated matter-of-factly. ”You’re wrong, sweetheart. I don’t remember the last time it was this easy for me to be around someone. You make me feel… Yeah, you just make me feel. I can’t get enough of you. Don’t ever think I’d wanna get rid of you, ’cause shit, as long as you’ll have me, I ain’t goin’ anywhere”, he had explained, passion behind every word, and it had made you tear up.
”You know everything that’s wrong with me and you’re saying you still want to be my friend?” you had asked to confirm, and licking his lips, Frank had glanced at yours before nodding. He had forced himself to withdraw, not wanting to cross any lines, but he had given your hand a squeeze, nonetheless.
”Never been more sure of anything.”
He wasn’t letting go of you. As much was confirmed when his enemies caught whiff of you being involved with him — before he knew it, your name fell from the lips of his latest target, and he had seen red. The men were coming from left and right, punching him, stabbing him, each of them claiming their piece of the Punisher, but he wasn’t going to rest until he’d know you were safe. Their taunts of getting to his little girlfriend had pushed him over the edge, and with feral anger, he slaughtered the lot of them, not letting a single henchman slip out and get to you.
He had wanted to avoid you seeing him like this so badly. But as soon as he was done, as soon as the men lay dead at his feet, he was rushing out of the warehouse he had been lured into, just to make his way to you.
The urgent knock on your door in the middle of the night wasn’t a completely unfamiliar sound — you had stitched Frank up more than a few times, but you could tell something was wrong. As soon as you opened the door, a bloodied Frank burst through, his eyes wide and alert, his shaky hands clamoring to find purchase on your shoulders.
”Hey, hey, what is it? Are you okay?” you asked with worry, eyebrows knitted together as you tried to balance Frank’s larger frame, your hands resting on his arms.
”I—I needed to know you were okay”, he managed to get out, breathless and panicking, and nodding to promise him that you were, you attempted to meet his frantic eyes and calm him down.
”I’m okay, Frankie, I’m okay. Breathe, honey”, you reassured, and slumping against your body, Frank pulled you into a vicelike hug, squeezing you tight, breathing you in. Blood stained your clothes and hair, but your priority was getting Frank across the panicked state he was in, to assure him everything was okay.
”They said they were coming for you. I—I couldn’t let them. I wasn’t gonna let them”, he repeated, before grunting, ”I killed ’em all.”
Pulling away slightly, you looked into dark eyes with a disbelieving frown. ”You did that for me?” you whispered, and finding solace in your gaze, Frank found it in himself to catch his breath and understand that the imminent danger was over.
”You’re goddamn right I did. I’d do it again and again. I’d do anything for you”, he swore, letting his forehead fall against yours. You closed your eyes and took his hand, giving it a firm squeeze before pulling him towards the bathroom.
”Let’s get you cleaned up, big guy.”
Even after he had had time to shower, he was still on alert, constantly checking the windows and pacing around your apartment. You had to fight him to the bedroom, insisting that you both needed to get some rest, and he supposed he could do that — watch over you, make sure you’d get to sleep soundly. Soon enough, you were cuddled up in the bed and Frank was sitting next to you, resting against the headboard with his eyes laser-focused on the closed door.
”Hey, you can relax. They’re all gone. No one’s coming for me”, you reminded him softly, caressing his arm with tender fingers, and swallowing, Frank slowly and reluctantly sank deeper into the mattress to be closer to you.
”I ain’t ever lettin’ anythin’ happen to you. You know that, right?” he grunted, and with a nod, you reassured him.
”I know. You always make me feel safe.” His eyes softened at your words, and gently, he reached over to kiss your forehead, his lips lingering for a brief moment.
He really would have done anything for you.
164 notes
·
View notes
Text
Young Love and Old Money (Cassian x Female! Reader) Part 11
Young Love and Old Money Masterlist
AN: Once again sorry this took a while! I'm about to graduate college (which I'm not happy about) and I've been packing and moving stuff home. Also guess who finished Iron Flame? ME! (Yes I know that i'm so late to the game. Graduation remember) but hey y'all drop your Xaden Riorson requests ;)
Summary: She was the most beautiful woman in Prythian, sister to the High Lord of Night, and now she is the soon-to-be wife of Eris Vanserra. Despite her many titles and her aura of unattainability, Cassian can't help but fall deeply in love with the princess of the Night Court. But will it be enough to stop her impending wedding to a man who is sure to destroy her from the inside out?
Warnings: mentions of injuries and infertility, smut, violence.
Word Count: 7,238
The next 24 hours I was bedridden, not by my wishes, but my Madja’s and well, Cassian’s. For most of those hours I was asleep, in Cassian’s arms of course. Getting him to do anything but hold me was a miracle. Not that I was complaining, but when it came to matters of him needing to eat and such I was very adamant that he do so.
Neither of us spoke much, both of us just wanting the peace of each other's company. When I would wake up I would tilt my head up from Cassian’s chest to see if he was awake or asleep. According to him I was a sleep magnet.
He would ask me if I was cold or hungry, but mostly he asked how I was feeling, which thankfully was better. My body still aches from the bruises left on me. But since the bloodbane was now out of my system the scars from both of my stab wounds were healing nicely.
I was lying on Cassian’s chest, enjoying his heartbeat when a timid knock sounded on the door. I lifted my aching body to turn and find my brother poking his head through the door, just like he used to when he would ask me if I wanted to sneak out for a midnight flight to the candy shop.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, shutting the door behind him softly, like the sound would be too much for me to stand.
“Much better, still sore and a little tired from the blood loss but at least I’m not near freezing now,” I smiled at him, Cassian rubbed my shoulder as if I needed that small ounce of warmth the friction provided.
“That’s good,” Rhys said, putting his hands behind his back. “If you’re feeling up to it, I’d like to talk to you.”
“Yes I just woke up so I’m feeling rested,” I say moving to sit up on the bed, my joints protesting.
Cassian’s hands found their place under my arms to help lift me into position and then fluffed all my pillows so I would sit comfortably. When the Illyrian made no effort to get out of bed and leave the room, Rhys cleared his throat, getting his attention.
“Yes?” Cassian cocked an eyebrow, clearly oblivious to what Rhys wanted.
“Can I have a word with my sister alone?” Rhys asked.
Cassian just rolled his eyes dramatically and moved to get out of bed. Before he left, he leaned over me and placed a kiss on my lips, one I greedily took as there was once a time I thought I would never taste him again. It wasn’t until my mate sauntered out and closed the door that Rhys spoke again.
“That’s going to take some getting used to,” he laughed sitting at the side of my bed.
“What is?” I ask, shifting in my seat to get more comfortable.
“My little sister making out with my best friend,” he explained, nodding towards the door.
“We did not make out,” I scoff, slapping him in the arm.
“Any kind of kissing I see from the two of you might as well be fucking,” he laughed again, shying away from my hand. “Now enough of that, I wanted to apologize.”
“Apologize? For what?” I furrow my brows, wondering what my saint of a brother could possibly have to apologize for.
“For being a bad brother, for not being there for you after we escaped, for even suggesting you marry Eris,” he sighed, casting his head down like he couldn’t stand to look at me. “After we got back from under the mountain I started thinking about how I did everything wrong. How if father was still High Lord that never would’ve happened. That’s why I went looking through his things, and that’s how I found the contract. I thought that if I was more like him, I could keep us all safe. I could keep us from having to endure Hybern’s wrath like we did Amarantha’s. I spent too much time thinking about my own mate and my own trauma that I didn’t even stop to consider yours, and I’m so sorry.”
“Rhys,” I breathe, feeling my heart break as I reach for his hand. “You aren’t a bad brother, you’re far from it. You’re the best big brother I could’ve ever asked for. I never gave you the option to be there for me after we got back, and I never made an effort to be there for you. We both messed up,”
“Why didn’t you tell me about Eris? You know I would’ve stopped the whole thing right then and there if I knew he had hurt you like that.” He asks, gripping my hand tighter, his brows furrowing as he searches my weary face for an answer.
“Because you sacrificed so much for me, Rhys. You sold yourself into slavery to keep me from the exact same fate. It’s a debt I never thought I’d be given the opportunity to repay.” I take a deep breath, letting the weight of my own words hit me. “You saved me, I owed you Rhys. I would’ve done anything to help you. I’m sorry that it didn’t work out, that we won’t have those armies anymore.”
Rhys’ violet eyes glisten with tears as he takes in every word I say. There’s an overwhelming guilt that fills the room. One that ebbs and flows from both of us. For the first time in 49 years I felt like I was truly seeing my brother again for the first time and what a lovely sight it was.
“Don’t you dare apologize y/n,” Rhys says, scooting closer to me. “If you were still his wife and living in the Autumn Court, I would have burned the whole place down, given what I know now. Gods I nearly lost my mind when Azriel showed up here with you, and when Madja said you may never wake up? It was worse grief than when mother and father died. Because it would’ve been my fault. You would’ve died before I ever got the chance to make things right again and I don’t think I could’ve lived with myself.”
“But we don’t have to worry about that anymore,” I cry, holding both of his hands. “I’m here now.”
“And you’re not going anywhere,” he assures me. “I can’t be High Lord of this court without my little sister.”
My words get caught in my throat at his words and I decide to hell with them. I throw my arms around his neck for the first time in a long time. He plucks me from the bed, pulling me closer, like I might slip out of his grasp and be lost forever. Both of us blubber like babies, but I can’t help but smile as I’m engulfed in the scent of sea salt and citrus again. I had missed him so much.
I hear the snapping of leather wings and then suddenly the light around me goes dark. I open my eyes to see Rhys' wings wrapping around me, cocooning me, just like he used to do when we were little kids. I can’t help but laugh and wipe away a tear as I take them in.
“We haven’t done this since-”
“Since father yelled at you for trying to sneak out to go on a date with the blacksmith's son,” Rhys said finishing my sentence.
“That’s right!” I gasp remembering the young man with shaggy brown hair. “What was his name again?”
“Arne, and he nearly soiled himself when father and I showed up to his doorstep and told him to stay away from you.” he chuckled.
“I didn’t know you went too!” I gawk, eyes going wide.
“Well of course I did, he didn’t deserve your affections,” Rhys smirked.
“All this time I blamed father but you were in on it! I hate you!” I laugh, slapping his chest. “He was handsome.”
“Don’t let Cassian know that,” Rhys teased and I couldn’t help but laugh at the image of Arne standing next to Cassian. Soil himself he certainly would in the presence of The Lord of Bloodshed.
“I promise you I’m fine. Madja said it would be good for me to start walking around more!” I protest at Cassian’s vice grip trying to keep me in bed.
It had been two days since the conversion with my brother, one that had gone into the late hours of the night as we reminisced about the old days. The only reason the conversation ended was because Cassian barged in claiming he was tired and refused to sleep anywhere but with his mate. Rhys happily obliged him and promised he would eat lunch with me the following day, which he did.
Now I was feeling much better, as my stab wounds were scarred but healed. My body still ached from the bruises all over me, both left there from Eris' hands when he took me by force, and from being dragged through the palace. But I was in desperate need of a bath, and a change of clothes. So I wasn’t taking Cassian’s pleas that I stay in bed another day.
“Fine but let me help you at least,” he grumbles rounding the bed so he can take my hands and help me stand. My legs shake under the weight of my own body but hold strong. The long sleeve shirt of Cassian’s covering my wobbling knees.
“See I’m fine,” I laugh taking slow steps to the bathroom where the house has already prepared me a steaming hot bath. The smell of Jasmine bath salts wafts through the air further solidifying that I’m home, in Velaris, and everything is okay.
I lift Cassian’s shirt over my head, discarding it on the floor and for the first time since I’ve been home I finally get a good look at myself. Except I’m not sure the person looking back at me in the mirror is me. Angry hand shaped bruises mar my hips and my forearms from where Eris gripped me. The hand print around my neck finally started to fade but it was still there. My knees and elbows were bruised from being dragged over stone floors and the scar on my side had finally healed to a faint pink.
“Gods what did he do to you?” Cassian breathed from the doorway, breaking me out of my trance. I turn to meet his worried gaze as his eyes look up and down my body at the evidence of what Eris did.
“You don’t want to know Cass,” I say, turning back to see myself in the mirror again. Cassian’s frame comes to stand beside me as he places a kiss on my bare shoulder.
“If you ever need to talk about it I’ll be here. You don’t have to hide it from me just because you don’t think I want to hear.” he says, staring at me through the mirror.
I turn in his arms to run a hand down his chest, “Can I ask you a favor? One you can absolutely say no to and I won’t be upset?” I ask him timidly.
“You could ask me for the moon on a string and I would fly up there and get it for you my love. Anything you want and it’s yours,” he smiles, brushing his knuckles against my face.
“Will you teach me how to fight? I’ve been thinking about what happened with Eris, and how helpless I felt. How I knew that all I could do was lie down and take it. I don’t have powers like Rhys, or even wings like you and Azriel to take me away. I don’t ever want to feel that way again, I never want to feel helpless.” I admit staring at his bare chest, unable to meet his gaze.
His hand finds my chin and lifts it to meet his eyes, in them, so much love. Pain for what I’ve gone through, but pride for how I’ve chosen to handle it. I could feel every emotion down the bond that I thanked the mother for every day.
“You will never have to feel helpless again y/n. I’ll kill anyone who dares to harm you and I won’t feel a lick of remorse for doing so. But I would be honored to train you,” he smiles, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “You’re going to bring me to my knees in Illyrian fighting leathers,” he laughs.
I giggle at his comment and smack him on the chest, before waltzing over to the bathtub and getting in. The warm water washing over me practically has me falling apart as I let out an appreciative hum. I close my eyes and lean my head against the edge of the tub already feeling the invisible dirt and grime being lifted off of my skin. It’s like being reborn.
