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kiwisbell · 7 months

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The Light of the Stars: Chapter 1 [din djarin]

Your celebration for Din’s name day goes horribly wrong. And a group of pirates sees the worst of your Mandalorian.

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3

read part one here (not necessary, but encouraged!): told before and told again

series masterlist | my masterlist!

status: complete

pairing: din djarin x f!reader

rating: 18+ (mdni)

tags and warnings: established relationship, unprotected piv (no following the leader), the helmet stays on, but the gloves come off, in more ways than one, hand kink???, animal handler!reader, grogu being a good kid, extremely protective din, kidnapping, BAMF din, din gets mad, dirty talk, fingering, blood and violence, creampie, rough sex, multiple orgasms, top din, soft din, din fucking the babysitter, extreme amounts of fluff, din is in love, mando'a pet names, porn with feelings, porn with plot (there actually is a plot this time), din is touch-starved, it's din's birthday!! (sort of), din being so in love that it's disgusting

word count: ~ 4.3k

this is installment two of my din djarin series entitled told before and told again, and is divided into three chapters. this series in particular is inspired by joanna newsom's divers album. it's a fantastic listen.

obligatory mando’a to english translation: “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.” — “I love you” (literally “I will know you forever.”)

chapter 1: you will not take my heart alive

Looking at you is peering into the far, sunny horizon as a storm rages overhead.

Together in your little cot—far too small for two people, and yet you manage: mostly by draping half your body over his, not that he’s ever minded—you and Din doze. Well, you doze. He doesn’t sleep much on the best of days, but he likes the intimate quiet of this stifling space. Wasting time does not exist when it comes to you.

Your legs are tangled together, one of his wedged between both of yours as your thigh remains hitched up on his hip. You like to sleep as close to him as possible, but his armour makes it uncomfortable, especially in moments like these when he does not have the precious time to take it off. So you curl up your shared blanket and use it as a pillow, tucking your head under his arm. Now, your cheek rests on his breastplate, your breath pushing past your parted lips in soft snores that fog up the steel. Your lashes rest on your cheeks and your hand on his chest.

You are a human lullabye. He does not know how he slept before you. Now, he wants to close his eyes and dream by your side, warmed by your body.

His gloved hand finds your serene face and brushes a stray lock of hair from your eyes.

There are always storms to weather, but you are the telltale rising of the sun. He will look to you when the lighting crackles across the sky.

He isn’t sure how long he’s been staring at you by the time your lips begin to move in the shape of words, your eyes still peacefully closed.

“Do you know what day it is?” you ask him.

He does. He would prefer to forget.

“It's night,” he replies. “Go back to sleep.”

“Evading the question will not avail you, Mandalorian.” He wants to laugh at the frankly impressive way you can twist words even in your state of half-sleep, but does not give you the satisfaction. “What day is it?”

When he does not answer, your eyes peel open and you sit up, his hand falling from your waist. Even through his gloves, he feels the loss of your warm skin as if the sudden cold has seared a hole through the impenetrable leather. Your gaze is sleepy, your irises impossibly thin around cavernous pupils.

“Come back here,” he says plainly.

Your eyes narrow, your mind incisive as ever. He should know better by now than to try and outsmart you with the promise of physical contact—no matter how much he needs that contact right now. You square your hips as you shuffle so your body, all of it, is facing him. You’re wearing so few clothes that he can make out (even in this dusky darkness) the tight press of your nipples through your shirt. The shape of your waist and hips under the loose cotton pants you sleep in. His fingers flex. They crave the softness of your skin to plunge into.

“It’s your name day, Din.”

It is not. But you have always been persistent.

“You mean you’ve never celebrated? Not once?”

He didn’t understand why it shocked you so, but for some reason, seeing you so affronted made him question why, in fact, he’d never celebrated his own birth. “It’s… trivial,” he managed, unsettled by such distress in your face.

You lay on your back in a patch of grass next to his toolkit. Normally, he would scold you for freeloading, but the sun was out, and you saw it so rarely. So, he let you lounge with your eyes squinting harshly against the indelicate shine, casting your skin in bronze. Your collarbones pushed out gently with each exhale you took, and on every inhale, he would watch with rapt attention as your throat hollowed. There was a faint smattering of perspiration in that hollow, but you acted as if the relentless sun was revitalising you, not burning you.

“That’s silly,” you told him, your head turning lazily to face him. He was sitting on the ramp at the mouth of the hull, tucked inside the shadow of the Crest, working on repairing the access panel—again. He was beginning to think it was damned. He did not need another incident where you were trapped inside because the ramp refused to lower, or where neither of you could find the kid until you both realised he was outside, playing with dandelions while his guardians panicked. Din supposed his repair job doubled as child-proofing.

“Why?” he asked. “I don’t remember being born.”

“You’re missing the point.”

“Am I?”

You hummed. “I would think a warrior like you would want to celebrate living another cycle. Not all of you get that luxury.”

He wanted to point out that living was never a luxury until you. He did not.

“I’m perfectly happy to celebrate yours,” he told you. “That’s good enough for me.”

He caught a slight movement of your head out of the corner of his eye and knew, somehow, that you were rolling your eyes. Fondly. “Then I’ll choose a date for you.”

“No,” he said immediately.

But you were already getting up and planting yourself on the ramp next to him. “Today,” you said firmly. “It’s a beautiful, sunny day. Today is your name day, Din Djarin.”

Your fingers played upon the harsh edges of his helmet in some sort of dance, tracing each cool line and dip the way he had so often traced the warm flesh of your body. It knocked his world slightly askew to know there was someone who saw his armour as a body in itself—who didn’t crave to see what lay beneath, because to you, they were inseparable. One.

“Nothing about your life,” you said that day, in a near-whisper, “is trivial.”

Now, he decides being stubborn is the best way to get your body against him once again. “I don't have a name day,” he says.

You try to suppress a smile. “Well, you'll remember I gave you one. Don’t you remember?” Your fingers tap lightly around his thigh guards, down to his calves and back up toward his hip. You do this often: feeling out the shape of him as if you're attempting to imprint it into your hindbrain. He indulges you, but his patience is thinning. “When you were inside me? Deep and rough and—”

“Come. Back. Here.” He practically growls it, his cock stiffening inside his pants, his teeth grinding for a taste of you he can never have. He opts for a tight grip on your upper thigh, kneading the muscle and soft flesh there as he tries to pull you toward him.

You let him drag you on top of him, his strong hands keeping you firm atop his hips. There's a firm pressure at your spine, between your shoulder blades, pushing you down toward him so your bodies are flush. You nudge your nose against the cheek of his helmet and grin.

“Let’s go somewhere,” you say softly. “Somewhere nice. Somewhere we can celebrate.”

A gloved palm catches the line of your jaw, the thumb tracing its path. “My age isn't something to celebrate.”

“You're still spry. I have the limp to prove it.” He huffs, and even the small hint that he's amused spurs you on. “Come on. We don’t have to do anything near a crowd. It can just be the two of us. Even a desert, for stars’ sake.”

“You want to celebrate with the Tuskens?” He tilts his head in the way you're so familiar with: he's looking at you like you're simultaneously the most captivating and foolish person he's ever met. At the same time, his thumbs caress your body like it's precious. It is.

You bite your lip. “I want to celebrate with you.”

You have a funny way of looking at him. It typically accompanies your most outrageous ideas. Your smile casts a brighter light than the rays of sun through a clear windowpane. He dreams of that smile the way he used to dream about terrors. You’ve encompassed them with that look: the smile and the gentle brush of your mouth against his helmet. “Fine,” he says at last. “We’ll land on Nevarro.” When you open your mouth to gloat, he slides his hand around to the nape of your neck. “In the morning. Now, come back here.”

You can only tease your warrior for so long. Your lips make a path from his forehead to the spot just above his visor. He cups your face in his hands, not guiding nor pushing, just holding you here. Here, in the moment, when all he sees is you.

“When we go…” He tucks a piece of hair behind your ear and lowers his voice to the soft, gentle rasp that sticks to the edges of your skull. “You stay by my side.”

“I’m always by your side.” You smile, squeezing his hands. “You can’t get rid of me now, Din Djarin, no matter how hard you try.”

No, he can't. But he's not in the habit of trying to get rid of the things that are best for him. Not anymore.

He wishes now more than ever he could press his face into the sweet-smelling curve of your throat and kiss all the way down your body. He wants to bury his whole being deep in your soul, unmasked, unburdened.

For now, he will settle for the proximity: the intoxicating closeness he once only dreamed of and now gets to live. Every night, every morning, he gets to know what it feels like to exist alongside another soul. That will do.

“Cyar’ika.”

Your hands cover his. “Din.”

Even if his sensor could not detect the elevated rate of your heart thumping against your chest, he would be able to sense the slightest shift in your very blood from systems away. His own heart matches the rhythm, threatening to burst from his chest and bury itself inside yours.

“I want you,” he says.

He likes the way he makes you feel. Your heart kicks up even faster as your lips part. “You told me to go back to sleep,” comes your whispered reply.

His hands leave your face and skate down your sides, making you shiver when he reaches the hem of your shirt. “Is that a no?”

“I will never”—your eyes meet his, or they try to, serious and unwavering—“say no to you.”

And he doesn't deserve that. He does not deserve your faith or your support. But he will take down the straps of your flimsy shirt and he will shift so he can hover above you, and there will not be a fraction of him that is tempted to let you go despite all he doesn’t deserve.

He slips his fingers into the loops lining the waistband of your utility pants and pulls them down. Behind them follows your shirt, not soon after, his hands grabbing eagerly at the hem. “Arms up.”

You obey, and he tosses the shirt on top of your pants, which are surely somewhere close. He’ll find them later. Now, he looks down at your body. There are no articles of clothing for you to remove, which never makes you pout or whine in spite of any teasing remarks you may make. No—you trace the shape of the pieces reverently, treating them like skin. Like freckles.

“You’re beautiful,” you tell him, your chest heaving as he splays his hand just beneath your left breast, protecting your ribcage.

It is the dead of the night, and you are both exhausted, but Din lets a low laugh slip out. “That’s my line.”

“Well, I won’t be offended if you still want to say it.” Your grin is a blinding thing.

That. That is why he needs to keep your life in a little cage. That smile and the laugh that goes with it. He can no longer picture a ‘verse that exists without it. How can a galaxy turn without the bright force of a smile like that to inspire it?

“You,” he rasps, “are beautiful.”

