#i'm not quite to the point of getting restless yet but i can feel the fatigue setting in a little. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

citrinae · 5 months

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caramel, salted.

sanji x reader

contents; you seek some free entertainment by venturing into the men's quarters. or: sanji is pathetic in two acts. explicit content, femdom, cunnilingus, facesitting, worship, smoking, sanji being his own warning. some fluff towards the end because i’m weak your honour. afab!fem!reader, wc: 2.6k, mdni. this gets lowkey unhinged at some point so proceed with caution i'm so sorry.

Here’s a thing you can tell about bored people: they’re handwork. More often than not you come to discover about yourself that boredom throws you into situations that would never cross your mind, disconnects you from yourself and moulds you anew as you witness the outcomes of your decisions unfold like a side-street circus act. And as much as you could agree with those who say that you shouldn’t put unfavourable behaviour down to some higher power with a weird sense of humour, neither could you deny the thrill, the restlessness, the refreshing sense of freedom you feel any time you let your body act on its own. Sometimes feeling bored leads you down to feeling creative.

Right now it finds you in the hallway towards the male quarters, leaned against a wall with your foot tapping uneasily against wooden flooring, a lingering “what if” pressed unsaid between crossed hands. What if, and why not, after all, when Sanji would collapse down to his knees at the smallest look you tossed in his direction. It irks you, truly, how you cannot get through the middle of a sentence without him complimenting—your thoughts, the tone of voice, ah, ma choue, apologies but your lips moved so beautifully around that word—or trying to get under your skin even more with his usual display of indiscretion. Like that time when he accidentally let it slide that he spends two hours a week siestaing by himself in the men's quarters.

But you’d lie if you said you haven’t been fueling it yourself, with elbow touches and furtive glances and leaning down his shoulder when you’ve had a few too many. Sanji unlocks something vicious in you that you cannot quite place, or simmer down, and despite it all, you’d often watch yourself with astonishment as you poked around for more.

It’s always so easy with him.

It infuriates you. It’s exciting.

Skipping a beat, you peer left and right for what you counted as the twentieth time before your steps lead you in front of an arch door at the end of the hallway. You knock. Once, twice, thrice, and you begin to hear some movement on the other side as you do. Loose, unbothered, “hurry up you freak”, Sanji trudges his step towards the door handle and peeks out.

“What,” he says, but swallows it soon after noticing you. He’s at his most casual in beige shorts and unbuttoned shirt, uncombed hair curtaining a fraction of his face. His voice chokes up in his throat while thinking of a thing to say to you.

His gaze feels heavy against you, and for a minute there you consider changing your mind. “There’s no way in hell I’d let you win this one”. Air piles up in your chest, stays there for a while. Yet your exhale is loud enough to make a decision for you. With a finger you start pushing him a few steps back, desperate to get inside without being seen, “Don’t say anything and lock this fucking door.”

He obliges, reaching the key to the room at a pace as fast as you expected of him. “It’s not the first time you lock yourself up in here, now isn't it?” You fold your arms as you further watch him rush the key into the lock. “You truly have no shame.”

“In my defense, sweetheart,” he leans against the door, his eyes glued to your figure. You soon notice he’s been holding his breath. “This time I’m not the one asking so enthusiastically to be alone in a room with you.”

You click your tongue. The room is dim and layered with wood that creaks the moment you press a footprint into it. Without another word you clutch Sanji by the collar of his shirt, glazing the surprise on his face with a kiss as you do. It’s a taste you relish, bittersweet with bergamot and the cigarettes he sucks on for dear life. Sanji moans against your lips, and it doesn’t get long until his hands are flattening all over you, too, as he lets you speed your way towards his hammock. Hands on hips, chest against chest. You rip a second whimper from him as your nails reach the skin under his shirt and dig themselves into his back. He kisses your jaw, buries his head into your neck. The low flicker of the hang lights and the sway of the ship blend with the staccato rhythm of your breathing; the salt in the air dissolves on the roof of your mouth like a broken promise.

When his tailbone hits the bedding, he dives a quivering hand for a smoke and lighter. A snap, flame eating through paper. But before he can even take his first drag, you’ve already snatched it from him, greedy and cruel and downright captivating, pushing it between your own lips with a self-indulgent hum.

Nicotine scrapes your lungs as you pull on the cigarette; ease yourself on one of his thighs. Sanji watches with his mouth open when you blow the smoke into his face.

“Darling, please,” he breathes out. “I—”

“I know,” you say, leaning at a finger’s length from his face. The tip of his cigarette is all stained with your lipstick and he drags on it like a starving man after you’ve brushed it back into his mouth. “You don’t deserve to be treated so kindly, you know that, right?”

Acknowledgement is a silent strain that forms inside his throat. He places a kiss on your collarbone. “I can make it up to you”, he says, lips climbing across your neck and up to your ear. “Please,” simple, breathless, taking your earlobe between his teeth. “I can treat you like a goddess, sweetheart, as long as you’d let me.”

“I was counting on that,” you retrieve the cigarette from his fingers. Seconds pass as you take another lungful and flick off the ashes into an improvised ashtray left on Sanji’s bed. “Now, lay on your back.” It’s an order, which he follows without protest. You know it’s a thing of instinct that he brings his forefinger to his nose while watching you slide off your pants and climb your way to his chest. Sanji earns his reassurance in the form of a smile and a peck on his bottom lip. “Good man.”

“Come here,” you hear him drawl, impatient, dragging your hips over his face. Without warning you begin to feel his tongue on the inside of your thigh and your breath hitches the moment he reaches your panties. At first, he doesn’t bother to take them off, his mouth delirious to enjoy your wetness through the fabric. Sanji turns out to be a quick learner, too, as he makes sure to press his tongue against the spots which have you sounding sweeter, tightening your thighs harder around him, and he seems to savour each moment he gets to spend entertaining you. He moans against your panties when your fingers bury themselves into his hair to guide his movements.

Heat builds up in your stomach. It’s not enough.

“You’re teasing me,” leaves you faintly, slowly. “I want to feel you for good, Sanji, c’mon.”

And you don’t know if it’s the sound of your voice, or simply the raw, unrehearsed ache to be touched which has been manoeuvring your movements ever since you stepped into this room, but Sanji is happy to further do your bidding if that means he’ll get to witness more. Fuck, and what a sight you are, rose-cheeked, teary-eyed, straddling his face with both the grace and urgency of a divine calamity; he’d never learn how to say no to you.

Pulling your panties aside, Sanji is gentle as he starts stroking a finger inside you. His tongue readies itself at your clit when he heaves, “Like this, darling?” Your hum is soft, enough. He leaves a sultry kiss on your clit before taking a minute to admire the sight. “So beautiful.” There’s a strange affection in his voice that urges you to turn your head towards the ashtray where your cigarette sits now, discarded and forgotten, but you cannot help but yelp again when his tongue rolls so greedily against you, revering you, drinking from your core as if he’d been eating from Dionysus' hand.

Even more than he enjoys hearing you, all dazed and unfocused, Sanji adores losing himself to the taste of your slick, adores it tenfold when your hand finds the side of his cheek encouraging him to keep up, “Should’ve had you sooner like this, huh. Starved and pretty under my pussy.” You start your own pace as you speak through shreds of sound, hips chasing your release in wet and messy bounces against Sanji’s face. “You must be thinking a good lot of me.”

Sanji lets out a heavy exhale. He did, in fact, shamelessly, pathetically, dream of this moment with you, a little after you’d joined the crew. Not once did he find himself jerking off to the thought of you, a smoky smile, your eyes on him, sweet nothings like apple and cinnamon into his ear before he’d smother you in kisses and eat you up. Taking in your perfume as he’d bend you over the counter of the kitchen, a halo forming round your hair where the light would hit just right. And a good number of nights passed with him trying to assess which flavour would work best with your voice while hanging from the sounds of his name.

“Fuck, fuck,” it’s ragged against you, sending shivers to your core. With your body swinging in the dimness of his room, Sanji feels like he hasn’t been weaker in his life, and it only takes him a meaner pull at his hair and a look at your bitten lips to come right here and now. He continues lapping at you through his orgasm, the sensation he coaxes from you as he does allowing you no time for whatever tongue-in-cheek comment you might’ve come up with in similar circumstances.

You settle on his name instead, and it melts on your tongue as his grip tightens on your hips, bringing you closer and closer to your edge. When you get there, your voice shudders on a deep vowel that you try to bite down into the palm of your hand. Wailed and open-mouthed, Sanji wastes no time as he licks against the dampness spilling over him, being taken through bliss a second time now with the image of your crescendo leaving electric shocks throughout his body.

The hammock is rocking silently under your figures. A moment passes as you stare down at Sanji’s lips, reddened and coated with your slick, parting for short breaths of air. He lulls your skin with a last peck on your thigh before dragging himself from your legs and reaching for the corner of your mouth.

“My compliments to the chef,” he says, his voice taking to fragranced. “This was exquisite.”

“That’s because you haven’t tasted today's main course,” taking his chin between thumb and forefinger. “Would you be interested in trying, sir?”

Sanji’s goatee is still wet from eating you out. The corner of his lips hitch an inch higher on his face as he fixes you, languid and hot. “Only if you promise to kiss across the rim for me, sweetheart.”

ii.

“Caramel,” his voice starts through a cloud of smoke.

You’ve been laying together in his bed, legs curled and shoulders peeking out bare from the covers. The room is hot and your eyes heavy and there’s a pillow slung on the floor beneath you shadowing the memory of minutes ago.

You shift your head to meet his eye. “Care to articulate for us lesser earthlings, Sanji?”

Sanji lets a couple of seconds pass as he ashes his cigarette into the tray. “That,” he explains, and it tugs a brow on your face when he does. “Melted sugar. Not as easily handled as some would think. But it’s sweet, easy to fall for, and really sticks to you afterwards.”

“You’re such a dork,” you find yourself saying with a childish giggle and a thumb swiped across Sanji’s cheek.

“Or helplessly charmed by you,” Sanji adjusts, finding your hand and stroking it into his own with a softness that brings heat into your cheeks. You leave it there.

The door handle jostles on the other side of the room. You freeze. There’s a thud at the door, and later a hurricane of them.

“Open up you stupid pervert!” It’s Zoro. His voice is all steam and gravel as it bursts through the silence. “Told you last time if you can’t keep it in your pants at least be a man like the rest of us and own it.”

Three swords lean untouched against a wall you just now come to pay attention to. You throw Sanji a look. He slaps his forehead, hisses under his breath, “Fucking shit swords.”

The knocks continue.

“Sanji he can’t see me like this,” you whisper, hurling yourself under the covers.

“You with someone there, louse?” Zoro’s voice.

“Storage room, dear, go. You’ll be fine there,” Sanji searches for you between cushions. Then, to Zoro, “Have you mismatched your pills again, mosshead? Go see Chopper for a check-up.”

“I’m gonna mismatch your guts soon enough if you keep trying to be funny with me,” pressure on the door handle, flurry of pounds, a kick.

With a short tilt of his head, Sanji points at the ladder leading below deck, and this time you decide to listen to him, jumping from the hammock and accepting the clothes he’s picked up for you as you rush towards the storage room. The place is dark and damp and you can hear the wood shriek above your head as Sanji works some steps about the men's room and to what sounds to be his locker. “Curious to see you try,” caustic, dismissive. He throws something over the hatch you’ve descended through.

You put your shirt back on. Above you, a key is slung into the lock. Boots bite into the floor soon after.

“Now,” Sanji again. “Was it that hard to wait? Bad-tempered bastard.”

“Fuck off,” Zoro snaps.

“Understandable.”

A pause.

“The hell are you doing here?” he adds on; he sounds confused.

“Wardrobe decluttering. You’d use one,” Sanji drones.

Zoro isn’t buying it. “And you locked the door for that.”

Silently your body rolls through your panties, your pants.

“Maybe I didn’t want you guys’ dirty boots on my wardrobe?”

Shoes, "no sound, I beg."

Zoro says nothing.

Your lungs tilt with the lack of air.

Sound of metal against metal.

“Got everything you needed?” Sanji presses on.

More steps. Door creaking, “You’re weird.”

And he’s gone.

The sigh that escapes you then is loose, deep. You take the moment to press your eyelids close for an outline of your day.

Sometimes feeling bored leads you down to feeling creative. Other times, it leaves you with a ripple in your chest down the ladder to the storage room of the Thousand Sunny.

When Sanji opens the hatch for you, it’s with a wide, pleasant smile, and you don’t think twice before latching onto his hand to help yourself up. “This time. I’ll let you have this, for now.”

Staring at the piles of clothing scattered about the room, “Next time we gotta be more careful with the rendezvous point.”

Sanji anchors to the most essential part.

“Next time?” he leans back, hand dug into the pocket of his slacks, his heartbeat dashing off his eyes.

“Yeah,” you catch yourself saying. Your smile is one-sided as you step forward, turning towards the door. You stop for a minute to run a touch across his cheek with the back of your hand. “Be nice and you’ll get another after that, and another.”

Sanji knows then, lifting his hand to his face, watching your hips sway their way down the hallway, that he’s been caught under your spell, fully, permanently, and he’ll do anything in his power to assure you he’s a place to return to.

#one piece x reader #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #black leg sanji x reader #one piece smut #sanji smut #mdni

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live-tweeting-hotg · 4 months

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You Don't Think, Do You [Daemon x Reader]

summary: the princess of Dorne struggles to see eye to eye with the Rogue Prince.

warnings & content: heavy smut 18+ (minors dni), porn with little plot, non/dubcon, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, mean!dom!daemon, rough sex, fingering (fem receiving), p in v, creampie, titty slapping, he puts a sword to her neck, power imbalance, size kink, light breeding kink, degradation, dumbification, mentions of arranged marriage, rhaenyra? who's that (this is so nasty I'm not sure why I wrote this)

words: 2.5k

You let the heavy door shut swing behind you, feeling your annoyance threatening to bubble over. The crown princess of Dorne, regal, powerful, tremendously able… shipped off to this miserable rock to sign a perfunctory piece of paper. You wanted to scream, thought better of it, and let out a tight breath of air somewhere between a hiss and a sigh.

It was almost like you were being punished for something, yet the entirely civil pretence of it meant you didn’t quite dare ask.

You stand in the room rigidly, exhausted, yet restless with a twitchy sort of tension. To your side, on the large sprawling table, you spot a set of ornate wine cups, fighting off the urge to smash one onto the ground. You were a guest, you reminded yourself, and the renewal of the treaty was necessary nonetheless. A pointless feat, but the prince seemed satisfied enough with the content, despite his bored demeanour at the meeting.

The thought of him almost set you off again. He had spent the entire evening listening to you present the treaty with a raised brow, insisting that you explain every line to him in detail even though there wasn’t a single difference between this and the one preceding it. He smirked when you talked, scoffed when you paused, and spent the remaining time staring at the low cut of your dress.

If this was in Dorne, you think you may have had his eyes cut out.

The knock at your door was a welcome distraction to your agitation. You blink, realising you had spent a good few minutes standing in the middle of the empty room like an idiot, turning to answer the door.

“Princess, I’ve just been made aware of the most interesting thing,” Daemon declares at you when you open the door, before you can even greet him. His frame almost obscures the entire doorway, the scabbard of his sword colliding loudly with the doorframe, leaving you with a strange sense of claustrophobia. He was disorientating, you decided.

“What,” you say back dumbly, after a brief pause, not entirely certain what else you could reply given the strange situation.

His frame slides forward without warning, and you move back instinctively as he lets himself into your— his— room. “I hear of unfavourable things in Sunspear,” he says, fixing you under his gaze. “I hear of treason, plots against the King…”

“Spies,” he finishes softly, face impassive, watching you intensely to gauge a reaction.

You are entirely lost.

“I am unaware—” You begin, before he cuts you off again.

“Are you a spy, princess?” The words are soft, almost chiding, and you think you spot the hint of a smirk at his lips.

You were so dizzy you almost felt nauseous. The context of this was absurd. He was in your room, alone and late, interrogating you whether you were spying— for who?! you wanted to scream. Your rising unease made it more and more difficult to be civil.

“Who would I be spying for?” you say, slowly, tone incredulous. “This is… most strange, and unfounded—” you find your voice rising steadily as your confusion gives way to indignation, and more annoyance.

He hums, crosses his arms casually, and you could swear you saw his eyes twinkling.

“—and insane!” you finish, throwing the word at him like a pointed rock. He cocks his head lazily and dodges it.

“You’re getting very worked up over something unfounded, princess,” he remarks, uncrossing his arms, voice suddenly quieter as he stalks towards you. You don’t move back, because you want to slap him when he comes close enough.

“If this is a jest, I fail to see the amusement,” you tell him sharply, the regal certainty seeping back into your stance, even as he towers over you.

Up close, you notice the fine lines of his sharp, angular face, the eyes set deep into them and the coldness behind his haughty demeanour. When he takes another step towards you, you step back, suddenly uncertain.

“I think I just need to check, princess,” he says softly, almost apologetic. “if you’re carrying… anything untoward. It’ll be a formality.”

your anger flares. “I will not be subject to your ridiculous whims.”

You don’t miss the way his eyes darken. “It’s a simple search, princess. Hardly ridiculous.”

“I don’t think—” your voice rises hotly, then falls flat as you’re interrupted by the sharp grate of his sword as he bares his blade, cocking his head almost thoughtfully, raising it to rest at the side of your neck. It is almost wider than your shoulder.

“No,” he coos, smirking down at you. “you don’t think, do you.” He tilts his blade so it digs into the soft skin under your jawline. “I need to search you, princess. And I won’t ask again.”

He is clearly fucking insane, you realise.

“…Alright,” you breathe out slowly, agreeably, the heat draining from your voice, and he hums appreciatively before sheathing his sword.

“Turn around, princess. Arms out.”

You stand rigidly as he moves behind you, feeling his large hands rest on your shoulders, practically breathing down your neck. A pool of dread settles in your stomach. You knew of his reputation, as did everyone else in the Seven Kingdoms, but with you…?

He moves slowly, deliberately, down the length of your arms, his hand wide enough to almost circle it entirely. He returns to your waist, feeling the curve of your hips through your gown, tutting when you shift uncomfortably. “Behave,” he chides at you as he moves higher, practically palming your tits through your dress. He doesn’t miss the opportunity to deal out a harsh squeeze, huffing out a laugh as you flinch.

“I fear the princess is hiding too much,” he breathes into your ear, arm snaking around your waist as you stiffen uncomfortably, pressing you back against his firm chest. His free hand pushes down the neckline of your dress insistently. “I think she’ll need to bare some more loyalty to her prince.”

Your face flushes as you swallow thickly. “This is improper,” you say weakly.

He shoves you hard from behind as you squeak in surprise, turning to face him with wide eyes. “Strip,” he said simply, face cold. His sword swings at his side.

You swallow again, staring at him, but he meets your gaze cooly with his strange violet eyes, watching you as you slowly unlace your dress, letting it fall to your feet with a soft thump.

“The rest too,” he states softly, and you comply tensely, your face burning. You stare at the floor, completely bare before him as he crosses his arms again, drinking in your humiliation like a fine vintage.

“A fine sight,” he hums appreciatively at last. You grit your teeth, sensing some vague end to his game, before he sighs again. “Forgive me for being thorough, princess.”

Your eyes widen as you hear his smirk. “Bend over the table.”

“You can’t,” you blurt out without thinking, the colour draining from your cheeks. “Please, no—”

“You will bend over the table, or I will do it for you.” His voice is smooth and casual, as if he had been commenting on the weather. “And I promise it’ll hurt you a lot more.”

Your legs feel like lead. Your entire body feels like lead as you somehow walk yourself over, bending awkwardly over it. Like a slab of meat, you thought viciously. It is almost too high for you, and you’re left on your tiptoes, gripping the edge of the table with white knuckles as your face burned. He comes up behind you, tutting. “You know what to do, princess. Legs apart.”