When I don’t feel another body I open one eye to see Cassian standing next to me arranging towels and clothes for when I get done. I can’t help but smile at the overbearing mother hen he’s been the last couple of days. If I told anyone that The Lord of Bloodshed was fluffing towels and laying out outfits I’m sure none would believe me.
“Are you going to get in general?” I ask, nodding to the space before me. The bathtub isn’t as big as his, but it’ll do.
“If you’re asking me to get in and just sit with you, yes. But if you’re hoping for anything more the answer is no. You’re not fully healed yet and I don’t want to hurt you,” he says firmly, setting the towels down.
“But Cass I’m fine-”
“No you’re not, the wound on your stomach is still healing,” he states and I know he’s right.
“Fine, get in you Illyrian baby,” I say moving my legs to make room for him.
He rolls his eyes at my comment but drops his pants. The moment he does I instantly curse myself for allowing my eyes to ogle him. Then I curse him and his stupid temporary sex ban. It had been well before the wedding since he and I had been intimate that way and I wanted so badly to touch him. To solidify the fact that he was purely mine. Even as he looked disorientated as hell trying to find a way for his wings to fit in the smaller tub, he was handsome.
“Here,” I laugh, moving over to sit in his lap so that he can extend his legs and move more. “There now we both fit.”
“As soon as you're well I’m flying you back to The House of Wind and we’re taking a proper bath,” he laughs, pressing a kiss to my nose.
“I’ll hold you to that general,” I smile leaning in to kiss him.
Just like the first time we bathed together he takes the time to gently wash all of me. The way his large hands massage my scalp as he washes my hair has my eyes fluttering shut, as do his soft touches as he washed my body. The smell of my jasmine and amber soap filling my nose and making me feel like myself again. His hand lingers over the nail shaped scar across my stomach and his eyes zero in there. As if there’s something on the tip of his tongue.
“There’s something I need to tell you, something that I’ve been avoiding.” he says, not taking his eyes off the scar. “I wanted to wait until you were completely healed but I think you should know now.”
Anxiety starts to build inside of me. I thought that after the wedding he had stopped keeping secrets. Whatever this was, it was big. Big enough for his eyes to start glazing over as they stayed riveted on my stomach.
“What is it?” I say quietly when he doesn’t speak up.
“Madja was able to heal most of you but there were things even her magic couldn’t fix. She says that the wound to your womb was severe, that it hit an area she couldn’t heal. Because of it, you may never be able to have children,” he says solemnly, finally taking his eyes off my scar to look at me. His eyes were full of worry, as tears welled up in them.
My world stopped as I took in what he said. I knew the reason Eris wounded me was to ensure I wouldn't have his child, but it had never occurred to me that it would prevent me from having any children. Prevent me from having Cassian’s children.
A wave of grief washes over me for what could’ve been, and then it’s followed by guilt. Cassian had already sacrificed so much for me, for us, for this court. And now I couldn’t give him the one thing the fae prayed and begged the Mother for, a child. I had been a terrible mate all these months. Not knowing about the bond, marrying another male, letting that male put his hands on me. All things I could never atone for.
What god did Cassian offend to end up cursed with me as his mate?
“There’s still time,” I breathed, eyes cast down to where he held my hands just above the water.
“Time for what my love?” the general’s eyebrows furrowed at my anomalous response.
“For you to reject the bond. We haven’t truly accepted it yet and I understand if this isn’t what you want anymore. I know how badly you wanted children and if I can’t-”
“No,” he answered resolutely, pulling me closer to him pressing his forehead against mine. “This changes nothing. I don’t need children to be happy, I just need you.”
“Then maybe you can seek out a surrogate and then-” I ramble but he cuts me off again.
“Don’t even finish that sentence. I would rather die than lie with another woman,” he said with a strong tone. “A life with you…That is what I want more than anything. More than children, more than armies. I have loved you for so long and now you are mine, and I am yours. Anything else is inconsequential.”
He pauses and leans over the edge of the bathtub grabbing his pants. I can’t help but furrow my brows as he fishes around in one of his pockets until he pulls out something small that I can’t see and holds it tightly in his hand.
“I made up my mind from the moment you asked me to kiss you all those weeks ago that you would be mine until the end of all days. If you recall, I even told you so.” he starts.
“Now I’m never letting you go”
The words replay in my head as he opens his hand revealing a brass ring. The thing looked so small in his large hand. It was beaten and weathered. No doubt having seen years of life and love.
“This was my mothers,” he states, holding up the ring. “It’s the only thing I have left of hers, given to me by someone in her village who managed to save it. As you know I’m a bastard, so it’s not a wedding ring. But I remember her wearing it all the time.” his lips tug up in a small smile as if remembering his mother.
There is a sadness in his eyes as he stares down at the little ring. But as I see the wheels in his head churning, recalling his mothers face, his eyes lighten and he continues.
“I always knew that I would give it to my mate, if the cauldron ever blessed me with one. I never once thought I would be mated to the princess. It feels stupid asking you to marry me with this, but I didn’t carry this thing around all these years for nothing.” he chuckles looking into my eyes. “Y/n I love you. I always have. I don’t just want you as my best friend or my partner or even just as my mate. I want you as my wife. I know this ring isn’t befitting of a princess or The Jewel of Prythian, but will you marry me?”
I can’t help but let out a small laugh and press a kiss to his cheek, “Of course I will Cass, how could you ever think I would say no?”
“I just had to ask,” he chuckles into my lips.
I look down to see him sliding the circlet of brass around my left ring finger and to my surprise it fits like a glove. As if it was destined to sit there for the rest of its days.
“We can get you another one, something more befitting of a princess.” he smiles, pressing a kiss to the band.
“No, I don't want another one. I want this one.” I assure him laying my front down on his chest.
“Whatever makes you happy my love,” he hums, running a hand through my wet hair.
We lay in the newly engaged bliss for a long time. Until the bathwater runs cold and our fingers and toes wrinkle. But it isn’t long enough, we could’ve spent hours more in that bath and it still wouldn’t be enough. No amount of time ever would be.
The next day I woke up to Cassian’s side of the bed cold. No doubt he had finally started training again, something I’m sure Azriel had been pestering him about. Ever since I had gotten back he hadn’t left my side once, and that included training. I joked with him that he was going to lose his rippling abs but he always laughed it off and said I was more important. I wasn’t upset that he had gone to training, if anything it made me feel lighter. It made me feel like things were going back to normal.
I was sitting in the library reading when he finally waltzed in, covered in sweat with his hair tied at the nape of his neck. The sight had me wondering when his little sex ban would end.
“How was training?” I ask setting down the book I was reading and stand to greet him.
“Az kicked my ass, apparently a couple days out officially puts me out of practice,” he smiles, bending down to kiss me.
“You’re stinky,” I laughed, twisting my face at him.
“You like it and you know it,” he teases, grabbing me by the waist to plant another kiss on my lips.
I cursed at the feral part of me that liked seeing him sweaty and dirty, “Yeah, yeah, yeah so maybe I like it,” I smiled, pulling him down by the nape of the neck for another kiss.
His hands pulled my waist so I was closer to him and my arms naturally looped around his neck. I was consumed by the feeling of him. His strong arms around me, his lips all over mine, his scent at its purest form. It was enough to drive me absolutely mad. I pulled him in closer with a groan as I parted my mouth for him.
“Ah ah ah,” he tutted, breaking the kiss. “You’re not healed yet.”
“Ugh Cass!” I bemoan throwing my head back in a mini tantrum.
“You’re still a little sore, I can see it when you walk,” he laughs, kissing my temple. “Just a few more days my love.”
“If you don’t want me anymore you can just say it,” I tease, turning my head to the side so that I’m staring at the wall.
His hand finds my chin and turns it so I’m facing him again. I make sure to don my most irritated face, one that makes his lips turn up in a smirk. I wish I could kiss it right off his face.
“Oh believe me baby I want you plenty,” he smirks. “In a perfect world I would fuck you over the arm of that couch until the only word that you know how to say is my name.”
My breath hitches and my toes curl at the image of him taking me that way. I knew he meant every word. Words I would hold him to once I was finished. I wanted him in every way possible. The kitchen floor, the bathroom counter, the dining room table. Anywhere he would take me.
As if he can scent my arousal he leans in to place a sweet kiss upon my lips. But when I close my eyes I fall into dead air. I open my eyes to see him staring off into the distance, a concerned look on his face.
“What? What is it?” I ask knowing that something is going wrong.
“Eris is here,” he says assuredly and I realize that my brother had been contacting him via daemati.
Cassian drops his hands from my waist and walks towards the doorway, picking up the swords he discarded against the wall. A male with a clear goal in sight.
“Wait, I want to come too!” I shout at him, following him down the hall.
He stops in his tracks turning to meet my gaze, “Absolutely not, I don’t want him anywhere near you.” he fusses strapping his swords and daggers in tightly.
“Cass please I’m not afraid of him. This obviously concerns me, I want to be there,” I plead with him.
Cassian’s jaw twinges and he looks out the window to my right, as if he is contemplating what he wants to do. Things that might happen, things that could go wrong. I see his eyes dart around slightly as if he’s watching all possible outcomes.
“Fine,” he states, though I can tell it’s not truly what he wants. “But you have to know that if he even comes close to you I will fucking kill him y/n. I will slit his fucking throat right then and there. Can you live with that?” he asks me in earnest.
“Yes,” I nod.
In reality my answer is no. The last thing I need is for a war between Night and Autumn just because Cassian killed their heir. I hated the male just as much as Cassian did, maybe even more, but I wouldn’t allow this to happen, which might be the real reason I wanted to attend.
The flight to the house in The Court of Nightmares was short. One Cassian had clearly flown a thousand times. Growing up I was never allowed to go there, my father claiming it was too dangerous for me. One night curiosity got the best of me and I asked Rhys to take me and he declined. It was at that moment I lost all desire to set foot in the city.
As Cassian and I stepped foot into my family's house there I couldn’t help but shudder. No wonder I had never been allowed here. It was all wrong, nothing like Velaris. Suddenly all the stories other courts whispered about the Night Court added up.
When we arrived at the throne room we entered through the back. Standing by Rhysand who was sitting atop the throne he had been born to inherit. Eris is standing before him just a few yards away. Both of them clearly lost in a heated discussion.
We stood aside Rhys, Cassian’s arm wrapping protectively around me as his other hand hovered over the hilt of his sword. Eris’ eyes flickered over to me, then to Cassain and then back to Rhys.
“You hold no claim over my sister, not after what you’ve done. You’re lucky I haven’t melted your mind where you stand,” Rhysand’s voice boomed.
It was the first thing I heard when I walked in, and it made a chill run down my spine. I had never heard my brother this way. I knew Rhys often put on a front for other courts but I had never seen it. As if he was too afraid to show it to me.
“She’s my fucking wife. You can’t keep my wife from me Rhysand; it goes against the laws of every court in Prythian.” Eris growls back. “Come on pet it’s time to return home.” he says, holding a hand out to me. Had he forgotten the events that led me here in the first place?
I step closer into Cassain’s frame, my hand curling into one of the straps on his fighting leathers. As if he can sense my fear, his body tenses and he pulls me tighter to him.
“Take one more fucking step towards her Eris and I will spill your guts on this floor,” Cassian growls and even I’m scared of the tone he uses. Unlike the Autumn Court, Cassian has the upper hand here, and I’m deeply terrified he will use it. While he may be The Lord of Bloodshed, Eris is the son of a High Lord.
“She is my wife, and I hold full authority over her,” Eris seethes, the fire in his eyes returning.
“You hold no claim over me,” I said. “You never did. By the laws of your court our marriage is null and void. Now I belong to my mate, who loves me.”
“You once told me you loved me,” Eris says smugly.
My mind races back to our wedding night. I swore I would never let him hear the words pass my lips. But the pain, it was too much. He told me he would stop if I would just say those three little words, and in a moment of desperation I caved to his wishes. My body too worse for wear to take much more.
Cassian’s body twinges next to me clearly taken back by Eris’ words.
“That’s because you beat me into submission until I did. That’s not love. I gave Cassian my love freely, before he ever touched me. Before I knew he was my mate.” I say firmly, my gaze unyielding at the Autumn Court heir.
Eris simply rolled his eyes, “To hell with the laws of my court, I had it written today that impure females can still wed noblemen. I want The Jewel and I shall have her,” he smirks looking me up and down.
Before I can even retort, Rhysand speaks up, “and I had it written the moment she was found that in my court, mates can’t be separated without consent,” my brother says smoothly. “Sister, would you like to go with Eris?” he asked me.
“No I would not,” I say firmly. “You wouldn’t benefit much from me anyways. The healers say I may never bear children now.”
“What a shame, now you’re just spoiled fucking goods,” Eris lips twist in a self satisfied sneer. “At least one good thing came out of that nail to your womb. You won’t be making any bastard children.”
Before I can even start to bring him down to earth Cassian is launching himself at Eris. A frenzy of swords, flame and raw power from Cassian’s siphons barrel around the room. I can’t help but gawk and run to my brother's side as Cassian unleashes his fury upon Eris. Most of Eris’ moves are on the defense, as Cassian never lets him have a moment to strike.
“Rhys stop this!” I say clutching my brother's arm.
Rhys simply smirks, crossing an ankle over his knee clearly amused, “No I’m actually enjoying this,” he smirks leaning into the arm of the throne as the sounds of metal on metal ring through the room.
I look up to see Cassian hovering over Eris, a sword held to his throat as Eris uses every ounce of power he has to keep the general from piercing his throat.
“Did I get under your skin, dog?” Eris taunts, trying to catch Cassian off guard enough that he can get the upper hand. “Did I tell you how she screamed as I took her?” he grins.