Your hands find the buttons of his pants, the thick, hard length behind them twitching under your attention. He does not stop as you seek out his cock and wrap your fingers around the shaft. He does not stop the groan that rumbles up from deep in his chest when you look up at him with your tired, black eyes and stroke him slowly.

A drop of precum spills onto your navel, and when you dip your hand between them to swipe it onto the pad of your thumb, cleaning it off between your lips, he goes blind.

His hand is on your hip, grounding himself in flesh. His cock is pushing past the seal of your cunt, wet and warm and eager to accept him. He grunts. Your name. A curse. You take him the way you always do: with a pinched brow and a gasp he aches to swallow.

He watches himself disappear inside you, the way you greedily suck him in, his own restraint buckling along with his spine. He feels himself compressing, compacting, into this small square of time, sinking onto his side next to you. He can be closer this way, face-to-face, slipping his arm around your waist and pressing on your lower back. You hold onto his shoulders as his hips meet yours, your eyes unfocused in the haze of lust. He moves in a slow, experimental thrust, hissing at the way your cunt grips him so tightly on the withdrawal. “Relax,” he groans.

“Are you trying to fuck me,” you gasp, “or teach me how to shoot a blaster?”

He huffs, hitching your leg up over his hip and driving deeper. You cry out his name and he feels sadistically pleased, his hand pressing more insistently on your spine. You bow deliciously under his touch, slotting willingly alongside his shape, your naked body safe and warm against the cold bulk of his armour. He tucks you so close that your breasts are smushed against his chest and you have to bury your face into the crook of his neck. The warm cowl provides you the comfort of a blanket as he begins to fuck you. Properly.

Your gasps are wet and stilted. Din grunts with each thrust, your soft, hot walls stroking his cock. He will never get used to this: your closeness, your strength, the way you will happily clamber on top of him whenever he's frustrated. You aren't afraid of his moods. You always let him grasp your hips, as rough as he needs, and you draw the poison from the wound. You’re a tonic to his weary soul.

“That’s it.” His voice is a ragged grinding of gears in your ear. The punch of his cock inside you becomes easier with every stroke, your body becoming malleable and relaxed for him. “That’s it,” he coaxes.

You're so wet that the sound of your joined bodies echoes in the puny compartment. He will bruise your thigh from how hard he holds onto you, and your hips will be sore from his relentless pounding, but you do not care. “Din. Oh, fuck!” you moan, grasping at his cowl, your fingers bunching in the fabric. A low-pitched growl leaves his mouth, travels through the modulator, and makes your cunt gush around his cock. You are the only one who can get this close, the only one who can grip the cowl like you plan to tear it right off, because he knows you won't.

“You started this,” he says through gritted teeth, the pinching of the steel plates on his thighs sparking delectable pain between your legs. “Could’ve gone back to sleep.”

You laugh through a moan, rocking your hips down against his. The head of his cock reaches so deep that you can feel him in your stomach, and you know that's how he likes it best. “You weren't sleeping, Din.”

“No,” he rasps, “I was watching you.”

“Ever the charmer.” Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you feel the coil in your belly wind up tight. You're so fucking full. He's thick and heavy, so warm inside you, and all you can think is how desperately you want his hot cum to drown your cunt.

His hand slips between your bodies and presses against your belly. You gasp with the white-hot pleasure, your head jerking back to meet his gaze through his visor. He tips his head forward to drop against your forehead. “Feel me?” He thrusts harder, but not faster, your poor, abused cunt taking him so easily in your pliable state. You mewl for him, your vision blurring, the coil tightening. “Feel how deep I am?”

“Din…”

“I asked you a question, cyar’ika.” The pressure deepens, somehow. Heightens. You feel as if you're floating above your bodies, separate altogether, watching yourself crash hopelessly into his body. “Do. You. Feel. Me?”

Every word is punctuated by the drag and thrust of his cock inside you, the movement of his hips growing sloppy. His cock twitches with the need to pump you full, to give you all of him and keep you wrapped up, safe, until morning. “Yes,” you whimper, your voice crackling. “Yes, Din.”

Good, he thinks. He wants to imprint himself on you forever. He already feels a sick sense of satisfaction seeing the divots he makes in your flesh with his fingers, the bruises already forming. The rest of the world would hurt you to make it hurt. He likes knowing he can hurt you and it only feels good.

“Ah, ah —fuck, Din,” you gasp, your lips perpetually parted once his hand migrates to your clit. Two gloves fingers apply pressure, rough leather circling the bundle of nerves. Your body caves in on itself, your entire brain bursting into flame, your vision white-blind as you come apart.

Your thigh quivering, still wrapped around his hip, you roll your hips into his hand, your brow furrowing in pleasure. He does not relent. He wants to watch you crumble, and he's getting it. “I… I can’t…”

“Yes, you can.” Your nose and lips slide haplessly across the ridge on the right cheek of his helmet, all of you trembling in his assured grasp. You are vaguely aware of the hard, throbbing cock between your legs twitching, pulsing inside you. “Fuck. Fuck, that’s it.”

Din comes hard, his visor tucked under your chin so he can tilt your head upward. He can smell you, the heady scent of sweat and sex and fresh air. You fill his lungs as he fills you, his cock pulsating with each hot spurt of cum. It stuffs you until you're brimming with him, and he still grinds deeper, deeper, so close to you that peeling your bodies apart will make you both colder. Lonelier.

When you both collapse, your spent bodies ending up in the same position as the beginning of the night, Din looks at his vambrace. It will be morning soon.

Your ragged breath is fogging up his armour as much as your sweat, and he will take this. The only mark you can leave on his body. He will take anything you give him, even if it is poisonous. He knows it will taste sweet, anyway.

“Happy name day, Din,” you whisper, your eyes smiling even as you continue to pant, your fingers fondly tapping his cheek.

Beneath you, both of you can feel the wetness of the cot as his cum drips steadily out of you in globs. He knows he has to clean you up. He just doesn't want to detangle himself from you. Not when you look so happy.

“Keep it,” you tell him. Always reading his mind, past all the steel that separates you. “I want to feel you today.”

When you tuck your face back into the curve of his throat and close your eyes, it takes no time at all for your breathing to grow steady. Din stays awake for a little while, idly stroking your hair away from your face.

When he finally feels sleep claw at him, Din does not dream. The colours dancing languidly on his closed eyelids resemble the hues of your irises.

For all his attempts to train you to shoot a blaster, you cannot fight for bantha shit.

“Don’t tuck your thumb,” he says, circling you on the grass.

“You say that like it means something. How ‘bout you come over here and show me how it’s done?” He watches you wiggle your brows and decides he would much rather watch you suffer.

“It means, don’t tuck your thumb.” He mirrors your closed fist but manages to make it look much more assured. “You’ll break it if you try to hit someone like that.”

“I don't want to hit anyone, Din.”

He cocks his head in that annoying way he does.

“But someone may want to hit you.” His body is stiff when he turns to square his shoulders, a little closer to you than you remember him being. The Crest should land on Nevarro within the hour, so you decided to occupy your shared free time with a spontaneous sparring session. Not that he ever actually strikes you. It’s more of a… one-sided talking session. With the occasional scolding.

“Not if you’re with me,” you remind him.

“That’s right.” Still, he circles you, always facing you, assessing your posture. “Kick your legs farther apart.”

You do, planting one foot slightly behind the other. You’ve seen him do it. Clearly, your mirroring attempt is wrong. “Not that far apart.”

“I think you’re doing this on purpose.”

“You need to learn.”

“I know that,” you huff, dropping your hands by your side. “It would help a lot if you actually fought me.”

“There wouldn’t be a fight.”

Cocky bastard. “I’m not asking you to punch me or shoot me. Just… fake it.”

His sigh is audible. “And what if I strike by accident?”

You cannot help but smile fondly. Your warrior, always trying to keep you safe in a galaxy that does not care in the least for your safety. “You’re a fool, Din Djarin, but you know your strength better than that.” You close the distance between your bodies. “If you don’t want me to fight, why am I still here?”

“You’re still here…” He brushes a finger over your cheek. “… because I don’t trust the world not to hurt you like it already has.”

Your voice lacks its typical conviction. “I’m not a child. I can take care of myself.”

“Well, the kid is. And he loves you. He trusts you.” He shakes his head as if trying to make an intricate blueprint of his next words. “ I trust you. I trust you to take care of him, and I trust you to be my partner.”

“It’s a shame I can’t trust you not to get yourself half-dead every time we visit a new planet. Wouldn’t have to worry about my heart giving out if I just up and left this hunk of junk.”

You’re taunting him, that delicious mouth of yours a beacon of wickedness. “Can’t rely on the ‘verse to keep you safe the way I can,” he says.

“That”—you tap him gently on the cheek of his helmet, clicking your tongue—“is dangerously cocky, Mandalorian.”

“Yeah?” He catches your wrist and squeezes. “People hurt you. They take what they want from you and toss you back. Or not. It’s not gonna happen.” He places your hand over his heart. “Not with me.”

You recall the long, lonely days before you met him. You recall the sleepless nights when an animal would be sick or injured, and you were the only handler willing to stay awake all night to monitor its condition. Sitting in a hard, rickety chair next to a bassinet or bacta tank, your fingers drumming nonsensical rhythms on your thighs. Dread curling in your stomach when your charge’s condition worsened. Sickening joy when they pulled through. You remember how cold the nighttime would get and how, when you made your home onboard the Crest, you would awake to find your curled-up body covered in more blankets than you fell asleep with. You confronted him about it one day.

I’m paying you to stay alive, was his cool reply. He never used to bother looking your way as he fiddled with the controls in the cockpit.

I’m used to the cold, you told him.

For a moment, you were certain he wanted to leave the conversation at that—not that it was much of a conversation. Then, as you turned to descend back down the ladder, he said, So am I.

“My life started when I met you,” you tell him now, and he isn’t fond of the little frown that comes over your face. “It could end right now and I’d be okay.”

“Don’t.” His voice comes out coarse as sand. “It’s not going to end.”

You lean forward and press your forehead against the cool metal of his. “You want me to live forever, Mandalorian?”

His hand finds the back of your neck, fingers digging into your scalp, as he keeps you there, firm. Steady. “Longer than that,” he says.

Your smile makes your cheeks ache. “I’ll do my best for you.”

His other hand grasps your hip. “That's my girl.”

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.”