You feel your spine tingle viscerally as you comply, spreading yourself completely before him. The first strike catches you completely off guard as his hand comes down firmly on your bare cunt, forcing a choked scream out of you as your hips buck unconsciously from the contact. It burned your pride more than the stinging shock on your sex. Daemon only laughs as his hand finds the small of your back, shoving your hips back onto the edge of the table as you gasp in pain.

“Such a sensitive little thing,” he mocks. “I think you need to be reminded how to behave, hm?” You yelp as he slaps you again, then another time for good measure, as you writhe and whimper under him, tears brimming your eyes. “All talk, aren’t you? Just won’t shut up in that hall, think you’re so fucking smart…” A slap landed directly on your bud, the pain making you scream out.

The way he treated you, the painful stimulation, and the fact that he had you naked bent over a desk whilst he was fully dressed…

He slid a finger along your folds, laughing quietly to himself. “My little princess liked that, hm? My, you’ve made quite the mess.” You feel it as he spreads your growing wetness down your thigh, hips twitching at the sensitivity. You are suddenly somewhat grateful that he has your face pressed into the desk.

“What?” he mocks again. “Nothing to say?”

You open your mouth, ready with a retort before he shoves two thick fingers into your wet heat, ripping a pained moan from you. You were certainly wet enough, but the stretch still stung, especially with his uncaring force.

“That’s more like it,” he snorted as he scissored his fingers, stretching you out, feeling inside you casually. “Nothing here, princess,” he hummed innocently as he curled his fingers into a particularly sensitive spot inside you, smirking as you tightened around him involuntarily, sobbing. “It’s a shame… I could have had you put in the dungeons for treason, hm? Then I’d take you on your knees, yeah? Maybe I still can… Just needs my cock in your throat to shut you up, my little whore…”

Your mind swims uncomfortably. His voice in your ear, the cold wood grating against your abused breasts, his fingers, filling you up in the way yours never could, the wet sounds of him fucking into you… His free hand comes down to rub furious circles around your pearl, and you sob out his name.

“Yeah, princess?” he groans into the soft shell of your ear. “You’re close, I feel you getting tighter. Come on then, fuck, my royal whore, come on my fingers…”

You come apart with a silent cry, arching your back into him, tears streaming down your face as he tears your peak from you. He fucks you through it lazily, his fingers pumping into you, slowing only when you whimper from the overstimulation. He wipes his hand on your thigh, not giving you a second to recover before he drags you back up by your hair.

“I apologise for not believing you, princess,” he breathes into your ear, as your eyelids flutter. Distantly, you register the sound of him undoing his breeches, lowering them just enough to take out his thick, weeping cock, giving it a few impatient jerks. “You’ve proven yourself to be… quite innocent, on this matter. But it’s improper for a host to let his guest leave him feeling so empty, isn’t it?”

You barely register his words, whimpering helplessly as he pulls your legs either side of him, your face coming to rest awkwardly on his chin. “You’re not even fucking listening, are you,” he huffs, rubbing soothing circles on your back, dipping his head closer to speak to you. “I was just telling how I’m going to fuck your dripping hole so fucking hard,” he groans, sheathing himself entirely into you with one rough thrust, “that you’ll feel it in your fucking throat.”

You scream out at the pain as he holds you, shushing you as you cling to him, clawing at his back. You feel him through the haze, deep and firm, too big inside you, splitting you open. When the initial sharpness of the pain fades, you’re left with a strange ache deep inside you, contracting desperately around him. Daemon tests shallow thrusts into you, grunting into your ear as he lowers you onto his cock, slapping your breasts to watch them bounce. “I knew you fucking liked it, slut,” he groans, squeezing experimentally at your throat. You whimper incoherently, feeling him thrust inside with more force.

“Too… big,” you complain hazily, through a hiccup of smaller moans that he forced out of your mouth. The angle was cruel. He had lifted you up, then thrusted up into you from below, trapping you between your weight downwards and his cock upwards. His arms trapped you in, holding you to his much larger chest as he nuzzled into the crook of shoulder, laughing.

“Yeah, too big for you?” he mocks. “Hurts, does it?” Daemon bites into your shoulder, groaning into you as you squeeze around him. “We’ll just have to fuck you open until you learn to take your husband’s cock, hm?”

You register his words dimly, unable to really do much about it as you stare up at him through dazed eyes, mouth hanging slightly open.

He reaches down, cupping your cheek as he continues breaking you apart. “Heard that, princess? Why do you think they sent you here instead of anyone else, hm?” He laughs again when he hears you sob. “You’re crying? Fuck, I love that.”

“I won’t…” you grit out, voice almost breaking.

“You will,” he insists sadistically, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your cheek, licking at your tears. “see, they said you might not come willingly, but I suppose you won’t have a choice when I fuck a babe into you, yeah?”

you whimper as he fucks into you with renewed vigour, your walls clenching involuntarily at his words. “So you can listen,” he groans into you, hand tightening in your hair to yank your head back. “keep doing that, yeah, good girl…”

His free hand dips lower. With you impaled wide open on his cock, your bud is left vulnerably exposed, and he flicks at it mindlessly, drinking in your whines. “Gonna fuck my seed into you, princess,” he breathes. “Gonna fuck it so deep you’ll drip for days, my pretty little wife, such a good little wife for me…”

He slaps your tits once, twice, and then you’re spasming uncontrollably around his cock as your peak rips through you, feeling his warmth flood into you and drip down your thighs. You crumple into him, sobbing against his chest as he strokes your hair, shushing you. You feel his cock slip out of you as he picks you up gently, carrying you to the bed, stepping over your discarded clothes.

You’re laid down onto the cushions softly, half-conscious, and Daemon wraps his arms around you from behind. “You might as well learn to like it, princess,” he hums into your ear as you’re flipped over into the bed, his hands on you again. “I don’t think I’ll be finished with you for a long time.”

#hotg #house of the dragon #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon targeryen x reader

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magicalbats · 5 months

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Sanctuary

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 10,874

Warnings: sacrilegious content, monster fucking, tentacle/tongue fucking, brief throat fucking, reader is a nun so take that as you will

A/N: this is my very first commission ever and I had a blast working on it so I asked if I could share it with everyone! I went through and removed the identifiers for their OC but otherwise its exactly the same. I'm going to make a comms page later on for anyone interested so keep an eye out for that, and please enjoy! ❤️

⭐

Snow flurries around your face and buffets the skin to leave your cheeks feeling raw as you peer out over the assembled crowd. There’s a restlessness that hangs over the multitude of heavily bundled bodies lined up in the town square but order had largely been maintained all morning. It was mostly a variety of women in differing sizes, shapes and ages, which tended to help in that regard, while the occasional man was either old, sick or otherwise unfit for the labor needed to support themselves. These people relied heavily, sometimes exclusively, on the church’s community efforts to keep themselves afloat. You could even make out a few small children among the masses where you were standing; antsy from waiting and fussy with hunger, and who were starting to get on their accompanying parents' last nerves by the looks of it.

Cloak whipping in the frigid wind, you shift behind the table where two other Sisters were diligently working to ladle out the porridge and pass out thick slices of bread quickly enough to keep the line moving at a reasonable pace. You were technically supposed to be on break after standing in the same spot for hours, your dominant wrist giving a muted throb from overuse when you take up the spare baler spoon and dip it into the massive pot, but you were having a hard time walking away. You usually did, though. Some might accuse you of taking your responsibilities a little too seriously at times but you liked to think of it more as simply being pertinacious. It was better to toe the line of overzealous than to be apathetic or indifferent to the plights of others, after all, and you couldn’t think of anyone more in plight than hungry children.

Speculatively, Sister Darya eyes the bowl you fill and set aside before starting to spoon out another serving into a second dish. She sends you a sidelong glance even while her hands continue to work through the monotonous motions. Dip, pour, pass across the table. Dip, pour, pass across the table. She doesn’t have to look to ensure every moving piece ends up exactly where it needs to be, and the line keeps moving without interruption even as she sets her prickly sights on you.

“Back so soon, Sister? Perhaps we should have you chained to the nearest bench to ensure you take your breaks when you’re supposed to.”

“That won’t be necessary.” You respond with a cool indifference, unperturbed by the pointed stare she gives you when you reach to fill a third bowl. “I’ll go take my rest once I give these to the children. Surely you won’t find any complaint in that?”

Sister Darya draws a careful breath and lets it out with a sigh. When she speaks next, it’s very soft so that only you might hear her quiet response. “They are supposed to wait in line just like everyone else. Those are the rules. Do not give me that look, Sister. You know as well as I do what lows the starving and the sick will sink to.”

“Then I will take care to ensure nothing of the sort comes of it.” Stamping down the flare of annoyance that sparks in your chest, you stiffly drop the baler back to the table. The older woman narrows her sharp beady eyes at you in warning yet you pay it little mind.

Quickly shoving a spoon into each of the four bowls you’ve prepared, you juggle the dishes into your hands and step out from behind the table. You can barely catch the sound of her grumbling something to the other nun stationed with her as you walk away but aren’t quite able to make out what’s being said. No matter though. She’d never been particularly fond of you and the feeling was decidedly mutual. Nothing that happened here today was going to change that.

The first child you manage to track down in the crowd is on the verge of tears, fitfully tugging at his mothers skirts while he asks her how much longer it will be. She has her hands full with a mewling infant, swaddled and bundled in so many layers that it takes the use of both hands to properly hold onto the bulky mass, and she could not offer him much comfort aside from gentle reassurances that it would be soon. One look at the tired, heavy bags under her eyes vindicates your decision. These people needed help, and you wouldn’t sit idly by if there was something that could be done for them.

Sweeping closer to the pair, you keep your voice gentle even as you project it enough to be heard over the general din. “Do not cry, little man. You must be strong for your mother and your new sibling, isn’t that right? Look at what I have for you.”

Red faced from the snow and the wind, he turns to glance up at you from under the brim of his wide, fur lined cap. The green of his irises seems to swim with valiantly held back tears but they clear almost immediately when he sees the bowl you carefully offer out to him. They appear to you like crystalline lakes turned dazzling with the azure sheen of algae, and you give him your best smile when he eagerly reaches out to accept the porridge in his tiny gloved hands.

Her expression morphing from one of surprise to immense gratitude, the mother ducks her head in quick thanks. “May the Cryo Archon bless you, Sister. Your kindness means much to me and my children.”

“Speak not another word of it. You’re almost to the front of the line now, so you’ll be able to fill your stomach soon. Please take care.”

With a brief nod of acknowledgment, you move on. There’s another child a few paces down, this one a young girl curled up in the arms of her father as if in search of warmth as much as comfort, and you tell them much the same. That they were almost to the front of the queue and he gives his words of thanks as his daughter shyly accepts the bowl you hand to her. Left with still two more to pass out, you work your way further back in the line while assuring the waiting adults that there was enough for everyone to be fed and to just be patient.

Empty handed after finding a pair of brothers solemnly standing in line together, you start to retrace your path towards the table again. You’d spotted a few more kids and you wanted to make the burden of waiting a bit more bearable for them as much as for their parents, but a small scuffle up near the front pulls your gaze and demands your attention first. Your strides turn purposeful now as you make a beeline for the commotion. What you come upon gives you pause, though.

The green eyed boy from before was picking himself up off the ground and trying very hard not to let the hiccuping sobs that shake his shoulders get the better of him. His bowl of porridge was spilled in the barren dirt and frozen mud. A gnarled looking man in a tattered coat was bending to retrieve the fallen dish, mumbling something unkind under his breath while the mother juggles the baby in her arms and frets over her fallen son. At first you think it an accident, the kind of misstep that could happen all too easily when there were so many people crammed together in a single place. But then, to your surprise, the surly man straightens up with the bowl, dips his fingers into what bit of porridge meal was still sticking to the interior and pops them into his mouth.

You see an instant flash of red behind your eyes.

“What is the meaning of this?” You demand, closing the distance at a rapid pace now. “Horrid scoundrel, do you truly intend to repay the Holy Mothers kindness and generosity by stealing from a child? Does that seem right to you?”

The sallow faced man glances up at your approach, takes one look at the black veil covering your hair and scoffs before turning from you. It was clear he thought little of you and your opinions on the matter, and he disinterestedly begins to walk away with his spoils still in hand. Temper flaring just a pinch more, you lengthen the stride of your steps. You brush right past the mother and her children. Reach out with grasping fingers and snag the back of the man’s ratty coat. He aggressively spins around to snap at you, but you were ready with some choice words of your own.

“How dare you! To think that anyone in our great motherland would behave like an uncivilized animal!” You practically spit up at him. “You should be ashamed of yourself for carrying on in this manner when there is plenty to go around for everyone. What have you got to say, huh?”

“I don’t have nothing to say to you, crazy bitch. Let go! Before I get mad!”

A chorus of horrified gasps erupts around you, but you only tighten your hold on him even when his coat is so grimy and unkempt it makes your skin itch. You’re distantly aware of the crowd shuffling behind you, no doubt considering the possible ramifications of stepping in or not, but there was a hesitation when so many of them were women with little to no able bodied men to help. It was only natural, and you didn’t blame them for it. You blamed this no good lout for causing such an unpleasant scene in the first place and you weren’t about to let him get off that easily for being such an inconvenient nuisance to everyone.

“I will not let you go. You owe that boy and his mother an apology, sir. Come, I will even stand with you to lessen the embarrassment you have to face.”

Becoming more aggressive by the second, he violently tries to yank out of your grip. You hold fast though, and only stumble a step before pulling back on his coat with everything you’ve got. He seemed annoyed more than anything else though, and he rounds on you again to loom over your much slighter frame in an obvious display of intimidation as he bellows, “I’m warning you, let me go! Now!”

“And I am warning you, come apologize to them or you will not like how this is going to end.”

His face growing red in anger, he tries once again to forcefully shrug you off. But when that doesn’t work he brings his hand up in a quick arc, clenching it into a tight fist. You barely have enough time to process it’s even happening and then it — harmlessly sails right over your head.

Eyes widening to the approximate size of dinner plates, you watch in mute disbelief as he’s roughly dragged back a handful of steps by an arm wrapped around his neck. The destitute man flails and kicks, grunting when he drops the bowl so he can reach up to claw at the limb cutting off his air supply. It’s useless though. Whoever was holding onto him had a grip as good as iron, evidently, and you catch a burst of coppery-brown hair behind him as he slowly starts to drain of energy and sag. One moment he’s wildly thrashing to get loose and the next he’s … going limp with a wet little gurgle.

You catch your first glimpse of the young man — your heroic savior, as it were — when he bends to deposit the vagrant onto the cold ground without much concern for where or how he might land. His burden hitting the dirt with a bodily thump, he lifts his attention to you. You’re instantly struck by the intense blue of his eyes, and your breath catches in shock.

Was he really human?

“Are you alright, miss? Sorry I didn’t make it here sooner.” Straightening again, he wipes his gloved hands together as if ridding them of dirt after a messy job. Then he steps over the prone man on long, somewhat gangly legs so he can come closer. “When someone said there was a disturbance going on at the church’s food drive I came as fast as I could. I hope you’re not hurt?”

Rousing from your initial disquiet, you take in the whole of him rather than just the strange eyes staring at you in question. You recognize the military uniform immediately, and bob a quick curtsy as was customary when dealing with someone of his station. “Worry not, good sir. I am unharmed and I have you to thank for that. I’d say you were just in time, in fact.”

The young soldier gives you an abrupt, dazzling smile that is so filled to the brim with boyish charm it almost gives you pause. He was handsome, yes, but he also looked like a troublemaker of the highest order. Certainly not someone you would need or want to find yourself mixed up with no matter how good looking he was or how pleasantly symmetrical his features were.

“It was my pleasure, of course, Sister …?”

You lift your chin and tell him your name.

He slowly repeats your name, as if savoring the feel of it on his tongue and the way the syllables curl inside his mouth. “Well, Sister, although I was all too happy to offer my assistance, you still played an admirable part too. Thanks to you I didn’t have to go chasing this guy down. I owe you my thanks as well.”

“Save it.” You sigh, giving your head a brief shake. “I was only doing what’s right. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must tend to the boy he stole from and get him another bowl of food.”

Decisively turning on your heel, expecting that to be the end of it, you start to walk away. To your great surprise, though, he quickly falls into step beside you.

“I’m Ajax, by the way.”

“A lovely name.” You don’t miss a beat but, rather than discouraging him with your indifferent tone, it just makes his grin grow even wider.

“I can help you.” He says it so point blank and matter of fact that for a split second you’re not quite sure what he even wants to lend you a hand with. And that was to say nothing of the why.

“Although I certainly appreciate the offer, I think you’ve helped plenty for one day.” Turning your head, you steal a quick glance back at the unconscious man still lying out on the ground. The boy with the green eyes was spitefully kicking dirt at him and, much like his mother, you willfully chose to ignore it. While it wasn’t exactly good or proper behavior, you figured he was entitled to a tiny bit of payback for what he’d endured. “Shouldn’t you be escorting that gentleman to the jailhouse right about now? Surely that is a much more pressing matter for you than feeding the sick and hungry.”

“Don’t worry, he won’t be waking up anytime soon and I’m sure another officer will happen by any minute now to take care of it.”

You send him a slow, curious look, but he doesn’t seem the slightest bit put out. “That’s an odd thing to say, isn’t it? As a young man in her majesty the Tsaritsa’s army I would have thought you’d jump at the chance for recognition of such a good deed.”

He casually waves that off with a chuckle. “Ah, who really cares about recognition anyway? I’m much more interested in doing what I enjoy than making decisions based on what will earn me merit.”

Something told you that was only a very small fraction of the bigger picture. He was still young and clearly impulsive, so you didn’t doubt that he truly was far more inclined to do only what he found worthy of his efforts to pursue. It wasn’t your place to comment on that though, nor did you want to humor how that applied to you in the here and now by giving it any deeper thought than that.

Ignoring Sister Darya’s incensed glare, you pause at the corner of the church’s food drive table and turn to face your dogged shadow. This man, this soldier named Ajax, obediently halts just within arms reach and looks at you with an expectant, almost puppy-like eagerness as if waiting for the next command to fall from your lips. You may have found it cute otherwise, but you weren’t about to encourage him in any way. It wasn’t in your nature to knowingly lead people on and unlike some of the other Sister’s in the order you didn’t derive any such pleasure from doing so. You’d have to be blunt then.

“I thank you again for your assistance,” You pointedly intone. “But I cannot allow you to waste your time taking on the church’s work. Her majesty has greater expectations of you than handing out bowls of porridge. You have your responsibilities and I have mine. We would both do well to remember that.”

He doesn’t look half as dejected by that as you’d hoped he would, his boyish grin only taking on a frustratingly sly edge now. “Aww, don’t tell me this is your way of sending me off into the cold again.”

“I’m afraid so. I don’t have time to entertain anyone, you understand.”

Those odd eyes of his dance before you as he gives you a quick, appraising glance up and down to take in your shuddering cloak and the fluttering veil atop your head. But it strikes you once again as being strange, how his irises don’t seem to reflect the light at all. Rather they almost seem to swallow it up like a void. You’d initially thought it a mere trick of the senses brought about by the heavy charcoal clouds hanging overhead but … even now, even standing near the cackling flame over which the pot of porridge was simmering, there still was no reflection to be found in his eyes. It was a little unsettling, if you were being honest.

Just what was he?

“You break my heart, Sister. Is it not also the responsibility of a soldier to see that the needs of the people he serves are met? Lending the church a hand would be nothing short of a great honor for me.”

You set your mouth in a firm, unamused line. “I’m afraid I’m not fool enough to believe that when you just told me you’re not interested in doing things simply for merit. You’ve got an ulterior motive in volunteering your services and I’m not interested in such games.”

