#pa-bear writes

[smuddee-papabear]

naga partner manhandles you with their tail 🙏

Ooh I love nagas. You didn't specify gender so I'm going to make both gender neutral

gender neutral reader X gender neutral naga

Tw: rough handling, biting kink

---

Most mornings were easy, your partner was too busy warming up on their heating pad to complain too hard about you going into work. The day would start with you wriggling your way from their sizable tail before taking a shower. You'd get your breakfast and coffee before leaving after giving them a peck on the cheek.

Some mornings, however, they wouldn't let you go without a fight. This was one of them.

"I have to go into work." You know they won't care about that the moment their tail wraps your leg.

Your naga lets out a huffy sigh, tail trailing up. "I could provide you with everything you need without that silly job getting in the way."

"That silly job pays for your food bill." You tease, turning to look at them. It was a mistake. The way the morning light shines on their gorgeous scales is far too distracting. "And your heat pad."

Your naga partner clearly doesn't like that assessment. Their expression darkens slightly. "I can feed us both and I don't need a fancy pad to warm myself."

"Oh no?" Your raised eyebrow is another mistake.

You yelp as a strong force shoves unexpectedly on your chest. Before you know it you're wrapped in a coil and pushed into the floor right in front of them.

Your breath is knocked out of you, and not just from the force of it. Naga!Partner's eyes gleam with satisfaction as they loom above you. You're sure they can feel the jump in your heart rate. A devilish smile crosses their face.

"If you think I can't, get out of my coils and go into work."

For a moment you stare open mouthed at them. Get out of their coils? How does this prove that they can provide for you?

Finally you start wriggling against the well muscled body, trying to ignore how intently your naga watches. It doesn't take long before you're out of breath.

Unwilling to admit defeat you start kicking your legs and manage to make minor headway. Before you can be proud of that you hear tutting from Naga!Partner and another section of tail wraps your legs before you're yanked upside-down and dangled in front of the naga's eyes.

Heat flushes your face. "Hey! I was doing what you told me to!" A chaste kiss to your lips has you too flustered to splutter out more of your indignance.

"Are you just giving up?" The smug tone causes your blush to spread further.

You try to curl up and grab their tail but are stopped when they use another coil to shove up into your back, arching it almost uncomfortably. Once again the breath is knocked from your lungs.

You barely have time to get it back before Naga!Partner shifts the end of their tail to force your legs open just enough to put you in a very vulnerable position. They tease your crotch with the tip.

Despite what you should be wanting, to get free, a sharp moan escapes your mouth.

Your naga's breath tickles the back of your neck and sends shivers through your body. "I can provide for you." Their hiss is somehow so loving and so angry at the same time.

You open your mouth but are embarrassed the only thing leaving it is a breathy whine. Something cold and flat slides into your hand. Only a moment goes by before you realize what. Your phone; a clear demand to call in sick.

It takes effort but you manage to speak without another whine. "I have-...I have to work."

"No," Naga!Partner's teeth skim the skin on your neck. You can feel their fangs trail along. Goosebumps form where they do. "I can provide for you."

"Need...need t wo-work...!" You manage to choke out. To be honest you don't really care about it anymore. Your heart is racing, body throbbing with every shift of your naga's muscles, mind foggy with need.

Their fangs push into your skin. It's not enough to break it but it is enough to cause a jolt through your shaking frame. "I will provide you with what you need today."

You call in sick, and just as promised your Naga!Partner provides all you need and more.

#monster fucker #monster smut #naga smut #monster x reader #monster x human #gender neutral reader #biting kink #hope that was rough enough #it was probably pretty mild actually? sorry if it was less than expected #to be honest I love reading Naga but this is the first time writing it! #pa-bear writes

[patchwork-crow-writes]

25 - Imprisoned

We used to play in the light together - don't you remember? Oh, how simple things were back then, how happily we co-existed in our sublime little bubble...

It all went wrong so quickly, didn't it? The world outside was cruel, and rushed in too quickly for you to catch your breath. Playtime came to an abrupt end, and you put me away with all the other lies.

At the bottom of a plastic box, I gasped for air, crushed by darkness and neglect. I cried for you, there in my lonely prison... but you couldn't hear me anymore, could you? I begged for answers, to know why you had forsaken me, knowing that no response could ever assuage my heartbreak.

Were you no longer capable of maintaining our bond? I wouldn't have minded, as long as I could still see you. Were you trying to protect me from your misfortunes? I would have stood with you through it all, no matter how bad it got. Or... were the reasons more mundane? Had you... simply grown bored of me? Decided that I was not worth the embarassment of pretending - pretending to be something you were not, and could never be?

I rebuilt myself here, in the void beyond your care. My prison became a home, and then a castle, and then a fairytale. Now I stand as prince of those who, like me, were lost to the dark. So please do not worry yourself about me, my light. I have forgiven it all, and will welcome you back with open arms.

And soon, we shall play together again, in the darkness where we belong.

______________________________

The Dark Menagerie No. 25

<-<-First || <-Prev || Next-> || Index

#writing #fiction #fanfiction #deltarune #Ralsei #kris dreemurr #angst #affirmation #life after loss #Kris getting rid of the red horns would be like condemning Ralsei to imprisonment #And you have to wounder how he'd feel about that #to have known joy and light #only to be cast aside without explanation #Then to build yourself back up in preparation for your fated reunion #You wonder if he does still bear a small chip on his shoulder for all of that #He can be rather pas-ag when the situation calls for it #drabble #The Dark Menagerie

[hauntdoesthings]

The Vees with Niffty-Sized Reader

A/N: trying to get back in the groove of writing with some headcanons featuring my current fixation my favorite overlords!

CW: Valentino, manhandling, minor objectification(reader is used/referred to as a doll and pet), implied manipulation and possessive behavior bc it's the Vees, that's their schtick

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Velvette

✧You are literally doll-sized for her, good luck. ✧Dress-up is not an option and she will be throwing you in very cutesy or cozy clothes regardless of your preferences. ✧”They’re just too perfect on you, doll.” OK but where did she even get a bear onesie in Hell? ✧The entire thing is her personal stress-reliever, she gets to do you up however she likes while bitching about whatever faux pas her assistants came up with that week. ✧If you are as high-energy as Nifty, she has a very low tolerance for that. ✧You may be able to get away with running around her department while she’s occupied with prep work, but you better sit still while she’s playing with you unless you want to receive a very harsh reminder that, while she may be the youngest, she is no less than an Overlord, or have you forgotten that, doll?

Valentino

✧*cough*Size kink*cough* ✧Moving on, I actually don’t think shorties are his usual thing. We tend to see him more with taller, lanky people, legs for days kinda energy, but he can’t say your size doesn’t have it’s charms. ✧He absolutely loves to just hold you. Can’t keep up with his tall-ass strides? Wandering too far for his liking? Literally just existing nearby? You’re getting scooped up like nothing at all. Mans has four arms for a reason, so he’s just carrying you around like a handbag or purse pet. ✧Also uses it as a chance to show you off like the pet you are because who else can say they have such a little cutie at their beck and call? ✧Do not mention that you’re shared amongst the Vees or he might just forget he’s holding you as he focuses on holding back a tantrum.

Vox

✧”Jokingly” puts a tracker on you. He doesn’t like that you’re small enough to easily hide in his cameras’ blind spots. ✧Man is so anxious over and protective of you. You could literally be chewed up and spit out by anyone down here, wouldn’t you rather just stay where he can keep you safe and keep a watchful eye on you? ✧Doesn’t really pick you up to hold you like Val but will just grab you by the scruff of your neck to basically manhandle you around. Dragging you away from cables you could trip over, moving you to where he wants you to just sit and wait for him, that kind of thing. ✧Someone help you if you ever run into Alastor. Vox practically turns into a football player or something the way he just yoinks you up and books it. You’re stuck under house arrest for two-weeks at least, it doesn’t matter if you were talking with him or just existing with eyeshot. ✧And no, he doesn’t mean whatever shithole you’re staying in. You’ll be staying in the Vees’ Tower, where they can keep you out of the trouble you always seem to find yourself in. It’s really all for your sake, so he’s really doing you a favor, ḏ̴̉o̵̗͊n̷̜͛'̴̹̓t̷̞͐ ̷̯́y̶̹̒ỏ̷̥ų̸͠ ̴͇͆a̵̢̎g̴̪̈ŕ̴̲e̷͈̅ę̷͠?̵̀ͅ

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #the vees #vox #vox x reader #valentino #valentino x reader #velvette #velvette x reader #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel valentino #hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin hotel vees

[bubble-dream-inc]

hii! i love ur fics!! can u write something about medical f/reader and her being scared of Ghost and can't look him in the eyes (he makes her really nervous and shy) and Ghost kinda find it amusing:))

an apple a day...

At first, Simon wasn't fazed by the rumors about the cute new head doctor on base; that is, until he realized the effect he had on you - and how fun was it to tease you with it.

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Medic Reader

rbs greatly appreciated!

WC: 1,4K

a/n: hi anon! thank you for this ask, i had a lot of fun writing this <3 bear in mind i used the little medical knowledge from my brief pharmacist student era and i actually have no idea how medical regs work in the army so take these inaccuracies with a grain of salt lmao. thank you my love @chaoskrakenuwu for the beta read <333333

tags: profanity, pure fluff, medical innacuracies, female reader, Simon is a smug little shit.

Ghost was many things, but amongst it all, he silently took pride in being good at reading people.

At first, he didn’t know exactly why he was doing it, and later he’d come to realize it was an amusing game for him, oddly enough, considering Simon Riley was never a man to bask in mundane pleasures.

It started with the rumors around the base about the allegedly cute new head doctor. Simon had been around these men for long enough to grow used to their touch deprived selves thirsting over literally any woman that came close to their general vicinity, so at first the talk didn’t stir his curiosity - it almost never did; he didn’t like to gossip. This changed one morning when he woke up with a killer headache, and unwillingly made way to the infirmary to try and get some painkillers. Gingerly knocking on the door and waiting for the approval of whoever was on the other side - which came in the form of a meek ‘come in’ - he had completely forgotten about the rumors going around until he set foot in the room and instantly came across the new head doctor.

They didn’t do it justice. You weren’t cute, you were a fucking spectacle.

He blinked, seemingly expressionless behind the mask, but he embarrassingly had to admit he might have let his gaze wander more than usual as you looked up from the papers you were looking over, clearly confused as to why you heard your door open but not a word out of the person who came in, and, as you did so, he recognized all the emotions people felt whenever they looked at him for the first time: confusion, shock - be it by his sheer absurd size or the mask - and, lastly, intimidation. It wasn’t unusual, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t bother a very hidden part of him, the fact he was intimidating such a small and seemingly harmless woman such as yourself. He had half a mind to speak first, but you beat him to it.

“Oh, uh…Hello, er, Lieutenant Ghost? How can I help you?” You clearly fiddled with your fingers as you stared at him with wide eyes, refusing to meet his gaze. Simon was slightly annoyed you already knew who he was - the whispers about him on base weren’t exactly positive, and he wondered what you might have heard.

“Yeah. Got one fuckin’ headache, I need some meds.” He was aware of how much more coarse his already gruff voice sounded, courtesy of the annoying pain and the sour mood he was already in, and took notice of the way the sound of it made your eyes widen even more. Clearing your throat, you mumbled something in agreement, heading to a cabinet near your desk, and he couldn’t help but watch you like a hawk - entranced by how you looked with the clearly frantic tied up hair and the white lab coat moving in tandem with your body. You looked so small compared to him and the thought made him more satisfied than he’d like to admit.

Finally reaching the drawer you were looking for, you searched it around for a bit until grabbing a small blister with four duo colored pills, hastily making your way over to Ghost and handing him the medication. You gave some instruction on how he should take it - once every six hours, if the pain didn’t go away, but not more than three a day - but he barely registered it, too caught up on watching you from above. Deciding to end your torture, he looked over at the blister on his hand and raised it slightly as if it were a toast.

“Cheers. Thanks, doc.”

With that, he left, not going unnoticed how surprised you were at his cordialness.

After that, he unconsciously made a habit out of it, popping into your office for the stupidest of reasons and he wasn’t even sure why; he’d find himself gravitating towards the infirmary, like a lost dog, to the point you updated his file with the recently known information that he had constant headaches - he didn’t. Simon took some sort of sick pleasure from watching you squirm under his gaze, never able to keep his eye contact for long, even more so when you heard his voice, and things took an interesting turn when he realized you probably weren’t intimidated - but flustered instead. It clicked with him one day as he entered your office in casual clothes before heading to the gym and you thought you were being subtle about the way you ogled his arms in the tight black shirt he was wearing. As he was leaving, he subconsciously turned to grip the doorway above him - not by much - to bid you goodbye, and he couldn’t help but to smirk under the mask when your eyes widened and your face visibly reddened at the motion.

So, he decided to test his theory. That day, he didn’t even need to fake a headache to go see you, he actually had gotten injured when helping out with some maintenance, a moment of recklessness giving him a cut on his hand. If it were another circumstance, he would just have taken care of it himself, considering how desensitized he was to pain these days, but for once he had a good reason to bother you, so that’s exactly what he did. Even if his presence made you so shy, this time you couldn’t help but look at him with worry as he entered the infirmary.

“Ghost, you really have to look into those headaches of yours.”

“Not my head this time.”

He showed you the bleeding cut on his hand, and almost chuckled at the way your eyes widened and you got into professional mode, hastily walking around to gather materials he knew all too well - gauze, iodine, all fun stuff. Simon was used to the sting of stitches, but they rarely felt as gentle as you did it, the way he relished on how close you were while fixing his hand, a focused flash in your eyes, not helping his case one bit, even if it was slightly disappointed how all of your shy nature disappeared the moment you had to be professional. He could appreciate how good you were at what you did, though.

Too soon for his liking, you were done, going around mumbling about a specific anti-inflammatory you were going to give him while he admired the neat work on his hand. Still sitting on the infirmary bed, he watched as you realized where the medication was, which just so happened to be on the tallest shelf of the medication cabinet. You sighed, grumbling about the reckless nurse that always messed with the placement of the medications, too caught up in trying to stand on your tiptoes to reach it that you missed Ghost moving right behind you, noticing only when his torso was inches away from your back and he had one hand gingerly touching your waist, the way you shivered not going unnoticed. He indulged in the way you stilled, turning to look at him with a surprised expression, and he almost chuckled at how adorable your eyes looked when wide like that, but, instead, he only looked down at you for a few moments before effortlessly getting the medicine box from the shelf - which was almost at his eye level - and handing it to you, putting minimal distance between your bodies. Mumbling a small ‘thanks’ you averted your eyes from him, visibly gulping while you quickly found the blister inside the box and handed it to him. However, even after taking it from your hands, he made no move to leave, keeping his stare at you while tilting his head lightly to the side.

“Do I make you flustered, Doc?”

You blinked, processing his words before opening and closing your mouth like a fish and looking to the side, breaking eye contact.

“…Yes. I knew you were doing it on purpose…” You mumbled, embarrassed, and he finally chuckled, not a bit ashamed that you caught him red handed.

He was never so glad to be able to read people so well as that day, when he went back to his room leaving behind a bashfully grinning you and the promise to take you out on a real date whenever you’d be free.

#capy.writes #capy.answers #cod #cod mw22 #cod mwii #cod modern warfare #cod modern warfare 2 #call of duty mwii #call of duty mw2 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost cod #ghost x reader

[chrisevansonly]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐱: 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐑𝐚𝐢𝐧, 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐧

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: marriage and raising a family is never easy, there are bumps and waves along the way, but even the sun has to come out after a little rain…

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: slight angst, mentions of anxiety and mental health, crying, fluff

𝐀/𝐍: alright everyone we are GETTING BACK TO THE FLUFFY GOODNESS AGAIN, and welcome to chapter six, i’ll be honest idk how many chapters this will have yet, so bear with me, this also seems very shitty writing to me so i apologize if it is💀

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

Why did you feel so nervous, it wasn’t as if a stranger was coming to your home, no it was Charles, your Charles. The father of your beautiful little boy, and your husband, whom despite everything you loved with your entire being, of course your heart still hurt from the argument a few days ago but you had to recognize that you were in the wrong just as much as he had been 

The kitchen smelt like notes of caramel and hazelnut as you brewed a fresh poot of coffee, Matteo’s favourite cinnamon scones on the island awaiting his father who was arriving any second now

“Maman, où est papa?” the toddler asked softly, not wanting to interrupt your meticulous place setting at the breakfast nook 

“Il devrait être là dans la seconde, mon amour”

Matteo smiled, sticking to your side wanting to help you as much as he could, it had been a rough couple of days for the little boy, not understanding that his parents were fighting and it wasn’t his fault. Something that you and Charles needed to discuss because the older he got, the more anxious he became.