It leaves your mouth stumbling, grasping for the right vowel noises and falling clumsily nonetheless. But he chuckles, a soft gasping laugh that makes you shiver.

“Knew you were listening.”

“Learned it myself,” you whisper. “Your teaching style is ineffectual.”

Above you, in the cockpit, the navigation system begins to beep wildly. Din pulls away from you and wordlessly heads back, but you smile at the way his fingers take the longest to detangle from yours.

#pedro pascal #kiwisbell's fics #the mandalorian #din djarin x you #din djarin x female reader #din djarin smut #din djarin #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fic #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction

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e-dubbc11 · 2 months

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Beneath the Surface

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: mentions of emotional and physical abuse. Comfort and fluff. Nightmares

Word Count: 1.2K-ish

Summary: You had a nightmare last night, Billy takes you to your favorite place that always calms you and makes you feel better.

A/N: The beach is one of my favorite places, especially the beaches at home. I’m currently on vacation and the beaches here are pretty fantastic too but there’s no place like home. I’ll put a pic of one of my favorite beaches at sunset close to home at the end of this. I hope you like it!

As always, thank you for reading! I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

In between the vibrant energy of a hot New England summer and a cold, desolate winter, after the crowds have gone away and they’ve locked up their summer homes for the season, there was a period of time during late summer of unspoiled tranquility.

That was your favorite time of year to be at the beach. Under a canopy of blue with hues of deep pink, red, and orange, the world seemed to stand still as you listened to the gentle lapping of the waves against the wet sand.

The weather was still warm, a little drier, and a bit more comfortable. Over the grassy dunes, the soft sand stretched out in both directions while small flecks of quartz glistened in the sand beneath the early evening sun.

The soothing symphony of waves crashing against the shore continued to pull you deeper and deeper into a trance like state. The sea looked like a rippling blue blanket with all of its twists and turns, the noise echoed off the rocks, resonated in the air and floated into your ears before it disappeared and the relaxing song started to play all over again.

This was the place that always made you feel better.

No matter what time of year it was, this is where you would come to escape him. The serenity of this place cancelled out the pain, the yelling, name calling, and the bad dreams. But now it was a different type of escape, a happy one where there weren’t any tears to stain your cheeks.

Rupturing the tranquility, you heard the screech of a gull overhead; it startled you and caused you to flinch but the hand enclosed over yours, squeezed you tightly.

The soft voice you heard whispered reassuringly that it was ok, and “he can’t hurt you anymore, sweet girl.” His warm body there next to yours, cradling, comforting you and always keeping you out of harm’s way.

The sand sifted in between your toes as you watched the sun dip lower and lower toward the horizon where the sea and sky dissolve into each other.

The rolling waves lightly crashed against the shore bringing large clumps of seaweed with them and the salty sea breeze gently kicked up tiny grains of sand that ended up stuck in the short bristles of his beard.

His endless brown eyes focused on the dark beauty of the hungry sea, a slight smile stretched across his face, and you watched him wiggle his toes in the warm smooth sand.

He relished in the harmony too. He was very content.

Billy wanted to see the ocean you loved so much as a child, where you came to get away from everything, and where nothing bad had ever happened to you.

He had felt so helpless last night because he couldn’t stop the nightmare from happening, watching the tension grip your body, your knuckles white as you tightly clutched the sheet in your hands, and smothered by your own screams.

He would do anything to keep you from having them but still the sobs tore loose, freeing themselves from inside your throat and echoing throughout the bedroom.

Murmuring soft sounds and words to calm you, Billy tried his best to soothe you from your nightmare. He knew what it was like to be vulnerable while asleep, to fight going to sleep because he didn’t know what would be waiting for him when he closed his eyes but he didn’t care about that right now. It wasn’t about him; it was about you which is why he brought you here.

Billy remembered you talking about your favorite beach, how the music of the waves would sing to you and make you feel better any time that monster hurt you, called you “stupid,” or “ugly,” or threaten to tear you so far down that you couldn’t get back up and no other man would want you. “No one will want someone as damaged as you except me.”

There weren’t any tears this time. As long as you had Billy, you would be ok.

The canvas of bright colors across the sky kissed the high points of your face and melted away the remnants of your nightmare. You looked over at Billy, leaned in close and kissed him on the cheek. He turned slowly to face you, a wide Cheshire cat smile stretched across his lips while the familiar scent of his spicy cologne drifted past your nose.

“Thank you, Billy.” You whispered. “For this.”

You brought your gaze toward the dimming blue sky.

“I wish I could do more, sweet girl. I wish I could replace every memory of him with something else but I can’t.” He said with an alarming edge to his voice.

Billy’s handsome features twisted with rage as he clenched his fist.

Your heart swelled at the thought of Billy wanting to take all of your pain away, wanting to make all of your nightmares disappear forever, never to come back.

“It’s ok, baby. This is my favorite place, and you’re my favorite person.” You said. “Look at our view! It’s perfect!” You exclaimed. “I don’t need anything else. I love you.”

He pulled you into his lap, moved a stray piece of hair away from your face, and touched his forehead to yours. The anger in his eyes was suddenly replaced with love and affection before his lips collided with yours.

He tasted like the sea salt in the air, you could feel it in his hair too as your nails gently raked against his scalp. Parting your lips with his tongue, Billy deepened his kiss, pulling you in tight by the waist, his long agile fingers danced up and down your spine, silently telling you that he loved you too.

Every time Billy kissed you, touched you, held your hand, or even just smiled at you, he was replacing bad memories with good ones, mending the pieces of your shattered soul you deemed unfixable.

He dropped all of his responsibilities today to try and make you feel better, bringing you to your favorite place two states away. And he would do it every day if you let him, if you wanted him to.

The sea was forever vast, uncharted and in a way, reminded you a lot of Billy. It was dark, beautiful, and there was so much more beneath the surface if you took time to unearth the possibilities of the unfamiliar.

Both of you were broken in your own way and still navigating the emotional and metaphorical caverns of Davy Jones’ locker, looking for those priceless treasures within each other that you can’t live without.

You would have to take a deep breath and dive deeper than you’ve ever been before but this time you wouldn’t be alone and promised to pull each other up when you needed air.

His love made it possible for you to breathe again and you would be forever grateful for it…always.

Tag List: @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialend @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack @vaguekayla @qu1etwolf @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @ittybxttykxttytxtty @russosafehaven @mrsbillyrusso

If you’d like to be added (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfic #billy russo imagine #billy russo x female reader #billy russo x you #billy russo x y/n

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itwasthereaminuteago · 7 months

Note

Idk if your requests are open but if they are I thought that frank castle x reader fic with a line 'You're an asshole but I love you' could be cute

Hi nonny, here you are, written for @theradioactivespidergwen 's 🍂Sweater Weather Writing Challenge🍂. 😊

🍁Frank Castle x gn!reader🍁

Please reblog if you enjoyed it!

"A'right, c'mon baby, it's time to get up."

You groan, stretching and yawning loudly, the difference between the dark behind your eyelids and the darkness in the room barely perceptible as you blink your eyes open sleepily. The covers are pulled back, not in anger, but the jarring of waking up so early makes it feel like it and you're grouchy and on the defensive.

"Fraaaank nooo! Why?!" You whine, reaching out and scrabbling to get the corner of the soft duvet back over you but it's no use, he holds it hostage and then hooks his arms under your outstretched ones and lifts you up from the mattress.

"Because I clearly remember you sayin' somethin' like; 'Frank, I agree to you waking me up before dawn even if I get all pissy about it'. So c'mon darlin', we're on a schedule."

You concede but grumble about it as you make your way to the bathroom to get ready. "Ugh, yeah well, past me was an idiot."

Frank just laughs and heads to the kitchen to get everything else you need together.

You're yawning almost constantly in the truck on the way, pleading for the Thermos of hot coffee you know he's got stashed somewhere as you pull your warmest hoodie and scarf up around your neck.

"Ten more minutes darlin'. I promise, just a lil longer. It'll be worth it." He responds, with a knowing smile.

Your breath makes ephemeral clouds of mist in the air when you first step out of the truck after Frank eventually pulls up at the parking spot. There's thick trees all around and the ground has the slightest hint of a frost making the leaves and grass crunch beneath your boots.

The birds are already wide awake and broadcasting their twittering, musical trill as Frank takes out the bag with the supplies, slinging it over his shoulder and then leads the way up a trail. You wind your way up the hill with your hand nestled in his, his fingers occasionally rubbing over the tips of yours to keep them warm.

The thick blanket Frank sets down in a spot at the crest of the hill keeps the cold ground at bay, the moss providing a welcome cushion underneath. You sit down, leaning into his body, his arm wrapped around you holding you to his warmth as you both silently sip at your steaming coffee and take in the beauty beginning to unfurl before you.

The first rays of the sun, bands of deep amber fire and crimson slowly emerge over the horizon, gradually and fantastically spreading a wash of the beautiful golden light of a new day across all of the trees below. It's as if you're the only people in the world just then, hidden in your own little universe.

"Frank?" You say, quietly, almost reluctant to break the spell of this moment. As you look at him you see the autumn light reflected in his warm brown eyes.

"Yeah?"

"I'm tired, and you're an asshole, but this is perfect and I love you."

His deep laugh shakes you and he wraps his arm tighter around your shoulders, pulling you closer to plant a sweet kiss on the top of your head.

"Love you too, sweetheart."

#frank castle x gn!reader #frank castle fluff #frank castle fic

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spiderrrling · 2 years

Note

Hi could you do a Eddie Munson x fem!reader, her and Eddie are dating and one day Eddie lets her wear his jacket around school (cause she forgot hers and is cold) and she gets super happy and everything so Eddie decides to make her a matching jacket like his..❤️

YEAH I KNOW I MADE THIS REALLY LONG FOR IT JUST BEING A BLURB I CANT HELP MYSELF

Masterlist - Taglist - Requests are open

“Are you cold?” Eddie looked at you, your arms were crossed over your chest and hands running up and down your forearms and he could see a light layer of goosebumps covering your skin. “Oh, no- I’ll be fine, just left my jacket at home.”

Indiana weather in spring was always unpredictable, it was either always too hot or too cold and never that perfect in between. Which also made it almost impossible to find an appropriate outfit.

This morning you had decided to forgo your jacket, putting your trust in the faint sun to bring enough heat. Which was the wrong call to make, turns out the promise of the morning sun was simply an illusion.