Cassian falters just long enough for Eris to get out from underneath him. Eris’ hands are ablaze as he tries to burn through Cassain’s leathers, but the general has him on his back before he gets the chance. His hazel eyes ravenous as he lifts a sword to cleave Eris’ head. I realize that this is truly the Lord of Bloodshed standing before me, and now I know why he had been given the title.
“Rhys!” I cry out hoping he can end the carnage.
“Fine, fine,” he assures me standing from his seat. “ENOUGH!” the High Lord bellows, his power pulling the fighting males apart. “My word is final. Eris, go home while I’ll still allow it.” Rhys finishes sitting back in his chair with a swagger I wish I could recreate for myself.
Cassain comes running over to me, not a scratch on him as Eris limps out the doors behind him.
“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” I fuss surveying the burn marks in his leathers from Eris’ hands. Thankfully none of them burnt all the way through.
“I’m fine baby,” he beams down at me, trying to mask the anger he feels for letting Eris walk out of here alive.
“By the mother can the both of you get a room?” Rhys chastised, standing from the throne.
“You’re going to have to get used to it brother,” Cassian laughs, wrapping his arms around me.
“Yeah, yeah,” Rhys dismisses us. “Go home, both of you, before I lose my lunch,” he jokes, stepping down from the dais, moving towards the door Cassian and I entered through.
Cassian and I enter his room, this time at the House of Wind. Both of us had decided that Rhys needed to learn to take the new dynamic in doses. The Illyrian rid himself of his leathers, his body practically vibrating with anger, desire, sadness? I couldn’t quite tell.
“Cass, are you okay?” I ask laying a hand on his now bare shoulder. My voice is small and timid worrying what I might awaken in him.
“Yes my love I’m fine,” he says, taking my hand and pressing a kiss to my open palm. “Just left over adrenaline inside of me, that’s all.”
My thoughts wander to the sight of him nearly taking Eris’ life. In the moment I was scared he would get hurt, but looking back now? I hated to admit how it made my heart race and my thighs clench. I had never needed him more than I did now.
“I can think of a few ways to dispel that adrenaline,” I smirk, leaning in to kiss him but he stops me.
“No stop, I won’t hurt you y/n,” he groans, pushing me away.
I felt something in me snap, something breaking. “Cassian please,” I beg and his eyes meet mine. “Please, I'm begging you to touch me. I am whole, I am well. I just want my mate. I can’t bear it any longer.” I plead with him, tears welling in my eyes.
He moves swiftly, his frame towering over me as he comusnes my mouth as if he’s consuming my soul. I feel the need in him sink into my very skin as he takes me in his arms. I nearly whimper at the way he kisses me so thoroughly.
“If I hurt you, tell me right away. Okay?” he says between kisses, his hands roaming up and down my sides.
I can only nod my head in agreement before his lips are on mine again. Every touch of his hands on my body is so all consuming, yet never enough. The male could be melded to my skin and it still wouldn’t be enough.
I feel my thighs hit the back of a rogue desk and suddenly I’m being hauled up until my bum sits on the cold surface. My hands wander up and down Cassian’s chest, committing every muscle to memory once more. His own hands wander around my back until I hear a deafening rip ricochet off the walls. My dress being torn in half and discarded on the floor.
“Cassian,” I breathed as the cold air hit the bare skin of my breasts.
I was happy to see that his little sex ban had affected him as much as it did me. His hands and mouth were feral on me, no doubt from the adrenaline. His hand tugged my head back by my hair giving himself full access to my neck. The open mouthed kisses he left all over me drove me wild. But I didn’t stop the general on his mission to worship every part of me.
His lips wandered over every ghost of a bruise Eris had left on me.
“You are loved, you are safe, you are mine,” he whispered before consuming my mouth once more.
My hands flew to the leathers of his pants, ripping them open seamlessly. His cock sprung free, hard and ready for me. But once again he stopped me.
“I mean it princess. You feel pain at any time and we’re done.” he says pressing his forehead to mine.
“Shut up and fuck me general,” I grit bucking my core towards him.
“Is that an order princess?” He teased, kissing my temple.
“Yes it is,” I groan. “If you don’t I’ll throw you in the dungeons.” I tease running my hands down his chest.
“Well then, as my princess commands.” He smirks, sinking himself into me.
If he didn’t have me seated on his desk my knees would’ve buckled. The feeling of him inside me was so overwhelming, so amazing. I found myself crying out in pleasure from the fullness.
“Good girl,” he smiles before thrusting in once more.
My eyes already see stars as he sets a steady pace. One not nearly as hard as he did at the ball, clearly not wanting to hurt me. Nonetheless, the pace he set felt amazing.
“Oh Cass,” I moaned, my nails raking across his back.
“Did I tell you how I missed this?” he groaned, thrusting into me deeper. “How badly I missed being inside you?”
His words had me going limp in his arms. My mouth leaving sweet kisses on his neck to encourage him to keep fucking me. I run my hands all over his body, wanting to feel all of him. This man, this glorious, brave and strong man was my mate. For the first time since realizing it, it had begun to truly sink in. This was our first time together now that both of us knew, and I could practically feel the bond between us screaming to be consummated.
“Mine,” I breathed into his ear as he hit me particularly deep. “My mate.”
His hand came back to cup the base of my neck so that I was craning up to meet his stare. The fanning of his breath on my cheek as he fucked me languidly.
“All yours baby, forever.” he smirked, leaning down to kiss me.
Large hands cupped my bottom and I felt myself being carried towards the bed. He set me down in a way that made it so he never had to pull out of me, and I was thankful for the gesture. I didn’t want to be separated from him for a single moment.
He resumed his relaxed place, one that had me feeling every inch of him. There would be time for fucking in the future, but for now I just wanted him to make love to me, and by the cauldron did he.
I felt my legs start to shake and tremble as he continuously hit the part of me that always had me falling apart. My hands threaded through his hair as I heard his moans and grunts in my ear, only making my stomach flutter even more. The damn inside of me getting ready to burst.
“Cass I’m going to,” I shudder, raking my hands down his back, an action that spurs him on.
“I’m close too y/n, just hold on for me,” he grunts fucking into me harder.
In my efforts to hold off on my release in order to wait for him I feel myself clench around his length, his hips stuttering as he tries to keep his pace.
“Oh shit baby you keep doing that I’m gonna-”
“Cass please,” I cry, nearly arching my back so I can feel more of his skin on mine.
“Fuck, cum with me,” Cassian groans.
The ragged deepness of his voice has me seeing stars as my own release washes over me. He continues rutting into me as he buries his head in my neck, breathing in my scent. Both of us are panting as I run my hands through his hair some more, calming us both down.
“My beautiful, smart, amazing, sexy mate,” he says, kissing my neck with each phrase.
He rolls over so he doesn’t crush me under his weight, and his arms pull me up to rest on his chest like always. The skin under my cheek is covered in a thin sheen of sweat as I hear his heartbeat beginning to calm down. I can’t stop myself from propping my chin up on his chest and placing sweet kisses all over him. From his abs to his chest, to his shoulders, and his neck.
“If this is us now how bad are we going to be after we accept the bond?” Cassian chuckles, pushing my hair out of my face so that he can see me.
“I don’t know, but I don’t want to wait any longer to accept it,” I say, pressing a kiss to the center of his chest. “Not after today, with Eris. Who knows what kind of crazy strings he would pull to take me back and have me be his lap pet. If we’re officially mated Rhys’ laws will hold true.”
“Trust me, Eris would sooner have his head on a pike than have his hands on you again,” Cassian laughs lightly.
“I’d rather not have it come to that. If you were on the other end of Beron’s wrath for killing his heir we couldn’t do this as often,” I smirk, placing a kiss on his neck.
“You have me there princess,” Cassian laughs, pulling my bare body impossibly closer to his.
“By the end of the week?” I ask boldly.
“What?” he says, caught off guard.
“I want to be mated by the end of the week, I want to call you my husband,” I smile, bringing my left hand with the engagement ring up to cup his face. “Unless you think it’s too soon?” I ask worried I might be pushing him too far.
“Too soon? I’ve been wanting to make you my wife for over 50 years y/n. I’d marry you right now if you wanted me to,” he rambles and I can’t help but giggle.
“While I love the sound of that I would like a dress, and maybe a ring for you as well.” I say brushing a hair out of his face.
“I suppose I’ve waited this long,” he laughs, pulling me over so I’m lying directly on top of his chest. “By the end of the week it is.” he beams, sealing the promise with a kiss.
Hey I’ve been having some problems with tagging so lmk if you get this or if you saw it but didn’t get the notif!!
Taglist: @crystalferret202 , @nickishadow139 , @graceshifts , @writeroutoftime , @heyyitsnat21 , @stinkinstuffie , @lilah-asteria , @12358 , @fxckmiup , @daughterofthemoons-stuff , @mybestfriendmademe , @anxious-study , @bxm-1012 , @mal-adaptive-dreams , @sh4nn , @talesofadragon , @5onedirection5 , @saltedcoffeescotch , @flourelle
Permanent Taglist: @fides25, @dissociated-always
#cassian angst#cassian smut#cassian acotar#cassian#cassian x reader#cassian x reader smut#cassian x y/n#acosf#eris vanserra smut#eris vanserra x reader#eris vanserra#eris acotar#eris x reader#eris vandaddy#eris vanserra acotar#rhys acotar#rhysand acotar#rhysand x reader#rhysand#rhysand fluff#azriel x you#azriel x reader#azriel shadowsinger#rhysand angst#azriel#azriel acotar#azriel spymaster#acotar#a court of thorns and roses
93 notes
·
View notes
Text
Eventually I might write an entire thesis on all the ways Tech shows that he loves and cares deeply about his family; but for now, here's a slightly shorter essay focusing on how Tech dealt with Echo's departure in "The Crossing."
One of the main themes of this episode is how different people deal with loss/goodbyes, and this is illustrated particularly well by the contrast between Omega and Tech (Hunter and Wrecker are basically the middle ground). Omega, of course, is vocal about how much she misses Echo and initially misinterprets Tech's attitude as him "not caring" that "everything's changing," but it's precisely Tech's attitude and actions that show how much he DOES care.
Tech is fully aware of Echo's absence
Tech relays right away that Echo's comms are off - meaning he had to have been in contact with Echo (or at least tried to contact him) since their parting. He is also the first to propose that the assignments for the mission might need to be adjusted due to Echo's absence leaving them "one man down."
Tech compartmentalizes Echo's departure within the same framework as Crosshair's departure.
I'm inclined to believe he does this because this is how he's able to accept this specific type of change. Of course there are differences between the two - one of which being that Crosshair left on barely civil terms after making it clear he had a hard time accepting that the squad could have different life goals/opinions without being enemies, while Echo left on good terms and made it clear he'd return - but ultimately both brothers left because the pull to pursue a different objective was greater than the call to stay with the family. And while Tech later admits this "can be difficult to understand" - which is likely why he acts as he does at other points in the episode - he understands and respects their decisions at least well enough to know he needs to carry on.
Tech is extra tetchy with the others for most of the episode - and this is NOT typical for him.
Tech has always been dry and blunt, sometimes seemingly emotionless ("seemingly" being the operative word), and he's not shy in expressing his opinions; but rarely has he ever crossed the line into being rude and blatantly argumentative with his squadmates as he is here. For example: in "Aftermath," Wrecker and Tech have a brief exchange during the battle simulation where Tech points out that maybe Wrecker should learn the hand signals and Wrecker gets a touch defensive; but rather than the issue blowing up into a major disagreement, Tech translates the hand signals for Wrecker and they move on. In "The Crossing," however, Tech gets irritated that Wrecker didn't notice the Marauder being stolen, and he just won't let it go. He then gets a bit sharp with Omega when she presses the subject of Echo's departure, telling her "What is your issue?" (He might have inadvertently said borderline insensitive things before, like "Perhaps the situation is not as dire as described. Children often overreact"; but as far as we've seen he has never singled out Omega as the subject of these observations and has never been curt with her.)
Omega, of course, gets frustrated with Tech, primarily because she doesn't see Tech's behavior for what it is: an indication that Tech feels the loss just as much as she does, even if he doesn't express it the same way.
Tech accepts Hunter's and Wrecker's criticism that he has handled things poorly with Omega, and when she finally tells him exactly what is bothering her about his behavior, he takes the time to put his feelings into words
Tech has been more irritable than usual, but he still cares about his family enough to notice when he's gone too far, accept correction, and do his best to smooth things over. He doesn't quite seem to know at first how to approach the topic with Omega so things can be smoothed over; but when she opens up to him, he is silent for a long time as he ponders how best to explain himself to her, rather than brushing aside and avoiding what is obviously a difficult conversation for him but an important one for her.
And thus we get one of my top favorite scenes along with one of my top favorite quotes in the entire Star Wars franchise:
"Echo chose a different path, as did Crosshair. I have to respect their decision. Even though it can be difficult to understand, we must carry on. I may process moments and thoughts differently, but it does not mean that I feel any less than you."
#tbb#the bad batch#star wars#star wars the bad batch#tbb omega#tbb tech#tbb analysis#i literally cannot express how much i adore this episode#so instead i'm going to write a character analysis
71 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hellooo, can you make a ftm! Reader x Toji comfort where reader has been feeling down due to dysphoria and feels he’s not enough for Toji and Toji notices this and comforts him abt it?
Feel free to delete/ignore this! :3
Also, i lof ur writings
⋆˚࿔ 🌊 . 𝜗𝜚˚⋆
Note ~ of course! Thank you so much, I’m glad you like them! (^○^) DM me if you want any changes or smth please! I just wrote off what I thought would be short and sweet💔
MENTIONS — Fluff/Comfort, SFW, FTM!Reader, body dysmorphia, overthinking.
✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦
You and Toji had plans to go out to a friend of yours party, it wasn’t anything major just a hangout for friends. As you were getting ready you looked at yourself in the mirror, placing your hands on your face feeling..icky about yourself. You began judging yourself, feeling like you didn’t look manly enough, how you felt like you didn’t fit into the male standards. You then began to start overthinking if Toji even loved you for you or if he thought you were just some ‘girl’ and not really a man. You were thinking the worst as those thoughts started to flood your head.
As you looked at yourself once more you viewed your body and even tried talking to yourself to hear your voice, you felt like you didn’t sound like a man enough. Like you weren’t enough for Toji in general, you sat on the floor burying your face into your hands as big tears fell down onto your hands. You were crying..shit after all that effort of getting ready to..that didn’t really matter to you though, you just wanted to be reassured that you were just over thinking and that you are a man. You are something.
To Toji you are his everything, you may not think it or may think poorly on yourself but he really does love you. You didn’t notice it until you felt Toji behind you wrapping his arms around you laying his head on your shoulder, he was looking at you with a slightly concerned voice but he suddenly spoke in a calm quiet tone, “hey, it’s okay. ‘m here, tell me what’s wrong.” He’d bring you in a tight embrace looking at you waiting for a response, he didn’t rush you but he wanted to know what was wrong with his boyfriend so he sat there patiently holding you into his arms as you then spoke in a awfully quiet, bothered, sad tone..
“I just uh..I don’t feel like i’m right. I feel out of place. My body I mean..I uh..” you paused mid sentence looking down, your breath was a bit shaky as you were still crying trying to keep your composure. You opened your mouth to speak once more but nothing came out, your mouth was left open, agape. He was also quiet, you then broke the silence by explaining how you felt, “I feel like you don’t really view me as a man like..no one does. I just look at myself and feel so disappointed. It’s tiring.” You slowly looked up at him, “I’m not good enough for you, I feel like I don’t really belong I’m just here for..no reason?”
The room was quiet for a few minutes after you had spoke, he gave you some time to think and calm down a little before he spoke softly. “No reason? I love ya’ very much, Y/N. Looking at you makes me happy knowing I’m dating such a handsome man.” He brushed your hair out of your face as he wiped any tears you had on your face, “I don’t care what ya’ are or want to be, I’ll b’ here for you. I don’t tend to say it much..I show it through action more than my words.” He loosened himself around you as he stood up and helped you get up, he looked at you with a serious genuine look, “we don’t have to attend that party with your friend, I want to spend time with you, is that okay?”
You nodded looking at him with a slight smile feeling a bit better but had some doubts about yourself but before you could even finish your thoughts he spoke up again just to reassure you to make sure he didn’t miss anything, “you are very worth it to me, I assure you there ‘s nothing wrong with ya’, you are just feeling doubt and down about yer’self and I understand. Though I may not understand yer struggle I understand it can be hard for you. And that’s perfectly fine, but you aren’t a girl, I don’t see you that way, at all.” He placed his hand on the side of your face and then kissed your cheek.
✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦
#male!reader#jjk x male reader#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#x reader#ftm reader#ftm!reader#jjk x ftm reader#toji x ftm!reader#toji x you#jjk toji#jujutsu kaisen toji#comfort#toji fushiguro#toji x reader#jujutsu toji#jjk fluff#fluff
53 notes
·
View notes
Text
Orland and Ophelia
Media - House Of The Dragon
Character - Aegon Targaryen
Couple - Aegon X Reader
Reader - Shela (Fleabottom Smallfolk Girl)
Rating - Sweet AF
Word Count - 3093
Aegon sits in a tavern down the deep pits of fleabottom, the place dirty, bloody and grim, the place almost empty as the sun begins to rise most heading back to whatever holes they hide in from the light. Aegon sits at a table on his ninth ale, he's hiding down here away from his family and he was a common sight in this place. He had snuck away from the red keep, away from his family and their chaos as he often did. Shela the bar girl walks with her rag cleaning up the mess from the evening in her long brown skirt, white blouse, a small apron and a blade on her hip, her Y/H/C hair pinned up but slowly falling from the night of work,
"Another round." Aegon signals another drink by lifting his tankard. He looks extremely tired. This is a regular, almost nightly occurrence for him to get completely drunk in this place.
"That's the last one," she warns him,
"Another one Shela." Aegon's voice sounded very slurred. He didn't even bother to look at her as he spoke.
"And I said no." She told him, "You've had enough Aegon." She said sternly,
Aegon let out a long sigh as he looked at her with a frown, now turning to face her. She really thought she had that much power to deny him a drink. He was the prince after all. For a moment he stared at her with a scowl on his face. Was she really gonna play that game with him? He then turned back to his empty cup for a moment knowing she was what stood between him and another drink, "Fine."
"You can stay as long as you like, but no more drinking. Else you'll find yourself head first down in the rain pits," she explained picking up his tankard to wipe his table and kissing his head as she took the tankard away and back to the bar so he definitely couldn't have another drink.
Aegon seemed to be contemplating his next move after she took his tankard away. For a moment he even looked like he might go after her with the intent of taking the tankard from her. He needed that drink, but then something stopped him. Perhaps it was the kiss she gave him. Or perhaps it was his own stubbornness and pride. He and Shela had of course kissed before, he had taken her to bed when drunk more than once and even though he knew that the kisses still made his body feel warm, but he snapped at her, "I hate you."
"I'm well aware Aegon,"
"Then why do you insist on staying with me?" Aegon had never really noticed it before but when he spoke, he realized she was the only one who never abandoned him. His parents were too busy, His siblings either resented him or feared him. But here she was, always. He couldn't think of a reason why she would want to stay when he was so drunk and miserable. Why was she?
"Well.. no matter how drunk you get you always pay your tab in gold dragons,” She chuckled, “You get into fights but you never break anything most of the time you fight outside, you’re a very loyal customer. And you can at rare times before a very sweet man."
Aegon couldn't believe what he was hearing. Did this woman, a bar-maid for seven hells, actually like him? Did she believe he was sweet? This was absurd. There were so many men in the Seven Kingdoms more worthy of her affections. Men more handsome, more charming, more...perfect. It became obvious to him that it was the alcohol speaking. And perhaps his own loneliness. Aegon tried to shrug these thoughts off and instead waved his hand to wave her off. "Whatever."
"You always get some grumpy when you drink," she chuckled,
Her comment hit a nerve with him. "I am not grumpy." He was silent for a moment before asking her a question as his own curiosity. "Why? Why do you stay? You could have any man you want. Any guy in Westeros. And you choose to hang out with a drunkard, with a prince no one respects and who's not worthy of love?"
"who says you are not worthy of love?"
"Don't you know the things they say about me in King's Landing?" He looked her directly in the eye as he spoke, making sure she was looking at him directly. "I am called a drunk. A fool. An idiot. A disgrace to the Targaryen name. I will never be loved by anyone. Not ever. Because I do not deserve it."
"all kings and lords are drunks. Most are also fools and idiots. The Targaryens have ruled a dynasty longer then anyone can remember, there have been many disgraces Aegon. You will not the the first nor will you be the last I'm sure of it. And I would make a bet one day there will be targaryens even worse then you that will make your crimes and your unworthiness seem like footnotes of history. You have not had time to find your talents with all this madness going on. And everyone deserves love in some way or another," she explained as she came over gave his head another kiss and set down a plate of hash browns and bacon a nice breakfast for him something she never usually served to people,
Aegon was speechless for a moment. He didn't like the fact that she was being so kind. It almost made him feel like...like he was wrong. And he knew better than this. This was the first time that maybe he was actually...wrong. No one had ever talked to him like this. Perhaps there was something to her story....but he still wanted to be stubborn and refuse being wrong. He took a bite from the hashbrown and spoke softly. "I still hate you..."
"I'm sure you do," she chuckled
He ate another bite and then another before he spoke. "Have we ever kissed while I was sober?"
"Not that I recall" she shrugged cleaning sine tankards behind the bar "Then again you’re so rarely sober here... I think I've only seen you sober... Twice... And both of those you were just hungover"
He kept eating his food in silence before asking her another question. "Are you married? I don’t recall ever asking,"
"You’ve never asked, and Not married no, honestly having a husband as a bar maid is sort of an occupational hazard they often get jealous and get beaten up usually. But I do have someone special,"
He stopped eating for a moment, almost choking on the bite he took of food as he processed what she just said. He couldn’t believe he was hearing this. “You DO? But you’ve kissed me so many times… and we’ve-” There was a hint of bitterness in his voice now. She was the first woman who he thought cared about him, and she already had someone.
"yes? Relax I'm not dating my special person it's a very different relationship but I love them very much,"
Aegon raised his eyebrows as he was taken aback by the unexpected answer. So she did love someone else, though apparently it wasn’t in a boyfriend or girlfriend sense. “Then what do you mean by special? Family?” He asked curiously for the first time, about the woman he was kissing and sleeping with so often, but never knew anything about.
"mhm, my twins" she nodded,
Now that was most certainly unexpected. He had no idea she had children. He took a bite of food and then asked her another question. “How old are they?”
"three."
“Boys or girls?”
"both one boy and one girl"
"What are their names?"
"Orland and Ophelia"
He was surprised by their names. They were quite beautiful. He had thought more common names. Aegon had a look on his face of pleasant surprise as he spoke again. "Are you going to give them another sibling?"
"I'm not planning on it but I wasn't planning in having them so if it happens I guess" she shrugged,
"And who is the father of your children?" He wanted to know more about her now and even if he didn't like it the breakfast and this chat was certainly sobering him up,
she didn't answer she simply continued to clean the tankards behind the bar, her eyes on the bar for a moment before she simply looked at him and that look told him all he needed to know, Aegon knew what that look meant, and when he did he almost choked on the last bite of food he had in his mouth. He tried to swallow it down but it didn't seem to go down. Almost like the food was stuck in his throat. All he could do was stare at her in silence after that, not even knowing what to say because he couldn't believe what he had just heard.
The silence between them went on for a bit when Aegon finally cleared his throat and spoke, though his voice was quiet and sounded hoarse.
“Shela Are you saying…?”
"yes. They're yours Aegon."
A long silence followed, as he looked at her in disbelief. His mouth was open and his eyes widened. Finally he spoke in barely a whisper. "You're joking?"
"Why would I joke about that? You think having a couple of Targaryen bastard's running around is something I'd like to be advertising?"
His eyes widened even more at the realization. The twins were his children. His blood. His flesh and bone. The thought alone overwhelmed him. For a moment he just stared at the ground. He was a father. And he had no clue. He was ashamed of himself. Ashamed that he had not been there for her, for them. He turned his head to look up at her again. "How long....how long have I been a father?" his voice trembling,
"well the twins are three. So add nine months from that. And I was pregnant about a year before the twins too but… I lost it"
"Oh gods...how come you never came to tell me about this?" He seemed hurt by that thought. She had his children. His blood. he'd been missing their lives for all this time.
"I did. I told you both times as soon as I knew. However, you were drunk and didn't care"
This had shocked him again. He didn’t even remember her telling him. He was so drunk all the time he couldn’t remember such things. Aegon tried to remember those memories but realized they were lost in the haze of alcohol that had clouded his past. He sighed as he realized not only did he have two children. He also missed his chance to be with the woman who truly cared for him and that in some strange way deep in his soul… he loved. He was a fool. He finally spoke again, his tone sorrowful. “Do they know about me?”
"of course they do"
He seemed surprised by that. He let out a long exhale and leaned back in his seat. His face had an expression of sadness and regret, but he tried to keep it hidden. It was his fault that she had been raising them alone for this long, and it was his fault that he was missing so much of their lives. He finally spoke with this mixture of emotions inside of him, the words laced with sadness. “Can I meet them?”
She set the tankard down, she checked the tavern was empty but the two of them. She went and locked the doors and drew the blinds clearly fearful of someone seeing her children and it became clear why, she unlocked the door that led to the basement apartment she and her children lived in and she called them up. And soon enough two happy little three year olds came into the bar, both had bright Targaryen blonde hair, Y/E/C eyes like Shela's, they wore decent clean clothes for smallfolk and seemed very happy little Ophelia even had a bunny stuffie under her arm,
Aegon's heart melted the moment he laid eyes upon his children. His son and daughter. A son and a daughter. The twins he had never known about. His children. He couldn't quite believe his eyes. And the way they came in so happily...he suddenly felt like a horrible father for being absent in their lives until now. But they didn't care. They were just happy at the sight of their father. That thought alone almost brought him to tears. He smiled at the sight of his children and waved them over. He had to meet them. He had so much to make up for. They were both so adorable. He hadn't felt this warm in a long time. The warmth he got after drinking was nothing compared to the warmth he got from seeing his children. His beautiful children.
Ophelia happily skipped over and hugged his leg, Orland was more tentative slowly walking over and sitting across from him, He gently bent down and picked Ophelia up, hugging her and holding her in his arms. He looked at her for moment before he spoke, his tone full of warmth. "Hello, little one."
Orland didn’t say a word, and Ophelia giggled happily at being picked up and sat on Aegon’s knee she nodded and took her bunny plushie moving it to use the plush to kiss Aegon’s cheek
"He is a bit... Standoffish" Shela explained fixing Orland's hair, "she however is a giggle pig" Shela smiled giving Ophelia a tickle and making her giggle like crazy
Aegon laughed aloud as he watched Ophelia being so affectionate. She was a sweet child. He also smiled and looked at Orland. He seemed to be the opposite of his sister. He was shy, stoic and quiet. He didn’t say anything as he sat across. Aegon smiled and waved for Orland to join him on his lap. He wanted to hold both this sweet children, his children.
Orland didn't move but he spoke "where have you been daddy?"