-

“Est-ce que papa est déjà là?”

You frowned, brushing some of the unruly hair out of the toddlers face 

“Pas ce soir mon amour..”

“Why!”

It wasn’t a surprise to hear Matteo get so upset it had been about two days since he’d seen him, far too long in his mind 

“Because Maman and Papa are just having some time apart..”

Matteo looked up at you, his eyes sad as the began to gloss over, sending your heart into a bit of a panic as you watched the gears turn in his brain trying to figure out what that meant 

“Est-ce à cause de moi?”

He sniffled, wiping his nose with his sleeve as you quickly scooped up the young boy into your arms 

“Petit amour, ce n’est pas ta faute et tu n’as rien fait de mal”

You paused for a moment 

“I promise you Matteo it is not your fault, sometimes parents just need a cool off so we can have some space and then come back stronger than before, I promise you baby papa and maman love each other so so much, and we love you so much more.”

Matteo stayed quiet but snuggled further into your chest, and you knew in this moment you and Charles needed to figure things out and do it fast.

-

Charles arrived at the house rather quickly, eager to see his little boy and even more excited to see you, he missed being home with the two of you, and was hoping today he could finally come home and work to put this behind him, he would do everything in his power to do that.

“Papa!!”

You looked up in time to see Matteo run off to the front door, straight into Charles’s arms, happy giggles spilling from his lips 

“Tu m’as tellement manqué petit prince, papa t’aime tellement.”

“Papa je t’aime tellement, tu m’as manqué encore plus!”

Charles smiled pressing kisses to the little boy’s face as they spent a few minutes reconnecting, it made you feel guilty, thinking back on it maybe you should have fixed this problem right when it happened. Not wanting to interrupt them you waited until Matteo took off with his father’s phone to play games, leaving the two of you in the kitchen together, a soft smile on Charles’s face, yet there was evident worry in his eyes. 

“Mon amour…”

Deciding against the slight hurt that remained in your chest you walked over and wrapped your arms around him, closing your eyes as your head rested against his chest 

“I’m sorry..”

“No please, don’t apologize, I shouldn’t have pushed you..”

Shaking your head you looked up at him

“I threw my anxiety in your face and-and I know how important racing is to you and you want to show Matteo everything but-”

“But nothing amour please, I understand why you are scared, Matteo is your baby as is he mine and it was wrong of me to push and push when you weren’t ready and I saw that from the very first time I brought it up…”

He paused just enough to catch a tear that slipped down your cheek before he continued, his thumb remaining on your cheekbone gently 

“I should have never raised my voice at you like I did, I made a promise to you and I broke it, something I swear to you I will never do to you again, all I can say now is I am so sorry amour…tu es mon soleil, mes étoiles, ma lune et le plus beau cadeau que j'ai jamais reçu. Je ne veux jamais te perdre.”

Charles didn’t have to say anything else in the moment, because you were quick to press your lips to his, his hands holding onto your face gently, cradling it as if you were made of porcelain. A kiss that brought you back to your wedding night, one that was filled with so much love you thought you might pass out, but god would it have been worth it. 

“I love you, so much Char…come home please and-and we’ll figure out the rest another day.. I should have never made you stay away from us like that, I’ll kick myself for it…”

“No enough, I’m not mad at all baby I don’t blame you..come lets go have a movie day with Teo”

Nodding your head you let him lead you to the living room where Charles was quick to order your favourite lunch, while recruiting Matteo to make the couch into the comfiest movie watching space you’d ever had. A smile coming to your face at the excitement in his eyes, and excitement you’d missed seeing from him the past few days. 

There really was nothing better in the world than having your little family back together, even if there was still much to be discussed and talked about but for right now, this was just perfect. Matteo settled in between the two of you, a happy smile on his face.

“I love you Maman, I love you Papa” 

Charles looked over at you before pressing a kiss to your forehead, letting you settle onto his shoulder comfortably, everything was absolutely perfect, there was nothing that could come between the three of you again.

He would make sure of it, no matter what he had to do.

ʚlittle karter taglist

@goldenalbon @goldenmclaren @a1leexxa @treehouse-mouse @therealcap @wintfleur

english translations:

Maman, où est papa? - Mom where is daddy?

Il devrait être là dans la seconde, mon amour - He should be here any second my love

Est-ce que papa est déjà là? - is Daddy here?

Pas ce soir mon amour - Not tonight my love

Est-ce à cause de moi? - Is it because of me?

Petit amour, ce n’est pas ta faute et tu n’as rien fait de mal - Little love, it’s not your fault and you have done nothing wrong

Tu m’as tellement manqué petit prince, papa t’aime tellement. - i missed you so much little prince, daddy loves you so much

Papa je t’aime tellement, tu m’as manqué encore plus! - Daddy i love you so much i missed you even more!

Tu es mon soleil, mes étoiles, ma lune et le plus beau cadeau que j'ai jamais reçu. Je ne veux jamais te perdre - you are my sun, my stars, my moon and the greatest gift i’ve ever gotten, i never want to lose you

#rueswrites #ruesanswers #ruesanons<3 #ruesasks #rueschats💗 #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc series #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x reader #dad!charles leclerc #dad charles leclerc #little karter🏎️ #little karter series🏎️ #charles leclerc au #charles leclerc fanfic #formula 1 masterlist #formula 1 blurb #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 fanfic #f1 series #f1 drabble #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic

[somekindofpoet]

La Petite Mort

Summary: Reader finds out Lorraine has just been bearing through intimacy with RJ, and takes it upon herself to educate her on how it should be done

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: +18 NSFW, smut, language 

A/N: Anon who requested this, whoever you are, forehead kiss you little horny angel. This was a real pleasure to write. If you don't read this in Lorraine's adorable accent, I will come for you.

LPM - La Drague (Part II) LPM - C'est Comme Ça (Part III)

LPM -T'en Va Pas (Part IV) LPM - Vouloir, C'est Pouvoir(Part V)

LPM - La Fin (Part VI)

Texas summers were nearly unbearable. The humidity rolled off the gulf coast and simmered in the blazing sun, soaking through your clothes and ensuring your sweat never evaporated. The problem with the weather in East Texas was that it forced you to suffer the ocean air, even with the warm dark waters hours away. You did your damnedest not to think about it while throwing bales of hay into the back of the ranch truck.

You had big dreams of moving out of state and going to a University in a place that was green and cool, but your reality was much more difficult to bear. The first strike against you was that you came from humble roots, your family mostly working for wealthy ranchers in the countryside. Your second and most egregious strike was being a woman. Sure, it was 1980, and girls went to college, but only the exceptional were accepted in the major universities on the East and West coasts. You were painfully average in IQ, and while you were lean and strong from a lifetime of working at ranches, women’s sports weren’t exactly the top priority of the country. 

You’d settled for now, saving up your money and sweating away as a ranch hand until you had enough in your pocket to make your escape. Your palms were beginning to burn, the bale ropes cutting into your callouses as you had foregone gloves for the sake of trying to keep cool. With the truck bed piled high, you slam the tailgate shut and walk around to the driver's side, wiping your forehead with your wrist. You climb in and start the old Chevy, ready to get it rolling back to the cool shade of the barn. You put the truck in drive, imagining it was your luggage in the back and the open road in front of you. You glance at the passenger seat and smile, the image of a girl sitting there painting itself in your head. 

The girl always started out as something innocent, but the image of her inevitably warped in your mind from a shadowy stranger into one you knew well. Tanned caramel skin, dark chestnut hair blowing in the wind, and a spattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. You sigh and shake your head, trying to etch-a-sketch the vivid picture from behind your eyes. As the truck rolls around the dirt road, the very figure of your imagination pulls into view.

Lorraine Day, the rancher's daughter and your friend, was sitting leaning up against the shady side of the barn, her nose in a book. You grip the steering wheel a little harder, trying to cool yourself. Lorraine was all sweet southern charm, innocent doe eyes, and small half smiles. She also happened to be the most beautiful girl you had ever seen, and your friendship with her was a daily challenge. You’d thought it would get easier after she started dating RJ, but in reality, it got worse. She was so far out of his league it was laughable, but she had fallen for his goofy charm and enthusiasm for film. You thought he was far too pretentious and self-righteous, a point you’d made to her often. 

You back the truck up to the barn door and park it, sliding out into the sun. Lorraine closes her book and looks up at you, a smile pulling at her lips. You were such a sucker for that smile. You drop the tailgate open and slide the closest bale to the end, turning your head over your shoulder to return the smile.

“Mornin, Lorraine.” You say, dipping your head at her in greeting.

“Good mornin y/n, you’re gettin started awfully early today.”

You pull the bale down, holding it by the two ropes that bound it, and nod your head, “Can’t be workin in this weather in a few hours. Figured I’d get the heavy liftin done early.”

She hums in agreement and leans back against the barn, watching you haul the bales down off the truck and walk them inside. When you come out for the next bale, she gets up and strolls over to you. She hops up and sits on the side of the tailgate, swinging her legs.

“Hey, when you’re done, you wanna go grab some ice cream in town? Daddy took the truck to the livestock auction today, so I’m stuck here.” She drawls, plucking strands of hay from the bale beside her.

You smirk and pull another bale off the truck, grunting with the effort. “You gonna help me haul these bales, or just sit there lookin all pretty like, asking me for favors?”

Her eyebrows go up, and she laughs, the sound like music to your ears. “You know full well I can’t help you move these things. And it’s not a favor, it’s an invitation.”

You walk back from the barn to the truck bed, shaking your head, chuckling. Only three bales left to move and you’re done for the morning.

“An invitation to take my truck and spend my money on ice cream for you?” You jab playfully at her, enjoying yourself. 

You walk the next bale into the shade of the barn and throw it down next to the stall, turning back for the last two. The sun is beaming down on Lorraine, her hair shining in the light and her dark eyes glittering. You puff your cheeks up with air and let it out all at once, shaking your head.

She’s working you, widening her eyes and blinking slowly, “Come on y/n, it’ll be quick. Promise.”

You pull the last two bales off the truck and laugh. You’re such a sucker. 

“Yeah alright, get in the truck.” 

The drive to town is a quick fifteen minutes, all back country roads and open fields in between. The windows are rolled down, the wind softly licking at your sweaty neck and whipping your hair into your eyes. You glance over to the passenger seat, your fantasy from earlier coming true in a small way. Lorraine has one arm on the window, her head slightly tilted out, letting the rushing air pull her hair out of her face. 

The ice cream shop is nearly empty, most folks deeming 10 AM too early for something so sweet. You buy a strawberry cone for Lorraine and a lemon for yourself. You take them to your truck to eat on the drive back to the ranch. You can’t help but notice the pink liquid dripping down the cone onto her fingers as it melts, and you question if you should have asked for strawberry instead of lemon. It would probably taste better on her skin, though.

You toss what’s left of your cone out the window, the lemon seeming bitter now that you had imagined the syrupy, pink sweetness of Lorraine. Her ice cream. Only the ice cream of course. You could never. She would never.

You grit your teeth, white knuckle gripping the steering wheel, trying to undo the sudden knots twisting in your stomach. Lorraine isn’t helping the case, savoring the ice cream with a slow tongue, sucking the melted runoff from her fingers. It’s simultaneously innocent and pornographic. It makes you dislike RJ even more. 

She pops the last bit of the cone into her mouth as you pull down the dirt driveway along the side of her house, finally granting you a reprieve. You park next to the barn and jump out of the truck, eager to put some space between yourself and Lorraine. To your great disappointment, she follows you into the barn and sits on a short stack of hay bales as you ready yourself to finish the barn chores. 

You pick up a pitch fork and press the teeth into the dirt, leaning on the wooden handle. “You don’t got anything better to do today than watch me sweat, or what?” 

She shrugs, picking at the hay, “Nothing interesting.”

“Where’s your boyfriend?” You ask, the question weighted in your gut.

She sighs and purses her lips, “He went with some crew out past Houston to film somethin.”

Your brow furrows, “You don’t sound too pleased about that.”

“Well he says it’s gonna be tasteful, but it’s smut.”

You snort a laugh through your nose, stumbling forward as you press too much weight into the pitchfork. You right yourself and look back to her, her expression unamused.

“He’s shootin a porno?”

She rolls her eyes at you, “I guess if that’s what you want to call it, then yeah.”

You raise your eyebrow at her, grinning, “Well if there’s naked people bumpin up against each other, usually you call that a porno.”

She huffs, “A tasteful one though.”

You laugh in over-exaggerated disbelief, “Tasteful or no, he’s filmin people fuckin. You’re okay with that?”

She gestures vacantly with her hand, shaking her head. “I don’t know. I don’t even know why people want to do stuff like that. Sex ain’t all that exciting anyway.”

You bark out a laugh, then stop when you realize she wasn’t joking.

“What do you mean, it ‘ain’t all that exciting’?” You air quote, waiting for her to clarify.

She shrugs, “It just ain’t. Everyone acts like it’s some grand ole time, but mostly I find myself just waitin for it to be over.”

Your jaw drops, and you let go of the pitchfork, dropping that too. “You mean to tell me RJ ain’t shakin your tree every other hour?”

The blush that rises up her neck tells you everything you need to know. She has no idea what it’s supposed to be like. Obviously, her boyfriend is doing something terribly wrong. The heat rises to her cheeks and she starts chewing the inside of her lip.

“I mean he does, but I won’t let him much. It’s more fun for him than it is for me.”

You scoff and bend over to pick up the pitchfork. You’re shaking your head, opening the empty horse stall, quietly exiting the conversation before you say something she won’t like. 

She pipes up before you can enter the stall, the frown on her face clear even from the other side of the barn. “What? You been doin better? I don’t see you running around town with any boys.”

You purse your lips and turn back to her, “Well that’s your first problem right there, Lorraine. I don’t go runnin around with boys.”

You turn back to the stall to let her absorb the information. It takes her a few minutes, enough time for you to start mucking the hay. You hear her get up and figure she would leave, but her head pops up over the side of the stall, her arms resting on the top beam.

“So you been runnin around with girls then?”

You scoop a pile of soiled hay, nodding once, “Now and again.”

She hums, her brow furrowed in curiosity, “What’s that like?”

“Better’n whatever RJs been doin to you.”

She lifts her head from her hands, irritation spreading across her face, “You tellin me you could do better?”

This is a line you hadn’t ever walked. Sure, you flirted with her subtly but never outright propositioned her. Maybe it’s the heat that has your brain a little foggy, or maybe the realization that the most beautiful girl you’d ever seen had never been given a proper orgasm pushed you to the line.

“Without a doubt.” You say, not looking up from your work. 

She’s quiet, and you worry you’ve gouged an indelible mark into your friendship. You glance up at her and are surprised to find hesitant but curious eyes on you. You stop working and watch her eyes trail down your neck and over your shoulders. You cock your head, was she checking you out? 

She glances back up and realizes you’ve caught her, and the blush returns to her cheeks. She drops off the side of the stall and out of your sight, so you stake the pitchfork into the ground and slowly exit back into the open barn. You’re nervous, so you stick your hand in your pocket for the candies you stash there, hoping to keep yourself busy while you mend whatever damage you’d just done. 

She’s sitting on the hay bales again, biting her nails. You approach her and open your palm, a watermelon Jolly Rancher rolling there.

“Quit chewin your nails. Have a candy.” 

She takes it quickly, unwrapping it and popping it into her mouth. She’s gazing up at you, her face thoughtful. 