You were standing out behind the gym, hiding behind the low brick building and passing a joint between you. Eddie took a drag from the joint before putting it out against the brick and dropping it on the ground.

“C’mere.” You could hear the soft smile in his voice as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace against his chest. His arms resting against your back and pulling you impossibly close, inhaling the soft scent of your perfume. “You’re freezing.” He whispered into your hair, his arms gripping tighter around you.

You laughed softly into his chest, he was wearing one of his old faded band t-shirts, the hem of it was frayed from overuse. But it smelled so much like him, the cheap laundry detergent he used and the soft smell of tea that always hung in the air in the Munson trailer.

“I’ll be fine.”

“I can’t have you freezing to death sweetheart.”

“It's Hawkins in spring, I don’t think anyone has ever frozen to death.”

“Well, I am not going to let you be the first.” Eddie loosened his grip around your shoulders and grabbed onto his leather jacket and battle vest combination, quickly shrugging it off and placing it around your shoulders. His hands ran through her hair, pushing it out of the way to look at you. Cocking his head slightly to the side and a massive smile grew on his face. “It looks good on you.”

“Yeah?” You looked up at him and couldn’t help but smile as you saw the wide grin on his face. Eddie always loved seeing you in his clothes, but it was usually always limited to his various t-shirts, his hellfire shirt and his boxers that one time. He had never seen you in his jacket. His signature home made battle vest draped over the old leather jacket he had found at the thrift store. The one you had fixed when the zipper broke.

You carefully slipped your arms into the sleeves of the jacket, it was slightly too big for you, the cuffs reached the middle of your palm and your fingers wrapped around the edge of it. You thought you must have looked ridiculous. But it was special, knowing that Eddie trusted you enough to wear his signature piece. It made your heart flutter in your chest.

“You look fantastic.” He finally said, realising he had been staring at you.

“Won’t you be cold?”

“Go to class.” Eddie chuckled and placed a quick kiss on your lips. “I’ll see you later.”

Eddie didn’t know what he enjoyed more, seeing you in his jacket between classes. Or seeing everyone else stare at you wearing his jacket. Everyone at school knew who that jacket belonged to, and sure it was commonly known that you two were a thing. But this made it very clear to anyone who laid eyes on you, you belonged to Eddie Munson.

It gave him a thrill he didn’t think it would. And besides, you did look really good wearing his jacket. When you returned the jacket to him the smell of you lingered on it, the faint lingering smell of the shampoo you used on the collar. It was different wearing it now, but a good kind of different.

It took him a couple of weeks to gather everything he would need, scouting out the local thrift store until he found exactly what he had been needing. And it was much harder to do considering he would have to do it all in secret so you wouldn’t see. Which was difficult considering how much of a constant you were in his life. But he found a way, Eddie always found a way.

Eddie had been hiding his little craft project away in the back of his closet where you knew you wouldn’t look. You were comfortable enough in his life, but you weren’t a snoop. You respected him enough to have his own privacy.

You were sitting outside of his trailer, on the little wooden patio Eddie and Wayne had built around the back, the early summer evening illuminated by the disappearing sun and the warm yellow light that was coming from the living room.

The giggles and laughs shared between you filled the small silence of the oncoming night air. Eddie finally made his move and passed you the eyeliner pencil. For the past half an hour you had been clumsily playing games of tic-tac-toe along the exposed skin of your legs as the day faded away around you.

Eddie’s eyes were glued to your face as you evaluated your next move, he always loved watching you. But being this close to you he could see every ounce of concentration on your face, the small creases that appeared between your brows and the way you bit your bottom lip trying to focus. He was sitting close enough that you were practically breathing the same air and Eddie swore that he could see his reflection in your eyes.

He had begged you to play one more game with him, simply just to be able to look at you for a little bit longer. Eddie glanced down at your thigh to where you had made your next move and smiled to himself.

“Check mate.”

“I don’t believe they say that in this game.”

“Can I have my prize now?”

You laughed quietly before leaning in and pressing your lips against Eddie’s. “I let you win that one I hope you know.”

“Oh sure, just like I let you win all the previous games.” His voice was sickly sweet and he shook his head at you before leaning in to kiss you again. Sending a chill running down the length of your spine and allowing goosebumps to grow along your arms.

With the sun dipping beneath the horizon, the sweet summer breeze quickly turned sour, and it wasn’t long before you started to feel the cold settle in.

“Cold?” Eddie raised his eyebrows at you, of course he noticed. He was observant like a hawk, nothing ever got past him. You nodded slowly in response, and Eddie didn’t need any more encouragement. With your legs over his lap it was easy to pick you up and hold you against him as he carried you back to his room.

It wasn’t uncommon for Eddie to pick you up, he didn’t look like it but he was freakishly strong. He carried you into the back of the trailer and gently placed you down on his bed, leaving a chaste kiss against your forehead. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

Eddie’s room always looked the same but no one item was ever in the same spot twice. By this point you were convinced they moved around by themselves. A couple of things were usually the same, his guitar hung in its usual spot against the mirror above his desk, the usual ash tray stood on his bedside table and his jacket was tossed over the back of his chair.

But that wasn’t his jacket you realised, it sure looked like it but it wasn’t Eddie’s jacket. It had the same kind of patches and pins, but they were more to your music taste, and not Eddie’s. You leaned out of bed, reaching for the article of clothing to inspect it. But just as your fingers grabbed around it you heard Eddie padding back into his room.

“Eddie what's this?” You ask and hold it up for him to see, Eddie cursed under his breath and leaned his head back in frustration. Had he really managed to forget to hide it? After so much time of being careful.

“You know a few weeks ago, when I let you borrow my jacket?”

“Well, I thought it was really cute and you looked so good in it that I wanted to make you your own…” His eyes were glued to the floor, he didn’t know why but a little part of him thought this might all be silly. “I didn’t mean for you to find it- it's not even done yet and I just really wanted to surprise you I’m sorry-”

@pastel-abyss-x @fayetheenthusiast @obi-wanakenobi @starbeambo @chloebeansack @a-villain-vying-for-attention @meaganjm @prettytoxix @magicalxdaydream @ghoulsgraveyard @EmmaGinanni @eddie-munsons-girlfriend @munchabunch @kaydencegilr0y @eateraa @satorix @xbreezymeadowsx @hunnybunimdun @eddiemunsonsfuturewife @avery-needs-more-fics @kbakery @milly-louise @salome-c @hopebaker @mooonlight-and-stars @sweetpeapod @eddiemunsonsfuturewife

His rambling was cut off by your lips meeting his. You were standing on your knees on his bed, your hands draped around his neck pulling him in close. “I love it.”

Mutuals - @uglypastels @catastrofhe

@cherrypieyourface @theglitterymess @eddieshellfireshirt @lovelyladymayyy @hellfire-state-of-mind @itsmoonyhere @missriverred @crabravee @escape-in-time-x @eddielives1986

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thewritingstar · 11 days

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Frozen Bliss: Gruvia Oneshot

after months of being frozen in my own self doubt, I have emerged for a second to give you this.

I do hope you enjoy. Its a little bit more poetic than fic (if that makes sense and yes I have been binge listing to TTDP)

thanks for reading <3

------

In her mind, she had thought love felt like she was evaporating. They said you know when the person you love stares at you and it feels like when sun creeps on your skin after being in the cold dark for hours.

She felt that with him. A blasting heat absorbing everything around her. Hot sun on her skin yet they had all forgotten that she was made of water.

And while they said she was glowing, they didn't see that she was fading away. Becoming so lost in the blaze of him that his smoke made her steam and loose the way her eyes sparkled.

She choked on a fire that she had helped build and the clean air they once had coated her lungs black until her knees buckled and she had gasped for air. Her skin bubbled as his so call love boil her at her seams. There was nothing to be left of her if she would stay.

He said no one could love her the way he did and she desperately hoped that it was true. The scorch of his fire was crueler than the years of a dark sky. She'd rather spend the rest of her life sheltered by the rain if it meant to keep his flame away.

For a moment, after she left, she was merely raindrops of who she was. Like a ripple in a lake that never settles to see the clear reflection. Water can retain any form and yet she barely remembered hers. She thought it would be best to join the water cycle and wait until she precipitated. Maybe then she would be like a fresh water spring.

There was no hope. A fantastical heat that made her feel warm for a moment left burn marks everywhere. She wanted her heart to be mended but not if it was forged from embers.

Heat rises, yet she felt frozen on that roof top.

Locked into a tundra she had never witnessed. Her own water boiled with anger and she hated the feeling of heat. Hated how he turned her own magic against her. A rage consumed by broken promises and remorses. Once a delicate rain cloud, now stood a violent mess of a tsunami contained in a cracked bottle.

But him.

He was cold.

He was frozen.

She was mesmerized.

An ocean is meant to be a plunging cold and while the burns were still fresh, she jumped.

They were scared that her water would break out into an icicle. That she would become an ice sculpture at the center of the table. Water into a solid form that could never be melted. Oh how they thought she was going mad for following him down that snowy path.

They said that no matter the weather, her rain would prevail. There was no room for growth or flowers to bloom as she drowned everything and took herself too.

But how wrong they were.

She had sunk so far down into the depth of her sea, she had almost forgotten that she commanded its waves.

Instead of blisters of heat, there were snowflakes dancing around her. Fractals of ice surrounded her world and danced rainbows across her skin. And for the first time, when his hand caught hers, she felt a warmth like never before.

It was beautiful and peaceful. Skating on a frozen lake but she never was scared if she fell in.

They said that opposites attract but she felt perfect with him.

Her heart became mended and crystallized in a way that enchanted her. Every burn was slowly cooled to where she almost didn't notice the scars. Her face had paled from the heat that when she stared at her reflection, her red cheeks surprised her.

Some didn't like seeing their breath in the cold, but she loved it. The higher the altitude, the shorter the breath. But here with him, she never felt more alive.

Water and ice. One in the same. She was frozen in his eyes and she had never felt safer.

For a man that claimed to have a frozen heart, it thawed instantly with her.

The cold could leave someone dead, but it brought out her pulse. A remembrance of how powerful she was came back in her own tears as he held her.

Her lungs flushed out of any smoke became resistant to heat. A flower that could withstand the frost. A beauty that embrace the cold. Every trace of her skin was covered in a blanket of his lips.

Love for them was clear and pure like ice. No longer does she squint within flames to see her own hand. She parades loudly through the snow knowing no harm will come her way.

She was eternally grateful to be caught in this frozen bliss.