"Orland. Don't be rude" Shela said
A tear escaped Aegon’s eye at Orland’s words. He had not expected that question, but he shouldn’t have been surprised. He understood why he would ask that. Aegon was still their father after all. He wiped away his tear and spoke softly, he didn’t feel like he deserved the title of father but he was willing to fight for it. “I’m here now,”
"but mummy says your important, that's why you don't visit us. Mummy says it's not safe for you to visit us cause your family is all big and important" Ophelia said,
"We're bastards." Orland snapped. "That's why you don't come to see us,"
"Orland! What have I told you about that word!" Shela told him off
Aegon listened to them as they spoke. They knew they were bastards. He listened quietly to them as they spoke. He wanted them to know that he did not agree, "I am your father. You may be bastards as well, but that does not change the fact that you are MY children."
"we missed you daddy," Ophelia giggled
He was touched by the words. They'd missed him. How could he have missed such wonderful children? How could he have not known about the most precious beings in the world? He was ashamed of himself all over again now. But he was grateful to her that she had raised them so well. He chuckled softly as Ophelia giggled, holding her tightly with one arm and then patting her head with the other. His eyes went back to see Orland and he smiled again. "Can I hug you as well, Orland?"
Orland shook his head "you're just going to leave again, run off back to the red keep and never see us again, you'll get drunk and forget we exist -"
"Orland!" Shela said
"No! He's just going to leave us again. We're bastards, he can't stay with us, he will never want to stay with us he just wants to live in the castle with his royal family. We're just some bastards he doesn't care about us. And when you become king it'll get us killed when someone finds out"
This hurt Aegon. It hurt him more than any pain he had felt before. Orland was right, wasn't he? This is exactly what he did before. He left them. But he had been too stupid to see it. Aegon put Ophelia down and went to wrap his arms gently around his son. "You are not just some bastard's. You are my children. Yes I was an idiot. I was drunk and I forgot about you. But I will not leave you again. I promise."
Orland trembled clearly wanting to hug him back "But your just going to leave go back to the red keep and we won't ever see you again"
Aegon squeezed him gently to reassure him the moment he saw his son trembling. He would not let his son feel afraid of him anymore. "No. I don't care what they think there. I don't care what my sister thinks or any other person there thinks. My home...my real home now is with you. I won't leave you again. You are my children. And I love you no matter what."
"what about when the king's guard come looking off you, or your family, what happens when the king dies and your needed to be king. You'll leave us. You'll abandon us again. Kings guard will kill us for being bastard's" Orland hugged him but cried in fear
Aegon squeezed him gently and held him for a few seconds before speaking. He didn’t want his son to have fear and worry about such things. He would protect them no matter what happened. “No one will ever hurt you. If someone comes looking after me, I’ll make sure I’m strong enough to protect you. And if I have to become king then I swear to the gods that I will not abandon you ever again. The only thing that matters is you and your sister and I love you both.”
Orland trembled but decided to nod and trust him for now, Ophelia smiled and joined the hug so Aegon had both his children in his arms which made Shela chuckle, Aegon smiled at the sight of them both in his arms, their bodies tightly pressed against his. They were warm and soft and for a moment those four felt like a perfect family. The thought made him want to tear up, how could he have been so foolish before? He would do better. He would be the father they needed. He would never leave them again. They were going to be his entire world now.
#hotd smut#hotd fanfiction#hotd fandom#hotd fanfic#hotd#hotd aegon#hotd imagine#hotd season 2#house of the dragon#aegon smut#aegon ii targaryen#king aegon#aegon targaryen x reader#aegon x reader#aegon the second#aegon ii#aegon targaryen#house targaryen#house of targaryen#house of the dragon season 2#house of the dragon x reader#house of the dragon fanfic#house of the dragon aemond#house of the dragon aegon#aegon fanfic#Aegon imagine#house of the dragon aegon targaryen
36 notes
·
View notes
Text
your favorite kryptonite
Comic Bookstore Owner!Dieter Bravo x F!Reader
summary: you think it should be illegal for someone this hot to work at your favorite comics & fandom shop
warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MDNI. non canon AU. Dieter as a big fandom nerd (affectionate), brief one sided annoyance to lovers, mentions and discussions of various medias including marvel, video games & anime/manga, light use of gendered language, moment of harassment from a creep, Dieter cosplaying surprise, spicy themes, reader wears Dieter’s robe but no physical description is mentioned, light drug use (marijuana), silly chaotic but sweet!Dieter
word count: 4.3k
a/n: So I’m back with another wacky AU LOL this is my love letter to all things wonderfully nerdy & to nerd Dieter who in my heart i believe is totally a Kakashi and Goku fanboy lol the biggest thanks go out to @perotovar & @burntheedges who helped championed this and gave me the power up strength to continue, so grateful for y’all babes! And to you reading this thank you so much ♡
The new mecha anime figurines immediately draw your attention. Their sharp beautiful sleek designs stand impressively and although you might not be a huge fan you admire the striking style.
You’ve been coming to Atomic Planet Shop since your best friend dragged you here in high school years ago. Containing a wide range of things like a whole area to flip through comics, to a wall of Japanese manga - it’s a nerd’s paradise.
Currently you search for a birthday gift to get your best friend and maybe snag a treat for youdelf.
“Oh, a fan of Gundam I see.” An eager and new voice calls from behind.
Turning back you discover someone slinking out from behind the register. Normally Raymond, the sweet older man who runs the store, would be here. But now someone new stands in his place and you’re stunned.
The guy emerging from behind the counter is gorgeous.
Scruffy beard, fluffy hair, wearing earrings and rings on his hand, he’s hot. The shirt he wears says “Wolverine Call Me” in a heart shape. His deep chocolate even eyes seem to dance curiously.
“Uh, just looking.” You politely reply.
“Whatcha looking for?”
You explain how you’re here looking for a birthday gift for your friend.
“Oh nice.” He nods appreciatively.
While you’re turned, giving this new worker your attrition, you finally notice the glass shelf behind the register.
Your eyes go wide fast at what you spot.
“Is that a new Stardew Valley cookbook?” You can’t even process the words, you’re still in awe at the sight. Precious little drawings fill the space to show familiar dishes, like pink cake and lucky lunch, from the game. It’s gorgeous and so unique.
“Oh hell yeah, you a fan?” The mystery man exclaims. “You know we have a whole little-”
“Video game section off to the side. Yeah.” You warmly cut him off.
Originally the store had been very comics and graphic novel focused. However over the years it’s evolved to add more fandom-like elements and now there’s even a small but impressive video game focused area.
A sweetly surprised look falls over the guy’s face and it paints him utterly charming.
“So who’s your go-to spouse in SDV?” He asks, wiggling his eyebrows.
You tell him and he nods sagely.
“I always go for Krobus. Gotta respect our cute sewer dweller.” He says.
While you laugh a flutter scurries across your heart.
A ring at the door chimes in breaking your sweet conversation and a cluster of guys walk into the store.
“Guess I’ll get back to birthday gift hunting.” You smile at the cute worker then return to the comic stacks.
Flipping through the different series and passing through many fun options, you catch the conversation off to the side.
The pack of young guys that walked in seem to know the cute worker and snicker with him about something.
“Oh yeah man, so I was rewatching Endgame the other day and the part where Scarlet Witch goes one on one with Thanos? Unrealistic!” One of them cackles and you pause.
Did they not even see or know about how powerful she’s confirmed to be in the other MCU projects? Even then, in the comics Scarlet Witch flat out changes the trajectory of reality. If anything Thanos is only strong because he got lucky.
But you hold your tongue and continue scanning through the comics.
These guys are probably just punk ass kids. You don’t want to waste your energy on these guys who probably also hate on other characters like Shuri and Carol Danvers.
Now the cute store worker scoffs amused but doesn’t correct them. Your face scrunches up.
You thought he was charming, maybe a bit eccentric, like a 90’s vibrant Lisa Frank vibe. Yet now your skin crawls just a little bit thinking he might be one of those unfortunately toxic gatekeeping jackass guys.
You decide to leave now. You still had time to look for a birthday gift for your best friend. So you’ll just come back later. Without a second glance to the cute worker, you slip out and wonder about maybe checking out another store.
Of course, you’re too tired to actively look for another store. The next time you return to Atomic Planet, you pray Raymond is there.
You’re excited and almost relieved to see the familiar eccentric older man smiling toothy at you from behind the counter.
“Well, you’re a wonderful sight for sore eyes!” He greets you and happily you catch up and chat with him.
Suddenly a chaotic bang clamors in. The handsome worker from last time tumbles out from the back room into the front as if he tried to rush over.
“Dieter man, what’s the rush?” Raymond laughs.
Dieter. So that’s his name.
The guy, Dieter, this time wears a Naruto shirt under a sleepy and cozy green robe. His hair is still fluffy and you don’t miss how wide eyes stare at you.
“Hey.” You politely but curtly reply.
“Hi.” Dieter waves and you hate how cute he looks.
“By the annoyed look on your face, I take it you’ve met this new headache.” Raymond chuckles and embarrassment rams into you knowing your annoyance is that obvious.
“Don’t worry, he’s harmless.” Raymond waves. “He cries when he watches My Neighbor Totoro.”
“Hey what the fuck!” Dieter cries and you press your lips together trying not to laugh.
“Just ignore him, honey.” Raymond winks and you grin wide.
After thanking him, you head back to the birthday gift search. Searching now through the manga selection you notice something moves by the corner of your eye.
Turning to the side, a large Totoro plushie floats beside you obviously being held up.
“Please don’t be mad at me.” A high pitch tone acting as the adorable creature's voice speaks out and your lips twitch.
From the side Dieter pops his head out.
His hair, rivaling a bird's nest, creates a cloud around him and his wide doe-like eyes peeking out are so hard to be fully annoyed at.
“You know,” he now fully speaks in his voice, moving to hold the large adorable plushie in his arms. “Never got your name.”
“You have my full permission to beat his ass if you need to, dear.” Raymond yells dully from the cash register and Dieter squawks horrified.
You laugh bright. Turning to the side you see Dieter already holds his hand out. The half crooked grin on his face paints him so boyish.
“Name’s Dieter.”
You shake his hand, finally giving him your name.
“So, do you really think Scarlet Witch can’t take on Thanos?” You offer light.
Dieter sighs loud. “I knew those guys and what we were talking about might’ve pissed you off.”
So he was watching you. That brings in a curious warmth that courses through you.
“Well I do apologize.” He bows his head a bit. You at least appreciate that.
“I bet those guys are the same ones that don’t like Carol Danvers either or even know that Squirrel Girl defeated Thanos.” You add a bit snippy.
“You know your shit, I like that.” Dieter replies proud and the way his voice drips out smooth does something dangerous to your heart.
You shrug but fight off the smug grin threatening to mirror his.
“Maybe you need to go Gandalf on my ass and teach me a thing or two, like maybe over coffee?” Dieter offers and you’re knocked out.
So he feels this spark, chemistry or whatever it is, between you too.
“Maybe,” you reply back with a grin. “For now I gotta get back to gift shopping.”
“You still haven’t found your friend a gift?! Geeze, what kind of bestie are you?!” He cries out teasing and you roll your eyes.
It’s getting harder staying annoyed with him and not taking up his offer to get coffee.
You eventually decide on a comic art book for your friend and then spot the assorted mystery box trinkets to maybe snag a few for her and even for yourself.
“I know everyone says Goku would beat the fuck out of Thanos, but you know who else would too without breaking a sweat?” Dieter’s voice again arrives at your side. He’s rather persistent, your cute, slightly not so annoying gnat.
“Sailor Moon.” He answers himself sagely.
“Yeah, you’re right.” You snicker amused.
He practically beams besides you when you agree.
You ask if he’s a fan.
“Oh hell yeah! Sailor Venus is my fav.” Dieter cries. “I can sing the entire song theme opening for you if you’d like. Not to brag, but that and the second Naruto theme opening are my go to karaoke songs.”
You laugh, feeling it deep into your bones. He’s chaotic, but unbearably endearing.
In a blink, a rush comes in all at once. The fun sweet bubble you had been cultivating deflates and you hate how disappointed you get seeing Dieter scramble to try and work.
When you go check out, you’re surprised he’s the one at your register.
Even though he’s focused on working you don’t miss the way his eyes flicker up to you shyly but with a confident smirk. He turns to fully gift wrap the items knowing they’re going to be a present and you thank him for that.
When you grab your bag he gives you a smooth wink and you playfully glare at him.
Later at home, when you unpack everything, you find an extra surprise in the bag.
It’s a small box of strawberry pocky snacks you know you didn’t buy.
There’s a sticky note attached to it.
A sweet treat for a sweet customer! ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈ ♡)
Call me if you ever wanna get coffee or just talk nerd shit and make me absolutely fall even harder for you
Underneath the message, he left you his number and you can’t believe it. After squealing about it with a few of your friends, you text him.
Dieter replies back quick with the funniest excited cat reaction meme and you realize you might be in the best kind of trouble with this guy.
— . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.—
You didn’t expect the convention to be this crowded. Chatter fills the air as cosplayers move all around.
The booths stretch endless with countless tempting merch.
Your best friend tried to get you to plan a fun cosplay with her. However neither you or her could decide on what to pick in time. Now you're gladly comfortable in an everyday outfit and simply allow yourself to be in awe at the intricate lovely costumes.
While scanning the convention and taking in the beautifully controlled chaos in, you also hope to catch sight of someone in particular.
“Dude, stop trying to look for your hot nerd boyfriend.” Your best friend snorts and your heart trips over itself.
Embarrassed, you chide her and remind her that Dieter isn’t your boyfriend.
“Oh yeah because texting a guy everyday for the past month and going to cute cat cafes with him isn't dating.” She deadpans with a smirk.