She pushes the candy into her cheek, “How does it work?”

You roll the blue sweet around in your mouth, wondering how in-depth to go, “Depends. We have mouths and hands just like any boy.”

She gulps and sputters, “Your mouth?” 

You raise your eyebrows at her, this is worse than you’d thought. “Well yeah, don’t RJ do that to you?”

She shakes her head no, eyes wide. You lick your lips, unconsciously taking a step toward her. Her lips part just slightly, her eyes growing dark with her pupils expanding. You catch her stealing the fastest glance at your lips and consider your losses if you do cross this line. If she rejects you, you can laugh it off and go back to mucking the horse stall. But if she doesn’t, oh, the consequences of that are enough to make your mouth water around the hard candy on your tongue. 

You take another step toward her, gauging her reaction. Her fingers twitch at her side, and she inhales sharply, but she doesn’t move away. The candy in your mouth has dissolved completely, the extra saliva under your tongue mixing sweet and syrupy. Hers is gone too, either swallowed whole or meeting the same fate as yours. You throw caution to the wind and reach down, cupping her jaw in your hand. Her breathing speeds up, her chest rising and falling quickly beneath her shirt. 

You lean in, inches from her lips, emboldened by her body language, and whisper, “I could show you, if you want.”

She gulps again, “You-you could?”

“Would you like me to show you?” You say, your voice low and soft, just a hair away from her lips.

She nods slowly, inhaling deeply. It’s all the consent you need, and you close the gap, pressing your lips into hers. You intended to take it slow, ease her into the idea of kissing a girl. But she surges forward the moment your lips meet, wrapping her arms around your neck and pulling you close. Your tongue glides across her lip, and she gasps, opening her mouth to greet your tongue with hers. Her hands are in your hair, gripping, and her knees are spreading apart, allowing you more space to move in on her. 

She whimpers when you bite softly on her bottom lip, and a fire ignites in your lower belly. Your hands begin to wander, down her neck, over her shoulders and breasts, sliding down her ribs to her hips. You trail kisses down her jaw and lick at her pulse, eliciting more small mewls from the back of her throat. You take your time on her neck, testing how far she’s willing to let you go. She leans her head back, her hands grasping at your shoulder blades over your shirt. 

She’s touch starved, hungry for an intimacy that is clearly missing from her current relationship.  You pull back and drop to your knees between her legs, looking up at her while tracing your fingers along the hem of her shirt. You can feel her stomach twitch under your fingers, excited and ticklish. She looks down at you with a mixed expression. She’s nervous, but she wants this. More than you had expected. She takes her shirt from under your fingers and pulls it over her head, her jaw clenched but her head nodding yes. 

You slow your approach, if she’s nervous, you know she won’t enjoy it as much. You take the time to soothe her, ease her into it, make her comfortable with wanting you. Her denim shorts are bunched up, revealing miles of skin, hot to the touch. You run your palms from her knees up to her hips, inching your body in between her legs until your chest is pressing into her stomach. You plant a soft kiss on her ribs, just under her bra, your hands making their way to her waist to steady her. 

She reaches down to you, her hand sliding around the side of your neck, and pushes you back some so she can lean down and kiss you again. You savor the sugary taste on her tongue, the two flavors of jolly ranchers mixing in your mouth. She seems more sure now, her hands wandering across your shoulders and back, taking in your form. You break away from her lips and shuffle back to press hot, open mouthed kisses below her belly button, running your tongue along the top of her shorts. She leans back on her hands, opening her body to you. 

You take the button of her shorts between your fingers and look up at her, waiting for permission. She nods hurriedly, reaching down to help you push them off of her. You brush her rushing hands away and undo the button, pulling her forward to the edge of the hay bale. The shorts and her underwear hit the ground behind you as you toss them over your shoulder, your hands returning to the tops of her thighs. You spread her legs, and your jaw drops at the sight.

You didn’t think she could get more attractive, and yet, here she was, soaking wet and wanting and absolutely beautiful. 

“Oh fuck,” you whisper, your eyes glued to her center.

She gasps and tries to close her legs but ends up squeezing your shoulders as you lean in.

“Oh god, is it bad, it’s never been like this, I-“ she’s breathless and panicky, but you cut her rambling off with a kiss to her swollen clit.

You drag your tongue from her opening back up to her clit, circling it once, twice, then sucking it in between your lips. She’s lost all composure, forgetting her insecurities and letting out surprised sighs and soft moans. You detach and turn your head, nip at her thigh, and soothe it with your tongue. You look up at her and grin.

“Don’t apologize. You’re incredible.” You say, your voice raspy. 

She whimpers as you dive back in, licking up all the nectar she has to give you. She is decidedly better than the ice cream you’d had earlier, the salt of her sweat mingling in the sweetness between her legs. You dip your tongue inside her entrance, and one of her hands winds its way into your hair. You pull your tongue out and drag it up to her clit again, lapping at it slowly, learning what she likes through touch and sound alone. She’s shaking under your mouth, her legs squeezing your head as you wrap your hands around them. You give her one long suck, rolling your tongue over her and she cums, hard. Her hips tilt up into your face and her hand in your hair presses you into her, her head thrown back and mouth open. You keep at it, letting her ride it out as long as she can until she’s pushing your head back, twitching and panting.

You kiss the inside of her thighs on both legs and look up at her, a wide smile on your shining lips. She’s still gasping for air, but she looks down at you, and it’s clear she’s in awe. 

“That’s…that was…I’ve never…” she stutters, still breathless.

You rest your arms on her legs, smirking up at her in self-satisfaction, “Come down here with me, and we can do it again.”

“Again?”

“Yes, again. And again, if you want.”

The next thing you know, you’re on your back, fresh hay clinging to your hair and the sweet smell of alfalfa working its way into your clothes. Lorraine leans down and kisses you, groaning into your lips, looking for the “again” that was promised. You don’t tell her you could do this all day with her, you don’t even need food. Just her. 

She’s reaching down and pulling your shirt up, so you sit up, letting her pull it over your head before crashing back down into you. Moaning at the feeling of your skin on hers. You reach around her back, still kissing her, and unclasp her bra, letting it fall from her shoulders. She sits up and slings it aside, quick to return to your lips. She’s hurried now, her skin burning hot on yours. Her kisses are growing sloppy in her rush, but you find you enjoy it even more that way. 

You lift your hips and roll her over, settling your leg between hers and taking in the view. Her dark hair is mixed with the hay, the contrast making it even more beautiful. You lean into her and realize you’re criminally overdressed, so you unbutton your jeans and push them to your ankles before kicking them off behind you. Now when you lean in, you can feel how wet she is on your thigh, and the sensation alone nearly takes you out. 

You drop your face into her neck again, kissing and nipping her skin, leaving faint pink marks in your wake. While your lips begin their descent to her chest, your hand runs down her ribs. You slide your leg back, and your fingers find her clit, rubbing small circles over the overly sensitive area. A soft “oh” falls from her lips when you run your tongue over her nipple, then suck on it softly. Her hands are restless, her nails running down your spine, up the back of your neck, softly gripping your hair only to release and begin again. 

She’s not twitching away from your fingers anymore, her body recovered and ready for round two. You run your fingers through her, groaning around her nipple as you feel how warm and wet she is. You slide two fingers into her, and she sighs in relief. Like she’d been waiting for you all day. Like nothing was more desirable than your fingers filling her up. You release her nipple with a pop and breathe slowly through your nose, fending off your own orgasm feeling how tight she was around you. Once you’ve recovered, you begin to pump your arm, curling your fingers softly before you pull out. You graze her G spot and she shouts, clenching down on you and sitting up on her elbows. You stop moving, looking up at her in alarm.

“Did I hurt you?”

She swallows, her eyes wide, “No, no, it’s just. What was that?” 

Of course, RJ hadn’t ever hit that spot. You internally roll your eyes at his ineptness. It was criminal, she hadn’t even known the spot was there. 

You curl your fingers again, pressing into it, “You mean this?”

Her eyes roll and her lashes flutter, her arms shaking under her, “Yeah, yes. How?”

You pull out slightly, then push back in and do it again, pulling another whimper from her throat, “Do you like that?”

She nods, dropping back to the ground.

You lean over her, your mouth close to her ear, “Tell me.”

“I like it,” she sighs, her hands moving into your hair, “Oh god I like it.” 

You smile and press a kiss to the side of her jaw, “Good.” You say and begin moving your fingers again. 

You use your thumb to circle her clit gently, and her breathing speeds up. One hand in your hair, and one squeezing your shoulder. She pulls you down, kisses you feverishly, groaning through her nose as your tongues slide across each others. Your pace is steady as you fuck her into the ground, alternating between kissing her lips and down her neck. Her nails drag across your back, digging deep into your skin, the sting giving you goosebumps. 

Her neck is straining and she’s panting, arching her back up into your body. Her moans grow closer together and louder.

“Oh, fuck y/n, right there,” she groans, “I’m gonna, I’m gonna-“

The rest of her statement is cut off by a low pitched moan, her body seizing up and her legs squeezing your body. The sound of her orgasm sends you hurtling into your own, stiffening your back and clenching your legs. She drops into the hay and dirt just before you drop onto her, bodies spent and hearts racing. You slide your weight off to her side, pulling your hand out from between her legs, your head resting on her shoulder. You lay your arm across her, careful not to let your fingers fall into the dirt. 

Once the post orgasmic high wears off, you sit up, looking down at her. Her eyes are far away, distant in thought. You caress her cheek with the back of your hand, smiling warmly.

“You okay?”

She blinks quickly, her eyes shifting over to you. She nods, “More than okay.” 

“You wanna do it again?” You ask her, smiling coyly at her.

She looks dumbfounded, her mouth opening and closing without speaking. You smirk at her, feeling smug about the state you’ve put her in. 

She finally comes around and nods, “I just need a minute.”

You shrug, “That’s okay. Take all the time you need. My day is yours now.”

She sits up, her eyes wide and a half smile tugging at her lips. She pulls you over, kissing you slowly and softly. As the pace begins to pick up, the sound of car tires on the gravel outside rip the two of you apart. 

Lorraine gasps, her eyes wide with terror, “Daddy.”

You frown, “Well, no one’s ever called me that before, but I’m not against the nickname.”

She shoves your shoulder and scrambles to her feet, looking for her clothes, “No idiot. My dad, he’s home.”

“Oh shit!” You yelp, joining her in the search for clothing. 

It’s a mad dash, pulling on underwear and pants and shoes, shuffling around in the barn, both of you trying not to giggle. You hear his footsteps approaching and run into the horse stall, frantically grabbing the abandoned pitch fork. Lorraine scrambles up the side of the stall and sits perched on the edge, pretending to watch you muck out the hay. 

Her eyes are wild, and she whispers to you, “I couldn’t find my panties.”

You blanch, knowing full well if Mr. Day saw the Sunday panties in the hay, he’d know exactly what had gone on. You pop your head over the stall, your eyes scanning the barn floor for them. You finally catch sight of them, half hidden under the rusty old tractor in the corner. Too far for you to run over to hide them. You cross your fingers, hoping he doesn’t catch sight of them. Lorraine is doing a horrendous job of appearing nonchalant, twisting her fingers and swinging her legs. You glance up at her as he walks in and give her your hardest ‘be chill’ look before you start shoveling horse shit.

“There’s my beautiful daughter,” Mr. Day’s low, scratchy voice rumbles out as he saunters over to the stall, patting her back and looking over the wall at you.

“And my favorite ranch hand. Hard at work, as always.”

You stop shoveling to stand and smile at him. You shoot him a wink, “You know me sir, always workin on somethin.”

He barks out a laugh, his mustache getting caught between his lips. He sighs, patting Lorraine’s leg, “You’re a good kid, y/n. A damn good kid.” He looks up at his daughter, “Good company for my baby girl, keep her around, Lorraine.”

He pats her leg once more and turns to shuffle out of the barn, making his way up to the house. Lorraine lets out a breath you hadn’t realized she was holding and slouches over. You grin up at her conspiratorially. She grimaces at you, making you frown.

“Whats’a matter? He didn’t suspect a thing.”

She starts wringing her hands again, looking down at her fingers, “What if RJ finds out?”

You snort and shake your head “Baby, he’s got his head so far up his own ass I’m pretty sure I could make you cum in front of him, and he wouldn’t notice.”

She shoots you an exasperated look, picking up a loose screw off the post next to her and throwing it at you.

 “He would too notice, and he’s gonna notice these.” She says, softly running her fingertip over the bite marks and hickeys on the inside of her thighs. 

She shivers, closing her eyes and licking her lips. You dip your head down, pretending not to see but grinning like mad at the hay in your pitchfork. Hopefully, he did notice the marks. Hopefully, she figured you were better for her than he was. Hopefully, the first petite mort you had given her opened her eyes to the possibilities of satisfaction. When you lift your head to look at her again, she’s smiling at you. 

“Your apartment got room for two?”

“You gonna buy me dinner first?” You ask, smirking.

“If you do that to me again, I’ll buy you whatever you want.”

“I want a great big ranch house and a new truck.” You tell her, dropping the pitchfork and strutting over to her.

You put your hands on her knees and open her legs, stepping between them again, her hips at face height. You rest your head on her thigh and look up at her. Her eyes are soft and warm, and she reaches out to run her fingers through your hair. 

“I think I can find a way to make that happen.”

“Put it on your tab.” You say, kissing the bite mark on her thigh.

“It’s gonna run up pretty high.”

“You can afford it.”

#lorraine day #jenna ortega #lorraine day x reader #X #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x reader #vada cavell #tara carpenter #wednesday

[storiesforftm]

Would you write an Astarion x Ftm!reader? I really wish there were more fics/imagines with inclusive readers because gods that man is queer

Absolutely!

I’ve had an idea of a post top-surgery trans man for a hot minute, so here is that story!

Astarion x FtM! Reader

“How Did You Get Those Battle Scars?”

As the night fell into silence, and every one of your companions were asleep, you noticed that tonight was going to be one of those sleepless night. In the thick, hot, summer air, you tossed and turned in your tent on your cot. You wondered if anyone was able to sleep in such heat.

Not being able to bear it any longer, you decided to venture out into the night towards the river. Perhaps a dip in the water would cool you down enough to sleep better. At the river’s edge, you laid your clothes. Shirt, pants, underwear, all neatly laid together on rocks.

You dipped your toes in and walked in until the water was up to your waist. You closed your eyes, allowing the moonlight to shine onto your skin. Onto your face. The sounds of nature allowed you to relax. You play in the water, gently running your hands through it. The water felt nice for such a warm night. To completely rid of any heat, you dunked your head underwater. Shortly after, you headed out.

You looked back towards where you laid your clothes. The only thing there now were your underwear and pants. Why was your shirt gone? You looked around, but couldn’t find it. You noticed that Astarion’s tent was now lit up with a source of light. Candles, perhaps. You walk up to the tent, and made your presence known quietly, as not to disturb the others.

Quickly, you were drug into Astarion’s tent by Astarion himself. He reacted quickly, as if he was expecting someone else to be there. You noticed quickly that he was holding a blade to your throat, and you widened your eyes as you saw his sharp teeth, which could’ve been considered blades by themselves.

Astarion quickly realizes it you, and chuckles to himself. “Oh, haha, it’s you.” He sits across from you, and after shaking off any remaining fear, you ask, “You wouldn’t happen to know what happened to my shirt, would you?”

“Hmm, no, darling, in fact, I was in my tent all night,” he slyly smiles at you. You know he’s lying, so you start looking around for it yourself. You are in no mood to be played with, but Astarion likes seeing you frustrated. He notices the scars on your chest, and thinking nothing of it, he asks, “How did you manage to get those scars?”

“Do you pry this much,” you ask, annoyingly. Astarion gives out a chuckle, “Not every night, but I feel like it now. So, how did you get them? Hm?” As he asked the question, he stood up and took out a piece of cloth out his back pocket. It was your shirt. You noticed out the corner of your eye, and you tried to lunge for it. Astarion dodges your attempt at retrieving your shirt, and says “ah, ah, ah! Tell me more about those scars, and I’ll give it back.”