----

:) Thanks for reading, let me know what you think <3

-star

#gruvia oneshots #gruvia #fairy tail #juvia loxar #gray fullbuster #fanfic #gray x juvia #fairy tail juvia #fairy tail gruvia #juvia lockser

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gimmethosedaddymilkers · 1 year

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Letters Kept Secret

This was requested by lovely @cantchoosejust1 Who actually wrote out most of the beginning idea, and I kept the ball rolling.

This one is just fluff y’all!

Nothing to hide from the people in the room lmao

Tags: @mrsarthurmorgan7 @kieropal @6kaja9 @photo1030

*Dear Arthur,

Arthur's skin prickled as he stared into the fire. It was nearly dark out, the sun was on the verge of dipping completely under the horizon and as soon as it did Horseshoe Overlook would be left in darkness.

You had left camp nearly six hours ago.

You weren't his to worry about, the two of you weren't together, and he hadn't told you anything about how he'd felt.

He couldn't let himself tell you. He couldn't. Not when you were just too damn perfect for him.

That wasn't the most important thing in the front of his mind though.

Six hours was way too long.

And he couldn't do anything. He had no clue where you were, what you were doing.

But he was worried.

He'd never admit it to you out loud that he was worried about you.

Never.

But he was worried. Worried about you, worried you were dead somewhere, lying in a ditch with a bullet in your forehead or temple.

Worried that you'd been bucked from your horse and had a broken leg somewhere, unable to call for help, without food, and alone.

Worried that maybe....

Instead of those things...

Maybe you'd just decided to leave the Gang. Maybe you'd had enough, and finally decided that you just couldn't handle it anymore. Couldn't deal with the robbing, the killing, the conning.

With him.

Arthur ran a hand over his face, sighing deeply as he looked into the flames.

"Ah, Mi Amigo, why do you look so down? It's a lovely night, not too hot, not too cold. Fantastic weather for a nice singalong." Javier takes a seat with a smile across from the older outlaw, grabbing his guitar as soon as he was comfortable.

"Jus'....thinkin'." Arthur sighs. "Jus' thinkin' that's all. Too much goin' on in my head Javier."

Javier smiles and nods quietly, tuning his guitar before offering a quiet and comforting tune.

"About what brother?"

Arthur hesitates for a moment.

The idea of even uttering your name as the topic of what he's worried about...

He knows he'll get picked on, but not only that he knows that if he tells Javier, hell anyone, then you'll eventually hear about it, and whether or not he specifically says that he's sweet on you or not...his worry is bound to be taken that way. The men in camp had a tendency to...well tease.

His hesitation doesn't last long. His anxiety wins over and a part of his brain hoped that maybe Javier would be able to ease it.

"Just....Y/N. She left about...damn near six hours ago now...I just...She ain't never been outta camp that long, I'm...worried about her...is all." He clears his throat, and scratches the back of his neck, avoiding Javier's gaze as he begins to strum the tune of "Poor Lonesome Cowboy" one of Arthur's favorites.

"Ah, Mi Amigo," Javier smiles and looks down to his hand as he continues to strum along. "You have nothing to worry about. Nothing at all."

"Javier, you know just as well as I do that it ain't kind outside of camp, hell it ain't kind inside of camp, I got plenty to worry about."

"Y/N is a strong woman." Javier looks up, and offers a smile. "Not only that, but she can't stay away from camp for too long, she likes it here too much."

Arthur snorts and raises an eyebrow.

"The hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Haven't you ever noticed the look on her face when she's talking to you?"

"What the hell are you talkin' about?" Arthur scoffs and looks at his feet.

"What I'm trying to say," Javier sighs and strums one more cord before he stops and begins to dig around in his pocket. "She likes YOU too much to not do her best to return."

"I ain't got the faintest idea of what the hell you're talkin' about." Arthur looks back up, furrowing his brows as he watches Javier procure a piece of folded up paper.

"I found this after Y/N left," He explained, handing it towards Arthur. "I think it might have fallen from her pocket, I think maybe you should read it."

Arthur swallows before taking the note, a sudden surge of nerves firing through him.

A note?

Why the hell would you need a note for? And did you mean to leave it behind? Or did it actually fall out of your pocket?

If it did was it really his place to read it?

But...Javier said that he should read it...

Taking a deep breath he took the paper between his pointer and thumb, feeling the coarseness of the material between his fingers.

"Alright...if you say so."

Javier nods and looks towards the cliffside of Horseshoe Overlook.

"You can get some nice light over there, what's left of the sunset."

Taking the hint Arthur nods and pushes himself off the seat he'd been sitting on.

With each step towards the cliffside his stomach twisted in knots, feeling as though his fingers were burning where he touched the paper.

As soon as he was away from prying eyes he opened the letter, unfolding it gently, making sure not to damage the paper in any way.

I can't think of a better way to do this though I really wish I could. I wish I could say it to your face, say it with my own words, and say it all sober, say it with confidence and bravado, and say it with all the sickly-sweet words that you deserve to hear.

But, to be honest with you Arthur, I'm nothing but a coward.

I'm too shy to even attempt to say what I wish I could, for fear of tripping over my own words, and for fear of your rejection.

It'll be a miracle if you ever even see this, for all I know at the moment I'm only writing to myself to get this out of my system.

I can hardly speak to you as it is, or at least it feels that way. Every time you joke with me, make me laugh, make me smile, I struggle to even look you in the eye.

It's the same when I make you laugh.

It's a sound I wish I could hear more often, your laugh is so hearty, and deep, it makes me feel so....

Warm, I guess is the right way to explain it.

In those moments, I know if I look you in the eye I'll be nothing but putty in your hands, and I won't be able to get an entire sentence out without stumbling over every word that exits my mouth.

You are by far the sweetest, kindest, and yet most tough man I have ever met in my entire life, and that...Makes you extremely attractive Arthur, and quite honestly I have no idea what to do about it.

I would give anything to be able to properly express what I feel for you, but it seems even in writing I don't have it.

Every time I see you, whether its just a simple flash of that smile towards me, or bringing me coffee in the morning, I just get this feeling in the pit of my stomach, like the sun itself is sitting there.

You light up my entire day, if I talk to you in the morning I'm in a good mood for the rest of the day.

Arthur you make me feel just so....

Happy, you make me so excited to come into camp, I find myself looking to make sure your horse is tied up every time I come back or wake up, just to make sure I know whether or not to be excited.

Watching you get so excited over your hobbies too, outside of jobs, makes me so happy.

You are far smarter than you give yourself credit for. I hear you badmouth yourself all the time.

But I also see you read all the time, on those hot days when you have nothing better to, I've seen you finish books after books, a smile on your face as you read along.

I've see that smile show up when you doodle in that journal of yours.

Arthur I could almost write that you're my world.

If only I could say it to your damn face.

If only you didn't turn me into a fool.

If only, I had a little more to offer to you.*

Arthur blinked, re-reading certain parts of the letter, his face heating as though he was seeing something incredibly private he wasn't supposed to have stumbled upon.

In a way he was, yet at the same time it was addressed to him.

"Arthur...I...You...Uh...did you read it?"

Arthur lifts his head quickly, folding the letter quickly as he realizes its you standing behind him.

For a moment he's stuck, a weight lifted from his chest now that you were back, but another replaced it, seeing how he'd been caught red-handed, even though he wasn't necessarily doing something wrong.

"You can tell me the truth...I...I saw you with it Arthur."

He swallows for a moment, and then quietly nods.

"You....ya really feel like that Y/N?"

"I know...it's....I'm really sorry Arthur, I really am, I shouldn't have wrote it, I should have kept my damn feelings to myself, it's okay that you don't feel the same-"

"What the hell makes you think I don't feel the same?"

You're silent for a moment, watching his oceanic eyes, trying to detect that familiar sarcasm he carried so easily.

"Arthur, I...I don't understand-"

"I'll ask ya again," He stands straighter and moves a little closer to you, standing just inches away from you. "What makes you think I don't feel the same?"

"Arthur you can't. I'm nothing special, I know that. I'm not any particular gunslinger, I'm not fantastic at robbing or anything of the sort, I don't have any special talents...Arthur I'm plain, I'm nothing like you, I have nothing new or exciting to offer you."

Arthur's fingers find your chin, and he gently tilts your head to look at him.

"You ain't gotta be some kinda gunslinger to win me over, you ain't gotta have some, special talent, and don't you go around sayin' you don't have any cause ya do, and I like the fact that you ain't like me. I don't want you to be like me, part of why I like ya so much is because you're so different than me."

He pauses, but only for a moment.

"I hate me Y/N. I hate me a lot. But I don't hate you, because you're good, and you ain't a killer. The way you described me? I ain't never had anyone describe me like that...but...I feel that exact same way when I see you."

He smiles and looks to the ground quickly before looking back at you, gently moving his hand to place his palm on your cheek, his smile widening slightly as you grab his wrist softly.

"I feel like I've got a furnace in me, I'm warm and, shit sometimes I get them damn butterflies like I'm a little school boy. I stumble over the shit I say when I look at you all the damn time, I just...got good at coverin' it up."

You blink, and can't help but smile yourself, your face turning red under his palm.

"You...really? You really feel the same Arthur?"

"Course I do Darlin', I'm surprised you ain't never realized it. I apparently ain't that good at hidin' it, Javier seemed to sniff it out a mile away."

You feel your heart skip a beat at his nickname for you, and you swallow.

"Arthur....I...Will you kiss me?"

"I'd love to."

With that he leans forwards, and presses his lips to yours, soft and gentle, and your entire body heats, feeling as though he himself is the sun, heating you from the inside out.

His hand remains on your cheek and the other grabs your waist, pulling him flush against him, and you've never felt so comfortable in your life.

Something about kissing him.

It felt right, it felt as though you were meant to do it.

Suddenly you were very glad that that letter had slipped out of your pocket that morning.

#rdr2 #rdr2 community #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 drabble #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #fluff #arthur morgan fluff

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guess-my-next-obsession · 5 months

Text

Starlight — Prologue

pairing: fae!ezra x princess!oc (Marigold)

rating: M (first person POV, split second mention of death, strained paternal relationship, arranged marriage, fantasy elements, i literally created a world and lore for this so if none of it makes any sense that is why, this chapter is just meant to build the world—we meet Ezra in the next chapter)

wc: 1.2k

a/n: hi everybody!! i’m well aware this book will not be one of my more popular series, but i really just wanted to write something fantastical, and even if i’m the only soul who reads this, it’s fine! we love a bit of self indulgence every now and again! anyways, hope you guys like this little prologue. i’m hoping to have the next chapter out within the week 🤍

series masterlist

All I’ve ever known is summer.