A quick laugh huffs out of him as he lifts a hand to place it emphatically over his heart. “You wound me, Sister! What do you take me for, huh?”

“Someone who’s time would be much better spent escorting that vagabond away from the food drive before he wakes up and starts causing more trouble for us, that’s what.”

“Fair enough.” Shoulders shaking with laughter, he pauses to give you another glance over from the top of your head down to the toes of your smart leather boots. You’re acutely aware of the other Sister’s watching on in rapt fascination and morbid curiosity, as well as the townsfolk standing close enough to the front of the line to eavesdrop, but you firmly stand your ground. There would be time to feel embarrassed by this scene later, in the privacy of your own dorm.

At length, Ajax finally gives his head a shake. “I didn’t know they made Sisters like you.”

“They don’t. I’m all of my own making.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He finally falls back a step with a brief nod of acknowledgment. Allowing himself one final look at you, Ajax turns away with one last word of parting. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Sister. I hope to have the pleasure of seeing you again soon.”

Standing there in the cold and the chaffing wind, and the flurry of snow, you watch him walk away. You think you could go your whole life without having another run in with him and it would still be too soon. It wasn’t that he was just a bit strange even for a young, headstrong soldier. There was something genuinely peculiar about him. Even putting aside the way he’d kept looking at you, there was still a sense of undesirability about the whole situation. From a nuns perspective he presented a multitude of problems, the least of which being temptation that did not fall in line with your vows.

Turning your head to look at the others when he bends to retrieve the culprit from the ground and save him from the agitated rumblings of the antsy crowd, you spare Sister Darya a withering scowl. “I don’t want to hear a word about it.”

The way her eyes flash at you in mute disapproval seems to say ‘I told you so’ but you adamantly ignore it in favor of reaching for another bowl to fill. At the rate you were going it was starting to look like you’d never get that break.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Everything seems so normal that at first you almost don’t even realize it’s a dream.

Some distant part of you knows you’d been so tired from the food drive that you’d fallen asleep almost as soon as your head hit the pillow after taking a nice, long bath to rid yourself of the permanent Snezhnayan chill. But you were glad for the normalcy of it, content to meander your way through whatever your resting subconscious decided to conjure up. The first scene is a field of wildflowers that does not exist in the ice and snow of your motherland. It’s peaceful there and quiet. A welcome haven of tranquility which you dreamed of with some frequency.

You’re more than a little disappointed when it suddenly changes to the town square. One moment you’d been picking dandelions to weave into a wreath for your hair, and the next you were standing in the middle of a cold barren wasteland. The streets were empty around you, the houses dark and silent. The flowers wilt in your hands. Dropping them, you turn in a circle to survey your surroundings. Nothing looked out of place aside from the total lack of people, or even any dogs or cats roaming the area. No birds, either.

Without a particular destination in mind, you start to walk. A part of you hoped the scenery would change again and morph into a more pleasing visage around you, but that’s not what happens. It feels like you spend many minutes just walking up and down the empty streets like a lost ghost, each step its own eternity. Every breath its own death rattle. A niggling thought in the back of your mind whispers of danger, warns of something being not quite right, and yet you don’t retrace your path back to the starting point in the square. Like there was an invisible string tugging you along, you follow its suggestive pull straight through town to the church.

Despite finding this rather strange, even for a dream, you open the door and go inside without pause.

The sanctuary is just as desolate and deserted as everywhere else had been. You hadn’t seen so much as a suggestion of another living being, human or otherwise, and still the string tugs. Trance-like and spellbound, you follow the exigent summons through the grounds; past altars and holy relics, and pews and the baptistery, out into the courtyard. You cross over bare frozen ground to the monastery. Up the long flight of stairs and down the empty hall until you reach the door to your own room.

This is the first thing that gives you any real amount of hesitation but the string just pulls harder. Like a puppet under the guidance of a masterful biloquist, your hand comes up to grab the knob. You watch yourself turn it and then swing the door open. Your skin prickles with static electricity when you cross the threshold but this, too, is empty. Having half expected to walk in and find your own sleeping form huddled on top of the narrow bed, you’re strangely disappointed to find the sheets neatly made and smoothed out. They looked like they would never be disturbed again, as if the room itself had been plucked out of reality and then frozen in time and space.

You feel the string slip away then, as you’re standing just inside the doorway looking over your bed, and a rattling breath puffs out of you at its loss. It leaves you trembling with newfound life, as if whatever force served to guide you here had sedated your mind and body alike to encourage compliance. Now, though, you were suddenly acutely aware of just how disconcerting the trek here had actually been. How heavy and oppressive the static charged air really is.

Hands clenching and unclenching at your sides to restore feeling in them, you cautiously step around the room. It was not a large space and you were able to complete a full circuit in only ten steps. The bed took up a vast majority of the capacity. Your writing desk took up most of the rest. Suspiciously, you even bend to peer under the metal frame that holds the mattress, but there’s nothing there. It was just as void of life as everywhere else.

When you straighten up again something in the single small window in the room catches your attention. You squint at it a moment but your eyes can’t quite make out what it is, so you step closer. There’s a thin layer of condensation coating the glass and, thinking perhaps that was what was obstructing your view, you reach up to wipe it away. The very real sensation of cold, wet moisture under your fingers startles you more than you’d like to admit. Your foggy mind reels and stumbles over the visceral thought.

And then your eyes adjust.

A dull, muted burst of copper. Red horns. It wasn’t outside amongst the trees and the buildings, and the dark overcast sky. It was behind you.

Holding yourself achingly stiff, you slowly turn around. You’re not really sure how you maintain your cool when every inch of your skin was crawling with a violent eruption of goosebumps but you’re exceedingly glad for it as you set your sights on the monster in the doorway. It’s not just large, it’s huge. You think it must be over seven feet tall, perhaps even pushing eight, and it takes up the whole frame with its massive stature. It seems implausible for something of that size to move around as silent as any soft footed cat, but you’re positive you hadn’t heard a single sound. If this was just a figment of your imagination, you sorely hoped it would dissolve away into nothing very soon.

What you think must be its eye just stares at you though, unblinking and unmoving. This tense stand-off lasts so long, in fact, that your frightened adrenaline eventually starts to wear off bit by bit, leaving you feeling somewhat disoriented in the aftermath. Was it even alive? Had your taxed mind and body really summoned the likeness of a horrible monster just to terrorize you in your dreams? And, perhaps most perplexing of all, why did it spark a distant note of familiarity in the dregs of your memory? Almost like you’d seen it or something like it recently, but that couldn’t be true. Certainly you never would have been able to forget such a creature as this …

You just start to toy with the notion of slipping around it to get back out into the hall when it sedately lifts its arm. Frozen in place by a fresh surge of uncertainty and fear, you watch it push the door so that it swings shut with an almost casual motion. The click of the latch catching sounds like the heavy swing of an executioner's blade.

“You came.”

Its deep, raspy voice seems to reverberate in the very air itself and, finally unable to keep your nerves in check any longer, you take a stumbling step back to press into the wall. Your heart threatens to jackhammer straight out of your chest as you frantically try to process the situation. Not only was it very much alive and capable of interacting with the environment, it could also talk. You’re not sure why that disturbs you as much as it does but there’s no denying how your stomach painfully cramps with sinking dread now. Every fiber of your being thrums with the desire to run and flee, to hide from this monster, and yet you knew you were trapped in here with it. Even if you’d wanted to make an attempt at the now closed door the room was much too small. You’d never get around it.

All you can do is quake when it takes a deliberately slow step forward before stopping again. Just looking at you. Gauging your reaction, perhaps? You didn’t really care about any of that.

“What are you?” It’s little more than a frightened whisper.

“Think of me as a god come to collect on what is rightfully mine.”

Your spine snaps straight even as a disconcerted shudder races through you. “You are no god, foul beast. You’re a demon.”

The thing laughs, low and hoarse. “Close, but not quite. You may call me Foul Legacy. Or, if you would prefer, ‘master’ will suffice just as well for your role.”

“I will call you no such thing!” You hiss in indignant affront.

“You will.” It assures you, taking another controlled step closer. “If I command it of you, your only choice will be to obey. If I tell you to get on your knees and worship me then that is what you will do. I told you, didn’t I? I’ve come to claim what’s mine.”

You start to open your mouth to protest but your words fail you, and you slowly close it again. Frantically now, your wide eyed gaze scans the room looking for any sliver of hope for escape. You were cornered against the wall though. You’d never make it past this thing, and the window was much too small for you to crawl through even if it stopped long enough to let you get it open. The window …

Stealing a split second glance at the rectangle of glass just next to your head, you confirm your suspicions. The streaks left behind in the wake of your hand were still there. The cool condensation had felt undeniably real under your skin which meant, at least to some extent, this dream was a tangible one. Or maybe it would’ve been more accurate to call it a hallucination? It didn’t matter.

If this was real enough to touch then that must have meant the monster was too. It was a slim chance but maybe you could fight your way past it and get away …

“Are you so unimpressed with this form that you allow your mind to wander?” The creature remarks, but it doesn’t sound surprised or even offended at this fact. More than anything, it almost sounds amused and that is what ultimately steels your resolve. It’s mistake would be underestimating you.

“I was merely thinking how best to convey my lack of interest in you, oh great demon lord.” You volley back rather primly. “You don’t exactly look like a man, but you are shaped like one … I wonder if a good kick between the legs might get the message across.”

The fiery haired thing throws its head back and laughs. You almost lose your nerve, but you valiantly cling to that tiny spark of courage you still had left. Cautiously, you start to edge your way down the wall.

“Splendid! I would expect nothing less from my future bride! I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me.”

Stilling, you widen your eyes at it. “Your what?”

You realize your mistake a moment too late. When you should have kept moving towards the desk for the most direct path to the door you’d instead allowed it to give you pause. Even though it lasts for but a single heartbeat that’s more than enough time for the monster to act.

It’s on you in the blink of an eye. Grabbing under your arms, it hauls you straight up off your feet like you weighed nothing at all. The sudden rush of movement, the unexpected press of huge, clawed hands curling around your ribcage shocks a sharp gasp out of you. But before you have a chance to do anything else, it shoves you back into the wall with a bodily thud that makes the old rafters tremble. The impact doesn’t hurt, not really — not as much as it could have, given how strong the creature evidently is — and you just gape down at its horrid face in stunned disbelief.

You'd barely even seen it move …

“Oh, that look of surprise is quite charming on you.” It rasps, snickering low under its breath. “I knew I could rip that frigid mask away with enough time. I wonder how else you’re going to warm up for me …”

“W - what are you —“

The words trail off into nothing when the lower half of its jaw hinges open, and a long, snake-like tongue slips out to waggle tauntingly in the thin space separating you from it. Bile rises in your throat as you bring your hands up to claw desperately at its forearms but it doesn’t even seem to notice. That dreadful appendage just keeps unfurling out of its mouth, dripping threads of saliva here or there that land on the floor with soft little plops that make your stomach roil. Trying very hard not to panic, you futilely turn your head away from it.

“Do not fear what I offer you, little nun. I have every intention of making sure you enjoy this just as much as I do.”

It licks you then, that slimy tongue swiping up the side of your face from chin to temple. The wet, quickly cooling stripe it leaves behind makes you choke in disgust. You think it’s reminiscent of a dog, almost, that was much too eager to show its affection to stop long enough and consider how the recipient might feel about it. In the same breath you have the niggling thought that this was not the first time you’ve been reminded of dogs today. Before you have a chance to connect the pieces, the monster speaks again.

“You really will make the most lovely bride, you know. I’m eager to see you with my mark.”

“I rebuke it!” You snap, struggling anew against its hold. “I rebuke you, foul creature! My faith will protect me and - -“

“Hah! I’d like to see that, Sister.”

You go stock still when it says your name, and your heart skips across your ribs like a rock skimming over the surface of a lake. It felt just as heavy too, in that moment.

But the monster doesn’t give you a chance to recover and that heinous tongue flicks across your cheek to rudely slip inside your mouth. You shriek around the abrupt intrusion, eyes wide and unseeing, as the length of it just keeps coming. It squirms and wriggles its way towards the back of your throat almost too quickly for you to react. Running on instinct now, you viciously snap your teeth down but all the creature does is let out a shuddering groan of pleasure, as if it liked the pain. Your jaw loosens in surprise as much as confusion, and it takes quick advantage of that to shove its tongue straight down your gullet.

You gag on it, heaving with a violent wrench as your throat is penetrated. Tears spring up in your eyes but you can’t even scream with it blocking your airway like this. Helpless to do anything else, you just hang there and try not to pass out while it reaches deeper and deeper into you, through your esophagus almost straight down to your guts. It pauses there, giving you a moment to fully process the sensation of your whole body writhing on its tongue, before gradually starting to withdraw back the way it had come. It’s a sick, claustrophobia inducing sensation that only seems to double down when you dry heave and choke around it but, at last, it slips free of your constricting throat, and you suck in a wretched mouthful of air.

Ignoring the way you cough and spit up bubbling sheets of drool, the horned beast takes a moment to swirl its tongue around the interior of your mouth; feeling along the roof, over your tongue, tracing the outline of each individual tooth straight back to your molars. You shudder and heave, struggling to even comprehend exactly how violated you felt in the aftermath of that disgusting experience. You’d been right to call it a demon …

“You taste good.” It says when it finally starts to retract its tongue a moment later, setting its sights on lapping up the drool that coats your chin instead. “Good enough to eat, in fact. I wonder how much you’ll squeal when I feast between your legs.”

“Unhand me this instant,” You wheeze as more of your strength and will to fight slowly comes back to you with the oxygen you pull in. “You are vile and repulsive … I want nothing to do with it!”

“Oh, now that sounds familiar.”

Noising a tiny sound of confusion, you clutch its thick forearms in a death grip while it moves to set you down on your feet. You don’t trust it, not by a long shot, and your greatest fears are soon realized when its fingers curl into the fabric of your smock. The sound of straining thread reaches your ears long before it actually rips and you cry out when the first ragged strip is torn from you with a deafening tear. Piece by piece, it shreds your clothes to tatters no matter how wildly you try to twist away or cling to the quickly dwindling panels of black cotton. All too soon you find yourself naked save your stockings and the bloomers pulled over them, and your brassiere which it promptly shreds too.

Evidently saving your bottoms for last, it reaches for your veil next.

“No!” You shriek, hating the terror you can hear in your own voice as you make a useless, frantic attempt to shove the monster away.

It actually pauses even though you didn’t so much as budge it one little bit though, and it tips its head to the side inquisitively almost like … almost like a dog. There was that association again but where was it coming from? You couldn’t quite seem to remember, either due to your suffocating fear making the memory slip away or because your sleeping subconscious couldn’t quite remember enough to supply it on demand. Either way, you were sure it held the answer to your current predicament and you just couldn’t seem to grasp it.

Why did this thing seem so damn familiar to you?

“You do not want me to see your hair.” It’s a statement, not a question, and it takes everything you have not to outright scoff.

“Of course I don’t, you fiend! It is improper for a — a man, even one such as you, to look at the uncovered head of a nun who has sworn herself to the faith. You should be ashamed of yourself!”

It seems to consider that for a moment, humming softly as if in thought. “It is my understanding that, should one of the Sister’s ever take on a husband, then he alone is permitted to look upon her uncovered hair. Fine. Then I will allow you to keep your modesty until we consummate our union.”

You prickle defensively at the way it almost spits the word, as if with contempt and spite. “I will not be wed to you! I swore an oath to the church!”

“And now you will swear an oath to me.”

Hissing, it reaches out to grab at your bloomers even when you desperately try to slap its hand away. It tears them off just like everything else with neither forethought or effort, and you seethe at your own helplessness as you make one last ditch effort to wrench yourself free. But it’s too strong, too big. Just one of its hands seems to dwarf your hip when it possessively curls around your waist to hold you still. Your chest heaves with quick, panicked breaths as you tip your face down to watch it bring a claw close to your cunt, expecting it to rip off your pantyhose the same way it had all the rest. But all it does is caress over you with a thick knuckle and your face grows even hotter with indignation at the nudge. You couldn’t stand the thought of this thing touching you like this and yet you couldn’t seem to look away from it either.

“I don’t want this,” You whisper, barely even hearing your own voice over the blood that pounds in your ears.

“You will.” It assures you. Unexpectedly gentle, tentative almost, it curls its thick forefinger further back to prod at your crease and you fitfully shudder at the implication.

Was it really going to take you to wife? You’d never heard of anything more ridiculous; a nun and a one eyed demon, horns and all. It was completely useless to try and keep your cool any longer, and you outright whimper when it carefully pokes its claw up to pierce the thin layer of nylon. Hyper aware of how much it would hurt to get nicked by that sharp talon in such a sensitive spot, you force your body to stay as still as you can manage while it rips your stockings open at the crotch. Cool air wafts against your exposed cunt, making you tremble, and it breathes out a sigh of great pleasure as it teases the patch of curls there with those monstrous fingertips.

“Am I the first one to ever see you like this?”

“O - of course you are, foolish beast … I take my vows seriously. This isn’t — it’s not right, do you hear me? I was saving myself …”

Issuing a low, rasping laugh, it reaches up to palm your other hip with a muted squeeze, holding your waist in both hands now. “You were saving yourself for me. This whole time you were always fated to become my bride and you did so well maintaining the sanctity of your body but that’s all over now. You’re free to embrace your most depraved thoughts and urges. Free to languish in the licentious and erotic desires you’ve been suppressing for so long. I offer you no judgment for your human needs. Only pleasure.”

Squirming against its hold when your pussy flutters in unmistakable interest, you bring your hands up to weakly clutch its huge wrists again. You couldn’t believe this was happening. How could your body betray you over a creature like this? “No. I won’t fall for it. I refuse!”

“We shall see.”

Its tongue slips out again, curling through the air like a pink, wet serpent. Down to your chest where it takes a moment to flick over your nipple until it's coated in a fine sheen of spit and achingly stiff. You didn’t want it touching you like that but you also didn’t want to touch it, so you stop yourself from smacking at it. Just keep reminding yourself that this is only a dream — a very realistic, disturbingly tangible one, but a dream nonetheless. Whatever happened here held no weight in the real world.

And maybe … just maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to indulge in the carnal just once?

The prodding tip of its tongue gives your teat one last wet nudge before tracing a path down your front. Past your ribs and its huge thumbs bracketing your waist, over your bellybutton and straight down to brush against your curls. You shudder at the sensation, at the very suggestion of what was to come, but you don’t fight it now. Rather, you hesitantly shift your weight from one foot to the other and then cant your hips forward with a shy little push. The monster hums a rumbling sound of approval before dipping its tongue between your thighs.

Eyes widening at the feel of it on your cunt, you just stand there like a frozen statue while it traces along the seam of your body. You’d never experienced anything like it before, and you were horrified at how eagerly your loins curl in anticipation. You almost let your courage waver, almost second guess your impulsive decision to humor this at all, but until you woke up you were effectively trapped and fighting it clearly wasn’t going to do any good.

Oh, why couldn’t you just wake up from this nightmare already?

“Relax.” It breathes out, unconcerned by the glistening threads of drool that drip from its mouth. “I will not hurt you, little nun.”

You wanted to believe that very badly. Almost as much as you wanted to believe that indulging like this wouldn’t have any impact on your waking conscience.

That slimy tongue starts to push up then, pressing into your lips, and you suck in a harsh breath. It teases around your entrance for a brief moment before it starts to wriggle its way in deeper. The penetration is not unlike that of your throat — all fleshy and smooth, and damp with spit — but it still stretches you enough to toe the line of discomfort. Swaying in its hold, you let out a dizzy groan.

“Oh … that’s - -“

“Only the tip.” The thing laughs.