“If you think im embarrassed of my scars, I’m not. I just want my shirt.”

“If you’re not embarrassed, then you won’t mind me asking how you got your scars, my boy,” he said cunningly, making you blush. Your flushed cheeks make him giggle, and he sits back and relaxes while you stand in a frustrated fluster. Astarion doesn’t look away from you, and stares you down, barely even taking time to blink.

Eventually, your frustration subsides, and you sit down in front of Astarion. “I guess you could say they’re battle scars,” you begin, allowing Astarion to ask any questions he wants.

“Battle scars? That’s all?” He huffs, “I thought it would be more interesting.”

“Yes, we’ll, not just any battle scars. I guess this kind of battle isn’t fought often.”

“Go on.” Astarion’s attention was caught. You stretch out your torso, so the scars are more visible. You explain your story.

“From a young age, I knew I was different. As I was growing up, I was raised as a girl. My parents treated me as such, but deep down, I knew I wasn’t. Then I became a teenager, and soon, my body didn’t match how I felt about myself. It took a long time to fight that battle within myself, and for me, I finally won when I could take control of how my body looked.”

Astarion listened intently, grasping every word you said. “I see. Mental battles are sometimes harder to defeat than physical ones. I commend you for that.”

“Thank you.”

Astarion looks down at the shirt he holds in his hands, and slowly lifts his hands to give it to you. You look back at it and let out a small chuckle.

“Keep it.” You say as you stand up. He looks at you, shocked. “You want me to keep your shirt?”

“Yes. I have more. You can keep that one.”

“But.. what if the others question you?”

“Pft,” i scoffed, “If the others question me, I’ll give them answers. Remember, I’m not ashamed of my scars. I’m not ashamed of the battles I’ve won. Scars are trophies I wear to show that I could overcome. I’m not scared.” You leave Astarion’s tent, and go back to your own. You lay down in your cot, ready for sleep to take you under its wing.

The next morning, you awaken to the sun rising. You step outside, and you see Astarion, wearing your shirt. You smile to yourself, and find a folded up note and a shirt at your feet. You read the note, and it says:

“Dear, my boy, y/n. Your outlook on battles has inspired me, both mentally and physically. Scars do not define who you are, but they can define what you’re capable of. The pain and suffering you must’ve endured had to be far harder to heal than the scars you’ve obtained. I commend you for that. Take this offering of gratitude. It’s one of my shirts. I hope to inspire you the way you’ve inspired me.

- Astarion”

You fold the letter and put it with your belongings. You put on the shirt, which is a bit big for you, but you don’t mind. You step back outside and see Astarion look at you. You both smile at each other, and you now know that you can inspire almost anyone, including someone 200 years older than you.

#x male! reader #x ftm reader #astarion #astarion x ftm reader #astarion x male reader #astarion x male tav #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #baulders gate astarion #astarion fic #astarion bg3 #astarion x trans reader #astarion x trans masc reader #astarion x trans male reader #astarion x male! reader #astarion x you #bg3 imagine #astarion imagine #ftm imagines #male reader imagine #trans male reader #trans male reader imagines

[lethalchiralium]

You should totally not write a part two to Missus dying during birth. Where it's set month later??? Years later??? 😏😉😏

I mean the double angst would be just to much to bare! 😏😉😏

(No.... because side note I'm living for your GIRL DAD SIMON 😭🫶)

oh so you guys are EVIL evil. i partially wrote some of this way back, i was playing with the thought of her death but decided against it. this did get me in the mood to write for ACTUAL happiness, so watch out for that lol

warnings: alcoholism, grief.

happiness au!

Simon found that could never hold anger like he used to. It dissipates as quickly as it festers, he tried so hard to find something to be angry at over your death. He couldn’t be angry at Roach, he was with you in his place. He couldn’t be angry at Price, he was doing his job. He couldn’t be angry at you because you had done the best you could to get in touch with him. You nurtured his children, one sprinting around and one in your once warm belly.

He held his hand over WInnie’s eyes at the end of the funeral, little Mellie asleep in his arm yet still angling her away from the scene - he couldn’t bear to have his daughters watch their mother be lowered into the ground.

He did discover that alcohol makes the incredible pain disappear just a little.

In the month after your death, it was a cycle for Simon and Price to keep Winnie and Mellie afloat while he destroyed himself as they slept soundly. Drinking himself into a stupor and collapsing on his bedroom floor; his hazed mind forcing him to spread out on the hardwood, telling himself he didn’t deserve to sleep in a bed. In your bed. And despite the dozens of pounds he wasted on alcohol for that first month, the thought of you could never quite escape his mind.

You left nothing to direct him, nothing to guide him. Just hazy memories of your smile, dim visions of the way your skin touched his, faint pulses on his lips of what used to be your heartbeat. You had nothing away, no letters or little notes in any nook and cranny of his home - he checked drunk, he checked sober. He wanted to slam his hand into the wall that morning, hungover and wanting to scream - but his little baby Mellie babbled on his bed, little fingers dug into her stuffed dog, completely unaware of the myriad of emotions painted on the walls. It was like Simon had exploded, his emotions were everywhere.

And after one horrible night, Simon found himself on the floor of his room again. But he wasn’t alone - under his blanketed arm and curled into his side was Winnie, her green bear tucked into her own chest. His heart broke again at that, and even with the intense hangover, he picked up his daughter. He took the few steps back to sit on his bed, her gentle eyes slowly fluttering open.

“Do you wanna sleep up here, lovie?” He asked her, trying to keep his voice even as his head pounded.

“Just wanna make sure you’re okay.” His daughter mumbled, one hand wiping one of her eyes as she looked up at him. That made his heart burn like it had been doused in oil and set aflame. He crawled into the bed that hasn’t known warmth since you died, tucking in his four year old and keeping her close to his chest.

“Dad’s gonna be okay.” He whispered to his daughter, tears spilling from his eyes. “I promise.”

After that early morning, Simon stopped drinking and stayed sober for years afterwards. He was proud of himself for that seemingly small feat, but he was still devastated by the loss of you, he felt it every single day since. Teaching Mellie to walk, to talk, and to run were the first times Simon felt your loss again - he cried tears each time, knowing that it should have been you and him teaching your daughter these things. That you and him should have been teaching your children how to ride a bike, help them with their stupid math homework, help them navigate life.

But it was just Simon, trying to fill your shoes that he never had the heart to move from the front door.

He had tried to quit the 141 when you passed, but Price wouldn’t let him. Keeping him on desk duty meant Simon still got incredible pay and benefits, it meant Simon could take baby Mellie with him to base, it meant he could make it home before his kids got off of school when they were older. He never gave his all to the military again.

He had to learn all about periods when Winnie was twelve so he could help her as best he could. He had to learn all about her friends, then Mellie’s friends - he felt that time was always going too fast. He comforted his children through the loss of their beloved cat. He met boyfriends and girlfriends before his daughters finally fled the nest, leaving him alone for the first time in 22 years.

The month after he was left alone again, he opened a bottle of bourbon. He felt the pain creep back into his skin, he needed relief. He needed to not know what pain was. He’d drink when he was alone. He wouldn’t dare to have a drop when his children were around, when his grandkids were ever in his home. But when he was alone? It seemed just a glass of three fingers turned into a bottle, sleeping a couple hours turned into twenty, three missed calls from Mellie and a seven texts from Winnie - all asking if he was alright, that his constant sleeping was making them nervous.

One day, Simon tried to open his nightstand to find his ID tags, he was drunk the night before and woke up without them. He never slept without them, it was his way of comforting himself with something he’s had almost all his life. The nightstand’s drawer wouldn’t budge, wouldn’t pull open. He reached his hand underneath the drawer to try and dislodge whatever was keeping it from opening - a letter falls into his hand. He grew confused, there is no address or writing on the front - it’s obviously old too. He opened the envelope, seeing a date written on the lip in handwriting he’s wished to read for decades.

The day before Mellie’s birth was written clearly.

He ripped the paper from the envelope and fell to his knees, a photo of you in the hospital floated to the floor as he reads the letter. The last picture of you ever taken, one that came from that little polaroid camera he bought you before he left his whole family for the last time.

You didn’t leave him without direction. He just didn’t know where to look.

i love all the happiness asks so much that the new happiness chapter will be coming very soon

Copyright © 2023 lethalchiralium. All rights reserved.

#happiness series #lethalchiralium #lethal chiralium #simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x wife!reader #simon riley call of duty #simon riley x wife!reader #simon riley x f!reader

[buryustogether]

the end of forever (god’s day)

aziraphale x reader x crowley

summary: the end of forever comes on god’s day.

word count: 2.6k

warnings/tags: angst, mentions of blood

author’s note: dedicated to @avocado-writing , with whom i did a fic trade and this was my piece!! this fic is part of their good omens original timeline, and i highly recommend reading it!!! <333

The end of forever started on a Saturday evening.

Granted, it was not the Saturday evening that dominates the beginning to every weekend, fitted with gentle rainfall pattering against the windows, and a book propped in your lap, and the comfortable ambiance of your lovers on either side as you let yourself be lulled into peace. Instead it was a dark, thrashing kind of Saturday, filled with panicked whispers over dances, and demons busting down the bookshop windows in hails of twinkling glass. It was blinding, seared into the forefront of your mind with traces of a halo detached from its angel and a pair of souls running away, bound for opposite sides of the universe and forever vanished into one corner together.

And, of course, it was snapped up in the jaws of the Metatron. He had taken Aziraphale for a stroll around the block once or twice, leaving you and Crowley to stare down the mess of what had become the bookshop and wonder if perhaps this had all been a dream.

“Fancy breakfast at the Ritz, love?” Crowley had said as the pair of you began to pluck cracked books from the floor and stack them to be restored and reshelved. With a wave of his slender fingers, he had sent the shards of glass cascading through the air like a silent breeze back to where they belonged in the window frames. “Reckon we deserve it, after a night like that.”

“Sure you’ll be able to handle the drive?” you had said and handed him the empty fire extinguisher, which had fallen down the winding iron staircase. “I’m sure you’re exhausted, Crowley. Spending all that time in Heaven? Must have been awfully straining on you.”

Though he would never admit it, Crowley rather enjoyed it when you fussed over him. He relished in the worry threading your voice together, craved the inevitable babying that accompanied your measures of protection. His chest had puffed slightly, and if you could have seen them, you were sure his wings had ruffled a bit.

“I’ll be alright,” he’d assured, then dropped into the chair he had long ago claimed as his beside Aziraphale’s desk. “Wouldn’t say no to a nap when we come back, though. Could sleep for a few decades, I think. Skip all the garish drama that’s sure to follow something like this. Care to join, nightingale?”

You had smiled at him, eyes full of exhaustion and yet at the same time, the restlessness that came with the knowledge part of your trio was still missing from the picture. “Afraid I can only keep you company a few hours,” you mused. “Immortal as I am, I don’t think I can lie still long enough until you decide to wake up.” Despite your teasing, you reached out your hand to caress his jaw, and he leaned into your warm touch. He knew it like he knew his own breath in his throat at this point, but he still nuzzled into your palm like an animal seeking warmth. Funny enough creature as he was, he was still, deep down, a demon searching your soul for any glimpse of love you might spare him. “I’m glad you’re okay, Crowley,” you said, letting your voice lower in volume so he understood you had dropped your jokes and cracks. “I don’t think I could bear losing you. Either of you.”

He had leaned up to kiss you then, lips and tongue seeking yours like, in spite of your words, one side or the other might tear you away from him. He tasted like cinnamon - an odd enough musk for him, but he had just returned from Heaven, after all. You were sure he hated it. But you had drank it in like it was the last thing you’d taste before you fell.

You found yourself some time later amongst the back shelves of the shop, knees and the heels of your hands aching as you painstakingly wiped away and polished the spots on the floor upon which unholy blood had been spilt and spattered. Aziraphale would not care to have those on his tile, thank you. A voice in the back of your head told you that one of your boys could simply miracle the mess away, but this seemed a bit more intimate - cleaning up the mess for your lover. This was your shop, too, in a way. And you wanted to rid it of any trace of what had happened here last night.

You only realized it was Sunday morning - God’s day - when you heard the bell above the front door jingle with its familiar chime, and the low rumble of your lover’s voices filled the empty space between the air. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, not over the sound of your brush against the floor and the dull ache in your lower back. After a long few minutes, you sat back and inspected your work.

Like the demon invasion of Fell and Co. had never even happened.

You were just about to call out to your boys when you heard a sharp hiss to Crowley’s voice that caused your heart to skip a beat. You twisted your head around to face the front of the store. Crowley only ever hissed when he let his disguise slip and his tongue split. And he only ever let his tongue split when he was so distraught not even a raging thunderstorm could comfort him.

Wiping your hands on your legs, you cautiously made your way through the organized maze of shelves toward the front entrance of the bookshop. There stood your lovers, the angel and the demon, staring one another down like they had never met, like their love had vaporized, like they had never met in that garden at the beginning.

“What’s happened?” you said and made your presence known as you stepped down into the threshold. “What’s wrong?”

Aziraphale turned to face you, obviously making an effort to brighten his features, but it was Crowley who faced away. Dropped his weight onto his arm against the desk. Reached up to tug off his shades, toss them aside hard enough that the lens cracked in its frame. The air crackled with a kind of tension that reared its head so rarely it was almost foreign to you. Or, perhaps, was that divine energy rippling the air, stirred and upset by the creatures standing before you?

“Darling,” said Aziraphale, then reached out to take your hands and placed kisses upon your knuckles. His lips were plump and soft, and when they made contact with the skin of your hand, a tiny sense of ease washed over your veins. “You needn’t worry about this. Just a… little dispute.”

“Oh, don’t lie to her like a child,” seethed Crowley from across the room, and whatever ease had settled your nerves disappeared in the blink of an eye. You felt your blood turn to ice beneath your skin when you heard a wobble, a shake, in his voice. Was your demon… holding back tears? He bared his teeth, which he’d allowed to sharpen like blades, and jutted out an accusatory finger toward his husband. “Tell them, or I bloody will,” he snapped, then lifted a deadly brow. “And you won’t like the way I phrase things, angel.”

Alarm blared like a siren in your head, flashed like lights that burned your eyes even through your lids. You knew at once this surely had something to do with last night, with the Metatron, and you were unable to stop yourself from snapping around to stare at Aziraphale expectantly. Where you searched for comfort and reassurance, you found only irritation and exasperation.

“Aziraphale,” you said, gripping his hands tighter as you gently shook your head with confusion. You only barely managed to keep your voice from shaking; something was very, very wrong. This was not like the time two hundred years ago when they had stopped talking to one another for a decade. This was far more serious, far more dangerous. “Aziraphale, what’s happening?”

Your angel stared into your eyes - or, perhaps, he was staring at his own reflection in your irises - and he let out a breath you had not heard him take in. “The Metatron,” he began slowly, softly, like you were a spooked animal who would run if he talked too loud, “has given me a generous, generous offer.”

From across the room, Crowley scoffed over his shoulder and gave another hiss from between his teeth.

“Based on a few of the…” Aziraphale seemed to struggle with the words. “Good deeds that have been performed the last six thousand years, Heaven has agreed to allow me back into its order - as the Supreme Archangel, now that Gab… Jim has vacated his position.” Despite the slow, sinking feeling growing like a black hole in your gut as he went on, the beginnings of an excited smile played upon the corners of his lips. “And they’ve even offered to redeem Crowley - as an angel again!”

The bookshop was a deadly kind of quiet, the kind that filled empty spaces with fear, and dread, and horror until there was nothing left but a rotting mess. Your mouth hung agape as you tried to process your angel’s words, tried to swallow down what he’s just said. Heaven wanted him back - would take Crowley back. That would be it. Their time on Earth would come to a close, a thunderous applause, a devastating end.

Yet there was a single question that hung tight in the air, one that waited like a dagger above each of your heads, waiting to see who would speak of it first.

Could you handle the sting when it planted itself in your back? “Aziraphale,” you heard yourself whisper as your brows knitted together and tears puddled in the corners of your eyes, “what about me?”