You playfully glare at her.
It’s not official and you don’t want to rush whatever this is with Dieter. You haven’t even been to his place yet. You don’t mind though. You’ve just been enjoying getting to know him more.
You learn Dieter’s favorite video game is Hollow Knight and his favorite anime is Neon Genesis Evangelion.
His favorite comic book villain of all time is the Condiment King.
Matcha flavored Kit Kats have become his newest obsession session.
He saw all the Lord of the Rings movies in theater and can practically quote The Two Towers. Still has the comic book his best friend in middle school gave to him. Also refuses to let any of his Animal Crossing villagers leave because he’s so attached to them.
Dieter had made you laugh more than you can count, but he can be a bit ridiculous.
Like when he called you after he got off a late closing night shift to ask if Pacific Rim was real did you think the Kaiju monsters would maybe stop attacking if they found out how much he loves them.
Dieter does have his headache moments, but he’s an endearing kaleidoscope of a soul.
Earlier this week when you visited him at the shop, he said he was going to be here at the conversation. But with how bad the convention center’s wifi is, you haven’t been able to contact him.
“He even said he was coming in cosplay just for today right? Any ideas what he’s showing up as?” Your best friend wiggles her eyes while you and her stroll down an artist alley.
“No!” You huff still upset. “He said he wanted it to be a surprise.”
While you appreciate him wanting to wait for a dramatic reveal, you wanted to know what his outfit was from the minute he told you.
You wanted to maybe try dedicatedly searching for him, but you get completely enthralled by the mass amounts of merchandise delightfully distracting you.
You spot incredible fan art pieces, adorable handmade keychains, and very expensive but beautiful figurines.
It’s like a mini wonderland.
Checking out the cute earrings at the stall you’re at, you lose sight of your best friend. When you turn to excitedly talk with her, that’s when you spot it.
She’s a few steps away, very politely trying to inch away from a guy, dressed in a Deadpool suit without the mask on. He’s talking way too aggressively and getting way too close to your friend.
Immediately you rush over and happily jump in.
“I gotta show you this!” You thankfully have the best excuse to pull her away.
But the guy only takes it as an opening to instead follow you both now.
“Just ignore him.” Your best friend whispers to you.
You and her continue to stare at the jewelry. Yet the guy remains. He continues his discussion and seems to get upset that you or your friend aren’t replying. It’s creepy and persistent especially with how he refuses to budge or take the hint.
You try lightly deflating the situation by apologizing and saying you and your friend just want to enjoy shopping.
“Oh, is shopping all you two came here for? You know, you fucking losers aren’t even in cosplay. Fake ass fans.”
Now he gets really aggressive.
The air and tension shift. The poor cute shop owner in her adorable R2D2 dress even reacts getting upset.
“Look, we just wanna enjoy the con.” Your best friend replies sharp with a hard scowl.
“What in the fantastic fuck do we have here?”
Suddenly Dieter’s voice rings out excited and bright and you almost sob.
You whip your face around to spot him.
Except it is and isn’t him.
His hair is slicked back, gelled and curled. Thick gray colored hairs line his temples. It even looks like he shaved a bit.
He’s dressed as Reed Richards, Mr. Fantastic himself.
The outfit looks based on the classic 1960’s first comic book released aesthetic and it compliments Dieter’s frame gorgeously. His shoulders look unbelievably broad and his even arms seemed bigger in the tight soft baby blue material. You’ve never seen him in something so form fitting and it has your throat drying up.
You’ve even momentarily forgotten about the guy bothering you and your best friend.
“You bothering these two, ya fucking creep?” Dieter says with a nudge of his chin.
It’s hot as fuck.
The guy stunned gapes like a fish and stammers, but no words come out.
“Beat it before I shove a lightsaber up your ass.” Dieter replies bored, but it adds a sense of deadliness to his words.
The Deadpool cosplayer turns on his heels and immediately scrambles away. Your knees almost buckle overwhelmed.
Your best friend and even the stall owner cry out wildly excited in a bright neon awe of Dieter. You swallow back a sob as you turn to embrace him. His warm large hands pat you comfortingly.
“You saved us.” You teasingly sob, but truthfully you know he did.
“I’d been looking for you for a hot minute and was about to make some sort of raptor call noise to get your attention until I saw that shit going down.” Dieter explains.
“What a hero.” Your friend jokingly adds, but you hear it in her voice how grateful she is.
Dieter snickers.
“Guess you could almost say I was fantastic… mister fantast-”
You cut Dieter off with a quick kiss to his cheek before he can make the pun and your friend along with the stall owner laugh.
Gingerly, almost tentatively you move to intertwine your hand with his. He reacts immediately pulling you to his side.
For the rest of the convention Dieter stays besides you, walking hand in hand with you.
Even when you arrive at the booth for Atomic Planet, the real reason why Dieter was here to help work, Raymond waves him away saying to enjoy the convention with you.
Your heart flutters and Dieter squeezes your hand excitedly.
The rest of the time is a blissful geeked out dream. Dieter buys you a few keychains, even treats you and your best friend to a bite to eat.
You came to the convention with your best friend…
But you leave with Dieter.
Especially when your best friend urges you to go home with him and enjoy his hot cosplay.
You give her a look when she cheekily tells you that, but she isn’t wrong. Even when you grabbed the quick bite before the night ended, it was hard trying to ignore the amount of people turning to stare at Dieter with wide curious eyes.
And a little twinge of something faintly possessive bubbles in you.
That’s why when you slide into the passenger seat of his car, your heart drums loudly in your ears trying to fight against the urge to just suck his cock right here in the car.
“So uh…” Dieter begins cautiously and even a bit bashfully. “I don’t wanna sound too aggressive and you can tell me no, but can I kiss you-”
You don’t even let him finish before you’re sliding over the seat to him.
He scrambles and immediately pulls you close as his lips become a magnet to yours.
This is the first time you’re really truly kissing Dieter. You’ve kissed him gently good night before. He’s been cute with leaving kisses to your cheek or even against the back of your head like a Victorian gentleman. But now it’s a raw unraveling getting to tasting him from the source so greedy.
You won’t dare admit it outloud, but the soft feel of his lips, the scrape of his jaw, the smell of his delicious cologne, and how warm he consumes you -
It’s pretty fantastic.
— . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.—
Dieter’s room is a treasure trove.
Framed posters of Pacific Rim, AKIRA, The Iron Giant, and the original Pokemon Kanto generation line the walls. His bookshelf is filled not just with comic books and manga, but various impressive graphic novels.
A mock infinity gauntlet sits beside his television. So many anime figurines, including a really nice Goku one, stand protecting his reading collection.
What surprises you is his expansive and sleek gaming corner which includes a striking computer set up.
“You look hot as fuck standing in my robe and knowing I just came in you a few hours ago is even hotter.” Dieter says from his bed in the most sinful but half groggily asleep voice.
You smirk and continue to soak in his room.
“So do you get good discounts from the store?” You ask.
“Yeah, but it also helps that I co-own it.” Dieter casually tells you. You hear him shifting among the seats then catch the flicker of the lighter igniting.
However your eyes go wide realizing what he said and you whip back around to him.
“Wait?! You co-own the shop?”
“Well yeah, Raymond, that old fuck, is my uncle.” Dieter coughs out as he exhales from the hit he took off his weed pipe.
Dieter even explains how, because his uncle is starting to get a bit older, he decided to step in to help run the place.
“Besides, how else could I show off my extensive knowledge of elvish language other than at the shop?” He says proudly.
How did you just now learn this?
Dieter reminds you of a rubik cube you think you’ve finally figured out, think you found a groove for - until one out of the corners a jack in the box pops out.
Before you can even ask him about the shop or about his uncle, Dieter’s phone goes off.
The loud ringtone sings into the room and your eyes go wide hearing it. Dieter checks who’s calling then denies the call muttering out about how spam scam callers need to be fed to a sarlacc pit.
“Wait…is Cascada’s ‘Everytime We Touch’ actually your ringtone?” You ask, still not believing it.
“Fuck yeah it is, baby! That song is untouchable!” He cries and you can’t help but laugh.
Dieter smirks then pats the open spot on the bed where you had been resting before. Sliding back into the warmth with him, he gently pulls your face to him and kisses you softly.
The taste of the smoke lingers on his lips, but it’s still him beneath it all. You eventually wind up in his arms, cozy and warm in his embrace.
“I noticed the nice audio and mic setup.” You comment while his fingers draw aimlessly against your skin. “You trying to maybe go the YouTuber route?”
“Nah. Maybe. Who knows.” He shrugs. “It’s mainly for something else.”
Now his voice grows a bit distant.
You gently ask him what that something else is and Dieter fidgets
“Don’t… don’t laugh okay.” He mumbles adorably.
You reassure him earnestly you won’t.
He sighs.
“So I’ve been wanting to get into voice acting work.” Dieter reveals with a mutter, even sounding a bit embarrassed
However, you perk up so bright. Turning in his arms you eagerly smile at him.
“Di, that sounds amazing!” You mean those words.
You can’t help but ramble about how great he would be for that. He has the personality for it and he’s told you how he’s done some stage acting work. Plus, it just fits him. You think of all the silly voices he does and you hope now he can make this path a reality.
Dieter’s handsome face falls a bit and you stop. You wonder if you’ve scared him off, or maybe he thinks you’re possibly making fun of him.
You’re about to apologize when Dieter swiftly moves to kiss you feral and fierce. His tongue slides into your mouth with a moan you greedily swallow.
The conversation is put on pause when his hands slide up your thighs, straight to your core, and you fall apart with him once again.
Basking in the afterglow you rest against his chest now feeling sleepy, not even knowing what time it is. You realize being with Dieter is like existing in a realm a bit separated from reality sometimes and it’s beautiful.
“I don’t wanna be that lame guy,” Dieter begins. “But shit, I already really really kind of like you a fucking lot.”
Your lips fight back a smile you can’t beat. You turn to bury your face against his warm bared chest.
“I really kinda like you a lot too.” You admit.
“That’s unfortunate.” He replies and you snort.
“It’s okay. I only want the good discount on merch at the shop.” You reply cheekily.
“Aw! You don’t even want me for my body? Just my discount?!” He cries hurt and even jokingly moves to shove you off.
“Well.” Then he pauses. “Guess I could call my dick a discount, but then again… there isn’t anything short about that-”
You cut him off with an eye roll and he snickers wildly amused.
His fingers move to tickle you, to corrupt you into his same fit of giggles and you wheezing trying to squirm away from him.
Dieter’s hands eventually snake around you and draw you back into his chest. You melt against him willingly and even sigh comforted.
“Next time if we go to a convention, if you feel comfortable with it, you should cosplay.” He comments.
You admit that you’ve thought about it and list a few ideas you’ve had. But mainly, your mind thinks about the different outfits Dieter could go as.
The thought of him now as Doctor Doom instead of the heroic Reed Richards is a glorious thought.
But of course there’s so many other incredible options.
Dieter as Harvey or even Marlon from Stardew Valley.
Even a few anime characters that would fit him so well come to mind.
Specifically Kishibe from the series Chainsaw Man, with his striking cut across his mouth and incredibly lazy hot older demeanor, just fits Dieter so well it stirs something in you again.
“Maybe next con,” Dieter offers and pulls you from your thoughts. “I’m thinking about going as Tuxedo Mask. Do you wanna be my Sailor Moon?”
A couples matching outfit.
You didn’t even think of that. That’s what he was nudging towards.
You didn’t even think of that. But just getting to be beside him is something sweetly moving.
Then thinking about him in the sleek tuxedo outfit, in the white mask, is a dangerous thought you already ache to maybe see come true.
“We’ll see.” You hum with a smile, but when you go to kiss him it feels like a gilded warm promise.
“Never mind. I want us to go as Undertale characters and I wanna be Sans.” Dieter says suddenly and you snort against his shoulder.
This time spent with him, and the promise of maybe something more, is sweet starlit bliss.
#I blame this on wanting another anime tattoo so I’m sorry I’m here to spread the nerd Dieter agenda lol#comic bookstore owner!Dieter#nerd!Dieter#dieter bravo#dieter bravo x reader#dieter bravo x f!reader#dieter bravo x you#pedrostories
33 notes
·
View notes
Note
Yan Nanami getting a love confession from person he's stalking n it was an unexpected turn for him⁉️
HI POOKIE!! Omg this is so silly I love this idea… I’d like to apologize first over how LONG I TOOK TO GET TO WORK ON THIS AND OTHERS… But there’s no time like now and sleep deprivation :,)
╰ ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡╯
How would Yan!Nanami react to getting a confession note - (sfw)
♡ A love confession? First of all, he’s bewildered. Truly, he has no interest in anyone, not unless it’s you! His darling! His one and only! His ride or die! Well you didn’t know this yet, but he was sure in due time you would get accustomed to it…
♡ When he settles himself though, and realizes it’s from you… In your hand writing, it smells like you, folded and decorated exactly how you would have done it… So cautiously and with care, as if you were scared to mess it up but also nervous to even turn it in to his desk — He’s over the moon.
♡ However… It baffles him — First of all, you were the subject of his obsession. And it was something extremely new to him, after all, Kento was a very professional man and he certainly wasn’t the type to spill his emotions at his work place and certainly not in public. But this? Oh he’s gushing over every word you wrote, every scribble, every line that you made out of worry that it wasn’t worded right… You had wrote it several times after all, finally settling for whatever you wrote on the last piece of paper you had.
♡ Secondly came the doubt and the suspicion — Had someone put you up to this? Made you do it as some sort of sick joke? Or did you just want to play with his heart and pull at the strings as if he were some sort of puppet and you were his puppeteer? It clawed at the back of his mind and he hated it— It made him think of you far more than he was before. But when some sort of reason came to him, he just knew you couldn’t do something like that, you were perfect in his eyes.