You try to calm your breathing as it moves around inside you to work your body open, but it’s a losing battle. The stretch of until now untested muscle makes you wince while the slimy sensation of its tongue eagerly moving along your inner sleeve just leaves you wanting to throw up. You don’t think it’s supposed to feel like this, surely. Even without any experience of your own to go off of you’d expected sexual encounters to be more intimate and less … invasive. Less like you were being probed far beyond what any human hands should have been able to reach.

But if it sees any of the uncertainty flashing across your face it doesn’t show it. The demon only worms its tongue deeper and deeper as your passage reluctantly opens until the distant sensation of it bumping the end of you knocks a harried whimper loose. It’s an uncomfortable pressure but it doesn’t hurt. You’re exceedingly glad for that as you awkwardly shuffle your feet further apart to brace against the overload to your senses. It was like burning from the inside out, and the epicenter of it was concentrated squarely in your cunt. You felt certain you were going to combust any moment now.

“Mmm, you taste even better than I imagined. And so tight, too. I can’t wait to feel you squeezing my cock the same way.”

Your stomach clenches at the thought of how big a creature of this size must be. Fresh fear turns your veins to ice, and you weakly push against its hands. It doesn’t even seem to notice though, let alone take heed, and instead it just leisurely swirls that unnaturally long tongue around your guts. Back and forth, up and down. You’re dizzy with it and a little nauseous, but it also starts to feel good. Slowly but surely that initial discomfort fades to leave behind a thrumming vibration that makes you wheeze where you’re standing. And with it comes slick. So much slick that what you’d once thought only to be saliva quickly makes itself obvious as your cunt practically floods around the intrusion. It was impossible to comprehend the sheer extent of your arousal and yet it clearly didn’t matter. You’d toed the line a bit too close. Now there was no stopping it.

“P - please … it’s too much!”

Giving your waist a careful squeeze, the demon alters the motion of its tongue from swirling to thrusting. Sedate at first, it withdraws to drag against your interior walls when they squeeze and cling to the appendage and then it pushes back in. Right up to the end of your passage where it can’t go any further and the intense pressure makes you go cross eyed. You can’t even fully process how stuffed your cunt actually is, your legs turning weak and jelly-filled as it slowly increases the pace. The force. You’re beyond ashamed at the sticky wet clicks it pulls from between your thighs, but all you can do is helplessly writhe in its hold.

“Oh — oooh, wait … I - I can’t do this! I can’t!”

“It’s too late for that, Sister. You’re already doing it.”

You mewl at its response and throw your head back to wheeze up at the ceiling. It wasn’t wrong. You’d already crossed the line, yes, but this … this strange, unfamiliar feeling low in your gut was far beyond anything you would have ever expected from this. It was like you had to relieve yourself but also different somehow. A complete unknown you had no idea how to make sense of, and you let out a choked off squeal when the thrumming tension rapidly starts to double and then triple. No amount of thrashing was getting you out of its hold so you squeeze your thighs together in a vain attempt to dissuade it from moving inside you like that but it’s no use. Even trying to curl your legs up doesn’t work.

It just keeps fucking it’s tongue into your shuddering body without pause, and you start to feel truly dizzy as you dangle there between it’s massive hands. How could this be happening to you? And, more pressing, what was happening to you?

“You’re getting close, I suspect.” It sounds quite proud of that, but you’re a little too preoccupied with the jittery, firecracker nerves making you tremble and shake to question it. The pressure was getting almost unbearable now. You weren’t sure how much more you could take.

“Ahh — ahhghnn, ooohh please Holy Mother, please help me!”

“Aww, don’t start making me jealous. I’m the only god you should be praying to right now.”

Screwing your eyes shut, you turn your face from its horrible unblinking eye but it just laughs in response. Even if you’d wanted to snap at it for being so presumptuous as to think you would worship it in any capacity, you were finding your lungs constricting far too much to draw a proper breath. Your chest heaves with the blinding tension that races through your body and then — so suddenly you don’t get a chance to realize it’s even happening, it abruptly tips over. Spills out to wrack the whole of your body and devolve you into a shuddering mess of spasms.

You shriek and yelp as your pussy almost violently squeezes down on its tongue which just keeps moving insistently inside you. In and out, in and out like a continuous piston that even your tightly clenching guts couldn’t seem to keep at bay. That slippery appendage keeps spearing through you unimpeded, forcing your roiling muscles to keep contracting with each plunge, and you very nearly pass out from how intensely the sensation hits you. It was simultaneously like drowning deep in the bottomless ocean and soaring high overhead at the same time. You couldn’t even begin to make heads or tails of it.

But it starts to fade much too fast. The sharp jolts of undeniable pleasure only last what seems to you like a few seconds and then those cresting waves are rapidly receding, like the tide pulling back from the shoreline. You still can’t quite draw a full breath and yet you soon go slack as the tension drains completely to leave you twitching in the aftermath. An odd sense of elation quickly rushes in to replace it though, and you’re ashamed at how you innately warm to the monster’s presence. You couldn’t believe how good that had felt … and bless the Cryo Archon, did that make you a terrible person?

All of a sudden you weren’t so sure you cared about that anymore, and that terrified you perhaps more than anything else that had happened here in this room.

“You look so good creaming all over my tongue.” It murmurs, drawing your muddled attention away from those fuzzy headed thoughts. “And the way you taste? Burn everything, I could help myself to this pretty cunt all day. I'm eagerly looking forward to consummating our marriage on the next new moon.”

Stirring out of your post-climax stupor, you frown at it in genuine confusion. “You aren’t going to do it now?” You weren't disappointed. Surely not. Just surprised, and very confused.

The demon sighs forlornly — rather dramatically, if you were being honest — and shakes its head. “I’m afraid not. I’d like to, of course, but the mating ritual has its own rules that I can’t supersede. Oh, don’t give me that grumpy look, Sister. I’m not leaving you empty handed tonight, rest assured.”

You draw a quick breath to berate the damned thing but then it starts to pull its long tongue out of your body and you tense up, seething through your teeth instead. The sharp sensitivity still racing through your nerves made you feel raw and tender. Overwrought in the most literal sense, and it finally slips out with a wet little slurp that makes you whimper at the loss as much as at the sound. You hadn’t thought yourself capable of, well … any of that. Any of this.

How were you possibly supposed to rationalize any of it in the light of day?

You’re still trying to work that out when it carries you to the bed where it sets you down, pulls back the sheets and then tucks you in with a truly shocking amount of care. You definitely hadn’t expected that. Not that you’d expected much of anything that had happened over the course of this implausible dream, but you decide not to fight it as the monster takes a moment to brush your veil over the pillow the same as it may have done with your hair. It was all much too strange to think about right now. You could pick it apart and analyze it tomorrow, when you’d had some time to actually process these bizarre happenings.

Or maybe never, if your subconscious was kind enough to let you forget any of this had ever happened in the first place.

“Rest now.” It tells you softly in that low, raspy voice. “I will be back to claim what’s rightfully mine soon enough.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You remember everything, of course.

And somehow that doesn’t surprise you in the least as you lay there in your bed, staring up at the ceiling while warm rays of morning sunlight bounce off the stark, unadorned walls. In retrospect you’re a bit disappointed to think that you could ever be so naive. To believe you’d forget something like that … it had certainly left an impression, at least.

What does strike you as odd though is the warm, continuous cramp in your lower belly. You readily want to write it off as menses related but … that doesn’t seem right. It should have been too soon for that just yet in your menstrual cycle.

Unable to stay your gnawing curiosity any longer, you finally rip the sheets off and look down at yourself. Your plain white nightgown is a bit rumpled but given the dream you’d had that didn’t seem so strange. That’s what you try to tell the niggling voice in the back of your mind anyway as you gather it up around your waist but what you find underneath stops you cold.

Etched into the skin just over the center of your pelvis as though with ink was a four pronged, hexagonal sigil. It was faintly purple in the light, and as clear as day. But that didn’t make any sense. Or rather, you couldn’t make any sense of it at all. You’d been asleep the whole night, here in your room, and this most assuredly had not been there when you’d taken a bath the previous evening …

You bolt upright with a strangled gasp. Turning your head to look at the window sends a debilitating chill racing through your body. Through the morning condensation beading on the glass you could see the evidence of a hand smudge, right where you’d touched it in your dream.

“No.” You whisper at the glass pane and then, with more conviction, “No. That’s not possible!”

It feels like your skin is trying to crawl right off your bones as you shoot out of bed and make a beeline for the tiny closet next to the desk. You rip the door open so forcefully it rattles and groans in protest but you can’t be bothered to worry about that right now. Not when you were staring at your habits, the one you’d worn yesterday, hanging in shreds from the hanger. You couldn’t believe it. Didn’t want to believe it, but the proof of it was staring you right in the face. Even your brassiere and bloomers were torn to pieces in the little basket you kept them in on the floor of the closet. The only thing untouched was your veil. Just like in your dream … except, it wasn’t actually a dream, was it?

Too numb to even wail over this revelation, you slowly sink down to the floor and just stare at your ruined clothes for what feels like a lifetime. There had to be some way out of this mess. There had to be.

Right?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The archbishop gives you an exceedingly strange look when you inquire about exorcisms, and it only continues to grow more and more pronounced the more you push the matter while also skirting around the subject at the same time. Not that you could really blame him, of course. You’d had to wait until after the morning service to corner him next to the dais before he could slip out through the side door so you’d had plenty of time to stew over everything, which meant you were coming in perhaps a little hot on the topic. That didn’t matter though. You were determined to get this resolved regardless of the cost, and if that meant having to shake some sense into him before he’d take you seriously then that was exactly what you were going to do.

Luckily it doesn’t come to that, and he eventually relents after you doggedly refused to give up your line of questioning. Giving his head a hopeless shake, he takes on the tone of someone leveling with a crazy person. “I understand your concerns, Sister, but exorcisms aren’t something that we implement unless absolutely necessary. It is very much a last resort, you see, and there is a rigorous process to even get approval for one. I’m afraid there’s not much else I can tell you.”

You remind yourself to take a deep breath and count to five before speaking next. It wouldn’t do to snap at the one person who might actually be able to help you get out of this mess. “With all due respect, Father, I don’t think that answer will suffice. Even if it’s not a full on exorcism, surely there must be smaller measures in place to help … discourage a demonic presence from returning?” Something a bit more effective than prayer and baptism evidently were.

His eyes narrowing in clear suspicion, the archbishop speculatively regards you for a moment. “Is there something you aren’t telling me, Sister?”

Of course it would finally get to this point. You’d expected as much, yes, but that doesn’t make the dread wrenching at your gut any less unbearable. How were you supposed to explain any of what had happened last night when you didn’t even understand it yourself? All you knew was that your clothes were in tatters up in your dorm, the window still showed evidence of your hand wiping across it and your lower stomach …

“Ah, Sister! There you are! Just the lady I was hoping to see.”

You spin around so fast your eyes feel like they’re going to pop right out of your skull. That feeling only increases when you find Ajax standing there at the end of the pew in his neatly pressed uniform and his smile blinding under the light that comes in through the stained glass murals. Your knees buckle and almost completely give out under you when your belly twists as if someone had shoved a red hot iron into it. Subconsciously you lift a hand to cradle the spot where the tattoo was but you couldn’t quite seem to tear your shocked gaze away from him.

That was it, wasn’t it? The association.

You think that has to be right. Had never been more sure of anything else in your life, and yet that doesn’t seem half as pressing as the thrumming arousal that grips you so suddenly and so tightly it actually pulls a quiet whimper out of you. Your cunt floods with it, so much slick producing at the drop of a coin that it makes you feel nauseous and disoriented in the same breath. But how could that be? And why was he just standing there inside the church as if it was the most normal thing in the world for him to be doing?

This was hallowed ground … wasn’t it?

“W - what are you doing here?”

Grinning, Ajax tips his head to one side. Inquisitive. Eager. Puppy-like. Bless the Holy Mother, you really were going to be sick.

“Aww, come on. Didn’t I tell you already?” He laughs softly, but those blue, blue eyes reflect none of that same humor. They reflect nothing at all, in fact. “I'd hoped we’d get to meet again after our little run in yesterday, so I just figured I’d take matters into my own hands and speed it up. I brought you flowers.”

You just catch the sound of the archbishop scoffing beside you in obvious disapproval and you would have wholeheartedly agreed with him under better circumstances. But better circumstances would not have found you panting with the effort of keeping your wits about you. It was like you were suffocating under the weighty pressure of the mark branded into your skin, and it almost seems to throb as you numbly look down at the humble bouquet he holds out. You could tell it was handpicked at just a glance. Some frost growing ferns and puffy cats tails, and … purple ivy.

Affection.

Fidelity.

Wedded love.

He couldn’t be serious, could he?

The sly edge that creeps into his otherwise boyish smile seems to suggest that he was, in fact, quite serious. You stumble back a step in your reeling disbelief and the archbishop hurries to grab you by the elbow so he can steady you, but you hardly even notice the presence of his hands. Your eyes, your mind, your entire being was for Ajax and Ajax alone.

“I did not ask for flowers.”

“That’s true but I still wanted you to have them. You caught my eye yesterday, Sister. I hope you won’t turn me down.”

Confusion and uncertainty grip you in equal measure, but it is the low pulse of the mark on your stomach that truly robs you of the ability to speak. It’s hot and uncomfortable, and the way it makes your pussy sympathetically flutter in time with your heartbeat very nearly overrides all of your higher functioning thoughts. Was he really the monster that had accosted you in your sleep or … could it have been a separate entity? One he wasn’t even aware of, if he thought you could really reject him when just the sight of him standing there made you desperate to be filled again. To be feasted upon by that beast.

Slowly, you reach your hand out to accept the bouquet and the invisible string tightens its noose around you almost imperceptibly. Your fate was already sealed. You knew this to be true on an intrinsic, fundamental level.

Foul Legacy had been right to say you’d been saving yourself for it.

For him.

For this.

You would give him your sanctuary, may the Holy Mother save your soul.

⭐

Crossposted: here

#genshin impact #childe x reader #foul legacy x reader #self insert bullshit

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teejaystumbles · 2 months

Text

Against all odds (part 2)

Part 1

Dream unmakes the latest nightmare he's been working on for the umpteenth time and heaves a humiliatingly human sigh of relief when the glass dissolves back into sand again. This is not working. Perhaps confronting his fear head on is not a good idea. Instead of continuing his work he casts out his awareness, looking for a certain someone.

Hob Gadling is not currently asleep, but he seems to be daydreaming quite a lot. As much as Dream tries not to pry he can’t help but curiously skim over his friend’s imaginings. Has Hob read Dream’s journal entry yet? How has he reacted to it? Dream is prepared for resentment, disgust even, for Dream’s failure to meet with Hob, and his flimsy excuses. What he perceives instead are snatches of misty, rainy skies that blanket a multitude of wistful and fragile thoughts Dream does not dare look closer at. Hob seems to be lost in nostalgic memories, both sad and fond. The lack of rage or hurt makes Dream relax a fraction. Later, when Hob sleeps, he will visit his friend’s lodging again to try and see if he has written an answer to Dream’s entry.

Dream steps out of the shadows of Hob’s curtains and gazes at the sleeping man. This time Hob has put on appropriate sleepwear and has pulled the blankets over himself. His sleep is restless, his dreams having a certain sense of urgency Dream can feel, but he does not intend to be here long.

He steps up to the desk and looks at the notebook. It lies open again, pen by its side, as if in invitation. Pulse thrumming with excitement, Dream eagerly bends over the pages to read the newly added words.

June 8th, 1989

Dearest stranger, my friend!

I can't believe I am allowed to call you that! Let me tell you that I nearly fainted when I found your message in my notebook this morning. I've read the words you've written a hundred times by now and still I almost can't believe them to be real. I can’t believe I’m touching the pen you must have held, that I missed your presence in my room

As devastated as I was after you didn't come yesterday, as happy am I that you chose to contact me after at all.

I'm quite embarrassed about my drunken ramblings that you must have read. There's no lie in them, but I would try and put the truth into less desperate words if I could. I must seem like a fool, fixating on you like this, after all we've only met six times so far. Still, what I wrote, that you are my one constant in life, is nothing but the truth. Our meetings are fixed points in time that I measure this immortal life of mine by now. I try not to, but meeting with you has often felt like the start and finish of an era of Hob Gadling, despite it being probably more in the middle of several. Every centennial meeting with you was the most important appointment that I would plan and prepare for (as best as I could) for months, sometimes years. So if writing to you like this is the only way I get to speak to you then I will gladly take it, and thank you for it.

But make no mistake, dear stranger - I would love to see you again and I hope you will be ready and willing to meet me in person again someday. Because

Dream stops reading to collect himself for a moment. Hob is not angry at him. He still wants to meet Dream, in fact eagerly awaits him. Dream feels himself flush with strange longing and can’t help a rush of power escaping him, the equivalent of a shudder, of goosebumps. A mistake, he realises, as he hears a sudden gasp come from behind him.

He freezes.

“My friend? Is that you?”

The urge to not acknowledge Hob and simply disappear is so strong that Dream feels his form already dispersing. Hob’s desperate tone of voice, cracking at the end, stops him.

“Please wait! Please…”

Dream waits, frozen, unable to turn around and face his friend. His form is trembling, rattling, whisping around him like smoke and Hob makes a keening noise.

“You don’t have to- I won’t-”

A sigh, a calming intake of breath.

“Look. I don’t want to pressure you, and if you want to leave I obviously cannot stop you. But…maybe. We can talk? A bit?”

He sounds so hopeful, so sincere, it tugs at something inside Dream and makes him shut his eyes. Hob has not moved from where he sat up in bed but Dream can feel his restlessness, his daydreams of reaching out, of hugging Dream-

“There’s- there’s phones now, you know? You don’t have to look at me at all, we could talk no matter where you are, it’s amazing really-”

“Hob.”

The man immediately stops talking and Dream draws in a deliberate breath before turning around to face him. Strange, how such human mannerisms help him calm down now. After his imprisonment, the act of breathing feels like a luxury to him, a comfort all in its own.

Hob gasps again when he looks at him and Dream wonders what he sees. The man swallows heavily and his fingers nervously grip his bedding. His eyes are red-rimmed and Dream can see tears gathering at the edges, in the tiny wrinkles created by a life full of laughter. The wrinkles deepen as Hob breaks into a grin.

“Hello, old stranger. You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

Dream very much doubts that. He knows he still looks emaciated, despite all the power returned to him. His form echoes the unease he still feels a lot of the time. He is closer to a nightmare than a dream. Yet Hob seems to genuinely delight in seeing him and Dream feels himself flush with warmth, and embarrassment.

“I- it is good to see you, Hob. Apologies, for not-”

“Accepted. Forgiven. Forgotten,” Hob interrupts him eagerly, “You’re here now.”

“I am...”

He is, and he feels at a complete loss for words. Hob cocks his head slightly, his expression sobering.

“But you were rather…not…?” he asks with a small frown. Dream twitches, caught out. Why it is that this human can see through him so easily he will never understand. It is slightly…terrifying.

Hob looks at his hands gripping his blanket and says quietly, “Look, if talking isn’t- if you’d rather continue the writing, that’s fine. I will accept that. I-”

He stops and Dream can see him grind his teeth. He still feels unable to respond, caught in watching Hob Gadling go through several inexplicable emotions. Then he breathes harshly through his nose and looks back at Dream with a tense but genuine smile.

“I don’t know what happened to you, but I know something did. You wrote as much, and I can see it in your face. The last thing I want is to make you uncomfortable. So if it’s me-”

He swallows again and blinks rapidly, like he’s trying to hold back tears and Dream takes an involuntary step forward.

“It is not. You. Hob. It’s…”

Dream subsides, again unsure how to voice his insecurities, unbecoming as they are of one such as him.

But Hob does not know what you are, a small voice whispers inside his head and Dream shivers.