In my world, Etos, there are five kingdoms: Heims, Oceanus, Florere, Ember, Nox, and Solis. Anywhere else is far too dangerous for a mortal to step foot into, even if they could manage crossing the sea that separates us from the Fae lands and beyond.

The furthest land from my own is Heims, a frosty wonderland full of people hardened by the perpetually cold weather. Most of our coal comes directly from Heims, as well as my father’s toughest soldiers. My eldest sister, Wilhelmina, or Mina, as far as our family is concerned, married the charming Prince of Heims, Kristofer, and currently resides in the castle made of crystal so clear it almost looked like ice, setting the standard for the rest of my sisters.

Oceanus, too, was an important ally to have—their land producing the entirety of our fish as well as guarding the coast from those who seek to take back Etos. My father knew this well, and soon arranged for my second eldest sister, Peregrine, or Peri, to be married off to the King’s highest ranking emissary, Lord Titus, assuring the alliance between our lands. Luckily for soft-natured Peri, Titus seemed to be a gentleman and truly in love with my sister. I would have never allowed my father to marry her off if he wasn’t. Her gentle and kind spirit was far too precious to me to allow some man to ruin it.

Ember, a land of constant autumn, was where the academics went to study the arts and the sciences. My sister, Wilhelmina, was the actually the very first woman to be admitted into the university. I always admired her tenacity in the face of adversity, but even in my admiration, I feared her intellect and drive, just as my father must have after breaking down and allowing her to leave Solis.

The softer lands—at least in the minds of the northerners—were Florere, a land of eternal spring, and Solis, my land, the eternal summer. Octavia, the sister closest in age to me and by far the only one I couldn’t bring myself to enjoy due to her mean-nature and competitiveness, had recently left Solis to be with her betrothed, the Prince of Florere, Ignacio. I didn’t bother to vet her partner, but from what I could see by his solid gold carriage and fine regalia, he seemed to be just as pretentious as she was. A perfect match as far as I was concerned.

Even in all the beauty of Etos, all the varying climates and scenes, I never wanted to live anywhere else but my home. Solis.

Here there was no reason to be cruel and cold. Here, we appreciated the arts, and believed that leisure itself was an artform. We worshipped the sun, we worshipped our gardens, and when it came to love, we worshipped one another.

My father, his mother, and her father before her all wore the golden crown of Solis. Warmth and sunlight was woven into my bones, tanned my skin, softened my heart. My mother once told me, long before she passed, that my sisters and I were all born beneath a blazing sun at her request. I suppose she believed a warm birth meant we’d all live warm lives and die warm deaths.

As I wandered through the garden contemplating my newly revealed fate, I couldn’t help but wonder if her efforts were in vain.

My father, a once-loving, soft man I cherished more than the sun itself, had changed since my mother’s shocking and violent death after she was mauled by an injured wolf while attempting to remove an arrow from its side in the very forest I now padded my feet into. He grew cruel and hateful towards me, his youngest of five girls. I suppose I understand why, if I truly think about it.

Unlike my four older sisters, I took after my mother so much that even I found myself shocked at the resemblance. And even if I didn’t have her shimmering, gold eyes, or her caramel-brown head of long curls, or the same dimple in my left cheek, I had her heart. Soft, curious, and empathetic. Everything my father once loved about my mother, he now hated about me.

Of course he found it hard to look at me, to talk to me. I was his grief personified.

But even in all his iciness and hatred, I never expected that he’d sign my life away to the coldest, darkest realm in the world. To Nox. To marry the infamously insufferable King Kaius and become the future queen of the starland.

Whether I wanted to or not.

It felt personal, his choice in my betrothed. A daughter of the sun being forced to never see it again. It almost felt like another death to endure. Everything I have ever known and loved gone overnight.

As I found my place underneath my favorite elm tree, the one me and my mother used to sneak off to with our stolen bundle of sweets from the kitchen, I couldn’t bring myself to loathe him the way I wanted to.

Perhaps the distance would chill the warmth I still held in my heart for him.

Perhaps then, I could hate him the way he deserves.

My sister, Cosabella—the most cautious and maternal out of the five of us, happily married to the head of our father’s King’s Guard—and my father stood in front of our palace, its white marble and green grass beckoning me to stay. To fight for my right to live here in the sun, just as my mother had. But one look at my father’s cold and emotionless face and I knew there was no point.

This was how he wanted it.

“Take care of yourself,” Cosabella warned, slipping me a golden dagger. “Do not trust anyone. Write when you can. I will see you…” She trailed off, but I knew why. She didn’t know when we’d see each other next, if at all. “Just…be careful. Remember that just because the sun is gone, does not mean mother isn’t right there with you. She lives in you, Mari—“

“Enough,” my father shouted, gesturing behind me at the carriage waiting with two footmen and two Kingsguards. “Off you go.”

“Yes, father,” I replied, my voice as small as a child as I gave Cosabella one final hug, memorizing the citrus of her perfume.

“Go on, now,” she smiled as she pulled away, wiping the tear from my cheek. “Go introduce Solis to Nox. Bring them a little light.”

“I love you,” I managed, nodding my head at her command. “I will see you.”

“I love you too.”

I knew she wouldn’t promise me anything she couldn’t assure, but it didn’t help my cracking heart as I climbed into the carriage, leaving everything I’d ever known behind.

I placed my hand upon the glass window and watched as she lifted her own, waving at me before resting it over her equally breaking heart.

“Make yourself comfortable, Princess,” the footman that I’d known since I was a child called back into the carriage. “It’s a long ride to Nox.”

To the eternal darkness.

I wasn’t sure how they managed any of it. How cold they must be, not only their bodies but their hearts and minds. I couldn’t imagine any beauty in a black sky.

I’d heard about stars in my astronomy courses, learned that the sun itself was a star, but it never seemed to make any sense to me to spend time contemplating a billion little specks of light when I could lay beneath the biggest. A light bright enough to shine over the entirety of the world—except for Nox.

My father had said it was cursed by the fae Kings and Queens who once ruled over these lands, a punishment for the mortal revolution. And based on the description he gave of his own visits, I was inclined to believe him then. But now…

Curse or no curse, this was my fate. I could either accept the cards dealt to me and make something of them, or I could fold.

My mother taught me to never fold.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #ezra prospect #ezra x oc #ezra x ofc #fantasy #starlight

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vanwritesfan-fiction · 5 months

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Hi, could you possibly write one about klay taking care of the reader when she’s had a bad day

Klay knew you were having a bad day from the moment you woke up. The two of you had a routine: wake up early and workout, coffee and breakfast together on the patio if the weather was nice; Klay would read the newspaper while you had your nose in a book. You'd end the morning walking Rocco along the beach. It wasn't much, delightfully simple, but your morning routine was his favorite part of the day.

You gave him a whiny groan when he tried to wake you up, so he headed downstairs to gym, figuring you might have needed an extra hour of sleep. When he came back up for a shower, you were still asleep, and that wasn't like you. You finally woke up to the sound of the shower running, a headache brimming at the base of your neck.

You took your time waking up before you shuffled to the bathroom, shedding your clothes and stepping into the shower behind Klay. "Good Morning, babe." You clung to his back, feeling his chuckle travel through his chest as you tightened your hold on him. His tall frame kept any of the hot water from hitting your body. "I'm freezing", you bit out, your teeth chattering. Klay shifted you around so you were standing in front of him, the stream of water providing instant warmth.

"What's going on? Are you getting sick?" His large hand cupped your cheek as you looked up at him. "I dunno. All I know is I feel terrible." You knew it was probably a combination of stress, exhaustion and an oncoming cold, but all you knew for sure was you wanted to spend the day in bed. As if Klay could read your mind, and sometimes he was so on top of what you needed, you were sure he was clairvoyant, he offered just what you needed. "Breakfast in bed?" You nodded, resting your cheek against his chest. "That sounds fantastic."

You were snuggled under the covers in a pair of sweats when Klay returned from the kitchen with your favorite breakfast. "You haven't been watching any episodes Last Kingdom without me have you?" He settled on his side of the bed, resting against the headboard. You let out a hum that immediately gave you away. "What? That's supposed to be our show!"

"I can just pretend I haven't seen the show." Klay's frown made you giggle. "I'm sorry. I was here alone last weekend and I just couldn't wait."

"Sure." Klay crossed his hands over his chest. "Don't be surprised if I start watching more Potomac episodes while you're "not here". Klay always claimed he didn't like reality shows, but you had gotten him hooked on the Real Housewives of Potomac and it had become the show you watched together when he was home. "You better not, Thompson! That's too far!"

You finished your breakfast, and before you knew it, you were snuggling into Klay's side, and the two of you fell asleep to the sound of the TV.

You woke up to the sun in your face, streaming through the window. You didn't even need to check your phone to know it was in the late afternoon. You didn't want to get up, so you laid back down, and Klay's hand instinctively found your lower back, pulling you in closer. He let out a long yawn, his eyes still closed. "Looks like I wasn't the only one who needed sleep", you joked, patting his chest. "How long until Rocco gets upset that we haven't fed him yet?" Klay's voice was groggy, still half asleep.

"I'd give it 30 seconds." Right on cue, Rocco trotted into the bedroom and let out an angry bark, making both of you bust out laughing.

#klay thompson #klay thompon x reader #klay thompson fan fiction #klay thompson imagine #klaythompson #nba fan fiction

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terrence-silver · 5 months

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I don't think Terry Silver likes the snow, but what if his partner adores it? Does he join her outside?

I think he abhors it too.

Man's hot blooded. Relishes in the warm sun. Hot climates. Jacuzzi lounging. Cold poolside cocktails. Palm trees. Beaches, private or otherwise (but, especially private). He likes sweat, tropical weather conditions and he likes it searing. While California has it's vast share of mountains and diversely cool to temperate zones, that sort of thing, well, is not exactly his cup of tea, although you could bet your ass Mr. Silver owns winter resorts he undoubtedly never or seldom uses purely because he can, as a mere status symbol. A colossal Manor in Aspen or Switzerland that stays locked all year round and that's the collective envy and sore spot of everyone breaking their asses to own something Terry doesn't even care to ever utilize or enjoy? Why the heck not. It amuses him how pissed off people get about it, him having a ten million dollar mansion that just sits there...empty...purely because he doesn't want to compromise on changing climates.