Though you could not see it, Crowley shut his eyes and pursed his lips, still attempting to stop the tears from falling down the gaunt planes of his cheeks. He knew the answer already, knew his angel far too well to pretend it could be anything different. He wanted to protect you from it, clasp his hands over your ears and snarl and snap at the world until he’d frightened everything that could hurt you far, far away. But you had to hear this.

Aziraphale swallows thick, holding your hands a bit tighter, like you might bolt from his grasp any moment. Even when you shift, he grips you in an iron grasp. “Well,” he drawls slowly, hesitation creeping into the corners of his voice, “of course, Heaven can’t grant holy status to… ah… humans. Immortal or not, I’m afraid, my love. But do you know angels hold the ability to possess human souls within themselves? Keep them safe and sound - isn’t that lovely? Why, I’m not the first angel in history to find a human they can’t let go of.” His hold tightens again, turning your skin pale where he grips you. “I - we could bring you with us. Your soul, darling.”

Every ounce of curiosity, of worry and fear, has morphed into a single sickening, dripping, venomous sensation that floods your systems, encases your body like a cocoon swallowing you whole; horror.

“You want to take my soul to Heaven,” you said quietly, so terribly softly that it was barely above a whisper. “Like a pet.” With this, you yanked your hands from Aziraphale’s and forced yourself to take three steps back. It stung like knives between your ribs to do so, to bear the expression painting itself across your husband’s face, but there was no other choice. “Aziraphale, you would trade us - trade this - to go back to them? After what they’ve done to you?” You took another step back, and you felt yourself bump into the chest of your demon. “After what they did to Crowley?”

You had always heard betrayal hurt worse from a lover than anyone else. Was this what betrayal felt like? Like stones in your pocket with a river pulling you under? Like venom slowly sucking your life from your very veins.

“No, of course not,” your angel tried, raising his hands. He opened his mouth to go on, then threw up a palm and sniffed out an exasperated huff. “If you both would just try and understand…”

“Oh, we understand plenty.” There came no term of endearment at the end of Crowley’s statement, no playful lilt or head nod. Only the cold, piercing gaze of those yellow eyes, and the slow wrapping of his hands around your arms, pulling you closer against him.

The movement caught Aziraphale’s eye, and hellfire flashed within them. “Oh, I should have known it would go this way,” he chided, pacing forward. “Here I thought you could, for once, Crowley, suppress your demonic ways of swaying her to your side. For once! Are you satisfied, you old serpent? Are you content with what’s happening?”

“How dare you!” The shout came from deep within your chest, an explosive rage nothing short of a scream that leaves the angel frozen where he stands. Those ocean eyes flicker to yours as you at last allow yourself to cry, to feel the sobs wrack your body like earthquakes and feel the tears gathering at the point of your chin. “How dare you let them come between us, Aziraphale! Between us!” You choked a bit and your angel visibly fought a battle within himself, wanting to pull away and surge forward all at once. “After everything… after everything we’ve been through, everything we’ve built, and you want to leave it to play God.”

“Of course I’m not leaving us,” your angel murmured, the crows feet against his eyes making themselves known as he knits his brows. Tears brim the edges of his vision. “I - I would be taking us with me. To somewhere safe… for all of us.”

“No,” you exhaled shakily, feeling Crowley’s fingers tighten around your upper arms. You shook your head at Aziraphale, your ears ringing and heart shattered. “Not safe for us. Better for you.” You peered into his eyes, into those watery blue eyes you could have drowned in, and saw your reflection staring back as he searched for something he could not find. “You miss Heaven, Aziraphale. You always have - and we know that. We all do.” There came a terrible, horrible, dreadful pause. “But we can’t go with you. We won’t.”

Your angel seemed at a loss for words. He simply stood there, staring you and his husband down. He gaped. Tried to form words. Took a step back.

Above you, his fingers now digging so tightly, so fiercely, so protectively, into your skin that his nails left marks, Crowley sneered and hissed in a voice filled with the desolation of a fallen angel, “You idiot.” You turned your face and tucked it into his shirt. “We could have been… us.”

Aziraphale said nothing for a very, very long time. Then he murmured, “I forgive you both.”

The bell over the door jingled, and he was gone, without leaving so much as a feather behind.

You sobbed loudly, awfully, horribly into Crowley’s chest, and you felt his own unholy, burning tears fall against your hairline as he stroked your tresses and kept you standing.

The end of forever started on a Saturday evening, and ended on a Sunday morning.

It was God’s day, after all.

#good omens #good omens crowley #good omens aziraphale #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x reader #crowley x reader #good omens x reader #the light the dark and the spaces in between fic

[the-californicationist]

WIP Game

Thanks for the tag @ethereal-night-fairy

Rules: In a new post, post the names of all the files in your WIP folder regardless of how nondescript or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet and tell us about it!

I have taken a big step back lately because of my work, but I do have some things I'm slowly putting paragraphs into.

Long Fics in Progress

Ursa Major - Bear!Price x Female Reader - John Price is a hot, lumberjack werebear. This is the most self-indulgent fic I've ever written, and I will not apologize. Updates are weekly, for the most part.

The Sin Eater - Monster!Price x Female Reader - A dark, monster fic based off of the Jekyll and Hyde paradigm. Co-authored with amazing @vampirekilmerfic, but updates are extremely slow. It's a hard fic for me to write.

The Window - Poly!141 x Female Reader - Pregnancy fic with a poly/reverse harem theme. This should've stayed a one-shot, honestly. I don't know what the heck I'm doing with this.

The Fox & The Hound - PornStar!Soap x Female Reader - I love this fic so much. I should just stop, but I can't let it go. For some reason, this story just lives in my heart rent-free.

My Brother's Keeper - Regency!Price x Female Reader - Unpublished arranged marriage childhood friends-to-lovers dual virginity fic with a huge twist. It'll probably come out midsummer? I think.

Doubt Thou the Stars - Space!Price x Alien!Female OC - Unpublished space fic where John Price is basically Malcolm Reynolds from Firefly. Self-indulgent and weird. I might never publish it because it's so odd.

The Cube - Ghost x Female Reader - We don't talk about The Cube. But, it's there... lurking.

One-Shots in Progress

Down the Hatch - Gaz x Female Reader - Gaz convinces you to fuck him inside a tank.

Pas de Deux - Ghost x Ballerina!Female Reader - Inspired by an ask, but a bit of a divergence from the original request. Ghost falls for Gaz's sister as she performs as Odette in Swan Lake.

Against Medical Advice - Price x Female Reader - Inspired by an ask where Price gets shot in the thigh and ends up convincing you, his medic, to get nasty with him anyways.

A Knight's Errand - Medieval!141 x Female Reader - In order to avoid a dangerous foreign king from being eligible to marry their queen, her knights work hard to ensure that she is with-child, securing her position on the throne. (I think this fic already exists? I don't remember the name of it, though. But, that's why it's unpublished. Maybe it's a two-cakes situation, but I don't want to publish it and have it be so similar that it repeats their original idea.)

I hope some of these are interesting to y'all! Feel free to ask me about them if you have questions.

No pressure tags: @vampirekilmerfic @gemmahale @kit-williams @deadbranch @ceilidho

#call of duty fanfic #cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod #call of duty #fanfics #my wips

[softstarlite]

The Casualty of Love

CHAPTER 1

Summary: He's back home. You have almost forgotten how warm his eyes were and how big your crush for him was.

Warnings: Age gap (Javier is 40 and reader is 27), mentions of death.

Rating: +18 (Not explicit)

Word Count: 1.5k

Masterlist

A/N: sorry guys that this one is kind of short, I promise that it is because is the first chapter that I write after almost 4 years without writing anything at all and because I have a terrible big cold bullying me. But I promise that future chapters will be much longer, I hope this one gets you hook up (please remember that English is not my first language) :-))

Divider by @saradika

Javier didn't though he would be waking up in his old bed in his parents house ever again, for him there were only two options, dying on the field in Colombia or working on the DEA until he would be too old and they would force him to retire from the field and he would just live the rest of his days in Miami to be close with the only people he would have then, Steve and Connie.

After everything that happened with the Cali Cartel, Los Pepes and the government of Colombia, the DEA “invited” him into retirement, for a bit he thought about moving to Miami but he couldn't bear thinking about turning his back to his pops again, even more now that he was alone in that big ranch.

“Fuck…” he rises up from the old bed, his back protesting. He makes his way into the kitchen, where his dad is already dressed up and drinking a cup of coffee.

“I made a pot, mijo” Chucho says, signaling with his head towards the coffee maker and sipping.

“Gracias, pa” after two weeks of the same routine, waking up, drinking at least one cup of coffee, getting dressed and spending the day keeping himself busy around the ranch so he wouldn't have to even think, Javi was getting tired of what his life looked like now. He loved his pops with all his heart but between the absence of his mom that was their string of unity and the many years that they've had spend away from each other, he felt like there was always a tension when they were together.

“Mijo, would you mind going into town today to pick a few things up for me?” his dad says while getting up from the kitchen table and putting the empty mug in the sink.

“Sure, pops. Just make me a list and i'll go after feeding the cattle”

Taking the keys out of the ignition and making your way across the parking lot to the little store, your head, more specifically your forehead, collapses with a hard thing.

“ Ouch” you rub your forehead while looking at where your purse has landed.

“Uh, fuck” you hear a masculine but almost familiar voice say from above you. Your gaze comes up to be met with a pair of chocolate brown eyes that you have for sure seen before.

“Ja-Javi?” you say with wide eyes and mouth agape. He mumbles your name like a question, like he can't believe what he's seeing, was it truly you? you looked so… so different, so grown up…

“So it's true, you really are back, eh?” you can feel the corners of your mouth rise a little while you say it.

“Been for two weeks…” his eyes can't help but to roam your body “you… look different…” he says more to himself than you.

“Well, that's what more than a decade does to someone” you chuckle.

“It really has been that long? Mierda…” he runs a hand through his hair.

You suddenly realize that your purse it's still on the floor, so you pick it up. For a few seconds an awkward silence floats between you too, in which you both just stare at each other.

You then realize something, “espera, you´ve been back for two weeks and you haven't been to my mama´s house? She's going to kill you when she finds out, you know it right?” you nervously rub your hands together in front of you.

“Shit, you´re right…” he closes his eyes tightly, “with helping my pops getting the ranch in a better shape and all, i forgot about going to Maria´s…”

“Hey, I'm sure if you explain it to her, she'll understand it. You´ve always been her favorite anyways” you give him a reassuring smile that he reciprocates with another, but somehow it looks like it almost pains him to do so, like he has not given a real one for way too long.

Javier chuckles, “well, after so many years away and only picking up like three of her phone calls a year, i wouldn't bet on been her favorite anymore”

“Yeah… I don't think that could ever be possible. And if the amount of times she talks about his Javiercito are indicating of it, you definitely are on top of the list still” you don't take your eyes off of his, you had almost forgotten how warm they can be and now it was almost impossible to pull yourself away from that warmth.

He changes the subject, still feeling guilty about how much he felt he had abandoned his parents in one of their hardest times in life and also the woman he felt that was like a second mother to him.

María, your mom, was his mom's best friend, they had been since high school. His parents became parents at a very early age, most people in Laredo gave them side eyes and their back for a long time, but your mom never did, she was there even when Alma Peña discovered that she was indeed pregnant and not just sick.

She was even the third person to ever hold him, after his own parents.

Your parents didn't have you until they were 30, so Javier was just like a first born child for your mom for 13 years until she had you.

Alma and Chucho did try to have more children but life had a weird sense of humor and after giving them a son they weren't looking for at such a young age, it decided to not give them anymore children. So when Maria had you, Alma Peña held you in her arms even before your father did and she loved you like her little girl until her last breath.

“How old are you now? You were only like 12 when I left” he shifts from one leg to the other.

“I was actually 15,” you chuckle “don't worry, didn't expect you to remember, you were too busy all the time to even notice me” you say a little fast, trying to hide that the fact hurted you every time you thought about it. “I'm 27 now” you give him a tight smile.

“Almost the age I was when I left. Wow, time really has passed, eh?” he says with an air of sadness in his eyes.

“Yeah, that happens” you feel an awkward tension growing between you so you change the subject fast “so… you're just working on the ranch now?”

“Yeah… pops needs the help anyway, he's getting old. I would rather not see him deal with the ranch chores by himself anymore” he looks at the ground of the parking lot for a brief moment then his gaze rises up again towards you “what are you doing now that you´re not in high school anymore?” he asks you with a tiny smirk.

“I changed one school for another,” you giggle “I went to college to get a teaching degree and after working in Boston for a few years, when my dad got sick, i moved back home to help ma with him before he died, then i just stayed for her and your dad to be honest. I'm working at the elementary school now” when you mention your dad, your face can't help but make a tight lip expression, you didn't have a good relationship with him, and you couldn´´t understand why your mom didn't leave his ass for so many years. But your relationship with your mom was pretty good considering the circumstances.

“Sorry about him by the way, even if you guys had a rocky relationship” he gives you a worried look, like he wanted to ask a million questions about how you felt back then and feel now about it, but they never leave his mind. “Your mom told me about it in one of her calls…”

“Yeah, thank you. She was devastated when it happened and I think she felt like she couldn't confide in me because of my situation with him, so she only talked about it with Chucho” you re adjust the purse in your shoulder “well i need to buy a few things and then get back home to ma, I'll tell her that you´ll be visiting soon?” you ask, putting your gaze back into his warm eyes.

“Oh, yeah, yeah. Tell her I'll be there on Friday, after finishing my chore on the ranch” he says, almost nervously putting his hands inside of the pockets in his tight jeans.

“Okay, I'll let her know Javi. She'll start making food today, I'm sure” you chuckle and take a step away “see you on Friday, bye!” you wave to him and make your way across the parking lot to enter the little store.

“Bye…” Javier mumbles more to himself than to you, since you were far already. His eyes can't help to roam the back side of your body in your sundress while you walk away from him, when he catches himself, he shakes the thoughts roaming his mind away and walks to his truck to go back to the ranch.

Next chapter

#javier peña x f!reader #javier peña x female reader #javier peña x you #javi peña x reader #javier peña x reader #javier peña #javier pena x reader #javi pena #javi pena x reader #javi pena x you #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x you #javier pena narcos #javi pena fanfiction #chucho peña #chucho peña narcos #narcos #narcos fanfiction #narcos fic #narcos netflix #pedrostories #the casualty of love

[bomberqueen17]

letters

So in 1944 my grandpa got tuberculosis. It was bad enough that they sent him to a sanitarium up in the Adirondacks for a rest cure, which was what was recommended at the time. He'd been married to my grandmother for just a little while; they had a son, my uncle, and she was pregnant with my dad.

While he was there he wrote letters daily. He wrote a lot of letters, I think, to his parents and sister and friends. But the ones he sent to his wife, my grandma, she kept.

I don't know the chronology of it all, but after Grandma died, probably my dad found the packet of letters, as he was the one who went through her effects-- might have been his little sister, my aunt. Anyway the packet got circulated around, and then came back to my dad, who carefully organized all of the letters into a binder with individual plastic archival sleeves. Someone asked after them recently, and Mom found them and pulled them out. I was over there today, feeding her cat while she's on vacation, and so I leafed through them.

Grandpa's handwriting is similar, a bit, to my late father's, so I was able to read it reasonably easily. He started strong, the first letter he recounts how he fared in the rainstorm he'd apparently left home in, and then asks how Grandma fared.

How are you, my Baby? Did your schooner of sleep bear you safely thru the storm? If it didn't then you won't be reading this sorry excuse for a letter.

In that same letter he goes on to say,

Zounds! How can I create in this infernal bedlam? All the patients are up (as far as possible) and braying, the phone is ringing, Ma is delivering the Gettysburg Address + Pa is making more noise with a piece of wrapping paper than I could make with a hammer and a piece of steele [sic].

It rapidly escalates from there, and in a later letter he explains that the rest cure was so boring he had literally nothing to do, nothing to write home about, and so in an effort to keep from dwelling on how much he hated it there, he would write these flowery, possibly-repetitive love letters, because he simply had nothing else to talk about.