Hob does not know who he is. Has Dream not confessed that that is exactly why he enjoys the man’s company so much? Without knowledge of Dream’s power and function, Hob will not judge him for being…frightened. Of tight spaces. Of glass. Of people. He will only see his friend, in need of comfort.

Dream suddenly wants nothing more than to let Hob comfort him, knowing that the man before him, with his eyes full of hope and tenderness, would not send him away. He can finally speak.

“My friend. I have tried to work through some issues I have…accumulated over the last century, due to very. Unfortunate events. Yet exposing myself to these uncomfortable sensations again…has not had the therapeutic effect I wished for. I am at a loss how to overcome my reluctance to…mingle. Once again.”

Hob looks wide-eyed at him, frowning again. “Wait. Are you saying. You tried to treat yourself with exposure therapy? To what, exactly? If I may ask,” he adds hastily.

Dream shifts nervously.

“...Claustrophobia. Among other things.”

“Jesus,” Hob gasps and wipes a hand over his face, “yeah, I don’t know if, I don’t know, shutting yourself in is really helpful with that. How fast have you been taking things? Have you tried being in larger rooms first, or…” he trails off and looks around his bedroom.

“Are you fine in here? Do you need me to open a door or window?”

Dream is perplexed. Instead of asking what happened Hob’s immediate concern is for his comfort in the current situation. He relaxes a fraction at the realisation that he made the right choice. His friend will not judge him for his weakness.

With a small smile he says, “No. I am alright. Your rooms are. Not uncomfortable to me.”

Hob almost glows at his words and also relaxes a bit. Dream has basically admitted to feeling safe in Hob’s presence and clearly the man has understood that immediately. He is a lot smarter than Dream ever gave him credit for. Hob Gadling has learned a lot about people in his life, it seems. Even if Dream is not exactly people, his current troubles are very human, he supposes.

He sees the moment it hits Hob, when he puts two and two together and realises what Dream has been telling him.

“You said, issues you’ve accumulated…over the last century. Which means, you weren’t claustrophobic before- my friend,” he exclaims and scoots closer to the edge of the bed as if barely holding himself back from approaching Dream.

“What happened? Can you- would you-” Hob asks, his voice trembling a bit, his eyes wide. “Tell me? Please? I want to help,” he says in a very small voice that makes Dream again feel sorry for how he treated his friend in the past. He looks at the notebook, contemplating.

“It is. Hard for me, to speak about these things. Maybe…I can borrow this book? To-”

“Yes! Absolutely! Take it! Sorry, I mean, please, feel free to write to me, I would be delighted. If it makes it easier for you to talk about things…I understand,” Hob says, nodding vigorously. Then he hesitates.

“Does this mean…we won’t see each other again? Until 2089?”

He looks so openly horrified and sad at the idea that Dream immediately dismisses any thoughts he had of saying goodbye for a hundred years once more. In truth, he does not think he would have managed it himself. Writing to Hob is preferable when it comes to confessing what happened to him, but Dream has to admit to himself that he has missed seeing his friend, and he has not looked his fill.

“No. I would like to meet you again. Earlier. I am not sure when, but…I wish to. Introduce myself. After I have given you a more detailed account of my century. I would also like to listen to your own tales. In person.”

Hob beams at him and nods.

“Yeah, I’d love that. My friend,” he says, taking a steadying breath, “I am so very happy to see you. I hope you know that you coming back to talk to me, or write to me, means everything to me. Because I do not take our friendship for granted. Far from it. It is…very precious to me.” He swallows heavily and his smile wobbles a bit. Dream nods awkwardly, feeling embarrassed by the way Hob’s words make shadowy, star-speckled butterflies escape from the back of his coat. He hopes Hob doesn’t see them.

“I…yes. Thank you, Hob,” Dream says awkwardly and then takes the book from the desk. He carefully tucks it into his coat and turns to leave. He looks one last time at his friend, taking in his sleep-mussed dark hair and his gentle smile and feels again a strange pang of longing in his chest.

“Take all the time you need,” Hob says softly, and Dream knows he means it; means that he will be waiting for Dream, no matter how long it takes. Dream can only nod silently again and then, with more reluctance than he would like, leaves Hob Gadling’s bedroom behind.

Part 3

#dreamling #the sandman fanfiction #teejay writes #1989 au

146 notes · View notes

fairysluna · 1 year

Text

NOT THE BEST IDEA — Modern!AU | Part 3

MASTERLIST | Part 1 ; Part 2 ; Part 3 ; Part 4

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Fem!Reader x Aemond Targaryen.

Summary: the aftermath of the fight is making you feel like your old self again. Cregan noticed something is wrong and decides to do something to cheer you up, however things don't go as planned as an unwanted guest arrives.

Tags/TW: angst, smut (p in v, kinda public sex bc they are in open space) and fluff, mentions of panic attacks, emotional instability and emotional attachment, manipulation, aegon being oblivious but cute.

Author's Note: not gonna lie, I did struggle writing this part bc my mind wasn't working lmao, but I hope you like this either way. big credits to the anons who sent their ideas !! I didn't proof read it so, sorry if there's mistakes

Word Count: 6.4k

Tag List: @immyowndefender @bellameshipper @mysticgothicgirl @aemondswifeisme @issshhh @serrhaewin @loglady00 @melsunshine @izzy-the-ginger @champomiel @iiamthehybrid @ghostheartbeat

Feedback, shares and comments are always welcome!!

Cregan hissed when he felt the little piece of cotton brushing against the cut on his cheekbone. You tried your best to clean the wound, getting rid of the dried blood while your mind was so lost in your thoughts that you barely heard him complaining about the slight pain he felt with each touch.

Your mind was now a mess, and it was quite hard to hide that aspect from Cregan, who was carefully looking at your lost eyes, knowing that you were drowning in your own thoughts and knowing that you were replaying the prior scene over and over again. It was quite impossible for him to wonder whether your feelings towards him have changed now that you saw Aemond after a long time, his own insecurities and your reactions towards the situation made him doubt himself.

He tried not to think about it, but you were so quiet, so lost in the memories that once tormented you. Cregan tried to give you space for you to talk first and whenever you felt comfortable enough to do it, but the anxiety was eating him alive, taking the best of him. After a while, the silence was starting to bother him, it managed to feel too loud inside his head.

Once he finally decided to speak, his voice came out as dubious and insecure, a bit lower than he expected, "How are you feeling?"

His question seemed to have woken you up from the trance you were in, because your lost stare suddenly moved away from his wound to reach his eyes. You looked down at him with a small, tiny smile that flickered and trembled, showing your restlessness quite clearly.

"I should be the one asking that," you joked, trying to make you feel like yourself again, and not as a wandering body with a lost mind.

However, your words did not seem to amuse Cregan, who remained serious as he spoke again,

"I'm talking about Aemond," he added. Your hands stopped their movements and your whole body went still. The tension in your shoulders was visible to the man in front of you, who immediately noticed the nervousness in your body language. "What are you feeling about Aemond now?" He asked again.

"I'm feeling nothing, Cregan," you replied, without hesitation.

"It didn't seem like nothing a few seconds ago," he accused you, using an odd tone that you have never heard in him before, which made you feel uneasy, "were you thinking about him?"

You scoffed, "what? you're telling me you're jealous now?"

"He was staring at you the whole time!" He exclaimed, pointing it out as if it was obvious, "eating you with his eyes like a creep."

"That's nonsense," you scoffed, shaking your head.

"Nonsense?" he repeated, offended.

"Whatever happened between Aemond and me is in the past, I can assure you that," you tried to go back to what you were doing, but Cregan leaned back as a sign that the conversation was not over yet. You pressed your lips, starting to lose your patience, "he has a girlfriend, Cregan."

"Well, if he has a girlfriend I guess he was willing to cheat on her with you," he spoke mockingly, almost in a bitter tone, "he told me that with just a few minutes alone with you he will have you eating from the palm of his hand again."

The shock came over your body as you took a step back. Your eyes widened as your brows furrowed with confusion and bewilderment; you blinked a couple times, slowly shaking your head.

"What are you talking about?" you questioned incredulously.

"I told him to stop looking at you, to stop being so obsessed and creepy... and he beat me up because of it."

"We're talking about the man that a year ago made me have a mental breakdown because he did not love me back," you raised your voice, trying to convince him… and yourself, "why would he fight you over me when he was very clear when he told me he did not love me anymore?"

"He's jealous, y/n."

"It's been almost two years, Cregan," you sighed, "I'm sure Aemond has no feelings for me anymore."

"But do you have feelings for him?"

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, "now you're being stupid."

"Answer the question."

"Are you serious?" you asked surprised.

"Yes, I am serious," he stood up, and immediately you looked up at his face, "do you still have feelings for him?"

"Of course I don't!" You said loudly, as if raising your voice would make the words carve into his brain.

He took a small pause, as if he was thinking whether to say the next question or to just stay silent. The first option seemed to have won.

"Do you love me?"

His words made you tilt your head, as if he was asking something so obviously stupid that it didn't even need an answer. You saw how he regretted asking that in the same instant his words left his mouth; he blushed. You left the cotton and the pomade on the nightstand and cupped his face between your hands. You caressed his cheeks while you directly stared at his beautiful brown eyes, you stood on your tiptoes trying to reach his lips and leave a soft kiss on them. Cregan sighed, closing his eyes and burying his face on your neck.

"I love you." you whispered, stroking his hair as his arms wrapped around your waist. "Aemond is my past now, I promise you that."

"I know, I'm sorry. I was stupid," he muttered against you, holding you close, "I love you too."

You sighed, stroking his thick brown hair as he caressed your waist. You could feel the insecurity in his voice which made you feel guilty, thinking that there might have been some reaction that had given him the impression of you still having feelings for Aemond. And that wasn't the truth at all.

Right?

As you have told your boyfriend, Aemond was now long forgotten. However, it was a bit shocking for you to learn all the things that he had said to Cregan, and the reason why their fight started in the first place. You have thought everything had begun because of their past, thinking that Cregan may have said something that might upset him.

Aemond was a very patient person. He was collected and calm, always trying to avoid big problems. That's why it was a big surprise for everyone, including you, seeing him act so… feral. It was uncommon for him to react in that way. Perhaps he had troubles with his girlfriend and that caused him to be in a bad mood. Perhaps seeing Cregan after many years had affected him somehow. There must've been an explanation for his sudden and violent behavior, but him having feelings for you was not an option you would believe to be true.

Later that night, while Cregan was peacefully sleeping between your arms with his head on your chest and your hand on his hair, you started to do what you tried to avoid; you thought about Aemond. The questions and doubts in your mind resulted in a sleepless night in which you spent the darkest hours staring at the ceiling, hearing your boyfriend's calm breathing and soft snoring.

You did not understand it. When you saw him you were certain that you felt nothing for him, not even a small tinkle on your gut, but why are you still awake thinking about him now?

It was two in the morning when your phone started to vibrate. You frowned, curious to know who is calling you at this hour, and you stretched your arm to reach for it before the noise could wake up Cregan. You saw it was an unknown number, which you would usually ignore, but now you felt the need to pick up. So you did.

"Hello?" you answer in a whisper.

In the other line you could hear an uneven breathing that was a bit creepy, perhaps it was a sign that told you to hang up the phone, but you didn't. Instead, you eyed Cregan who was still soundly sleeping between your arms, you sighed.

"Hello?" you repeated, a bit louder this time.

No one answered again. You were about to hang up when you finally heard something. Although you wish you hadn't heard it at all.

"I miss you, y/n."

And then, the call ended. You froze, almost throwing your phone across the room due to the panic you felt. Your breathing became faster, and your heart was beating so fast you thought it would explode. You saw your phone, now showing a picture of you and Helaena in fourth grade as the hour showed up on the screen.

3.42 am.

You moved again, placing your phone back on the nightstand with a quick movement that managed to wake up Cregan. He blinked a couple times, yawning as he stretched his body, and looked at you with worry in his eyes.

"Are you okay, love?" his raspy voice reached your ears as a soft touch. It brought some peace to your endless turmoil.

You slightly nodded, trying to remain calm even though you were visibly shaking. Luckily for you, Cregan was too sleepy to notice it.

"Yes, I'm- I'm fine…" you whispered, "I just had a bad dream."

Gods, how you wish it was just that; a bad dream.

"Come here," he muttered, slowly shifting his position until he wrapped his arms around your frame, holding you close to his body, "I'm here, okay? Wake me up if you have another nightmare."

You rested your head on his chest, feeling his warmth surrounding your shaky body. He kissed your forehead before whispering a small 'I love yous' and falling asleep once again. It took you some time to close your eyes, still hearing that voice that you knew too well. Those four words that made you want to fade into the air.

Your body curled up against Cregan, hugging him tightly, trying to hold him close to you as if that would be enough to erase Aemond's voice from your mind; but it wasn't. The only thing on your mind were curses directed to that silver haired man that once ruined your life, and who seems eager to keep messing with you.

The next few days were a blur in your mind. Aemond once again managed to keep you away almost every night as your mind was so confused to the extent that you barely have been able to be intimate with Cregan.

Of course he would never pressure you to do anything, but you knew him, and you were able to see the disappointment whenever he would kiss your neck and you would stop him, coming up with some excuse that might not be completely convincing.

He thought you needed a break from everything, you were working too hard, and he knew this whole situation with Aemond had put you in a complicated situation that had brought a lot of stress in your life. That's why he spoke to Helaena and they both started to plan a surprise visit to the lake house of Helaena's parents over the weekend.

At first it would be only you and him, but Aegon was around when they planned this little vacation, and he insisted he wanted to go too. Cregan did not have the heart to deny him, and so he also invited Helaena. That's how a romantic escape turned into an excuse to drink.

When Cregan gave you the news you couldn't help but feel so bad; he has been trying to make you feel better while your mind was still being invaded by Aemond and that call. You accepted it without hesitation, feeling too guilty to even try and think about rejecting the idea.

Friday came and Cregan, Helaena and you were in his car, driving towards the destination. Aegon had left on Thursday night in his own car. The trip was fun enough to make you think about something else, Cregan's hand was caressing your thigh during the whole ride, squeezing it every now and then as you cheerfully spoke and laughed with Helaena. He would glance at you, glad to see you laugh and look better. Your smile gave him the sign that he was doing the right thing, that this was an excellent idea.

A few minutes later, they arrived at the Lake House. Cregan parked his car beside Aegon's and the three of you started to take your backpacks to the inside of the enormous house. Helaena called for Aegon, and you heard footsteps going down the stairs. All of you turned, expecting to see the eldest brother of Helaena, but it wasn’t him.

It was Aemond.

You and Cregan stood still in your places as the smug grin on Aemond’s face appeared, leaving a sour taste in your mouth. Your heart stopped for a second, your breathing became heavier and your mind felt dizzy and blurry. Seeing him, standing there in the middle of the stairs, in this house which once was the biggest witness of the love and desire you used to hold for each other; you felt as if you were about to faint.

Helaena immediately looked at your direction, looking paler than she usually is. Her hands covering her ears as a sign of distress, her eyes were wide and full of surprise. You felt Cregan’s hand grabbing your waist tightly, as if he was trying to keep you by his side as Aemond started to speak

"It's been a while since we haven't reunited in this house," he pointed out, "now, we bought some things to make pizza for lunch, who's hungry?"

A dead silence was present in the room. His boldness was so shamelessly showing that you could not simply believe this was actually happening. His mere presence was enough to make you feel the urge to cry, no out of sadness but out of rage. You hated him for what he was doing to you, you were raging; your face almost turning red.

The silence was interrupted when Aegon walked down the stairs wearing his swimsuit and his face white with sunscreen. He was smiling widely, happy to see you all but oblivious of the tension that was currently in the room.

"You finally are here!" he happily said up, hugging you first. Cregan barely let you go of his grip, keeping you close, "I brought Aemond too, I thought we should do this like the old times, remember?"

"Aegon…" Helaena whispered, shaking her head as a sign that told him that something was not right.

Aegon frowned, "why those serious faces? Did you two fight on the way here?" Those words seemed to have amused Aemond, who shamelessly smiled widely, "come on guys, don't be such a bummer, we need to leave our differences aside to cheer this pretty lady up!" He grabbed your hand and kissed it gently.

For the first time, Cregan acted jealous towards Aegon, pulling you closer to him in a subtle movement that only you noticed.

"Helaena, y/n, why don't you chop the vegetables while we prepare the dough for the-"

"Excuse me, I'll go to the room first," you interrupted him, walking towards the stairs and bravely walking past Aemond.

Your perfume left a trail that he breathed in, closing his eyes and enjoying your scent; so delicious, sweet, showing the innocence you once had when you first started your relationship with him. He took a deep breath and smiled slightly. Cregan soon followed you, and he purposely pushed Aemond's shoulder with his when he walked by his side.

Once you entered the room, you started to breath fast and unsteady, you tried to collect yourself before you had a panic attack that would certainly ruin everything. You were pacing back and forth around the room that was designated to you by Alicent the first time you came to the house when you were ten.

So many memories were flooding you, especially once you saw the bed, which was the same bed where Aemond took your virginity. You wanted to cry, to escape, everywhere you looked in that house was a memory of your disastrous relationship with him, you really wished to run away. Jumping out of the widow was not the best idea, and going back to the entrance either. You started crying once you felt the thick and comforting arms of your sweet boyfriend wrapping you as you looked out of the window.

He started to kiss your temple, holding you close as you silently wept.

"I'm so sorry, my love…" he whispered, "If I had known he was going to be here I wouldn't have brought you here."

You turned around, only to bury your face on his chest. He was quick to stroke your hair, swinging you softly from one side to another, soothing you and making you feel somehow safe.

"I won't let him get close to you, I swear it,” he promised you, “if I see him putting one hand in your body I'm going to break his bones." he cupped your face, wiping your tears with his thumbs as he kissed your forehead, "you're safe with me, you know that, right?"

You hiccuped, nodding.

"And you know I love you so, so much, right?" You sobbed.

Cregan smiled, his soft haze staring down at you with devotion and genuine love, "of course, my love… and I love you too."

He brushed his nose against yours, still caressing your wet cheeks when the door was open suddenly. Helaena walked in with her face filled with regret and angst. Your gaze softened and you slowly pulled away from Cregan.

"I'm so sorry, guys…" Helaena whined, "I didn't know he was coming, when I called Aegon this morning he didn't say anything, I'm truly sorry, Cregan… I'm sorry-"

"No need to apologize, Hel," he told her, "it's not your fault. It's Aegon's," he muttered, obviously pissed.

"No," you quickly said, "he doesn't know what happened between me and Aemond… no one knows, just you and Helaena."

"Well, what do we do now?" The blonde girl asked, "should we stay here?"

Cregan shrugged, "it's y/n’s decision. We can ignore him for the weekend or we can grab our stuff and just leave."

You looked at Helaena,

"What do you think?" you asked her.

"Do what you think it's best for you, no one will be mad at you for it."

Your pride took the best of you. Your logic was simple; if you leave now, it would mean that Aemond had managed to intimidate you, which was obviously his purpose. It would mean that his mission of ruining your romantic escapade with Cregan was successful.You would not give him the pleasure of it. The power of screwing and messing with you again.

Your decision was simple; you just shook your head.

“We’re staying.”

A few hours later, when you had already eaten a delicious pizza made by Aegon, you decided to go and spend some time in the pool. Aegon was sunbathing, with a bottle of beer on his hand; Helaena was sitting at the border of the pool, with her legs on the water, and Aemond was reading some book while he laid on the pool chairs.

You and Cregan came out of the house grabbing hands and laughing. Aemond rolled his eyes trying to focus on his reading, but your chuckles were too loud to ignore.

You sat on the chair that was further from Aemond, Cregan sat in front of you and his huge back was on display for you. You smiled slightly once you saw some scratches on it, and you couldn’t help but blush as you grabbed the sunscreen and started to spread a layer of it on Cregan’s back.