Extreme winter sports on the other hand?

Contradictively enough, I can see Terry rather enjoying and excelling at those, purely because he pushes himself to excel at everything he touches like someone out to collect achievements and accolades, be it in martial arts, playing an instrument or skiing, for example --- something he quite literally does with a smile on his face, absolutely in control and far so than most trained professionals while he's on a Snow mobile, hanging off of rock climbing equipment, perched up on skates, on paragliders, soaking in saunas, bathing in ice cold streams for the disciplinary hell of it and relishing the adrenaline like someone hitting a ketamine high. Chances are, he tried an extreme winter sport with a narcotic shooting up the blood in his veins purely for the thrill of it. Not to mention, he looks fantastic in custom made and commissioned winter sport's wear and gear that undoubtedly costs a fortune!

So, if beloved likes snow? The winter?

That's a pleasure he gives them.

He gives them anything they want and they seldom even have to ask for it, if ever. They want the keys to his winter resort estate over the season? Done! It's theirs! They should take it! It's his gift to them and he insists that they have it! He won't take 'no' for an answer! They want to spend time out there? Arranged! He flies them out with a helicopter and has a full waiting staff on stand by that's more than happy to actually be doing something out there for a change seeing as how Mr. Silver never comes down from LA. Beloved wants Terry joining them for some winter fun? Why not. He takes time off specifically for the relish of it. Terry Silver can always give beloved the chase of their life through a snowed in patch of forest, fuck them in front of a roaring fireplace on a polar bear pelt and then sweat it out in a private steam room, hoping they'll be snowed in long enough for him to have beloved all to himself as a hostage up here.

The options and opportunities are endless.

#terry silver #kk3 #cobra kai #winter #snow #terry silver x reader #terry silver x beloved #extreme sports

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xiaq · 1 year

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The eyes of people who have not slept and are not happy about it.

Well. It's been an eventful 48 hours. We were supposed to get into Denver Wednesday and head straight to Gunnison. However, our plane was delayed and didn't arrive in Denver until 10pm Wednesday night. Then we sat on the tarmac for 3 hours because the winter storm had all but a couple gates shut down. Then, the tram was down for an hour, which meant we were trapped in the terminal. We finally got to the baggage claim at 3am. And found out they couldn't get our bags off the train so we'd need to "come back tomorrow." Except we couldn't leave, because there were no ride-shares or taxis or rental cars available because of the storm. It was -12 (-25 with windchill) so walking somewhere wasn't an option. Our coats and cold-weather clothes were in our checked bags. And the hotel next door was full. At 10am (after maybe 2-3 hrs of restless sleep) we finally got our bags and our car and had breakfast at Rivers and Roads (10/10 do recommend, the barista gave us free gluten-free donut holes after hearing about our ordeal).

We got on the road at 11:30am, which is when the snowstorm hit. So the 3-hour drive took closer to 6. Here's a video toward the end when we finally drove out of the snowstorm and the sun came out, except the wind was blowing freshly fallen snow all over the road (lol @ B's little "you're doing great" at the end).

We finally got to Gunnison at 6 last night. Got frozen dinners to heat up in our motel microwave, took Deacon for a well-deserved walk (he has been the BIGGEST trooper through all this nonsense) and fell into bed by 9pm. We slept fantastically, woke up refreshed and feeling like new people today, and fully enjoyed visiting my old haunts in Gunnison (including stopping at Boom-A-Rang thrift for vintage snowsuits and Tributary Coffee for Tumeric/Ginger lattes).

I was rocking my best 90's mom look and intend to continue doing so. We then hit the road for Montrose, and are now cozy in our hotel. We'll hike in the Black Canyon tomorrow morning and then head to Telluride :)

This has been a Winter Adventure Update. (I'm planning to propose in Telluride. Probably. We'll see.)

#x goes on an adventure #mylife #b #colorado #gunnison #airtravel #travel woes #the tiniest of violins

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astxroiid · 2 years

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stranger things boys — headcanons

✩ steve and eddie edition ✩

Author’s Note: a fun little idea I had - you will be seeing me using these in future fics <3

navigation

steve —

✩ he smells like oak and sunscreen, mint, a little bit of mowed grass, and just a hint of fruits.

✩ he’s summertime and swimming, tanning on pool floats, day trips to exclusive swimming holes that are definitely not entirely legal to go to. trampolines and swing-sets, burning hot days, colas in the cooler, cherries and watermelon.

✩ steve calls you love, and darling, baby/babe, mine, and occasionally honey. he keeps it classic but personal. that’s what being with him feels like.

✩ he’s a sucker for surprises and popping up with flowers and tickets for things you like and boxes with things you stop and stare at in store windows. steve loves pulling chocolates out from behind his back and watching your eyes light up.

✩ if there where one song in any decade to fully encapsulate steve, it would be budapest by george ezra. he’d do anything for you. and the light flow of the song matches the summer breeze on a hot day. all the love he feels written out line by line.

✩ a movie that matches steve would be dazed and confused. summertime, high school, long nights, and having fun with friends. it’s steve’s aesthetic and he shamelessly wears it like a crown.

✩ steve likes to grab your hand and spin you around the room while listening to music play from the radio. he likes dancing his hands on your shoulders, rubbing up and down your arms. he likes grabbing your chin and pulling you up to kiss him.

✩ steve is cherry popsicles and chocolate covered strawberries. coneys on the beach. cookouts by his pool. he’s the soft, natural lighting of the dawn coming through the curtains when you’ve stayed up all night talking. he’s loving and gentle and rays of sun on your face.

eddie —

✩ if steve is cherries and watermelon and summer; eddie is pumpkin pie and cinnamon and fall. He’s going to scenic overlooks to admire the orange and red and brown leaves. eddie is night drives in the cold, heaters on full blast along with rock music at a comfortable level to listen to as well as talk over.

✩ eddie smells like lavender and the sea, salt and weed. a hint of nutmeg and spices. warm like cranberry and cold like an iced vanilla coffe.

✩ eddie calls you hot stuff. he likes funny but unique and loving pet names; like sweet cheeks and my queen, angel, toots, and just occasionally - really infrequently - sugar tits. playful and fun but so specific to him. the only more common pet name he loves to use is sweetheart. that’s one of his favorites.

✩ his favorite way to spend time with you is cuddled up inside, watching movies on the vhs or taking you to the drive in. he likes when you wrap around him while he’s learning a new song on his guitar. while he doesn’t have as much money to spend on you like steve, he loves valuable time with you and you alone. quiet, and calm. quality and intimate.

✩ if there where one song in any decade to fully encapsulate eddie, it would be sweater weather by the neighbourhood. he’s only a man who is wholly in love with you. this song knows exactly what it’s like to be in love and holding hands while crunching through the fallen leaves while the chilled wind turns your nose red.

✩ a movie that matches eddie would be the fantastic mr. fox. it’s autumn and it’s doing anything to give the people you love a better life. eddie relates to mr. fox on a personal level and he doesn’t care how childish you think it is but he loves the movie and would kick off every fall by watching that first.

✩ eddie loves jamming out and jumping around his trailer with you while heavy metal blasts from his speakers. he likes grabbing you by the waist and pulling you in for a kiss. he likes to ruffle your hair after telling you how much he loves you.

✩ eddie is s’mores and home cooked meals, the burnt orange of a sunset, the crackling of thunder in the distance. the lingering taste of weed on your breath. he’s rain pouring down your face, drenching your clothes. he’s sweets on halloween, and he’s thoughtful and reassuring like the last striking lines of color in the sky - the sun promising to come back once the night is over.

special note to @upsidedownwithsteve who partially kicked off an idea i’d had brewing in my mind with her amazing writing! as well as @spidey-multi for proof-reading and helping with ideas ! <3

#stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things headcanons #stranger things hc #steve hc #steve headcanon #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington hc #eddie #eddie munson #eddie hc #eddie headcanons #eddie munson hc #eddie munson headcanons #stevey #eds

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lu-inlondon · 1 year

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Hob has to admit that, even though he tries to stay up to date with current trends, his taste in music never much got the memo. But that's always been the case. It is terribly annoying to get into something, twenty years after he could have had the live experience.

Or, in this case, fourty years. Though he had liked the music in the eighties well enough at the time.

It's Saturday morning and despite the mountain of housework he has to get through if he intends to find any of his stuff or dishes to eat from in the last week of exams, he is in a fantastic mood. The weather took a turn for cold and rainy but his flat is cosy and warm, he managed to find an unused cup to make himself some tea and a playlist with all the 80's hits is playing in the background.

Of course, this is not the sole reason for his good mood. It doesn't even cover a fraction of the reason why he looks like the sun's shining out of his arse at seven on his first proper day off in weeks.

Before Hob's never been one to remember much of his dreams. Ever since he and Dream were sort of dating (they hadn't discussed the terms and conditions yet, and as long as both of them were happy as is, he didn't feel the need to push the topic) that happened more and more. Just last night, he'd spent a part of his sleep walking with Dream through his realm, being shown around and introduced to a variety of creatures.

It had been utterly fascinating!

The best part though was that Dream had let slip, that he had been working more in the last days so that he might spend today with Hob in the Waking World. He knew that - aside from some housework - Hob intended to do nothing but laze around.

So of course he's in a good mood, belting along to a playlist that at least somewhat betrays his age. How else can it be?

(Hob had also noticed that the number of 80's songs circling the topic of dreams was surprisingly high. He had never noticed that before but now it made him think of Dream all the time, painting a big smile on his lips.)

It's his luck that the inn's still closed and no one is around for a noise complaint, because with questionable synth pop he gets through his dishes in record time. Cleaning the bath is done in a fraction of the time it usually takes him - only delayed by the thought if he could persuade Dream to relax in the tub together - and the feather duster that's no longer made of actual feathers makes a wonderful improvised microphone for his one-man interpretation of Sweet Dreams.

Which is, unbeknownst to Hob, how his own Dream finds him.

The song ends and Hob uses the brief interlude before the next one starts to actually dust off some of his books. He knows that one too, and he can't help but grin because of course it reminds him of Dream.

He stumbles over the first few lines until he catches the rhythm, swaying to it, moving on to the next bookshelf.