♡ In all honestly, it takes Kento quite some time to muster up the courage to come to you regarding the confession. Sure, he was very straightforward, he could be bold, blunt and emotionless… It was just that he couldn’t keep that when it came to you, you made him feel things he couldn’t explain.
♡ When he does finally come to you about it… Note in hand… He’s asking you if you meant what you wrote and if it was truly addressed to him. He even came prepared too, a bouquet of your favorite flowers — that you never mentioned to him or in the workplace — and that damned half smile that just made him look so innocent and charming. He’s not even asking you about the confession anymore when you confirm, he’s asking to take you out that night. Anywhere you want to go— Any time. Work didn’t really matter to him as much as you did. And any chance he was given that involved being around you or spending time with you, he would take in an instant. Anything for his darling. Anything for you. You were his now after all.
╰ ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡╯
I hope you could enjoy it, and I apologize again for how LONG it took me to get to it, I’m trying to get through all my drafts while I have the time (and have the energy from sleep deprivation)… I was very happy to work on it and I hope you were happy to (finally be able to) read it and receive it. 🫶
#nanami kento#jjk nanami#yandere nanami#yandere nanami kento#oj answers#jujutsu nanami#kento x reader#yandere nanami headcanons#yandere jjk#yandere headcanons#yandere x you
29 notes
·
View notes
Text
Holiday House: Chapter 2, Dinosaurs
1.2k words
"For a moment, I was heavenstruck"
The sky was dimming slowly, a light shade of pink as you pulled your Beetle into the driveway of Aaron Hotchner’s impressive house. It was simple and sleek, like you imagined him to be- chalk splayed out on the front sidewalk, with an overgrown flower bed lining the front door. You smiled to yourself, noting absentmindedly that if you got the job that was something you could easily trim up.
You smoothed your hair down, glancing at your reflection in the rearview mirror. Your outfit was simple, but in no means casual- you had decided to forgo your normal t-shirt and jeans combo for a simple black pencil skirt, with a long sleeved top to match and a slicked-back high ponytail. You had finished the outfit with your own personal flare, in the form of tiny black dinosaur earrings that you planned to show Jack, in hopes that he would like you more. Adrenaline pumped through your body as you approached the front door. You weren’t quite sure which was more nerve-wracking- a job interview, or the fact that it was for the son of an FBI agent. You notice your hands start to shake slightly, taking a final breath before going to knock on the door.
On the other side of the door, Aaron checks himself out quickly in the glass of the door. He was still in his work outfit, just minus the tie and suit jacket, his shirt unbuttoned slightly. He clears his throat as he opens the door, and smiles at you standing there, looking- absolutely beautiful.” Aaron silently curses himself for that thought, reaching out a hand in your direction. “Good to see you, __. I’m Aaron Hotchner.” You flush slightly as you take him in- muscled figure, l a r g e hands, all business but still smiling at you as you reach out to shake hands with him. “T-thank you for having me, Mr Hotchner, it’s an honor.” “I’ve heard a lot about you from Penelope.” Aaron remarks, as he indicates for you to come in. You laugh slightly, walking inside and glancing around as he shuts the door behind you. “I’ve heard pretty much Penelope knows- which is a lot, but mostly stuff she’s deduced over the years.. I hear you’re not much of a talker.” Fuck, why did you say that?
Thankfully, a smile tugs at the corners of Aaron’s lips. “I just like to keep my personal life and my work as separate as possible.” He walks towards the kitchen table, pulling a chair out for you like the gentleman he is. You thank him, sitting down opposite him on the wooden chair. “So, __, tell me about yourself. I would like to know more about you, before we get to the formalities.” “Well.. I’m 29, about to be 30, I have a bachelor’s in child development but I’ve been working odd jobs while looking for something more permanent. I’m originally from the West Coast, I have an older sister but my parents are, uhm, gone, and I love being creative with my hands as well as music.” Your voice trails off slightly, but Aaron just nods, intently listening to you and scribbling down something on a notepad in front of him. Your eyes drift down to it, not able to make out anything but the FBI emblem at the very top, which made you flush as you realized just how important this man was.
“Thank you, and I appreciate you sharing that with me. It must’ve been difficult losing your parents so young.” Aaron meets your gaze, eyes soft as he scans your face, memorizing the peaks and valleys of your cheekbones, the curve of your slight dimples as your lips curled into a grateful smile. “It was. But, enough about me. I’d love to hear about you, and about this job, if that’s okay?”
As Aaron explains his position to you- how much his job requires him to be away, how Jack had been acting out recently and he knew it was because he needed one on one attention, that Jessica deserved to live her own life with her own family, and how losing Haley had been difficult for both of them. Your heart swelled with sorrow and emotion for this poor family, and for Hotch, dealing with being a single dad alongside the difficulty of his profession. You watched his gaze harden as he talked about losing Haley, but soften once again when mentioning Jack. “So, I basically would need someone to live-in, because I feel it’s time that Jessica gets a life of her own. I’m not gone all the time, but my hours are inconsistent, so it would be a full-time position. All costs would be covered- I’m more than happy to give you my card when I’m away, for groceries, outings, what have-you. I trust Garcia, so I believe I can also trust you.” A soft blush creeps up your cheeks as you nod, shifting slightly in your chair as you study his face. “I’m fully prepared to move in, sir, whenever you need, as soon as possible.”
He opens his mouth to speak again, but as he does, the pattering of small feet comes down the hall into the kitchen, stopping right below you as you glance down and see Jack gazing up at you, brown eyes blinking in surprise. He was tall for his age, probably taking after his dad- with a sweet smile and freckles dotting his cheeks. Aaron chuckles, lifting Jack onto his lap and gesturing towards you. “Jack, this is Y/N, the nice friend I told you about. Can you say hi?” Jack waves eagerly, studying you with wide eyes and looking at his father. “Is she your friend, Daddy, or mine?” Aaron smiles slightly, smoothing down Jack’s messy brown hair that looked strikingly similar to his own. “Both. But, she’s mostly here for you.” Jack nods, studying you once again and reaching out towards your ears. “Dinosaurs!” You laugh, nodding and taking one off and placing it in his hand. “I thought you might like those. See, it’s a T-rex!” Jack jumps off his father’s lap, grabbing your hand and tugging you. “Come see my dinosaurs!” You glance at Aaron, looking for approval, and he nods,“Go ahead.” You follow Jack into his room, adorned with dinosaurs galore, gasping dramatically as Jack starts play fighting you with a brontosaurus.
Hotch watches the way you talk with Jack, as you follow him down the hall, your face bright and engaged, with a sweet smile on your face, and there are so many thoughts running through his head. How amazing would it be to come home to your smiling face every day? Taking care of Jack, of course. And that sweet, floral vanilla scent you carried would be permanent.. But you were here for Jack, of course. And that clear, strong sweet voice, ever present,drifting from those beautiful lips.. Aaron clears his throat, standing up and steadying his mind and body as he grabs the folder of paperwork from the kitchen counter, laying it out on the table in front of your chair with a pen. He had already made up his mind- it didn’t take long to know that it was the right thing to do- for Jack, of course. ;)
"For a moment, I had cosmic love"
A/N: AHHH it's here! enjoy my lovelies!! comments and suggestions always open!!
#criminal minds#bau team#aaron hotchner#spencer reid#criminal minds hotch#cm fanfiction#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds incorrect#derek morgan#criminal minds fic#aaron x reader#aaron hotch x reader#hotch x reader#aaron hotchner smut#i love you aaron hotchner#emwrites#matthew gray gubler#thomas gibson#fanfic#jack hotchner#haley hotchner#elle criminal minds
23 notes
·
View notes
Text
Ok just one more punk progeny wont hurt ~
Chapter 9: differences
(Ftm Bright eyes - uses he/him pronouns)
(Lovely demi girl - uses they/she pronouns)
Tw: underage drinking
Lovely gave a hesitant knock on Bright's door.
A few seconds later Lovely was met with a very agitated looking Bright eyes.
"What is it?....you brought wine...?"
Bright's tone was initially very defensive, until his gase made its way down to the noticeably large and decadent bottle in Lovely's hands.
"Yeah I found it on one of the shelves in the hallway, its not doing any good being up there so i thought why not use it to celebrate you becoming part of the solair clan? I know you're technically not old enough to drink but hey! I think spending eternity being 19 is way too harsh of a punishment to do sober, so what do ya say?"
Bright eyes looked stunned, but nonetheless, he answered.
"I say mind the empty boxes and get your ass and that bottle in here!"
20 minutes later:
Let it never be said that Bright and Lovely weren't lightweights.
They were both sitting on the bed, pouring wine that was older than both of them combined into mugs Bright had brought up to his new room.
The blush on Bright's face was a shade of crimson against his skin. Lovely's was a deep pink.
They giggled between slurred words as they housed down the wine.
"Ok ok so- im sorry i-i have to ask"
Slurred Lovely.
"Yeah? Hic* whats up?"
Bright eyes answered, finding it increasingly difficult to sit up.
"You and Porter?"
Lovely didnt even finish before they both burst into a cascade of giggles, she didnt have to. Bright knew what she ment.
"Whaaat?"
Asked Bright eyes, as if Lovely was judging him for his taste in men.
"Nothing nothing! It's just hic* I heard from alexis that you where hehe~"
Lovely playfully nudged Bright's side, he giggled and pushed her away in response.
"Dont be gross!"
"Haha! What? I was just asking! I mean you've only known him like less than 20 minutes"
Bright couldn't help but smirk at this
"Uhh actually hehe we had already met, at a bar hic* the other day"
"Oooh! So this was like a reunion? Got it"
"Hehe yeeah, wait hic* how dose alexis know about that?"
Lovely began pouring another mug
"Oh she said she walked in on you two going at it in the hallway"
Bright eyes nudged Lovely with his mug, gesturing that hed like a refill
"Oooohh that explains why he dipped out on me"
Lovely began pouring another mug.
"He's probably waiting for YOU you know? I bumped into alexis on my way here so he's defiantly finished talking with her soooo"
Lovely was done with refilling his cup however he nudged her arm while she was pouring, indicating that he wanted more than what she was allowing him to have.
Lovely stumbled a bit because of this and for a second she worried that the wine would spill onto the bed and stain it.
"Yeeaah but I'll be damned if i wait around for a man for too long so hic* i left after he was gone for like hic* 1 minute...?"
Bright took the mug from her without any consideration that it could spill, and to Lovely's relief it didnt.
"What you gonna do if he shows up here?"
"Hic* I dunno probly turn him away"
"Heck Yeah!"
Lovely high fived the hand that didnt contain a mug full of wine.
"You know how much me and vincent hate Porter? I'm not judging you buuut"
Bright scoffed
"Why tho?"
"Hic* long story, I can already feel a headache forming"
Lovely grabbed at the skin between her forehead. Her vision was begining to blur. So was Bright's
"Damn how'd you manage to get a hangover BEFORE you're done drinking?"
"Oh piss off!"
Lovely playfully pushed him but due to his state he fell backwards instantly, the wine splashed as he fell
"OH SHI-"
Bright exploded with laughter, ignoring the wine he spilled over himself.
Thankfully he didn't get any on the bed sheet.
Once they had both calmed down, Lovely realized something.
"Wait- Wait.... Porter told us that he was talking a 'newborn' to the summit as his plus one"
Bright looked stunned, then his brows furrowed.
"Was he talking about you?!"
The question caused Bright's previous expression to change into one of suprise and confusion.
"I mean....he didn't SAY anything to me about it...?"
Lovely pushed herself up from the bed
"So you're telling me that asswhole said he was bringing you to the summit WITHOUT EVEN ASKING YOU FIRST?!"
Lovely recalled just how stressed Vincent was over inviting an additional vampire to the sumit, them being a newborn made things even more inconvenient, but the fact that the person he was inviting was not only already invited but they were the god damn guest of honour?!
Lovely was pissed, in more ways than one and it showed.
"Hey chill out! He probably didnt even mean ME i-im I was....just a one nighter i mean come on!"
"Dont play dumb! I saw how he looked at you today in that meeting, heee likes youuuu~"
He agressive tone from before had vanished and turned into a juvenile one, the kind youd expect to hear at a 12 year old's sleepover"
"Please stop"
They went back to laughing hysterically.
4 mugs of wine and 1 black out later:
"You know...I was a foster kid"
Bright was just coming to when he heard this.
"Really?....how did you know I was one too?"
"Vincent told me"
By this point they were both close to falling asleep at any moment, however, this was something Lovely had wanted to talk to Bright about since the moment Vincent had told her this piece of information, so she pulled herself together and took another sip, hoping it would keep her awake despite it being the thing causing her fatigue.
"Vincent told me that you told him"
"Oh Yeah, I remember"
Lovely once again was lost on how to continue this conversation.
"D-do you have any siblings?"
"Well-"
Bright hesitated.
"I don't know what it was like for you but in the homes i went to we all considered each other 'siblings' but biological? No. Not that I know of"
"Huh. Do you still keep contact with any of them?"
Lovely couldn't tell if he looked sad or just tired.
"I did. With one of them. But then she just...stopped"
"I'm really sorry"
For a moment they just layed there, quiet and still.
Until Bright got up and poured himself another, seemingly doing the same thing Lovely was attempting to do.
"What about you? Got any sibling?"
Lovely seemed to perk up at this.
"Yeah actually. Biological but they got adopted before me, the parents only wanted them"
Bright scowled.
"Tipical, honestly, they should do two for one deals with these sorts of things?!"
Lovely assumed he was joking due to the serious nature of the topic of discussion, so they laughed.