Your accounts of the marital woes of the [illegible, probably neighbors] are really hair-raising, but I don't think that the happiness of our marriage is due entirely to good fortune. As I have always said, we were made for each other a long, long time ago and our hearts refused to love anyone until the right one came along.

Looking at the postmarks, I realized they dated from right around the time of my father's birth, so I found the one that was sent the day after Dad was born, and it did not disappoint.

My beloved Words cannot express just how I feel this morning; I am all mixed up. You are so wonderful that sometimes I wonder what I ever did to deserve you. You are the one who is increasing our fortunes, for truly our children are the treasures that make us rich. You are so brave, so cool that I hold you in undying amazement. I am sure of one thing, My Darling; I know your sons will love you, not just because you are their mother, but for your own precious self, for the truly great woman you are. For the ordeal you have gone thru to bring these precious lives into being, rest assured of the eternal devotion of your menfolk. Last night all I could think of was you. I heard the night train coming into the station and my heart said "Run, run and catch the train before it is too late. Run to your loved ones and to hell with the results. Run, let nothing keep you from their sides." But my head said, "No, don't undo all that has been done. They also serve who stand and wait. Wait, and by so doing, prove your love to be more than the reckless love of youth, prove it to be the wise, guiding love that lives on long after passion has spent itself and thus spent, dies." And so I waited and the train left without me + my heart hated me for it.

Oh boy I cried, I sure did. (I had to look it up; "They also serve who only stand and wait" is from John Milton's Sonnet XIX.)

He always uses beloved or darling or somesuch as the salutation, but he often refers to her as Red within the text of the letters, because she had red hair. He occasionally made saucy references to their sex life, elsewhere in the letters. But mostly it's absolutely banger shit like this:

My thoughts and deeds, my smiles and tears, my happiness, my loneliness, my joy, my sorrow, my every breath, yea, even the final beat of my loving heart are poor blossoms placed on my altar of adoration, raised in humble gratitude to you.

Her name was Margaret, and I never knew her to have any nicknames, she just went by her name. Except to him, apparently. But as for him-- his government name was John, as was my father's, but my father never had to have a nickname, because there was never a day in his life Grandpa went by John. His name was Buddy, everyone called him Buddy, and he signed his letters as Buddy.

He died in January of 1978 of complications related to the damage to his lungs from the tuberculosis (not directly, but it was related). Grandma was standing in the hallway of the hospital, watching him sleep, waiting for him to wake up so he could meet my older sister, his third grandchild. He never did meet her.

She died in 2002 of congestive heart failure; I'd spent much of the preceding week with her and she'd spoken mostly of him.

#family lore #letters #history i guess

[queenendless]

❤️‍🩹 Period (Adult!Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader) ❤️‍🩹

A/N: So much chaos happened at home last Friday in tune with my time of the month. Things are better now. And today's newest episode ... oh God. Next week and beyond is gonna crush my soul.

Ergo writing self indulgent comfort fics to quell the soul. Just period stuff, fluff, comfort, basically Gojo being the #1 boyfriend/husbando~

All credit to characters and image below goes to Gege sensei. PLEASE DON'T STEAL OR COPY MY WORK, RATHER LIKE AND REBLOG. I hope you enjoy.

Menstrual cycles are quite the monthly hassle.

The first day came today.

Curled up on the couch, trying to relax despite the mixed emotions coursing through your hormonal state when your phone pinged about a notification.

(Heyyyyy~)

You could imagine his cheery, upbeat voice singing it out loud that made you smile at least at the thought of it.

(Hey.)

(Missions are done! Errands done! Souvenir shopping time~! Ya want anything?)

You whined weakly as your hand clutched your now swollen tummy.

(Can you pick up some pads and or tampons and pain relievers on the way back?)

(Mother nature calling?)

(Yeah.)

(KK. Imma get the munchies. Sweet? Salty?)

You texted him your preferences.

(♡)

You smiled, sending him one more message.

(。・ω・。)

After being gone for 10 days straight, you couldn't wait to see him again.

After changing in the bathroom, you had closed the door behind yourself when you felt a familiar cursed presence appear behind the front door of your shared apartment, followed by the clacking sound of dress boots being taken off.

"Y/n~! I'm home~!"

The boosted hormonal wave crashing into you had you tearing up at the sight of your blindfolded giant sorcerer lover before barreling over into a tight bear hug.

"Oya oya~ What is this~?" Gojo lifted you up under your arms, bringing your blubbering face right in front of his, teeth gleaming in that smug ass smile. "My sweet angel is shedding tears for me~? Oh I'm flattered~!"

You wacked your fists and feet into him — though Infinity was making sure they did not connect. "You can go off on your ego boost after I lay down, god damn Toru!"

Gojo's enriching deep chuckle left you fuzzy as he carried you up in one arm, waving his bag of goodies in your face. "Okie dokie!" He plopped you down on the couch, dropping the bag in your lap, then dipped his head down. "Time for kissies~!"

His deep smooch was smothering – in a sweet laced good way.

"Gojo," His giant hands cradled your face, tilting you as he kissed you from a different angle, making it very difficult to focus. "Uh–!" His many tender pecks peppered many times on your lips, feeling his warm breath brush your moistness. "My heating pad." You giggled as his lips wandered to your cheek, then your neck, your mental processing faltering from his insisting distracing lips. "Please?"

His disappointed whine dispersed as your hands ruffled his propped up spiky snow white hair, kissing his cheek. "Alright alright." His exasperated sigh was betrayed by his mirthful expression as he pecked your nose then stalked off to your shared bedroom, startling you from his shouting voice down the hall. "Uh sweetie?! The battery in this is dead!"

You swore under your breath, whimpering as a finicky upset kiddie from the cramps, before pulling a small capped bottle of Ibuprofen out of the bag. "Could you go out and buy a replacement?" You asked as you downed two small capsules with water from your water bottle.

"Hmm … I could … OR!"

Feeling tall lean firmness behind you made you nearly flail off the couch hard, caught by those dark blue sleeved arms of his.

"Toru! One of these days, warping is gonna give me a heart attack, I swear to God!"

"Unless it's by a Death Note, I think not."

"God." You grumbled as he snatched your small Roku control before turning on the big HD TV as you rummaged out a small package of your munchies. "What about my heating pa – ?"

You stopped speaking, shuddering as his giant hand slid underneath the hem of your top, resting on your bulging tummy, rubbing his fingers soothingly slowly around your bulge.

"You were saying?" His sultry voice purred in your ear.

You shakily breathed at how hot he sounded.

You felt yourself melting against him, his skin being more than enough to chase the discomfort away. "I never thought I'd find a blindfolded giant so hot." You shyly, shamelessly admitted.

"And you're my warm marshmallow." Gojo laughed.

You rolled your eyes, grinning as you ripped the bag open, offering some of it to him behind you, knowing whatever you ate he'd want as well. "Stuff that mouth of yours already, you goof."

His delighted hum, nuzzling his head atop yours, cradling your belly softly, it all relaxed your hormonally effed up nerves.

Binging Netflix, eating some snacks, cuddling on the couch, this is what you missed.

Gojo especially missed this.

For even the strongest sorcerer of the modern age was also the loneliest man there ever was. Exorcizing curses, flipping off the stingy higher ups, watching his students progress from afar, so much done and yet he would stay restless until he felt you in his arms again.

Chewing on more munchies by the handful, he felt your form laxing. Looking down, vocally aweing at the sight of your open mouthed self, your form slowly and softly rising then descending as you breathed, nodding off in the middle of watch time.

He knew these monthly visits from Mother Nature meant you'd be more moody, more drained, so a relaxed sleeping Y/n was the better outcome to receive.

Even in this corrupted present world, he hoped his students, friends and allies would one day be at his level to help him bring down the current world and make it anew. Better for the good souls out there.

Especially for the one that's been filling the emptiness left inside him the most.

Lowering down the volume, he set the remote aside on the coffee table before the couch, watching as you mumble slurry discontent at having his hands leave you.

Gojo Satoru. Your resident heating pad. Noted.

Wiping his hand with some stray napkins you left on the table then leaving the opened half empty snack bag there as well, he turned you carefully on your side so your front would mesh with his, absorbing his warmth into you, the pinched frown on your face melting into that smile he adores so much, nuzzling your cheek into his jacketed chest.

Sliding his hands beneath the hem again, he began rubbing circles in your back, eating up the sight of the shivers your dreaming self gave off, firmly kissing the side of your head as he became lost in your scent.

Lost in this slice of heaven as the troubles of his life and the rest of this world seemed to wash away, he drifted off to nap-ville only to meet you there himself, murmuring words to imprint his biggest constant thought in all your time spent apart.

"I missed you too."

Ah, it's good to be home.

#gojo satoru #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk gojo #jjk au #jjk fanfic #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #menstrual cycle #menstrual cramps #menstrual period #menstrual pain #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jujutsu kaisen au #jujutsu sorcerer #gojo x female reader #gojo satoru x female reader #sfw #short fanfic #jjk satoru #satoru x reader #satoru x you #satoru x y/n

[little-emerald-snake]

I come bearing another potential "sequel" idea. Obviously you don't have to write this. I randomly thought back to the "Sebastian with a reverse PA" story and, well...

Let's say f!MC decides she wants to return the favor, in a way. She decides to get a piercing of her own that can help stimulate them both. My mind says either a tongue piercing or a fourchette piercing, but that's completely up to you if you decide you like this idea 🤭

Anyways, she gets it and it becomes so hard not to ruin the surprise and she's holding off because it's still healing. She has to keep coming up with excuses for why they can't (too tired, have to study, etc). Both Seb and MC are sexually frustrated so by the time she feels it's healed enough, it's feral while also trying to be careful with both piercings.

(I'm just realizing how both my requests have a bit of a theme to them. Don't know what that says about me 🤣 Anyways, much love 💜)

Piercings pt3 - Sebastian Sallow X F!MC

🔥 NSFW 🔞 MDNI

My lovely cyan1de, your brain is absolutely filthy and I love it 🫶🏻. I’ve taken your inspo but I changed the piercing to something with a little less heal time for the stories sake. Hope you like it anyway 💕. Thank you as always for the requests!

Warnings: descriptions of healing piercing, please have mercy and if you get a ‘spicy’ piercing let it heal fully/follow aftercare instructions so you don’t get an infection, modern college a/u, unprotected p-in-v, oral f receiving, mattress fucking?

2k words

Things had been incredible between them. While they had no label per say, they very much went on dates, spent the night with each other and hooked up fairly regularly.

She knew his birthday was only a few weeks away and while he swore he only wanted to spend the day with her and refused gift ideas, she had a fun little idea that had manifested after a saucy conversation or two about piercings.

After talking plenty about his she’d decided to ask what he’d think if a partner were to get one. He chuckled and gave her a wild playful look, hair messy from the combination of sweat and her fingers carding through it. “Wouldn’t mind it. What? You thinking about getting one?”

She’d only shrugged playfully, pretending to mull it over. She couldn’t deny the fact that she had in fact been thinking about getting a piercing ever since their first encounter. “Well if you do decide you want one-“ he paused to wiggle his brows and glanced at her bare chest “or two…I think it would be hot. But don’t feel like you need one just because I got one.”

She’d of course done her research of healing and pain and decided her top contender was a VCH piercing. Between the benefits, healing time, and the aesthetics of it she decided that would be the piercing she got.

Her roommate had agreed to go with her and hold her hand while she got it done, all kinds of on board for her and Sebastian since she seemed to be really happy since they’d started hooking up.

Thankfully the piercing wasn’t too painful, a big pinch and a bit of soreness but nothing she couldn’t handle. Her roommate had been hysterically laughing since she’d gotten home to look at it and her first words uttered were “She’s so pretty!”.

The next day Sebastian had tried to come over between classes for a bit of midday fun. But she’d quickly made the excuse that she was really tired and needed a nap. She’d also carefully evaded going back to his after a coffee date by saying she had to do some extra studying.

Luckily she’d been able to just get away with a good blowjob for him on the couch during their movie night at his place later in the week. He’d started to get a little suspicious after about two weeks of evaded sexual encounters or only blowjobs. “You know you can talk to me right? Like if something is wrong…is something wrong?”

She quickly waved him off just saying she’s been having some hormone changes which have made her tired and have a lower libido. In all honesty she was having an incredibly hard time telling him no, but she was almost halfway through the recovery and was determined to surprise him with her new piercing. “Love, is this because of your period?” He’d said while nipping the spot just below her ear, grinding against her thigh. “You know I don’t mind a bit of blood, I’ll still take good care of her. I promise.”

She of course already knew this since they’d already had period sex and he hadn’t been deterred in the slightest. Of course he’d been all too accommodating of her surge of desires during her ovulating week though.

He whispered incredibly sweet things and treated her like a princess but they definitely were a very sexually active couple. So when his hands began to wander when she stayed the night just a few days into her third week of healing she was losing her battle.

He whispered raunchy filth into her ear, rubbing and grinding against her inner thigh and moving closer to her crotch. One intense drag against her had her wincing and her mouth falling open.

Sebastian immediately stopped, cupping her face in his palms. “What’s wrong, love? Did I hurt you? Are you okay?”

She finally broke down, just three days before his birthday she felt like it was unavoidable at this point. She flashed a shy smile, looking up at him cheekily. “So you know how I talked to you about getting a piercing right?”

Sebastian’s lust lidded eyes popped and she swore she saw them sparkle. “You didn’t.” He looked down between them as if he’d see it through her clothes. He looked back up with wide eyes. “Holy shit…what did you get pierced?”

She laughed and rolled him off of her, carefully shimmying out of her pajama shorts and spreading her legs for him. “Surprise! Happy Birthday.”

His eyes darkened and he looked up, licking his lips. “Gods I’ve missed your pussy…and now she’s all pretty for me. God you know you didn’t have to do that.”

She smiled, blushing as he looked back down in awe. “I wanted it. It wasn’t just for you, promise. What do you think?”

He licked his lips again and she practically moaned from the look on his face. “How long till it’s healed?”

She bit into her bottom lip nervously. “Healing time is 4-8 weeks and it’s been 3 weeks and 4 days.”

His eyes widened. “You got it to be healed perfectly on my birthday…” he crawled up the side of her body, holding her neck carefully in his palm and he whispered against her lips. “Naughty girl.”

He kissed her deeply, tasting her and groaning into their kiss. She could feel his arousal against her thigh and it had her moaning into his kiss. He pulled back, eyes dark and lusty. “You can’t make those sounds, not when I still need to let that pretty little pussy heal up baby.”

She practically whined against his lips. The soreness had long since disappeared and she knew if she kept things clean that it would likely be fine for them to fool around a bit. She pushed at him till he was shoved out of bed and standing beside it, confused. “You’ve showered, right?”

He nodded, a confused tilt of his chin as she waved him towards the bathroom. His gray shorts doing very little to cover all the freckles littering his skin or the bulging mass thickening between his legs. “Go wash your hands then come back to bed.”

His eyes bulged and he hurried to the bathroom. He came back quickly, sliding into bed with her. She could smell his hand soap and smiled up at him as he crowded over her. “What are you comfortable doing? I don’t want to hurt you.”

She reached between them, palming his erection through the sweatpants he wore and hummed softly with approval. “I need this tonight, that is, if you’ll give it to me.”

He ground against her hand, leaning down to nuzzle into her neck and inhale her scent. He groaned, rolling his hips harder before frustration pulled somewhere inside him and he reached down to free his aching cock. It sprung free, cool air kissing his swollen leaking tip, silver barbell glinting in the low light. “Gods I’ve needed your pussy.”

She giggled breathily as he notched himself at her entrance, sitting up to watch the head of himself disappearing, his eyes fixed eagerly on her brilliant new piercing. His mouth practically watered with the urge to roll his tongue against it, use his tongue to flick the jewelry over her sensitized clit. “Does it increase your stimulation?”