Aemond was looking at your direction with a bitter look that no one seemed to notice, not even you.

Your hands were rubbing on Cregan’s back so delicately that it made him hum on many occasions. You would occasionally lean forward just to leave soft kisses on his soft skin.

“The sunscreen burns,” he said between breathy chuckles.

“You have a lot of scratches on your back,” you replied, with a tone that came out as worried. You were not able to see his face, but you know there was a wide smirk on it.

He leaned back a little, enough to get closer to you, “don’t act so innocent, love, you know very well why they are there.”

Aemond was able to hear those words, and he just stood up from his chair, walking inside the house. You looked at him, following his steps until he disappeared from your sight. You rolled your eyes as you kept covering your boyfriend’s back with soft caresses and small kisses.

Aemond’s torment continued as you both kept giving each other public displays of attention. It never stopped, it seemed to him that you were doing all of this on purpose. His ego made him think that you were doing this to make him jealous.

You spent the day hanging from Cregan's arms, kissing him and hugging him at each opportunity you have. It was not something unusual between you two; Cregan knew how touch deprived you were in your past relationship, especially because Aemond never gave you any kind of affection when you were in public, just small hugs and soft pats on your back.

Cregan wanted to show you how loved you were by him, which is why he always makes sure to give you all the things that Aemond never provided you. And he wasn't going to lie; he loved how annoyed Aemond would look whenever he wraps his arms around you. Cregan knew you were his now, and he loved to show how happy you were to the man that once had made you miserable.

Now the night arrived, you were around a small bonfire in the backyard. Cregan was talking with Aegon while you were braiding Helaena's hair. Aemond was nowhere to be seen, but you preferred it that way.

In some part of the evening you walked back inside the house, towards the kitchen. You were looking for ice in the fridge when you felt a presence behind your back. At first you thought it was Cregan, but when you sensed that familiar scent, you realized it was actually Aemond.

You turned around almost instantly, and the rage you felt this morning came back to your body.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, moving away from him.

"This is my kitchen," he shrugged.

You tilted your head, "No, why are you here?"

"Aegon invited me."

"Stop this, Aemond, I'm serious," you spoke harshly.

"I don't know what you mean, love," he put extra emphasis in that last word.

It made you shrink in your own place, and a weird sensation was installed in your gut. You did not like the way he said that, you immediately knew he had double intentions, and that only made you even more scared.

Aemond used to have a lot of power over you, the idea of him regaining that power made you feel frightened.

"The call at 2 am?" You reminded him, "Your sudden appearance here? You're telling me it was all a coincidence?"

He looked down at you, smirking as he remained silent for a few seconds while he looked around the kitchen.

"Do you remember this kitchen?" He asked, completely ignoring your prior words, "Because I remember it… I remember how soft your skin felt, the way I had to kiss you because you were being so loud, remember?" With each word he stepped closer and closer to you, making you feel small, and weak. "It was right here… in this counter."

Your cheeks flushed with his words, and you forced yourself to look away.

"Whatever you're trying to do, stop it right now, Aemond."

"I made you mine in almost every room of this house," he said softly, lifting his hand to touch your cheek. You just froze and your bottom lip started to shake, "including that bed where your boyfriend will sleep so soundly tonight."

"Stop bothering me, stop bothering us, please," you weakly said, at the verge of tears.

"That call… Why did you answer it in the first place?"

"It- it was an unknown number," you replied with a shaky voice.

Aemond's smirk became wider as he heard your words, "I've known you for years, my sweet y/n… you never pick up calls from unknown numbers," he chuckled softly, his thumb caressing your quivering lip, "you knew it was me, didn't you?"

You grabbed his hand, pushing it away from you. He hummed in disappointment.

"Stop it," you begged, "you're being mean."

"Mean?"

"You told me to move on, you broke up with me, why are you doing this?" you sighed, wiping the tears that started to fall down your rosy cheeks, "do you- dou you think I'm your fucking dog? That I'm going to run to your side every time you whistle? Fuck you, Aemond," you spat.

He cupped your face, forcing you to stare at his face. A sob escaped from your lips, your heart aching and beating so fast that you thought it would explode.

"I miss you, y/n," he muttered, leaning closer to your face. His tight grip makes it impossible to escape from his touch, "I want you back- I will have you back."

You pouted as your vision became blurry with tears, you shook your head, you needed to get out of the situation, but your body wasn't able to move.

"Stop this… please," you begged.

Aemond let go of your face, and kissed your forehead. A touch that felt so cold and odd, which left you with an overwhelming and indescribable feeling in your gut.

"You look so pretty when you beg me, my love."

He left the kitchen, and then you could breathe properly once again. You leaned over the counter, taking deep breaths until you could feel your heartbeats returning to their normal speed. Your body was still shaking, but at least you finally stopped crying.

Staying here with Aemond around was a terrible idea. You regret your decision, and now you wished you could turn back time to leave this goddamn house as soon as you found out he was here too. But it was too late.

"Here you are…" you heard a soft voice. You lifted your face and Cregan's eyes softened with the sight of you, "I thought you were in the bathroom."

He walked towards you, and cupped your face with a gentle touch, so different from Aemond's. You felt relieved when he did that, feeling his comforting embrace giving the peace you were craving for.

Cregan kissed you, so softly, so delicately. His hands caressing your skin with such devotion that made you melt in his arms.

While Aemond always made a mess out of you, Cregan was the one who always brought calmness to you. You loved him so much.

"Are you okay, baby?" he asked you with that sweet tone of his that you so deeply adored.

You couldn't bring yourself to lie to him, "Not really…" you whispered, putting your hands on his chest, "can we go somewhere else? Just the two of us?"

"Of course…" he replied without hesitation, "we can go to the lake, does that sound nice?"

You nodded, "it sounds perfect."

He kissed you one last time before grabbing your hand, leading you towards the door. A part of you felt guilty because you were leaving without letting Helaena know, but she will know you're safe. She knows you're with Cregan.

He lit up the flashlight of his phone and illuminated the dark path in front of you both. You were guiding him throughout the trees and bushes, until the moonlight pointed at your final destination. The lake looked even more gorgeous at night, as the moon was reflected on the calm waters. The sound of crickets and owls was the only thing you were able to hear; it was so peaceful and quiet, you both loved it.

You felt the calmness of your surroundings, the view, the sound of the place and Cregan's presence and embrace was enough to make you relax. Your body was no longer tense, and your jaw was unclenched. You took a big, deep breath, and you smiled at your sweet and loving boyfriend.

He smiled back,

"Better?" he spoke softly.

"Way better."

He held you in his arms, resting his chin on the top of your head. You looked at the calm water and the urge to submerge your body in it was very tempting. Cregan seemed to have read your mind, for he started to get rid of his shirt, and then he unbuckled his pants.

You couldn't help but chuckle, "what are you doing?"

"Let's go for a swim… I know you want to," he said as he got rid of his jeans.

You bit your lip, "I didn't bring my swimsuit."

"You don't need one," he winked at you, before pulling down his underwear along with his pants.

"Oh, Gods…"

You felt the blush running to your cheeks as you saw him standing in front of you fully naked, you haven't been able to stop drooling over him. You covered your face for a couple minutes before looking around, just to make sure you were truly alone, and then you imitated his action.

After a few seconds, your clothes were folded in the grass right next to Cregan's, and he was holding your hand as he guided you towards the lake.

A small chuckle left your lips as you felt the cold water touching your feet. It gave you chills, the water was freezing cold, which made you shake and giggle.

When he saw you struggling, he let out a small breathy laugh. In a quick and sudden movement, he grabbed your thighs, lifting you up and forcing you to wrap your arms around his shoulders and your legs around his waist. You sweetly smiled at him as you pressed your chest against his and hid your face on the crook of his neck.

Your warmth being so close to him was enough to arouse him. It's been days since the last time he touched you, and he was already starting to feel the absence of your lustful touch against his body. However, he tried to brush away the desire, because he didn't want you to pressure you. He would just wait.

Once the water reached your upper body, you laughed softly. Cregan was still holding you tight, hugging your waist as he kissed your shoulder. You were trembling due to the cold water.

"It's so cold, I'm freezing," you said as you shivered, still pressing yourself into his wide chest.

"It's okay, I'll keep you warm," he murmured, stroking your lower back.

You leaned back as he wrapped his big hands around your waist, swinging your body from one side to another. Your legs were still attached to his hips as your arms spreaded in the water. Cregan's eyes were fixed on your shape; the way you looked so peaceful with your eyes closed and under the dim moonlight, the way your hair was floating making you look ethereal and surreal.

His curious eyes wandered around your body, now looking at your neck, your collarbones -which still have those little maroon marks that he left behind-, and your pebbled nipples. The low temperature was causing you shivers in your body, and the way your body reacted was a clear proof of it.

Your eyes opened once you heard a sharp breath coming from him, and you found his dark eyes staring back at you with desire. You sit back up, placing your hands on his shoulders as you teased him by brushing your nose against his. After tortuous days, you finally felt the need to have him again. To feel his touch, so delicate and careful.

After feeling Aemond's roughness, you needed Cregan's gentleness.

Next thing you knew, your lips were pressed against his kissing him slowly and softly. He did not waste the time, and soon he was kissing you back, swirling his tongue against you as he sighed. You hummed in response, cupping his face as he tightened the grip on your waist. Everything felt so calm, there were only you two, the sound of your wet and slow kiss joined the sounds of the nocturnal nature around you.

Your hips started to move against his hardening length, and his hands soon reached your rear in order to control your movements as you rubbed yourself against him, stealing a loud moan from his lips. This action only made him more desperate for you, and he deepened the kiss as a proof of his neediness for your touch. He was devouring your lips as a starved man while his groans and your moans would be silenced by each other's mouths. He couldn't get enough of your sweet taste.

His hands left your arse to reach your breasts, fondling the soft skin and nipping your pebbled nipples.

"I've missed your body so fucking much…" he confessed between the kiss, "I need you so bad."

His last words came out as a slight whine that made you hum. Your fingers soon find their way to his thick brown hair, tangling your digits between his soft locks and pulling it softly as he leaned his head back. Your lips attacked his neck with wet kisses, and his hands squeezed your breasts making you whimper.

"They won't come near," you told him, your voice already showing how much you desired him, "No one will see, no one will hear."

"Go on," he growled, searching for your lips to kiss you again, "tell me what you want, and I'll give it to you," his hands went back to your arse, pressing you against his hardened length. You moaned against his lips, "come on, baby, say it."

You quickly succumbed to his words,

"Fuck me, please…" you begged in a sigh.

That was enough for Cregan to lift your body and align himself with your tight entrance. You were both so desperate for each other that you didn't even take the time to adjust to his big size as you would usually do. Your hips started to move against his hard thrusts while the water surrounding your bodies splashed and moved.

"Oh, fuck, baby, you feel so fucking good," he groaned, feeling your tight walls squeezing him so nicely, "so good for me… that's it."

His low and deep voice praising you had you moaning loudly, forcing you to close your eyes as he filled you so well. Cregan's face was buried on your neck, as he gripped your hips controlling your movements while you rode him, going up and down on his shaft. He was so deep inside you, touching every sweet spot that would make you shake and drool. Suddenly the coldness of the water was nothing compared to the heat of your lustful bodies begging for each other.

"Mhm…" you whimpered, "it feels so good, so, so good."

Cregan sighed, hearing your whiny voice made him twitch inside of you.

"Yeah?" he said in a teasing way while a subtle side smile was decorating his beautiful face.

"Yes… so good."

He trapped your lips in an erotic wet kiss that was far from being soft now. His tongue clicked against yours while he was touching every single part of your body. You both were so lost in the pleasure, in the feeling your bodies would experience while rubbing against each other.

You both were so blinded by the lust of the moment that none of you noticed a pair of eyes watching. Eyes that were filled with wrath, jealousy and contempt.

Aemond looked away, unable to keep watching that tortuous scene. He leaned his back against a tree as he looked at the dark night sky, his stare blurred with hatred. He was hearing you, your moans, whines and dirty words were too loud for him to ignore. They made him furious, blinded with rage.

He was the one that used to provoke you to make those sweet sounds, the one that had you shaking and squirming under his harsh touch. The only one who knew your body so perfectly, and the only one who could provide you with what you need without you even asking for it.

Under his resentful eyes, Cregan was just a distraction; a plaything you use to entertain yourself in your path back to him. At the end of the day, you will always belong to him.

At that moment, Aemond decided that he had to get rid of Cregan. He could not bear the idea of another man taking what he claimed first; your body, especially when that man was Cregan fucking Stark, the one who always took everything from him. Now he added you to the list, and Aemond will not allow it.

He had to get him out of his way.

Aemond left almost immediately, not wanting to hear this profanity any longer. He walked away from the lake, clenching his fists and his jaw as his scheming started.

Meanwhile, you were just coming down from your orgasm when you heard some leaves crackling in the distance. You quickly moved your head, looking around searching for the source of the sound.

"What is it?" Cregsn asked with his raspy voice.

"I heard something," you said, looking back at his face.

"It was probably just the wind, love…" he tried to play down the situation, soothing you with his comforting voice, "would you like to go back to the house?"

You looked around one more time before turning your head back at him. You shook your head before pecking his lips.

"No, let's stay here a little longer."

Cregan kissed you again, and before you noticed, he started to move his hips again, making you moan with surprise and blurring your mind.

"Gods…" you chuckled, "you're insatiable, aren't you?"

He grunted, smirking as he pushed deeper, "You're too fucking irresistible, baby."

As he started to thrust against you, you looked around one last time, just to be sure. You tried to focus on the pleasure that your boyfriend was giving you, but you couldn't help being creeped out; you could've sworn you saw a shadow moving between the trees, but that was probably just your mind playing tricks with you…

Right?

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silent-raven13 · 14 days

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Miles' love

There's days when Miles is overwhelmed with the world, where his anxiety goes haywire and got him going through panic attacks. Sometimes he just needs someone to be comfortable with or be by himself. Mostly he either talks to his Hobie about personal issues, sometimes talk to his parents like stuff about school and relationship advices.

Now, many seem that Miles' is the princess type always being taken care of, always spoiled with love and being cherished like a rare gem. That may be true especially, with his punker boyfriend. Hobie had always shower his Sunflower with gifts, love, anything and everything to make sure he is happy.

But, this isn't about Miles being taken care- No, this is about Miles' being a supportive and loving partner.

Now, many would assume Hobie Brown is a punker without no issues or problems, except if he's being Spider-Punk. All Spider-Heroes have dealt with trauma and lost of their loved ones, and being a Hero- err, he doesn't believe in heroism, anyway, the struggle of protecting the innocent is already relatable with Spider-people.

However, not many knows he too have his own depression, which Miles have been very aware. it started when Hobie mentions his neglectful mother and absent father, how much he hated them for leaving such a dysfunctional family. The worst part being poor with so many siblings and trying to survive dealing with an alcoholic mother. One of the major cause of his depression when he sometimes looks over a happy family, seeing both parents loving their child can hit a nerve.

He always wanted to be loved, to be hold and often to question if he desire it. Sometimes he believe he's trash and desire to be tossed aside, because of his abusive mum's words cut him like a knife. Many think words don't bother him, it's because he had the biggest BULLY of all, his mother! Foul words have been thrown at him in such an early age that he could remember his mom sneered at how much he look a lot like his father or how ugly he is. The distasteful foul slurs she uses in spiteful hate on her children shows how bitter she became when her husband left them- her!

So yeah, he never found loving parents, and his siblings can only do so much. He always wanted to have a family that would love him. In honesty, he does get jealous at his friends' connection with their families. Of course, he loves and cherish the family he build! That's the whole point, a person create their own community, their own family with trust and love. Yet...

Ha, it's always that yet, funny?

The punker yearn to be loved, to be worth it. There's times he believe he give so much and in the end he believe he isn't worth of love. Isn't worth of being with his Sunflowers. Too flawed. Too messed up to be with his darling Miles. No, he sees how much Miles can do so much better than him- WAY BETTER!

Ganke would be perfect him.

Is always his final thoughts or many a bloke with money and kindness would be better for his Miles. These dark thoughts got him restless, spend days not sleeping well. Smoking, drinking and doing a bit of drugs would help numb the pain, and he would carefully to use a little.

Don't want to tweet out being a crackhead on the slums of New York in his world. He refuses that lifestyle, he almost went there and it was hell crawling back out especially without support.

The Punker sat on the edge of his boathouse having a smoke; a little cigarette. Days like this makes him crave for a cigarette. Just when the twenty year old tries to quit, it always comes back to him.

Miles is gonna hate me for this. Nah, he'll for sure leave. i don't deserve him. I don't deserve to be love...

He looks at the river seeing how calm it is.

Everyone is only friends with me because I don't give a shit. No one ask for my opinion or how I'me doing... I'm a shit person.

He sighs feeling his depression hitting hard.

Maybe I should call Miles- No, he doesn't want to see me like this.

He always prefer Hobie when he's cooler. The Punker believed his Sunflower wants him to be the rock, the wall that protects the two.

It's better if I just deal with this on my own.

He had trouble calling out for help, too. It's difficult for him to talk about his personal troubles rather making everything into riddles or jokes. It's a way to shield him off from the world and from his Sunflower. He knows he shouldn't, before he was about to go to his bedroom.

An orange portal opens up right in the middle of the boathouse, Miles jumps out looking at his partner. This time the nineteen year old took off his Spider-man mask to show a frown, to go over to hug him.

Hobie looked surprised for the moment, "Luv, what are you doing here?" He quickly tap his cigarette bud out.

His boyfriend hugs him tighter, "I had a feeling you weren't feeling well."

"How?"

"You're not the only that gone through this kind of stuff." Miles softly spoke, "I noticed yesterday you were quiet and distant like I was a virus. My Spider Senses been going off too. Hobie, what's wrong? You can talk to me." He kisses his Hobie's cheek, "Mi amor, please. I know, your going through with something."

"I..." The Punker frowns giving a sad puppy pout with his inky eyes looking teary then he sighs being silent.

Great, now he'll get mad and leave me. All because I don't want to bloody talk! Hobart, you are one fucking wanker!

Instead of Miles being upset with the answer, he completely understood. See, he had a feeling his boyfriend might be sensitive to talk about certain stuff, so he went to Dr. Sims for advice. Rather than demanding or expecting an answer so quick, it was best to be there to listen. Dr. Sims recommended to be patient. So Miles will, gladly being the partner his Moonflower needs.

Miles cup his punker's face pulling him into a gentle kiss on the lips. "Whatever you're going through, I'm here with you." He pulls him into another tight hug, "We don't have to talk, we can be quiet, snuggling together. You know, you have me to cry on. Take all the time you need, Hobie. I love you and I'm not leaving your side." Another kiss on the punker's cheek.

Hobie felt tears coming down his cheek as he sniffs. Miles wiped them away, and gave another kiss on his boyfriend's face. "Thanks, luv... I don't fucking deserve you." Hobie finally hugs his Sunflower tightly as he weeps to him. "Sorry...Sorry, luv. I just feel like shit today!"

Miles hugs him tighter, with his face being buries into Hobie's shoulder as he spoke, "Bae- mi alma, mi carińo! I love you, and everything about you that includes your flaws. We deserve each other! You're so worth it! I'm happy being with you." He took his boyfriends' face, again to say to his face, "Hobie Laurence Brown, I fucking love you! Your mine and I will never let you go!"

"Fuck, luv. You always have a way for words." Hobie gave a small smile through his cries, he sniffs before kissing his Sunflower. "You're my everything, luv. I just often think-" Miles cut his off, "Don't ever think like that! I will always be with you! You and me are soulmates, remember! You and I made a promise we riding this train till we die."