"Yeah Well, I was lucky enough to keep contact with them the whole time online, last year I got to meet them in person tho since I started going to damn and theyd been going there a little while before me"
Bright gave a warm smile. He seemed genuinely happy to hear that lovely was able to see their sibling again.
"They're doing good for themselves too, they have a nice boyfriend, a good friend group and they're so damn talented with magic!....I'm glad they ended up ok even without me"
Lovely gently touched his arm.
I'm hoping that even with your rough start, you can do the same"
His smile dropped as his lips parted in suprise, he didn't know how to respond. So he didn't.
He just clicked his mug with hers and continued to sip it.
The brim hiding his smile.
Vincent was still in shock in regards to what happend.
He would be lying if he said he hadn't seen Lovely angry before but this was....diffrent.
He also felt bad that Lovely had inadvertently made Sam feel like he needed to leave.
Vincent thought that the best thing to do would be to go and confront her.
But that was before he saw her and Bright laying on Bright's bed wasted.
"What the-?!"
"Ok ok so old wine....is good wine hic*"
Lovely didnt seem to notice Vincent standing gob smacked in the doorway.
"Yeah ok ok but hic* expensive wine....is good wine also-"
"What are you guys doing?"
Vincent finally got Lovely's attention.
"Oh hiiiii~ hey vinc hic* whats up?"
"A-are you drunk? Why are you drunk?!"
"Relax, I just thought we could use a drink is all"
Lovely was desperately trying to sit up, luckily her cup was empty so she didnt need to worry about spillage.
"We just established that Bright isn't old enough to even drink!"
"Oh chill out grandpa, Lovely here already got a headache"
Lovely, still stumbling over herself, pushing Bright eye's leg before falling over herself and eventually being caught by Vincent.
She looked up at him for a moment then smiled sweetly.
"Hi~"
She went to kiss him but she could barely keep herself up so she didnt succeed.
Vincent decided to excuse the absurdity of the situation and prioritise getting Lovely to bed before it got too light outside.
"Ok time to get you to bed, say bye to Bright"
"Byyee!~"
She waved lazily at him, he did the same.
Given Lovely's state, Vincent thought it was wise to ask Bright how he was holding up.
"Hey, you gonna be Ok?"
"Yeeeaah ill be fine"
Vincent trusted Bright not to do anything too stupid between now and night time.
"Alright then"
Vincent proceeded to carry Lovely into their bedroom a floor up.
Bright tried to sleep off the feeling swimming throught his head......But he couldn't.
Epilogue:
A knock on the door caused Bright eyes to jolt up from his bed.
He wasn't asleep, however he was still suprised by the sound, especially since the intoxicated state he was in amplified all sounds.
He groaned as he felt himself moving from his bed on the door.
"What?"
He slurred, voice thick with sleep.
He opened the door to Porter standing in front of him.
"I apologise for the late arrival~"
"Yeah? Why'd you run off before then? Cold feet?"
Bright had previously been told the answer to this question, however he still wanted to tease him, and see if he would tell the truth.
Porter winced at the implication that Bright had thought this entire time that Porter had left him due to "cold feet". Despite this, he coughed then gave a small slightly awkward laugh.
"N-no I do apologise for leaving its just....alexis saw us. I knew she would tell vincent and i really dont fancy having my head removed before I could get a chance to ask you something important, you understand?~"
Bright didnt answere, he did however share a kiss with Porter once he had finished apologising, he wasn't entirely sure who initiated it but he reciprocated nonetheless.
"Hmm~ may i come in?"
Bright could feel Porters breath against his lips.
Bright eyes smiled.
"No".
Then he closed the door to his room.
@darlin-collins thank you for proof reading as usual ♡
@anexistingexistence @you-think-i-care-mate
#redacted audio#redacted asmr#redactedverse#redacted fic#redacted fanfic#redacted bright eyes#lovely redacted#redacted lovely#redacted vincent solaire#redacted vincent#redacted porter#ok just one more punk progeny wont hurt~
20 notes
·
View notes
Text
First time
Warnings: smut ofc!, virginity loss, unprotected sex, p in v, and oral female receiving.
Billy Loomis x fem reader
A/N: this took a while because I was trying to decide how I wanted to write this, sorry!
Criticism is appreciated! I would love to know how I can improve on my writing.
Masterlist
Request page
Written: April 24th, 2024-April 28th, 2024
Published: April 29th, 2024
Wc:1233
Summary: Billy takes your virginity.
This request was from my fav @dollettecoquette !! 💗.
You and Billy were in a heated make out session on your bed. Billy gripped your hips as you grinded into his lap. “You’re so pretty, you know that?” He stated as he pulled away from the kiss.
“Are you saying that so you can get in my pants, Loomis?” You ask playfully. He looked nervous from your words so you decided to lighten the mood. “If so its working” you finished as he smiled a little.
Just as Billy was about to bring you into another kiss, there was a knock on your bedroom door. You hurriedly got off his lap and he went to go sit on the chair at your desk. You both acted like everything was normal as your mother walked in.
“Your father and I are going out to dinner with friends” she explained while looking down at her phone. “Your father left money on the counter for dinner, we should be back around 10:00” Your mother stated as she walked back out the door without even saying bye nor looking at you and Billy.
“No parents, this must be my lucky night” Billy said as he picked you up and laid you on the bed. Your giggles filled the room as placed kisses on your chest and neck.
He pulled away from your neck as his dark chocolate eyes locked with yours. “I want you” he said. You knew what he was referring to but your heart started racing. Before you could think, the words spilt out of your mouth. “I’m ready.”
That was all he needed to hear before he took your shirt off along with his own. “Been waiting for this moment since we first met” he says while making love bites all on your exposed chest.
He swiftly unhooked your bra and took your right breast in his hand and started sucking. Soft moans fell from your mouth due to the pleasure. You’ve never felt this type of pleasure before but it was defiantly something you could get used to. He soon moved from your breasts to in between your legs.
He pulled down your shorts along with your panties. Your core was aching even more, especially now with his breath coating your inner thighs. “You have such a pretty pussy” he said as he placed a kiss to your legs. Your hips jerked at not only his words but the kiss he gave you.
“Billy-please” you begged at he let out a dark chuckle. “Patience baby” he responded as he placed kisses on your inner thighs instead of where you really needed him. Your body was on fire, in this moment all you wanted was his mouth on you.
As if he heard your thoughts, you felt his tongue lick a stripe up your core. Your breath hitched at this feeling and it didn’t go unnoticed by him. He soon dived in and started eating you out like you were his last meal. “Billy-fuck!” You moaned as your hand gripped the back of his head.
He was eating you out like mad man, shaking his head side to side, and slurping up your juices. You could feel the flat of his tongue on your folds. He raised his head to look at you for a split second, leaning back down and placing your legs on his shoulders.
“Billy, it’s too much!” You whined but he didn’t care. “Taste so good” he said carelessly. It was like he was drunk from off the taste of your pussy. Billy started thrusting his tongue in and out of you and that was your last straw. You came all over his face and he enjoyed every last bit of it.
You’ve never had an orgasm before, you’ve never fingered yourself, and never used any toys. You wanted to experience this pleasure during your first time and now you finally did. A sense of euphoria brushed over you and your brain was now foggy.
“You did so good for me, princess” he stated before placing a kiss on your stomach. His face was glistening in your juices and he didn’t even seem to care. He hovered over your body for a second, then brining you in for a kiss. You now see why he enjoyed tasting you so much, you could taste yourself all in his mouth as you moaned into the kiss.
His dick twitched a little at the moan you let out and you soon started to palm him through his jeans. As you two were still in this intense make out session, he began to unbuckle his jeans and slide out of them. He was already shirtless but you couldn’t help to admire his abs again after you two broke away from the fiery kiss to catch some air.
He pulled himself out from his boxers and you couldn’t help but to wonder how he was gonna fit inside of you. He was long, thick, and veiny.
You finally announced your thoughts to Billy.
“Babe?” You start off as he hummed, raising an eyebrow at you. “How’s that supposed to fit in me?” You question as he chuckled. “We’ll make it fit” he stated before giving you a kiss. You look down to see him teasing your folds with his tip before pushing slowly into you.
There was a stretch and almost a burning sensation that you felt. You wanted to scream at the pain but you didn’t wanna be a bitch. “I know it hurts a bit baby but I gotta pull back out and keep thrusting” he said softly as you nodded your head.
Billy pulled back out and thrusted himself back into you. The burning sensation was gone but you still felt the thrust, eyes rolling back from the pleasure he was giving you. “So fucking tight” he said lowly to himself. He was trapped in between in your legs, his grunts filled the room.
He sucked in some air as he looked down at the mess you were making on his dick, it was art to him. “Feels so good” You choked out. “I know baby, I know” he responded.
When he thought you were stretched out enough, he raised one of your legs on his shoulders and kept the other one down. Tears filled your eyes when he started thrusting even faster. Your nails soon dug into his back as he grunted from the sting.
“I love you so much, baby” He said as he looked into your eyes. “I love you too” you say breathless at his strokes. It’s like you could feel every vein of his dick inside of you. “Best pussy I’ve ever had” he said in your ear and thats when you lost it. Yours legs shook as you came on his dick.
He grunted from you clenching on him. He still fucked you through your orgasm as he felt hisself getting close. He pulled out and came on your stomach letting out a moan.
“You did so good, princess” he said before placing a kiss on your forehead. You were still breathless at the activity you just finished. You then got up to pee and came back to your bed to see Billy laying his head on his arms.
“Can I sleep inside you tonight?” He asked as he grabbed your body softly. “What?” You asked as you then let out a giggle from his question.
#billy loomis#billy loomis x reader#scream#ghostface#scream 1996#skeet ulrich#billyloomissmut#skeetulrichxreader#skeetulrichsmut#ghostface smut#scream movies#loss of virginity#loomiseater
18 notes
·
View notes
Text
OKAY BUT
the way ofmd says "No, trust me, you really don't want to die."
Again. And again.
With Stede in s1, who doesn't have an answer when Olu asks him if he wants to live, who faces execution twice and both times says "I deserve this". It takes a literal gun to his head for him to realize that no, he does not want to die, and it takes going back to the environment that suffocated him - it takes killing his chance at happiness - for him to realize that YES. He wants to live.
And now we get this terrifying, heartbreaking spiral of destructiveness with Ed. He has a lot more insight into himself than Stede, he knows he wants to keep living, but not like this. Hasn't for a while, and when he tried to change, thought for just a moment that maybe life could be better - well.
It all came crashing down, didn't it. He thought Stede could love him, but he couldn't; Stede left. And he thought, maybe he could still build something new for himself, something away from the violence, a space where he could find safety, community, healing, maybe; but that failed, too. Izzy made sure of that. Because it takes just one well-aimed knife to kill the greatest of men and Izzy has plenty, and Ed doesn't want to die.
He just doesn't want to keep living like this.
Before he knew Stede, he may have been unhappy, but he was coping. But now that he knows how all that stuff feels like he thought he could never have - friendship, community - he can't cope anymore. He doesn't want to keep living like this, and he can't change his life into something more bearable because Izzy is standing at his back, knife at the ready.
(Oh and I do believe Izzy regrets that, wishes he could take it back and not just for his foot, wishes he knew how to ask Ed's forgiveness, wishes he knew how to tell him You can trust me)
So. What is there left for Ed to do?
Ed is increasingly unsubtle about what he wants, to a point where he literally hands Izzy a gun to shoot him, where he's practically on his knees begging to be mutinied. He realized change is impossible, so does he want to die now?
No. It's worse.
He wants someone to give enough of a shit about him to kill him.
If murder is the only intimacy he can get, his death is a price he's willing to pay. But he's not even getting that, no one will even kill him, what the fuck.
And. ofmd makes us look at it, all of it, all the self-loathing, the fear, the heartache. The pain. Makes Ed look at it, so he understands, so he can heal. Tells him,
That's a bit silly, eh? You don't even want to die! And people want you to live, you dummy.
Keep going. You have no idea how much better things are going to get.
#our flag means death#ofmd s2 spoilers#edward teach#i have no words to explain how much i love this man#the GROWTH we are going to see from you babygirl <3<3<3#okay someone has probably said this already but idc idc i have to get this out or my head will explode#suicide cw#suicidal ideation cw#thoughts
253 notes
·
View notes
Text
Levi craves to be touched, to touch, to feel your warm skin against his. Levi craves intimacy, love, to truly love and be loved but most of it all he craves domesticity.
To wake up by your side, to brew your favourite tea for you, to play with your hair, to hear you ramble about anything that crosses your mind, to clean your home together, not a house, a home. That space between four walls that wouldn't feel as warm and lively if it weren't for the both of you, yes, he does feel that it mostly has to do with you but he can see so much of him too and for once it makes him happy, cause it means he's finally building a home not literally but figuratively. Something that he'd never had before.
He's not alone anymore, and it's the first time he feels that way in a while.
#does this make sense? idk#is it word vomit? yup#but i am rewatching snk and i can't even explain how much i love this man#i like to think that levi used to not keep/buy stuff he liked for his house before meeting his s/o#he simply saw no point in having stuff collecting dust in his house but then you came around and now wherever he sees something#that reminds him of you or anyone he haa cared about he buys it and it's such a big step for him cause he is finally building a home#and AHHHHHH#i could talk about him for hours#snk levi#levi heichou#levi ackerman#aot#snk#attack on titan#aot x reader#aot x you#aot x y/n#levi x reader#levi x gender neutral reader#levi x y/n#levi fluff#levi fanfiction#levi imagine#aot imagines#levi aot#aot x gn!reader
203 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
bumcollector
For the love of BUM And Other Lovely Bits !!!
anaara-ethnic
Anaara Ethnic
yac1977ine
أنا إيجابي
kattydrawss
Kat