She nodded, gasping as the head of his cock sunk inside. She was tight from their lack of fucking and she felt him pulse excitedly from inside of her walls. “Y-yes, even just cleaning it and looking at it in the shower, whenever I bump it, feels so good.”

He groaned in agony, shutting his eyes and sliding another inch or so inside, rolling his hips to increase her friction and spread the wetness. “Gods your so fucking tight. Been too long since you've been stretched around my cock, love.”

She nodded, gripping his shoulders. His hand slid down, barely pressing against the jewelry and she cried out, legs wrapping around his waist. Holding himself back was going to be a feat and a half.

He sunk the rest of the way inside her and she constricted around him. He nudged the jewelry against her clit again and her head tossed backwards in pleasure. The sight of her falling into pleasure was absolutely breathtaking. He groaned, adjusting to straddle on leg, bringing the other so her knee hooked up over his shoulder, now spread apart his pubic bone ground against the piercing and had her moans heightening in pitch.

His thrusts were slow rolls that casually surged to desperately needy thrusts that he couldn’t hold back no matter how badly he tried. She felt far too good and it had been far too long. “God you’re cock, oh and the way your r-rubbing the piercing. Fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

He chuckled as she gripped the sheets and arched up as she tightened like a vice around him. He tried to keep a cocky tone in his voice but it came out far more strained than he’d hoped. “Oh yea? Already, baby? That little piercing really does help you out, doesn’t it?”

He pressed a thumb right over the jewelry and she lurched up, practically shrieking as she rippled around him, crashing over her edge so fast. He groaned, surging his hips through her orgasm till she finally stilled, loud cries dulling to whimpering coos.

He pulled out of her, having her look down at him in hazy confusion as he settled, laying himself between her legs, spreading her warm thighs open in front of him. She flushed all the way from her cheeks to her thighs as he groaned, spreading her open and grinding his hips against the bed, glutes flexing and drawing her attention before he whispered in a gruff tone. “Fuck it.”

He dove in, licking her cunt from her silky wet opening and up to her newly decorated clit. He moaned at the taste and she frantically reached for the mass of fluffy hair. “S-Seb you can’t! You just fucked me there!”

He made another groan, rolling his hips steadily against the mattress. “I don’t care. This pussy is mine and I’ll eat it whenever I want to. I don’t care if your fresh out of the shower or freshly fucked and filled with my cum. I’ll taste you whenever the fuck I feel like it.”

Heat pooled deliciously between her legs as his tongue flicked precariously over the jewelry through her hood. He teased it over her clit, ran his tongue below it and tortured her with direct pressure that had her absolutely wild and all the while his hips never stopped against the bed.

The sight from between her legs had her quickly climbing the rungs of another orgasm. Her tugs in his hair became more urgent as her toes curled against the warm blankets and her thighs bracketed his head as she arched up into his talented tongue.

She came, shuddering and loose against his face and she didn’t stop till finally he lifted his head, licking her shiny wetness from his lips and chin.

Her eyes bulged when he sat up and she saw the strings of cum trailing from his cock to the blanket. Had he really fucked their sheets till he came while eating her out?

His eyes met hers and he glanced to where she was looking, chuckling and using that low satisfied tone that made her tingle. “How about I change the sheets while you shower off so everything stays clean?”

She swallowed, nodding and getting up into shaking feet and padding into his bathroom while he tossed sheets into the wash. He joined her and a whole new fresh wave of arousal rising inside of her as his erection slipped between the cleft of her ass and she was suddenly wondering if the slap of his balls against her clit as he fucked her from behind would feel as good as it sounded.

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy smut #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow smut #little emerald snake #requests

[amandacanwrite]

The Violet Thread of Fate || Part Four: A Bath, A Temptation

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Join Taglist

POV || 3rd Person Alternating Between Gale and Elinna (tav)

Scenario|| Elinna Inklynn is an orphan with an uncanny ability to mess up even the simplest of spells. It's not her fault; she hasn't ever had access to a proper teacher. But she has had access to books, and she's read about a certain gentleman wizard in Waterdeep that may just be willing to help her.

She books passage on a ship from the Moonshae Islands and sails to Waterdeep, only to be rejected by Gale Dekarios. He doesn't take on apprentices.

But their paths become inextricably intertwined when an enormous Nautiloid targets the City of Splendors.

Word Count || About 5,300 Words

Warnings || Age gap (about ten years, both adults) description of pining for someone's body (Gale pining for Elinna.) Mentions of abuse and neglect.

A/N || I hope you all like this installment of Violet Thread of Fate! Apologies for what seems like a relatively low-stakes set of chapters, I am trying to do some set up for bring Halsin, Astarion and The Fox into the narrative, but I needed to get Elinna and Gale just a smiiiidgen more established for it to go the way I'd like it to!

Taglist || @verba-writing @softvampirewhump @horizonstride @thoughts-of-bear @mymybirdie @tiedyedghoulette @drabblesandimagines @madwomansapologist @hijirikaww @tryingtowritestuff24 @laserlope @auroraesmeraldarose @puckprimrose @dont-try-pesticide @cherifrog @circusofthelastdays  @nourangul @crucibelle @fan-aaa-tic

A Bath

It was a cold breeze that woke Elinna. 

It slipped in from under the old wooden door; through the window, if it could be called that. It was just an opening in the decrepit masonry of the castle where she’d been left to rest. 

It took her a moment for her to realize that the lumpy hay mattress and the damp, threadbare blanket on top of her were not her lumpy mattress and damp blanket from The Nest.  For a moment she thought meeting Gale and winding up on the nautiloid was a dream; albeit a long winded one. 

But when she rolled over in the bed and pulled the blanket tighter around her to fight off the bitter cold of the coastal breeze, she opened her eyes for a moment. There in the moon-gray dark of the night she found a room she was not at all familiar with. 

She scanned the room in a half-awoken state, not thinking any real thoughts–more like bursts of impulse between the undulating waves of sleep that threatened to take her away in their churn. 

She saw the usual desk. The privacy drape. The almost melted candle. Her waistcoat had been taken off and neatly folded, set on the writing desk. Her bloodied boots sat in a pile not far away from there; her gloves tossed down with them, also bloodied.. This room wasn’t her room…so what…ah–that’s right. 

She’d been so exhausted she didn’t feel herself drift off to sleep. Gale had been carrying her on his back. Where was he? 

Another breeze blew into the room and set her teeth to chattering. Gods above, how was it colder here than at The Nest?

She rose to her bare feet, keeping the blanket tight around her as she shuffled over to the desk. 

She knew very few spells, of course. And most of them, she only knew with very little command–but there was one she was decent at, because she used it nearly every day. She could produce a flame.

Nothing terribly impressive, mind you–but it was more convenient than having to ask the ArchLibrarian for matches; more convenient than having him ask her why she was going through so many of them and finding out that she’d been sneaking books into her room to read while the others slept. 

She breathed into her cold hands before shaking them, encouraging her blood flow into her fingertips. After giving her hands a few moments to catch up with the rest of her, she focused on the fingertips of her dominant hand, she took a deep breath and plucked at the same little flicker of magic she always used for this little party trick. She snapped her fingers, and sure enough, a single flame engulfed the farthest knuckle of her index finger, as if her two middle fingers had been a flint struck by her thumb. 

She lowered that finger to the wick of the single candle in the room before shaking the flame off her fingertip the same way one might do with a matchstick. 

It was hardly enough light for human eyes, but Elinna didn’t need much. She’d been lucky to pick up darkvision from her half-drow lineage; an appreciated perk despite how much she hated the violet tinge of her scars and freckles. 

She caught a glimpse of those old scars on the inside of her arm and wondered idly if Gale had seen them. Wondered if he’d made any judgements of her based off of them.

The doorknob jangled and turned and Gale appeared in the doorway. Elinna looked over at him and was surprised at the flood of relief that filled her lungs. She hadn’t realized she was worried that he’d left her there and gone off on his own, but that was the only explanation she had for the shift in her sense of ease. 

He was holding two tin plates with porridge, boiled fish, and roasted carrots piled in small, tidy quantities. They met eyes and Gale’s eye’s flicked about her. 

“Oh–you’re awake,” Gale said, voice a bit choked with something she couldn’t identify.. “Are you feeling better?”

“Is your…hair wet?” she asked him. 

He was newly dressed in a similar robe to before, but this one was slightly different. It had a shorter length with a more open panel in the front. He was wearing some more sturdy leather boots as well, and he had a new multi-layered belt with a knife and short sword holstered to it. He carried two small packs over one shoulder, which he dropped onto the ground near the desk. 

“Oh, ah, yes,” he said, hurrying over to the writing desk to set down the plates. The scent of lavender and bay leaf rolled off of his warmer body with him in such close proximity.  “I went to refresh myself and see if I couldn’t conjure a few comforts to get us through the night. While searching, I happened to find a natural hot spring.”

“You’re kidding!” she said, feeling a swell of relief all over again. Not only would she get to have a bath but a warm bath? What a treat. “You have to show me where it is! I’m dying for a hot bath.”

“It’s not far–just a hop and a skip behind the–”

A click sounded from the door and they both looked toward it. Gale’s brow tensed before he walked back over to the door, testing the knob. A willowy voice came through the door a moment later. 

“Seeing as supper has been served and your lodgings are in order, we will be locking the door to prevent any unfortunate mishaps through the night,” it said. 

“Absolutely not–we’re guests, not prisoners!” Gale shouted through the door. “Unlock this door right now.”

There was no answer. 

“Open the door!” Gale demanded again. 

“Don’t bother,” Elinna sighed. “He’s probably already gone–don’t you have a spell that could unlock it?”

“Under other circumstances, but I’m afraid my capacity to reach into the weave is utterly tapped out until I get a proper night of sleep,” he said a bit sourly. “How did you ever put up with conditions like this?” Gale griped, turning to her, his brow still furrowed. “I’ve never met such learned men who were so…so…asinine.”

Elinna shrugged and leaned against the edge of the desk, her ample hips displacing one of the unfortunate looking plates. “You get used to it, I guess,” she said. “They never locked us in when I was at The Nest, but we also never really got visitors…maybe it’s standard protocol.”

“You’d think they had Karsus’s Grimoire locked up in their archives,” he said, smearing a hand down his face and pinching the bridge of his nose. 

While Gale had his conniption, Elinna was realizing with no shortage of disappointment that her hopes for a hot bath were all but dashed. Unless…

“Hey Gale…” She said as looked over toward the bath with a little pout. “I know you said you’re tapped out…but do you think you have the energy for a little cantrip?”

“Probably,” he said, looking skeptically at the plate of food and pushing the boiled fish with one of the wooden utensils given to them. “Why do you ask?”

“Well…do  you think you could conjure up some hot water for me to take a bath?” she asked.

“I’m sorry, what?” Gale said as he blinked, his brows shooting up. “With me in the room?”

“Please,” she begged gently. “I feel so disgusting. If I have to sleep like this while you’re sitting in here looking all sparkly and smelling nice, I’m going to feel even worse.”

“Absolutely not,” he said. “Elinna, you shouldn’t take baths with strange men you just met. Er–rather–with them nearby.”

“You’re not strange! You’re Gale Dekarios! And there are drapes for privacy,” she said insistently. “It’s not like I’ll be putting on a show for you or something.” 

“A Drape! Singular! And it’s holding onto its sorry, threadbare life by a thread!”

“Gale, what else am I supposed to do?” she asked. “I’m still covered in blood and sweat–I need a bath.”

“You can wait until tomorrow,” he said. “We’ll have our very bland supper–get some sleep, and–”

He met her eyes again and she wasn’t sure what he saw there, but whatever it was it seemed to pull on his heart strings. He rubbed the back of his neck before using the same hand to smear down his face. 

“Fine,” he said. “I got my chance to clean up, it seems only fair that you get yours. I can only imagine how wrong it feels with myself being properly tidied up and you still…well… I must emphasize, however, that this falls squarely outside of the usual confines of propriety.”

Elinna beamed and nodded eagerly, thankfully.

“Duly noted,” Elinna said. “I promise I won’t tell your mother.”

He leveled her a deadpan look. “Don’t patronize me,” he said. “It’s not about being afraid of my mother it’s–”

“I’m just teasing you,” Elinna said. “Don’t worry, Gale. I trust you to be a gentleman. And besides that–I’m pretty sure that you don’t see me as…well– I just mean–it’s not as if I’m trying to seduce you. If I thought at all that I was a temptation to you, I promise, I would wait until tomorrow.”

“Of course,” he agreed quickly. 

“I’ll be quick,” she said. “I promise.”

Gale heaved a sigh and picked up the other plate, handing it over to her.

“Let’s eat this unfortunate meal and then I’ll get your bath ready,” he said. “It looks utterly inedible, but we’ll need whatever strength we can get for the journey tomorrow.”

She smiled and nodded, taking a bite of the familiar mush on her plate.

A Temptation

Gale had always been told that hunger was the best seasoning–he supposed that didn’t apply to the fare served at The Scribe’s Guild. Yet he choked down every bite of those roasted carrots; that boiled fish–in hopes of prolonging the inevitable. 

If I thought at all that I was a temptation to you, I promise, I would wait until tomorrow.

Why hadn’t he spoken up then? Why hadn’t he argued with her further?

Well, likely because, in order for him to object to what she’d said, he would have to admit his own embarrassing thoughts of attraction to the young woman. Admit that he had been having plenty of improprietous thoughts about her as he had her hoisted up on his back–when his hand had supported the softness of her waist.

He told himself it was a strategic move. That he needed her in order to safeguard against what might be catastrophic down the road. The true resurrection in his possession would do little good without someone available to cast it, after all. He needed an ally and he wouldn't risk losing one because he was touch starved and lonesome and…er… long deprived.

He told himself that the sooner she bathed, the sooner she would be properly dressed. The less he would have to remind himself to look away from the delicate skin of her chest and the way the neckline of her muslin dress fell off her shoulders despite the number of times she pushed her sleeves back up where it was meant to sit. 

Now that he thought about it–very little of her clothing seemed to fit properly. Her waistcoat fit well enough, but her dress was oddly loose; she seemed to swim in it. 

He was glad he’d been able to find something for her to wear, hoped that they fit properly and that she didn’t mind wearing Mystra’s colors–and slightly outdated fashions. Then again, he doubted The Nest cared much about the current trends in women’s clothing. 

When they were finally finished eating, Gale begrudgingly prepared a hot bath for Elinna, the act simple, really–even with the majority of his energy spent. It was a simple enough process and, if he was honest, seeing her face brighten when it was done was almost enough to make it worth the discomfort of feeling like a rakish cad. He conjured some light in the room to make it look more like a lodging and less like they were thieves sneaking around by candlelight.

She was practically buzzing with excitement to get in, so he leaned over and handed her the smaller of the two packs he’d put together. 

“I put a change of clothes in here, I think it should fit, but let me know if it doesn’t,” he said. 

“Oh! You…just have women’s clothes laying around?” she asked.

He gave her a withering look. “It sounds awful when you say it like that. No, not just lying around. It’s an old gift from…a friend. It’s one of the old cleric robes that followers of Mystra used to wear.”

“Really?” Elinna said, green eyes widening. 

“Don’t get too excited,” he said. “Any imbued magic is, unfortunately, long gone. But it should be a little nicer than the leathers and canvases you’ve been wearing. They don’t seem well suited for travel…”

A lie, of course. Aside from Elinna’s boots, her clothing was more than suitable enough for traveling. But the longer he’d thought about the scars on the delicate skin of her wrist and forearm, the more his stomach churned at the idea of her putting those garments back on. 

He wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much, but it did. It still did–even while she was dressed down to her tan dress and leather trousers; even as she barely looked like she belonged to the strange order that was putting them up for the night. 

He was still trying to figure it out as she hurried behind the privacy curtain and started to undress. 

He wouldn’t have known she was undressing–except the lighting he’d created in the room was just placed well enough that her shadow cast against the threadbare drape as she pulled her muslin dress up and over her head. The light caught the softness of her waist, the gentle, sloping curve of her breast before it peaked at her nipple.

He forced himself to tear his eyes away from her. He would just need to distract himself. 