"Heh, you're right, luv. I just-" He buries his face into his Miles' chest to breaths in his scent. "I'm sorry..."

"Shh, it's okay. Come, I'll take you to your room! Did you eat anything? Had some water?" Miles picks his boyfriend up which caught the punker off guard. It's kinda funny seeing Miles being shorter than him picking him up like a girlfriend, especially when it's a hug carry style. Then again, Spider-man powers!

"Sweeping off me feet, Sunflower? To make me feel better..." Hobie jokes.

"We both know I wear the pants of this relationship!" Miles giggles as he happily carries his boo to his bedroom, so the two can cuddle and spend some quality time. This is the perfect time for Miles to show all his love, self care to his man, and cook for him! This is the perfect cure to making his Hobie feeling better. Everyone needs some self-care from time to time.

It wasn't long till Hobie his cuddling with his Sunflower on their bed having giggles and laughter in the room as they play with the electric guitar. Miles' love is always special to him, and he knows no one will never replace that!

#punkflower #miles morales #hobie brown #spiderman #across the spider verse #fanfic

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ananke-xiii · 16 days

Text

Another dream, always mine (and yes it's still spn s13 related because i have a bone to pick with dabb over that season specifically)

So here it goes. (Part 1)

Spn s13 but kelly doesn't die, cas doesn't die, crowley doesn't die. Lucifer dies for *reasons* but mary, dean and sam are stuck in the AU.

It's still spn so we just have to have mirrors and parallels, okay? Like, this show doesn't care about continuity but damn! They will stick to mirrors and parallels like it's a religion and so we do too.

The thing is that the AU is not the lame-ass AU Dabb or whoever came up with, it's at least an attempt at being an interesting place. So basically the AU is as boring and dumb as our earth, nothing has really changed, people are still trapped in the rat race that capitalism is (see, we have a little bit of critique here too, there is no escape from the capitalist-fascist-heteronormative narrative or isn't it?), the frigging white picket fences are still everywhere like a fucking nightmare BUT! This is an earth without monsters, angels, demons, nothing goes bump in the night but depression, paranoia and suicidal thoughts (now these are the real monsters) and YET this is THE chance for our heroes, this is the promised land, no past, only freedom, the american dream is theirs to grab (but don't worry this place hides a secret, this is still spn everything must be queer, you'll see). Sam, dean and mary are kinda lost cause, surprise surprise! It turns out that's not the things you want that you can't have but that you didn't know what you wanted so how could you have it in the first place? Mary is restless, this was supposed to be her dream, she died for it and now she doesn't want it and she goes through another deep existential crisis (and, really, we all just get mary because seriously? any character named mary who's also a mother has too much fucking weight on her shoulder, just let the woman be). Sam is kinda okay with it, he once again refuses to get in touch with his emotions and flees from them like the plague: they're gonna make it work, they will find a way (i want to convey ross from friends vibes when he's like *in a squeaky voice* i'm fine! Here, that's sam in the AU). The guy lives in his delusion, this is his chance at being normal (and oh boy is he wrong, you'll see). Dean feels just bad, he's supposed to feel happy with his mother and his brother/son (the weird implications of this situation will be explored) but he keeps thinking about that little house by the sea (or was it a lake?) that cas bought as fucking jimmy novak and how the angel spent months there with kelly playing daddy and how the fucking angel played him and dean just went along and repaired his stupid truck as if to thank him for breaking his heart but also, also, dean will never admit it to anyone ever but deep down he knows, he knows, that that was his place, his angel, his chance (we will also have an explorations into the complex theme of mpreg with the due "Junior" references we all deserve and insights into dean's maternal insticts).

Now back to earth.

Kelly gives birth to a baby jack, cas lives with them to protect them from the angels and demons that will sure come for a visit (but once again he will end up being a total agent of chaos, you'll see), the angel is a bit of a mess, though, and his obsession with saving dean winchester is finally making kelly feel quite concerned with her life choices, maybe trusting this guy was a little bit insane, was he always this deranged? (We'll soon see why she thinks that, she might have a point). Meanwhile crowley goes back to hell and we once again have a cheap game of thrones situation (because why not? i can't come up with infinite original ideas to fix this plot, okay? Also this is still spn, i can condone SOME cheap storylines on the side, and anyway mark sheppard makes anything work so we're good) where his varys-like smart brain cells will put him on the throne again (who's this asmodeus guy anyway, prince of hell or not, fuck him, he will not stick around here for a second season while dagon died like after 2 episodes she was in, not gonna happened in my narrative). But, you see, the demon has his own issues, and goes visiting kelly and the angel because why not? He likes kelly she seems interesting enough for a person who birthed satan's son, escaped from a fucking angel of the lord, was kidnapped by a goddamn prince of hell, managed to baby trap said angel of the lord, stole the frigging impala and escaped that menace that the winchesters are. She then proceeded to give birth knowing she might have died. She is something. Something a bit unhinged maybe but crowley digs her, okay? He still also has varys-like smart brain cells so he needs to visit to make sure that baby lucifer is, like, not plotting to take over hell or whatever newborn babies half-made from cosmic entities do these days. Also, also, watching castiel putting baby jack to sleep with those big strong angel gym-bro arms did something to him, his daddy fetish and his mommy issues raised their head and something else too, and he foolishly promises to keep jack safe from hellish attacks and indulges castiel in his winchester obsession. What? He misses the brothers too, those handsome, tall, cruel white boys (we are reminded that, visually, the whole cas/kelly/jack situation is quite similar to the weird crowley/dean/amara thing of s11, mirrors and parallels need to keep happening people, this is spn, we gott have 'em). Castiel is living his tragic destiny yet again, he's seen the AU, has been there, technically knows that dean, sam and mary are safe but he just has to see it for himself, right? Like he has to make sure, it's not like dean not being there is eating him from the inside, it's not like he starts feeling the pang of guilt over the huge betrayal he's forced onto dean,leaving him left behind again and again and playing him that way, no. He copes by sitting in his stupid truck that dean had repaired listening to that damn tape (every time he does that we have a close-up of kelly watching the pathetic scene from her window and sighing as if in "fuck, FUCK, my life"). And oh, yes he also starts researching about archangel resurrection because i may or may not bring back my girls, aka raphael and uriel but this is for part 2, you'll see.

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elixrr · 1 year

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Simpy Xiao One-Shot

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Semi-ooc Xiao x GN!Reader

Synopsis... Xiao confesses his love to you. A brainrot that's been rotting my brain, but it's just Xiao trying his best with you to confess, but fails and succeeds in the same time.

Author's note... Xiao has been occupying my brain since 2021. This is not okay, but I'm not complaining bc I love Xiao from the bottom of my idiot heart <3

Warnings... None, really. Just tooth-rotting fluff from stupidly cute brainrots I've had of him (mwahahahahhaa) oh, but also angst if you squint just hard enough that your eyes are quite literally closed. Oh, and a mini argument :')

“Xiao,” he heard you. He heard you— your voice, it rings within his head, from side to side to kiss on both his ears. Your voice was always meaningful to him. He could almost get lost in it, the way the syllables would be spelled out so greatly from you like a—

“Xiao?” You spoke once more, louder and clearer than before. Ah. He got lost in the thought of you again. Swiftly, with a flashy smoke of teal and black, he arrived right by your side, where he wanted to stay.

“You called?” Despite his words, he already knew why you called. It's always for the same reasons. To spend time with him. To do things with him. To be with him.

“Of course I did. What days do I not?”

Xiao tried to recount the days in which you've never even uttered his name. How many years ago was that? It's almost astounding how many years you've been friends with him at this point.

But it's almost as astonishing that he hasn't even confessed his love for you yet.

But never mind that, Xiao cleared his hazy mind full of fond memories with you, who replaces every other memory of his karmic debt, the agonizing presence of death that continues to pry at his sanity each passing day.

But you replenish all of that. His lost dreams, his lost hopes, and his lost world. You returned all of that to him, replenished and renewed. You, it's always you. You, who—

“Xiao, is something the matter?” You tangled his hair around your finger. The closeness had his face flushed with the pink of a peony. “You've been quite out of it lately.”

“I– I'm..?” Fine. Fine is what he wanted to say. But the words died down in his throat. All he could focus on was your features up close. You've been his friend for so long, but it's rare for you to get close to him, let alone come into contact with him. He's nervous, not just because physical contact with him is outright dangerous, but because you're just– just to close to him, and you don't even pay an ounce of attention to that. You're toying with his hair so naturally, as if it's nothing special, like it's nothing out of the ordinary— like you two were dating.

Oh, what a fantasy that would be. Xiao's hand intertwined with yours, laying in a field of grass and blooming flowers, you blabbering on about anything and everything, just like you always do. But this time, maybe you'd hug him. Run a finger or a few through his hair. Maybe you'd even kiss him. Or even do that thing that humans would do on the occasion out in the open, that thing called “cuddling”. Xiao blushes at the thought. You're already so close to him, but if you were even closer, arms wrapped around him, snuggled oh-so close? He could hardly take the thought without feeling weak to the knees.

“You're...? Okay, so, you're clearly not fine, if you were going to say that. So, here. Sit down with me, you can tell me what's happening in that restless life you've got there.” You, with a soft and low voice, whispered into his ear.

“O– Okay.” Xiao sat himself down right next to you, albeit a little closer than he intended, but still close nonetheless. Damnit, he hopes deep down and past his adeptal bones that you don't suspect a thing about him liking you.

“Alright, so something is up. If you're comfortable, you can tell me. I'm all ears.”

“Your invitation is tempting,” Xiao weens with an internal scoff, all while slipping his gaze elsewhere. “But I can't tell you anything.”

“You shouldn't need to know that I...” Ah. He let that part slip out. Albeit in a blushful whisper, but he could only pray to Rex Lapis that you didn't actually hear that.

Oh, but of course you did.

“Well, we've been friends for, like, forever! Or, uh, my forever, but you get the gist of it. Xiao, if something's wrong, you know you could tell me, I—”

“BUT WHAT IF I JUST CAN'T TELL YOU?!”

Xiao bellowed at you, having you flinch at the sudden response. That was unintentional, as told by the way he covered his mouth with his hand and the way his golden wide eyes would stare at you, heavy with guilt.

“Oh. Well, if you can't tell me, then I shouldn't pry on it. Sorry about that.”

“I– no, I should apologize. I didn't... mean to..”

Woah, wait. What's going on?

Xiao got quiet. The words, once more, were killed down his throat. He needed to get out of there quickly. But he couldn't teleport— he couldn't think of where to go at that moment, he envisioned a scornful look on your face when you stared at him. Do you hate him now? Will you suddenly give up on him? He just can't accept that, not after he found out that he was in love. He can't go back now, he realizes. He can't be used to the cold loneliness anymore, you've become a part of his life, a major part, he can't let go now! Why, oh why?! Why did he–

“Hey. Shh. Xiao, hey. I'm not mad, I'm not upset.”

Xiao opened his eyes. Everything was glassy and blurred. He rubbed his eyes— tears stained his gloves. Was he crying? In front of you? He tried to turn away, but then he felt your arms wrap around him delicately, like he was as fragile as glass. How could he escape now? You enveloped him in your arms, and he knows it's obvious that he's calmed down after that.

“Please... Don't go. Don't leave yet, I— I love you too much to let you go.”

He didn't mean for that last part to slip out, but even so, he nearly fell unconscious under your arms, feeling them squeeze around him as he confessed. Still. Of all times, why now? Why, when he's most vulnerable in your arms?

“It's okay, it's okay. You know, I love you too. I always have, but I never guessed those feelings were returned.” You took his hand in yours and smiled, looking into his soft, loving, yet teary eyes.

“Of course they were returned. I loved you for so long, I... didn't even know it.” Xiao's eyes stared back into yours, your tender eyes full of honesty. His hand squeezing yours slightly, a gesture to show that all his words were true. He watched your other hand wipe his remaining tears away, and he smiled.

Xiao smiled for you.

“Then... May I?” Xiao's face flushed a bright rosey red, seeing you inch closer and closer to him, filling in the gap of air that lay between you two.

Xiao stuttered, his heart screamed yes, but his head was going into overdrive and he didn't know what to say. Even if he did, there's no way he could form a sentence now.

But you waited. Your lips, slightly parted, were only centimeters from his own, awaiting his consent.

“P– please. Do so.”

And you crashed your lips into his, and as if roses bloomed beneath you both in place of the Inn's roof, he was dropped into eternal bliss.

Likes, reblogs, and shares are appreciated! <3

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bogkeep · 6 months

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berserkblogging, spoilers for the golden age arc

(for the record, i'm halfway through volume 10 so i haven't caught up to the eclipse yet, i just have too many feels as they say)

the golden age arc is such a perfect tragedy, i have never considered myself someone who enjoys tragedies in particular but this one is just so extremely well executed i CANNOT get over it.

my outsider impression of berserk was that ok u have big muscly man who had a presumably homoerotic anime friendship with a beautiful man and then a betrayal happened and now they hate eachother. i was a little surprised to find that it's So Much More (AND CASCA EXISTS. I DIDN'T KNOW ABOUT CASCA)

they Loved each other......... all three of them...... but in such a complicated way because they're all a little fucked up but like. who isn't

for guts it's how, he never learnt how to Want anything. he couldn't know that he had so much he wanted already, because he never learnt how to, and standing so close to griffith and his all-consuming longing, how could he? he was only part of the band because griffith wanted him so badly, and all guts knows is how to be a sword, and when griffith asks him, do you think it's cruel of me to wield you as a sword? guts only says it's a little late to be asking that now. it's like guts is that sword to griffith that guts' sword is to himself - an extention of his body, of his reach, to get bloodied,

and casca always wanted to be that sword. guts never tried to take it from her, but all her pain over it lands on him nonetheless. and it really is so painful to see someone be everything that you've ever wanted, effortlessly, accidentally,

but maybe her tragedy is that casca really was a sword to him after all, and only that, and griffith's tragedy is that guts was not. it would've been so much easier if guts was just a sword, wouldn't it?

guts asked. twice, he asked griffith, why did you save my life? and griffith could have answered, because i want to have you around, because you're my friend, because i love you. but he didn't. guts was only ever a sword that belonged to him.

how many times had griffith said guts belonged to him, his life and his death? but at some point, he had become mistaken. if just, for one moment, griffith could have admitted, to guts, to himself, what they are to one another...

maybe it wouldn't have been enough. maybe he would never have quit the restless pursuit of his dream. we might never know.

so when guts left, how could he have known what he was to griffith? all he's ever been is someone else's belonging, to be sold out or won as a prize...

how can anyone know anything, in the blinding light of griffith's ambition? it becomes so clear when griffith is gone, the people who had stood closest to him can suddenly look around them with clear and open eyes, look at who they themself are - guts and casca share this, it's hard to be a person and a sword at the same time, and maybe together they can be people, a man and a woman. and the band loves guts, and the cohesion of the group - it was never just griffith who held them together. they are all real people, flesh and bone, not just the wisps of a dream.

i think there's something so.... i don't know, if you've ever known someone who makes life feel like a dream, and when they're gone, you feel like you're blinking awake, your head clearing up, their influence on you seeping out of you like fog?

and when griffith returns - imagine holding all these souls as swords in your hand for years and years, and now they're people. they're not your swords anymore. and THEN

i don't know if this is coherent or just increasingly high pitched screaming. i just feel like there are so many moving parts of this tragedy, one so inevitable and preventable at the same time, each piece moving with chess board precision, waiting to lunge a blade directly into your chest.

#haiz reads berserk #MIGHT AS WELL HAVE A TAG FOR IT AT THIS POINT

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meshlasolus · 2 years

Text

House Of Memories (5/?)

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Padawan!reader

Warnings: angst, more nightmares, comfort and slight fluff if you squint

Summary: Your powers can only hold back the bad dreams for so long, and Obi-Wan finds out why they seem to be plaguing your mind.

A/n: Man, y'all really seem to be enjoying this... there will be romantic relations later on I promise but for now, it's gonna be a slow burn till I feel like it... also the age gap rn ain't rlly appropriate lol

Words: 3.1k (back to my better self tbh)

Anakin and Obi-Wan had just returned from the planet of Bracca, coming through the doors of the apartment at an ungodly hour of the night. It was Anakin's first off world mission with the order where he actually got to do something, and from the sounds of loud ruckus they were making, you'd say it went well.

You hadn't been able to sleep very well that night anyways, so you couldn't blame them fully, but it would be easier in the morning to shove off the fact that you were grumpy and restless because of them. You got up out of bed, stepping out the doors to see Anakin doubled over, laughing his poor head off while Obi-Wan smirked from the corner.

"Anakin, look what you've done," Obi-Wan gestured to you in a joking way before walking up a pretending to scold him. "You've woken up the only person who can actually get us in trouble."

Anakin stood up straight, getting out a few more giggles before approaching you with open arms. You stopped him before he could embrace you, seeing as how he looked absolutely high off of something. You knew Obi-Wan would never allow him to indulge in any sort of spice or substance, which meant this buffoon of a padawan was literally so exhausted, he began to lose it, in stitches yet again over your single motion.

"What did you do to him this time?" You asked Obi-Wan, pulling back your braid and letting it lay behind your shoulder.

"Believe it or not, our chosen one has decided to make a complete fool of himself, simply because I stepped out onto the wrong floor as we came up in the elevator."

Obi-Wan couldn't hide his subtle amusement, in all seriousness, it was funny how much Anakin was laughing now, even still after they had finally gotten into the apartment. How he was utterly tired and still had the energy to be this annoying, Obi-Wan would never know. He just hoped that perhaps he would settle down soon so you all could sleep.

"Anakin, at some point tonight, you will have to get over yourself. It probably wasn't even that funny," you complained, growing slightly annoyed with his antics. Your sixteen-year-old mood swings were far and few between, but when you were being kept up longer than you wished to be, because of your friend's stupidity, it was more than enough to make anyone moody.

"You weren't there," he had to break up his words, for now he was so delusional with laughter that he couldn't even finish a sentence. "He was so confused-"

"Yes, Anakin. Because like you, I'm tired."

Obi-Wan wanted more than anything to leave the room, to go to his own and forget about Anakin for the night... but he couldn't do that to you. Mostly because he'd never hear the end of it.

He tugged the boy from the ground, pushing him towards his room, with a soft glare. Even if you shut his door for the night, you wouldn't be able to sleep until he was quiet. Obi-Wan gave you a look that said 'go ahead, you have my permission,' before you walked up and raised your hand to Anakin's head. You used only a small bit of power, and he was out like a light, falling to the ground of his room.

"Now I feel bad, we can't just leave him like this," you pointed to all his limbs, half inside his room and sprawled out wildly.

"I'm too tired to carry him. My days of lifting him at all are probably over."

You did notice Anakin was quite taller now. Bigger than Obi-Wan, as far as you could tell.

"I'll grab his arms," you sighed, walking over and beginning to drag the top half of him into the room, your master following along with his legs.

Once you made it to the bed, you both looked at each other, the looks spoke for themselves, saying 'kriff, no'. Instead, you grabbed a pillow for his head, and a blanket, tossing it to Obi-Wan. You placed the pillow beneath him, while Obi-Wan spread the thin material over the length of his legs and body.

You ran your fingers over the boy's hair, quietly and efficiently making sure that the nightmares were still taken care of. You only sensed the glow of protection that was your signature, keeping guard over his dreams.

"You're good to help him the way you do," Obi-Wan smiled with pride at you. He was proud to call you his padawan, because he knew everything that you had accomplished over the years, under his training and mentorship. He only hoped that one day he'd be able to say he had a small part in how you had grown into the heroic, compassionate Jedi you were.

"He deserves to rest at night, the same as all of us."

Obi-Wan nodded his head to the door, signaling it was time for you to retire as well. You had tried earlier in the night, and been awoken by a small nightmare, but having them both return safely helped ease your mind. You should have no trouble in finding sleep, now.