He told himself it wasn’t Elinna in particular that was pulling this silly desire out of him; that if could have been any member of the fairer sex that had this effect on him. Elinna just happened to be the convenient, ever present option. 

He insisted that had to be the case as he heard the quiet slosh of Elinna stepping into the hot water and heaving out a comforted sigh. He took a book out of his pack to distract himself from imagining what she looked like flushed across her shoulders and her chest from the hot bath water. He glared down at his book about foraging in the wild as he tried not to wonder if the comforted sounds she made in the bath would be the same if she were touched in just the right places. 

“So–shall we get to know each other better?” Elinna asked from her bath. 

Gale nearly jumped out of his skin, teeth grinding. 

“Elinna, don’t speak to me while you’re bathing,” he said, his tone clipped. 

“Why not?” she asked him. 

He heaved a sigh while bunting the heel of his hand against his forehead. Mystra grant him strength. “Elinna, I don’t want to be an ass, but are you so far removed from civilization that you can’t glean why it’s not appropriate for a bathing woman to be holding casual conversation with a man?”

There was a moment of silence, the sound of water being poured, the faint trickle of movement in the tub. “I mean–not that far removed, no,” she said. “I used to sing in the taverns back in Moonshae. Plenty a drunken man has told me what parts of me he wanted to see and well…they weren't my eyes, let me just say that.”

“So then why the play at naivety?” Gale asked, resisting the urge to turn toward her. “You clearly know why it could be a problem to talk to a man while you’re nude. The…intimacy of it.”

“I suppose I just…thought you were above such things,” she said. “I just thought that our unique circumstances lent themselves to bending the rules of propriety just a bit.”

Gale sighed. She was right–he should be able to act with a little more decorum than the drunks at the taverns. He should be able to extract a more distilled version of his maturity and be able to speak to a young woman without thinking so much about the shape of her body and what it would be like to feel it under his hands. 

“Gale?” she asked. “Are you angry?”

“No,” he said, turning a page in the book he was reading without really seeing it. “Sorry, it’s just been a while since I’ve had such constant company. Most of the time it was just me and my tressym, Tara. She was stimulating company to be sure, but it’s been a while since I’ve had more human companionship. I admit I’m not used to it.”

“I’ve never really had it,” she said. “I guess that’s why I’m so keen to fill the silence. It’s hard not to be excited to have a friend.”

“A friend…” he said, repeating that word again. It was the second time she’d called him that since they’d met. 

“Oh–” she said, her voice getting smaller. “I suppose that is a bit presumptive…I’ve done it a couple times already, too. I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” Gale said. “If I’m honest–I just feel a bit guilty because I’ve hardly been a good friend to you. It doesn’t feel like I’ve earned the title.”

“You’ve been a splendid friend–perhaps not at our first meeting, but every moment since,” she said. “You tried your best to keep me safe from the Nautiloid even though you barely knew me. And then you offered to accompany me to try and figure out what to do about these parasites…”

“To be fair, you’ve been a great help to me, as well,” he said. “You helped me out of that pocket realm and found this place; got us room and board for the night.”

“That’s what friends do,” Elinna said easily. 

“Elinna,” he said. “Since we’re friends…can I ask you a personal question?”

“Sure,” she said. 

“Those scars on the inside of your wrist–”

There was an abrupt sound of something heavy plunking into the water, like she’d dropped her hands into the tub to hide the scars he’d mentioned. 

“I don’t have to ask about them if you’d rather not talk about it,” he said. “I’m not trying to pry, or to bring up something painful…”

“No, it’s okay. I suppose it’s only fair that I be honest about it if we’re going to be traveling together,” she said. “Mm–what’s your question about them?”

“Did your caretakers at The Nest do that to you?” he asked. 

“Tney did,” she said. “A long time ago, the ArchLibrarian at The Nest wasn’t very kind. When I was six and he was teaching me how to read, he used it as a method to deter me from failing.”

“Hells,” Gale said under his breath. “I can only imagine how well that worked…”

He heard her laugh a little and for some reason it hurt his heart. “Not terribly well,” she admitted. “But I needed to learn to read in order to be able to return the archives to their homes on the shelves. That was when I started sneaking literature into my room at night, so I could practice reading on my own.”

“Did the punishments stop after that?” Gale asked. 

“Well–that particular ArchLibrarian died and a new one took over,” she said. “So the caning stopped, but other punishments took its place. Sometimes I’d be sent to bed without supper, or if I really made an error I’d be tasked with handling the rats and spiders in the cellars. It only took one bout of paralysis for me to do everything I could to avoid that particular punishment.”

“How did you make it out of there with all of the…earnest fervor you have? If I was in such a situation, I feel like I would have disappeared within myself.”

“You see my overcoat out there?” Elinna asked. 

“Yes.”

“If you open the breast pocket there’s a little locket inside.”

Gale hesitated for a moment, feeling odd about rifling through her things, but he finally carefully looked through the folds of canvas and leather until he found the piece of jewelry. 

It was a lovely, delicate little thing. It was about the size of a gold piece and fastened to a velvet choker that was worn threadbare in some places. It had been handled a lot, almost like someone had rubbed their thumb against the plush fabric habitually. The pendant was a dark metal with almost a violet sheen to it. There was a thin sliver of a crescent moon on it with a couple sitting on it as if it were a hammock, cradling a child between them. 

Elinna’s name was written in Drowic on the seam of the locket. 

“It’s imbued with drow magic,” Gale said. 

“Mhmn,” she responded. “Powerful stuff, too. I’ve never been able to find someone to open it. That locket is the last thing my mother gave me before leaving me on the steps of The Nest.”

“Why not just find a wizard to do it for you?” Gale asked. 

“I tried to,” she said. “But the last one I spoke to told me it may have some sort of bond with my blood–that I’d have to be the one to open it.”

Gale examined the piece a little closer, feeling out the weave and the threads of magic, following their winding paths. 

Whomever Elinna had spoken to had spoken true, the threads all coalesced on her. Any wizard worth his salt would know that trying to manipulate that magic might destroy the item all together. 

“Do you think your mother was a wizard?” Gale asked. 

“I don’t know,” Elinna said. “I think I’ve just always hoped that if I could get it open, I could find where I really belong.”

The orb in Gale’s chest reached out for the thrumming weave in Elinna’s locket. He rubbed his free hand over his chest where the bundle of magic growled for the item, as if a bit of petting could soothe the burning hunger there. 

Not this one, he told the netherese shred of magic in his chest, just a bit longer and I’ll get you something we can use.

“So that’s why you came looking for a teacher,” he said. “And why you wouldn’t settle for someone who could teach you simple folk magic or healing magic.”

“Yes,” she said. “And why I was hesitant about your offer to introduce me to another teacher…but…well beggars, choosers.”

Gale heard her take in a deep breath and then a small splash as Elinna dipped beneath the surface of the water. While she soaked out of earshot, he carefully put the locket beneath layers of fabric, careful not to leave it out for the sun to get to it and hurt the magic sourced from the underdark. 

He was having a hard time not getting distracted by this girl. This was always his plight; he was always far too empathetic to deal with stories like Elinna’s. He was a bleeding heart for people who were unlucky and downtrodden–people who were alone in life and had no one to encourage them. 

Gale had the sudden wish to take her back to Waterdeep–to introduce her to his mother who somehow always had extra love to spare. It wouldn’t have been the first time his mother made up for a lack of love in one of his friends’ lives, but Elinna perhaps deserved it more than anyone else. 

He heard Elinna resurface and heave out a sigh before starting to get out of the tub. 

“Done already?” he asked. 

“I promised I would go quick,” she said. “Besides, it feels strange to talk to you without looking at you.”

He focused down on his book as he listened to the faint shift and twinkle of the clothes he’d fetched for her. He heard the faint little grunt as she dressed, the sound of belts being unbuckled and buckled once more, and then she came around the privacy drape, newly clothed. 

Her amber hair fell in damp ribbons down past her waist, her face was faintly flushed with the warmth from the bath. She looked comfortable and at ease in her new clothes, though he somewhat regretted the reminder of Mystra on the tapered ends of her skirt and the collar of the leather padding. 

“Feel better?” he asked. 

“Oh, so much better,” she said with a soft breath. “The clothes are a bit tight but…I also don’t have many clothes that properly fit me. Does it look okay?”

She turned this way and that. 

The truth was, she looked fetching in it. The greens and tans of the Scribe’s Guild livery may have done more for the verdant quality of her eyes, but the pale violets and ashen chainmail of the cleric’s robes made the color of her coppery hair all the more vibrant, and paired nicely with the almost mauve quality to her freckles. 

He chose not to think of the ways the openings of the skirt cleared a path all the way up to her thigh, and thought even less on how well the lines of her violet trousers followed the full curve of said thigh. 

“It fits you like a glove,” Gale finally said. “Nothing looks too tight from where I’m sitting. 

She smiled at him and heaved a happy breath. “Thank you again for giving me something new to wear,” she said. “It feels good to be clean again. I was worried I’d be stuck in blood stained clothes.”

“Happy to help,” he said with a pressed smile. “When I have a bit more energy, I’ll get some more comfortable lounging clothes for you to wear so you don’t have to sleep in armor.”

“It’s not so bad,” she said. “At least, I can put up with it for now–probably better to be safe than sorry anyway.”

“You should never underestimate the importance of a good night’s rest,” Gale said. 

“Speaking of which, you should probably get to bed, don’t you think?” she suggested. 

“Me?” he asked. “No, I meant you.”

“I’ve already gotten some sleep, I’ll remind you–you on the other hand, have not,” she said. “And besides, there’s only one bed.”

“I’ll sleep on a bedroll on the floor,” he said. “You take the bed.”

“I’m not tired,” she said. 

“First of all, yes you are, I can see it in your face. Second of all, this is likely the last full night of sleep we’ll get for a while, considering soon enough we will have to take turns keeping watch. So you take the bed.”

“I think I may be able to out-last you,” she said. 

“Do not,” Gale said. “Make this a competition.”

“Why? Afraid you’ll lose?” she teased. 

“Afraid neither of us will get the sleep we need because I’m terribly competitive. My mother won’t even look at a lanceboard anymore,” he said. 

She laughed and the sound brushed up against some long forgotten impulse in the back of his mind–one he’d put away a long time ago. 

“Okay, fine,” she said. “I’ll take the bed, but I still haven’t gotten much of a chance to get to know you better–you already have a full catalog of my childhood and all of the piteous stories that go along with it.”

She walked over to the bed and sat back down on it. 

“Lie down and I promise to tell you all about my childhood–though I’m afraid it’s not nearly as tragic as yours….it may feel more like I’m bragging, actually,” Gale said. 

“Hmm,” she said. “I think I can put up with a bit of bragging. I like listening to you talk.”

She laid herself down on the bed and turned onto her side to look at him, folding her arm under her head to use as a makeshift pillow. “Regale me,” she said. “No pun intended.”

He barked a soft laugh. “Careful with telling a man like me that you enjoy listening to me talk,” he said. “I’ll take far too much advantage of something like that.”

“I do, though,” she said. “After a life spent in a library, you can’t blame me for enjoying the simple pleasure of a good conversation.”

“Well–there will be no shortage of good conversation with me,” he said. “The only thing I’m better at than magic is talking–gratuitously.”

She chuckled and his heart fluttered a little as she looked at him with sleepy eyes. He got started talking before he let his mind drift to the last time a woman looked at him like that and what activities may have preceded or followed that look.. 

He told her about his youth–about how he was such a gifted young wizard that he’d caught the attention of Elminster, and then Mystra herself. He left out the part about taking Mystra as a lover. He skipped his inevitable folly and luckily, by the time he got to that part of his story, Elinna had already started gently dozing off between sounds of acknowledgement in regards to what he was saying. 

With time, her quiet mhmn’s and uh-huh’s ceased and he was almost certain that she was crossing the threshold into a proper, restful sleep. 

He swapped from talking about himself to reading out of the foraging book to fill the quiet room so that she didn’t automatically wake in the new silence that took the place of his prattling. When her breaths became slow and steady, though, he set the book aside and got his bedroll ready for the floor. 

He’d be feeling the ache in his bones the next day, of course, but it was only what could be considered right for their sleeping arrangements. An older man shouldn’t share a bed with a young woman–least of all one he’d spent the better part of a day trying not to have improper thoughts about.

He dropped his concentration on his light evocations and sent a little gust of air to blow out the candle that more resembled a pool of melted tallow. His bedroll was close enough to the bed that he could hear Elinna’s rhythmic inhalations and exhalations. He looked outside as the moon hovered. Far away, he could hear the hush of waves crashing on the shore and for a moment he almost felt like he was back at home. 

He closed his eyes and let himself imagine that he was laid in bed with Tara curled up next to him and the promise of a warm cup of tea in the very near future. 

He couldn’t decide, however, if he was quite as homesick as he should be. 

As he drifted off to sleep, he couldn’t help but admit to himself that it was nice to have the warm presence of another person near him. He couldn’t help but admit that he had missed the closeness of another body–the camaraderie of a shared experience, however terrible this one had turned out to be. 

Maybe he could try taking on an apprentice again afterall.

#writing community #writers on tumblr #writing #writeblr #authors #my writing #vtf #violet thread of fate #gale x tav #fic recs #gale x tav fic #gale/tav #gale dekarios #gale fic #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate tav

[somekindofpoet]

Master List

I write gay stuff.

Many of my works are 18+ for sexual themes/violence/drugs. Please consume at your own risk, with this in mind!

Like A Movie - Reader is a struggling screenwriter but things start looking up when they get a surprise visitor who wants to buy their movie.

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

Part VI

Part VII

Part VIII

Part IX

Tara

Spin Me Round -NSFW! R plays spin the bottle with the Scream gang

Skin Deep - NSFW!

Ghostface reader meets her match in Tara Carpenter

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

Drabble 1-Strap Party!

Drabble - Sweater Weather

Drabble - Fighting Words

Drabble- Nudes

Jenna

Nevermore Grounds - Reader owns Nevermore Grounds, a Brooklyn coffee shop that Jenna stumbles upon.

Part I

Part II

Futbol or Football - Jenna is preoccupied with a soccer game on tv, reader interrupts

Missed Connection - A flight delay causes a chance meeting between R and Jenna Ortega

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 - NSFW! Part 7 - NSFW!

PR Agent Drabble

Playlist

Vada

Terminal - Reader deals with her parent having a terminal illness, and Vada struggles to cope with the aftermath of the shooting

Kissing Lessons -NSFW! Reader teaches Vada how to do the do

Oh! Dealer - NSFW! - Vada calls Reader for a ride after she does E, they get high together and experience some new highs

Oh!Dealer Pt II - NSFW! - Drug Dealer! R and Vada try to figure out how this is all going to work.

Oh!Dealer Pt III

Low Budget Spider-Man - NSFW! - R gets dragged unwillingly into a friendship with Vada, and then the crush begins

Lightning Drabble

Cranberry Juice Drabble

Lorraine

La Petite Mort NSFW!- Reader finds out Lorraine has just been bearing through intimacy with RJ, and takes it upon herself to educate her on how it should be one

LPM - La Drague NSFW! - Reader and Lorraine take a ride into the woods for a picnic...and other things.

LPM - C'est Comme Ça - The repercussions of RJ's return hit hard

LPM - T'en Va Pas NSFW! - Reader works until she's numb enough to clock out, Lorraine brings her back around

LPM - Vouloir, C'est Pouvoir NSFW! - R deals with RJ, Lorraine gets jealous

LPM - La Fin NSFW! - We get closure

LPM - Bonus Content 1 NSFW! - A new girl at the ice cream shop makes Lorraine jealous

Drabble-Fight.

Drabble-Jacket

FilthX - NSFW! - X AU where Pearl isn't a homicidal maniac and R is the star everyone wants, including Lorraine

X Drabble

LPM - Lorraine NSFW Alphabet

Phoebe

How To: Be The Perfect Partner - A Lecture - NSFW! - Phoebe has prepared a lecture for Reader: how to be a perfect partner

Wednesday

God Complex

#jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday #vada cavell #tara carpenter #lorraine day #ao3 writer