Once in bed, you thought about your master. All the wisdom he'd been pouring into you lately was surely not by coincidence. You weren't as young as you used to be, on the verge of seventeen, in fact. You knew that whenever your master was giving you lessons on things that need be learned, usually it was followed by a test, or trial of sorts; one that could be used to learn the lesson in its full extent.

You fell asleep on those thoughts, feeling as though you were now too tired to wonder what trial might be coming your way. You felt at peace, floating in a dark abyss, until suddenly you were pulled from your bed. It was still dark, and you couldn't see anything, but the hands that grabbed at you were not familiar. You branched out with the force, trying to gain any knowledge of who was taking you. You screamed out for help, unable to control your powers enough to face them down. Were you weakened? It didn't make any sense. You were quite powerful and could usually take down an enemy, despite them having a size advantage. This time it was harder to focus on one thing at a time, because the darkness soon faded. You were brought into an execution room, with torture devices lining the walls and floors. There were creatures you'd never seen before, chanting the words of death in several languages. You weren't sure how you even recognized some of the words, but you did. Your blood boiled thick when the face of your captor was revealed. It was not human, nor droid, but a robotic mix of the two, with limbs twice as long as yours, standing as tall as a mudhorn but with all the lankiness of a skeleton. You'd heard stories about General Grievous, the tormentor amongst captured Jedi. The one who collected lightsabers from those he'd struck down. You weren't afraid of him, yet. You couldn't even say why, you just looked at him with a glare, hoping that you could be the one to destroy him.

He brought you to the center of the room, shoving you away from him, and staring you down.

"You are no Jedi. You," he used his sharp metal finger to point at you with a crooked tilt of his mechanical head, "are a pretender."

"And you are a coward, hiding behind an army of droids because you know you can't win on your own accord."

Your mind was clear, as you took your saber from your hip, igniting it to show its green glow against the otherwise dark room.

Grievous laughed maniacally, and so did the creatures in the room with him. Your lightsaber was pulled from your hands, and you were unable to stop it. Why were you so weak? Why couldn't you remember your training?

"Your master has failed you."

That was the last straw, for all the things you could take, slander against your master was not one of them. You would defend his honor with your life. Selfishly, if you had to.

"And you are about to fail him."

You froze in place. Unable to move a single muscle or even blink an eye. You were held in place and made to look at the new scene in front of you. Obi-Wan was restrained against a wall, already beaten and bloody. Your heart sank, and you tried to reach for him, but you were still frozen to your spot. The creatures that surrounded you continued to assault him, left and right poking and prodding different devices that had him crying out in pain. He couldn't even hold himself up, the only thing giving him any structure being his restraints.

"Stop this!" you somehow yelled out, gaining the attention of Grievous, while his monsters continued to have their way with Obi-Wan. "If it is life you want, you will take mine before I let you take his."

Another laugh of horrific proportions sounded in your ears, his tone of voice was so irritating, and made your skin crawl.

"You have failed."

Grievous turned back to your master, barely alive as he was, and ignited your lightsaber, before running him through with it. You watched his body go completely limp in the restraints, pulling on the wall as he hung there with nothing left. His blood ran over the floors, seeping under your feet, and you cried out, screaming into the void that soon surrounded you. You were left alone soon enough, breaking free from the trance that held you in place. You sank to your knees beside Obi-Wan, using the force to break the restraints. He fell into your arms, his body broken, and lifeless. You held him close to you, hoping and praying that he wasn't dead, that this wasn't real. You wanted nothing more than for him to hold you instead, to tell you that you hadn't failed him, and that you never would. Your tears were everywhere, mixed in with the shedding of his blood on your hands.

You couldn't bear it. You screamed out his name to the cosmic force around you, not able to feel his presence the way you always had before.

All of a sudden, you could hear his voice, and it was calling you by name.

"Master?" You begged, but it was not coming from the body you held.

"Wake up, little one."

You sat up in your bed, tears streaming down your face. Your breathing was rapid, and horribly uneven, and your face was a mess of redness and heat.

Obi-Wan was sat right next to you, his hands on your arms, trying to get you to come to for the past few minutes. It was instantly very cold all around you, like a bucket of ice water had been dumped on your head. As soon as you saw his eyes, wide and full of worry over you, you were a mess. You fell into his arms, clinging to his tunic, which he'd still not taken off for the evening. You cried into his chest, leaving stains that you hoped wouldn't stay there. You couldn't explain the relief, but also the torment it put you through, to hold onto him like this.

He rubbed his hands through your hair, placing his chin above your head as to secure you fully in his embrace. He'd never seen you so upset before. Never seen you in such distress over anything you've ever done. He knew that you'd had some nightmares in the past, but didn't think they had gotten so bad that you would collapse into his arms upon waking from them.

He'd heard you calling his name earlier... no, calling was a bit of an understatement. You were practically screaming for him in the dead of night, and it scared the living kriff out of him. To hear your anguish and see you curled into yourself when he came in the room broke his heart. Now you were awake, and his only job was to make you feel safe. You didn't care if you were safe or not, because the reason for your meltdown was not in your own interest, but his. He was here, he was alive, and you were holding onto him.

"It's alright, little one," he tried to console you, but the tears were still overpowering anything else you might have had to say just yet. It had been a while since you cried, perhaps it was good for you to let it all out now.

He climbed further into the bed, knowing he'd be here for a while if he were to ever help bring you to a point of peace. He rested against the headboard, not letting go of you as you continued to sob into his shirt.

You pulled away from him at one point, just looking up into his eyes, watching as they looked back down at you in concern. He really cared about you, didn't he?

"I'm sorry I kept you up," you apologized, sniffling the best you could so you could speak through the tears.

"You have no reason to be sorry."

He wiped your tears away, using his thumb to remove any stuck strands of hair from your face that were left in the wetness.

"I just know how tired you get, and I'm sorry I made you think something was wrong," you replied, beginning to cry a little more before he shushed you gently, holding one side of your face to make you focus on him.

"Don't worry about me. I can only rest once I know you're alright, anyway."

You nodded to him, tucking your head back into his chest, allowing his arms to encircle you once more. It was nice there. He was so strong, and made you feel like nothing could ever be wrong as long as you were tucked away in his embrace. His steady heartbeat was a testament to the fact that he was alive and well, and soon your nightmare faded to the blanks of your mind... for all of five seconds.

"Could you tell me what it was about?" He asked gently, wanting to see if there were any other ways he could help to sooth your mind.

You were hesitant at first, knowing if you shared it with him, it might seem more real to you, but with another thought, you decided he might be able to decipher your horrible dreams and maybe give you some wisdom to make them go away.

"You were being held in front of me, and they were hurting you," you had to pause and swallow your emotions down for a moment. You had stopped bawling your eyes out, and wanted to prevent yourself from it happening again.

"Who's 'they?'"

You sighed, not sure if you should tell him that part or not. It was a dream, not a vision. You may have even misidentified the villain of your dream anyway.

"I don't really know, but they had you and they told me I failed you. Then it was like I couldn't move... I couldn't help you."

Obi-Wan wasn't quite sure of how to respond yet, but you weren't done, and the last part of your words hit home for him.

"They killed you in front of me," you whispered, sending chills down his spine. "I was holding you, but you were gone."

He pulled you back at arms length, looking you in the eye and making sure you heard every word he was about to say.

"You have not failed me, and you never will. I know these dreams can be frightening, but you are stronger than they are. Do you understand?"

You nodded, looking over his face and seeing the sincerity of his words in his every expression. You noticed something you hadn't noticed before, little flecks of gold towards the center of his eyes. Pretty, and calming.

"Thank you, master."

He smiled, beginning to shift next to you, though you were still partially in his arms. You furrowed your brow as you looked up at him in confusion, before he gave a simple answer.

"You should try and get some more sleep, if you can. You have a big day tomorrow," he waited for you to respond, because he knew you would.

"Could you stay a little longer? It just makes me feel better when I know you're here," you explained, but he easily understood. He's of course had dreams that weren't easy to deal with and having the person beside you can help ease your mind into forgetting the dream ever occurred. He nodded, scooting back in next to you, this time sitting up while you laid beside him, holding onto his arm for dear life as you nestled back into an actual sleeping position.

He began humming a song that you had almost forgotten about. The one you'd both made up together in your early years as a youngling. You smiled, eyes closing as you hummed along with him until you were able to sleep peacefully. He knew you were out when he heard the soft snores, but he couldn't bring himself to leave your side, in fears that you may wake up or even have another bad dream.

He wondered if the severity of your dreams may have been caused by your decision to take them from Anakin. It made sense and was the only possible explanation for the suddenness of it all. You were a fairly happy child growing up, and hadn't ever been a bother at night to the other Masters who took care of you in your youngling stages.

He would ask you about it, but knew that no matter what he said, you wouldn't stop helping Anakin. You were too compassionate for your own good sometimes, and he worried what that might do to you in future times. You could also be naive, which didn't go well with an open heart.

He let his fingers untangle your hair while you slept, hoping that it would make putting it up in the morning easier for you. You did, in fact, have a big day tomorrow. A meeting with the council to discuss your progress with Obi-Wan's training. If it went well, you would also be allowed to accompany your master and fellow padawan on missions off world to different systems. He hoped you'd not be so tired that any type of failure came upon you. That is what you were fearing. That you would fail him. He knew it wasn't possible, because you always found ways to make him proud of you, but he worried that you still felt that way.

He fell asleep deep in his thoughts, his head against your headboard, and his arm wrapped in your tight embrace.

Tags:

@spencerrxids @sawendel @fandomstanner24 @i-shall-abide @officialjellydoughnut @whatshxrname @darkened-writer @superavengerpotter @cutiepoo16 @hypnoash @softlymellow @howlerwolfmax

#obi wan x padawan #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi #obi wan series #obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi x padawan!reader #obi wan x you #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker #hayden christensen #ewan mcgregor

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zoeykallus · 1 year

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tbb x reader hcs - accidental “i love you” and what results from those three words…

you’re the best, thank you😊

Hmm, might be fun. Let me see....

The Bad Batch x Reader HC's - Accidental "I Love You"

Hunter

You say it

The first time you say it, it's an accident, you are not really a couple yet. You are flirting and hinting, the both of you, but so far you are not an item.

Hunter helps you out solving a problem with your blaster. You are tense and nervous, things have been going sideways for you for a while, and your stupid blaster just is the tip of the iceberg this week.

"Damn it!"

"What's the matter?", he asks calmly, approaching you.

You fumble with your blaster.

"It's not working again, I can't switch between stun and lethal"

You know today Crosshair will test you, he's training you on weapons, and he's a damn strict teacher. You really are not looking forward to his mocking when you fail again.

"Let me see"

Hunter takes the blaster, adjusts a few things and hands it back to you.

"There you go, should be working just fine"

You are so relieved, the words just come out of your mouth without thinking.

"Man, I love you!"

Hunter pauses, you do too.

"I mean... thank you, Hunter"

He smirks with a slight blush.

"Any time"

He says it

It was a hard mission, a hard day. Hunter is exhausted, feels beaten and not up for anything more today. But he knows, when he comes back, he has quite some things left to do before he can rest.

But as he comes back to the Marauder, sweaty, dirty and pretty much out of energy, you approach him.

"Hey, I took care of the problem we had with the refresher, and you got fresh blacks lying on your bunk. You can jump right in the refresher and get changed"

Hunter blinks, looking at you surprised as you hand him a thick sandwich and a water bottle.

"Here, I guess you need that now"

"I love you"

He needs a little to realize what he said, and you look into each other's eyes for a long moment.

Hunter is not taking it back or trying to explain himself, he's just looking at you, anxiously.

You smile shyly and say, "I feel the same about you"

Warmth spreads in his chest, and he smiles right back, before he steals you a kiss.

Echo

You say it

He is so sweet, helping you all day with everything. Echo is so considerate and helpful and caring. You can't help it, it just slips out at some point.

"I love you, Echo"

He turns around, looking at you.

"What was that?", he asks, confused.

Panic is rising in you. Should you try to lie or stand to what you just said? You kind of mean it, but then again it just slipped, feels too blunt.

"I...I..well, I said-"

"Hey Echo, need your help for a sec' ", Wrecker safes you unknowingly.

The moment Echo is distracted, you slip out of the room, down the ramp of the Marauder and run for it.

"In a moment", Echo says and turns back to you, only to see that you are gone.

"Where did they go that fast?"

You avoid talking to him about it and the sweetheart that he is, he won't push you either.

He says it

It's a bad day for Echo, another scan, a routine check-up, but he hates the med bay. The machines, the medical tools, the sterile environment, the narrow scan tube, it flares up bad memories and his severe anxiety.

You are there because Tech asked you too, quietly when Echo wasn't listening he whispered to you, "Do me a favor and be there for Echo's check-up. He's fond of you and I think you can calm him better than I can"

Of course, you help out. Seeing Echo so shaken and almost trembling makes you sad. But you smile and come closer to the stretcher he is lying on.

You softly grab his hand, and he looks at you.

"Tech and I are here. You know none of us would ever harm you"

He nods and shows you a brave little smile, but he's still tense, fear and restlessness bubbling under the surface.

As the stretcher, with Echo on it, started sliding into the scan tube, you had to let go of his hand, but Echo tried to hold on to it for a moment.

"It's okay, I'm still here, Echo. Just listen to my voice and breath Echo. Don't hold your breath, breath in and out"

He's stressed and breathing way too fast, the narrow tube making him panic.

"Echo, slow steady breaths, in and out. You are hyperventilating, just try to imagine you are in a warm bed, when you fall asleep. How is your breathing? Slow and steady, right?"

It takes a moment, but finally his pulse and breathing calm down.

"Very good, Echo. Just keep breathing. Remember that place on Naboo we saw last time we visited? That little restaurant near the river? Let's go there next time we get the chance. Remember how pretty it was? The soft whispering of the river's water, the sunlight reflecting from the water's surface. The flowers around the restaurant's porch. Must be a really nice view from that porch"

"Done", Tech says, and the stretcher slides back out of the tube.

Echo sits up, a little shaky. He grabs your hand as you are about to leave, because technically, your work here is done.

"Don't go!", he urges you hastily.

You turn back to him, coming closer. You softly lean your forehead against his, holding his hand, trying to show him you are there, grounding him.

"Okay, I'll stay with you, Echo"

"I love you"

You don't retreat, you know he needs you right now. With a fast beating heart, warmth spreading in your chest, you say, "I guess you meant to say 'thank you'"

Echo chuckles nervously, "I did. But what I said is still true. I'm sorry, I'm vulnerable right now, it slipped, couldn't hold it back"

Your heart beats even faster as you softly say, "I love you too"

Tech in the background silently retreats, feeling like an intruder to the scene. There was nothing to see on the scan anyway.

Wrecker

You say it

He's so amusing, making you laugh. Wrecker makes you feel so good today, so happy and playful and relaxed. That man just attracts you like a magnet, he's so easy and fun to be around.

"I love you"

Wrecker cocks an eyebrow at you.

"You do?"

"Well uhm..." panic rising in you, you try to wriggle your way out of this "Yeah, like a wonderful friend, you know"

Wrecker nods slowly, you are not sure if he's disappointed or not.

"Yeah sure, I feel the same way, like a really good friend, right?"

You laugh nervously and nod again.

"Exactly"

He clears his throat and says, "Friends can love each other, right?"

"Yes, absolutely"

"I love you too... friend", he says with a nervous little smirk.

He says it

You are having fun, all day Wrecker and you are joking around and in the evening, you decide to cook something for him. He is in awe about your cooking and the fact that you do it for him.

This time the famous three words, slip out of him instead of you.

"I love you!"

You blink and look at him.

"Like a friend, right?"

Wrecker scratches the back of his head, shrugging.

"Well, yeah. But also not"

"Meaning?"

He's fumbling with his fork, looking at his own fingers.

"There is more, it feels like more than friendship. I think. I didn't mean to burst it out like this but... it is true"

You smile at him shyly as he finally looks up again.

"I think I like that", you say softly.

Wrecker smiles back at you.

"You do?"

With a nod, you say, "I think I love you too. Not just like a friend"

"Oh, Mesh'la, you make me really happy", he says with a wide grin.

Tech

You say it

You do have a thing for Tech, you know it, everyone knows it. Tech is the only one who doesn't know it. So far, you didn't dare to tell him yet, or try anything to get really closer to him. But every time he looks at you, your heart skips a beat, and you get all warm and fuzzy.

"Stop!"

You freeze in your movement.

Tech comes to your side and softly takes the tool out of your hands you just picked up.

"You'll hurt yourself holding it like this", he says calmly.

"Oh, I didn't know"

He smiles softly and you melt inside.

"Look, I'll show you"

Inside you're all giddy, he touches you, he guides your hands to the tool, showing you how to hold it while he explains a few things. You just feel his touch, hear his voice, and he is so damn close. You can hear him talk, but your mind is far away from what he is saying, lost in your vivid daydreams about Tech.

As you stare up into his face with wide eyes, his gaze meets yours, and it just slips out of your mouth, "I love you"

"Excuse me?", he asks, confused.

You panic. The words were just in your head, but suddenly on your lips. Hastily, you drop the tool, turn on your heel and run to the ramp.

"What are you doing? You can't go out, we're in space, dear", Tech says dryly.

"Oh, right...kriff"

For a split second, you think about still opening the ramp and let yourself get sucked out into space to avoid facing him right now.

You just stare at the closed ramp, not daring to turn around and look at him. Pity, if you did, you'd see the slight blush on his face and the little soft smile.

He says it

Tech talks a lot in his sleep. His mind never really comes to rest, always active and working. By now, you are used to walking past his bunk and hear him mumble all kinds of things in his sleep. But when you hear him mumble your name, repeatedly, you stop and listen closely.

He's got his arms and legs wrapped around his blanket mumbling, "Love you, come and cuddle"

You look at him, surprised and in awe. Tech looks and sounds so cute.

He's hugging his blanket tight and keeps mumbling, sometimes you can hear your name, but most of it is gibberish. But suddenly, he blinks, slowly opening his eyes and looks at you.

"Why are you staring at me?", he asks, a little panicked.

"You said my name, Tech"

"No I didn't"

"Yes you did, in your sleep"

Tech's eyes are suddenly wide open and his cheeks blush.

"No, I didn't", he repeats.

"Yes, you... never mind. Sweet dreams, spider monkey"

You walk past him, and he looks after you with a racing heart.

Crosshair

You say it

He is on his self-made shooting range. You watch him like you do most times. Crosshair looks so stunning, with his rifle, hitting every target, handling the weapon like a master of his art.

You can't stop admiring him. He's got his back turned to you right now, but he knows you are there, giving you a show. Crosshair likes to show off a little, you know that, and you don't mind, he never fails to impress you.

You are aware you have a crush on him. He's attractive, he's smart, he's cool, and he's one hell of a soldier. But he is also pretty intimidating. That sinister stare, his snark and often aloof behavior makes you nervous.

You sigh softly and say, "God, I love that man"

He's freezing in his movement, then suddenly he slowly turns around.

Your first thought is, Oh shit, he heard me!

Crosshair is looking at you, there is absolutely no way to tell what he thinks right now. For a pretty long moment, he just looks at you, unmoved. When he suddenly cocks an eyebrow at you, you jump up from the rock you were sitting on and flee the scene.

He watches you leave in amusement, muttering to himself, "Hmm, interesting"

He says it

Nope. That's probably not going to happen. Not on accident. He is way too reserved and collected for something like this to happen. No matter how smitten he might be with you. If he says it, he does it fully aware, meaning what he says very seriously.

A not very likely, but at least possible scenario could be in a lovemaking session, when you've completely blown him away (Pun intended). He'll try to mask it somehow, or change the subject and distract you.