There's not a minute, hour, day or night that I don't love you You're at the top of my list 'cause I'm always thinkin' of you

Further into the song, he's much more secure lyric-wise, and even though he knows his voice is croaky at best - missing the whiskey he uses to prepare for karaoke nights at the pub - he gives it his all.

Yes, Dream is absolutely on top of his list of things he plans to do today, even if that sounds a bit crude. And he has been thinking about him for the past two hours, his thoughts never straying far from the entity/man because as soon as his mind wandered to other things, the music in the background conveniently reminded him of his love.

Not that Hob minds. Quite the opposite actually. He just hopes his daydreams made it to his love's realm so that he might profit a bit from Hob's good mood.

He throws himself into the beginning of the chorus - a thousand kisses are most certainly not enough - spinning around to get to the next bit of his living room, when he finds Dream standing in the corner, watching him with a bemused smile.

Now, at this point, he probably should stop singing, but then again Hob's never been afraid to make an arse out of himself in the name of love. And he knows that Dream - even though he won't admit to it - loves cheesy displays of affection. The cheesier, the better, in fact, and Hob has had more than six centuries to practice.

So, non-feather duster repurposed to serve as a microphone again, he grins at Dream. Trying to get a laugh out of his love makes Hob do a very exaggerated and nearly indecent wriggle with his hips as the second verse begins.

He doesn't have to go to work today but that's neither here nor there as he yells at the top of his lungs:

Well, who needs to go to work to hustle for another dollar I'd rather be with you 'cause you make my heart scream and holler

It does not elicit one of Dream's rare laughs, but Hob gets a fond shake of the head for his troubles.

Well, that won't do. He can be even worse and thankfully the chorus is starting again.

Only in socks, he slides across his hardwood floor, performing a spin that nearly sends him tumbling into his coffee table. Dream grabs him before Hob can hurt himself, and he uses it to immediately draw Dream into his arms.

The feather duster is quickly discarded in favour of holding Dream close and trying to get him to swing to the rhythm too. He's reluctant, but Hob's nothing if not stubborn, and not even - or especially - the collective unconsciousness can't withstand his charms, slowly beginning to move with him.

A thousand kisses from you is never too much

Hob croons along to the music, closing his eyes to really give it his all. When he opens them, Dream is smirking at him.

"Well, that really is not that much," he says with barely contained amusement.

"So you agree then?" Hob asks, his cheeks starting to hurt from how wide he's grinning. "I knew you were a smart one."

Before Dream can say anything along the lines of just how much knowledge he contains, Hob places a quick kiss on his lips. Might not be that much, but it's a start.

By then, the chorus has started up again, and he can belt the line that really makes him heady.

A million days in your arms is never too much I just don't wanna stop

Dream crooks his head, looking at him with brightly shining eyes. As stoic as his expression might be, Hob knows what the slow twinkle in the starry eyes of his love means.

"You know that is more than two thousand and seven hundred years, yes?" Dream asks carefully, and even though he doesn't mention it out loud, Hob knows that there's a deeper meaning to the question.

He could question it, but he won't allow for either of their worries about doomed past relationships to ruin this perfectly good day that's about to get even better if he has a say in the matter.

"Yup," he informs his love carefully carding his fingers through the mess of black hair on Dream's head to pull him closer. "Still isn't enough though, love."

The kiss that follows borders on desperate. He isn't quite sure if this is Dream's doing or his own, but he hopes it gets his point across: What's two thousand and seven hundred years when he wants to spend eternity with this impossible being in his arms?

Hob's loved him for six centuries, what's twenty-seven more?

They break from their kiss mostly for his benefit so he can catch his breath, the blush high on Dream's cheeks nearly making him lose it again. The song's long over, the next one on the playlist is nearly done as well, but Hob couldn't care less. He's done cleaning and he wants to spend the rest of this day - and every single one that follows - holding Dream and kissing him.

His love doesn't seem to mind, safe for one request:

"Can we listen to it again?"

@karalynlovescake I offer you fluff to make up for the 80's angst from last time

#writing tag: the sandman #my stuff #dreamling #hob gadling #dream of the endless #dream x hob #dreamling playlist ficlets #see I even remembered to put the song in the post!#songfic #I had many feelings about this but I left out the angsty part #listen to it and think about the 'When I was scared to touch you' part for the angst #it fits them very well I think #Spotify

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kingakryn · 1 year

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He Came From The Streets

A Rengoku Fanfic by KaenHomura

WARNING : Orange Tabby Kyojuro, Feline genitals, Humiliation, Blindfolding, Binding

Y/n was walking down the street minding her own business. As she walked by a bush a little mewl for help could be heard, “Huh, what was that noise?” *mew!* She heard it again, she knelt down to rummage through the brush patch and there it was, a fluffy orange tabby shaking in the cold weather hiding in the shrub for warmth as it curled into a ball. “Awwe, poor baby, c’mere, let me take you home and get you all nice n warm.” Y/n said with a sorrowful tone, when she picked up the pitiful creature she noticed he had a wounded paw and a few fresh scratches along his body from a fight.

She wrapped him up in her jacket and carried him home.

When she arrived home with the cat she brought him to the bathroom to bathe him so that he wouldn’t have any more fleas, wouldn’t be dirty, and most importantly, so that way his wounds wouldn’t get infected. She ran the bath with lukewarm water only a few inches deep and set him in the tub. He was weary of the water as he reluctantly stepped into it as the strange woman placed him in it. She grabbed an empty cup scooped the bath water and gently poured some over the fluffy cats’ shoulders going down his back to get his full body soaked. “You’re doing such a good job buddy! I guess you like baths huh?” Y/n said with a soft smile. The cat looked up at her and let out a mewl. “If you’re gonna stay here, I should give you a name. How does Hamada sound little one?” The cat let out an angry meow “Oh I guess not that one.” She laughed to herself. “How about, Fuwara? OH ! How about Kyo? Short for Kyojuro.” She smiled down at the cat, the cat let out a happy meow and rubbed his face along y/n’s arm. “So you like Kyo then? Then that will be your new name, Kyo, mine is y/n.”

She finishes Kyo’s bath by getting all of his fleas and gently cleaning out his dirty wounds and drying him off with a warm towel fresh from the dryer. “Tadaa ! All clean and you smell fantastic now Kyo!” Y/n said with a gleaming smile. “Lets go get you some food fluff butt. The kind lady rummaged through her pantry and fridge to find some cooked shredded chicken breast and some canned tuna, she opened their containers and put some on a plate next to a bowl of water for Kyo. “There you go buddy, chicken and tuna for you, eat up, you must be hungry.” She knelt down on her knees to pet the cat while he ate his serving. His happy little grumbles as he ate made her so happy and his purrs let her know that he was comfortable and safe. When Kyo was done eating, y/n put a bell collar on him so he wouldn’t get lost again and picked him up to take him to her bedroom to lay on the bed. She tucked him into the covers and layed next to him cuddling Kyo as if he were a teddy bear. But Kyo didn’t mind, he purred loudly and fell asleep in her arms as the night went on.

As the sun arose from the hills shining its light through the bedroom windows y/n clenched her eyes shut from the harsh light, something was different though. She didn’t feel Kyo in her arms or by her like the night before, a large feeling of warmth radiated near her, too big to be a cat, but she felt his big fluffy tail on her leg. She slowly opened her eyes to see what it was, her eyes immediately widened and her jaw just dropped. Much to her surprise this tall, buff man with cat ears and a tail layed next to her sound asleep. She tried her best to slowly turn over and get out of bed as quietly as she could, but as soon as she did the man turned to the other side and wrapped his arm over her nuzzling his head in the crest of her neck. Frozen still and unable to move her tense body just relaxed to the warmth as she did not want to wake the strange man. Amidst his sleep he began to purr, pulling her closer to him. Y/n was a bit uncomfortable and tried to wiggle her way about the bed to be in a more comfortable position for her, she shimmied her body closer to him and got right up to his groin and realized….he’s not clothed, this cat guy is fully nude. The only thing keeping her body from touching him is just the thin layer of fabric that is her panties, and she herself might as well have been naked too since she wasn’t wearing a shirt. The man’s hand cupped her breast as a finger grazed over her nipple. The mans body grinded up against her from behind. Y/n let out all the air in her lungs in one shaky breath as blush ran over her face.

The cat man slowly opened his eyes realizing the position he was in, out of embarrassment he quickly let go of y/n, flipped over facing the other direction, and curled in a ball with his tail between his legs all wide eyes. Y/n was shocked by this negative and retractive reaction when he awoke, she leaned over him with a skeptical look on her face and looked into his eyes. It took her a second but then he heard it. “KYOJURO IS THAT YOU !!??” She shouted with a very surprised tone. “How, when, what ??” She began to ask. Kyo hated being yelled at, and when she yelled at him, his body just naturally tightened into a more constricted ball, he held his tail and avoided eye contact with his new owner. His body was quivering with fear as he clenched his eyes shut. Y/n realized that she had scared him really badly and went to comfort him, reaching down to place a hand on Kyo’s arm as he harshly flinched to her touch “Oh, no no no baby boy. I didn’t mean to scare you, I was just…really surprised to see you like this, I didn’t know I’d wake up next to you looking this way.” She said in a soft sorry tone while she rubbed her hand up and down his arm to let Kyo know that everything is okay, she’s not mad at him, it was just something unexpected.

You can feel his tense body relax a little bit as he opens his eyes just a little bit and looks at you with a gentle yet cautious side eye, when you lock eyes he quickly looks back ahead in hope you didn’t notice him looking at you. But you did, and you just let out a light chuckle to yourself as you continued to pet Kyo. His hair looks so fluffy, and his tail and ears are as soft as they were when he was just a cat. You knew you had to care for him since there’s no way he’d be okay outside in the wild.

Days became weeks, and weeks turned into months as you cared for Kyo. You always cooked his meals, bathed him weekly and tucked him into bed each night, but the ONE thing he never let you do, no matter how much you tried or begged, he would not put…on…clothes. You never complained about the sight, to be honest it was kinda hot seeing this 5 foot 10 chiseled cat guy walk around naked in a bell collar. Although, there was one little thing, he has the genitals of a cat, the weirdest thing you come home to everyday after work is seeing that. You’ve never actually seen it, you’ve only seen his balls, but it was so bizarre to you, as nothing about this situation was normal. But your curiosity grew as you caught yourself thinking things you simply should not think. Unluckily for you, you didn’t get a chance to see if he was fixed and it was February, mating season had begun and he was getting handsy constantly. He would not leave you alone, would not stop bringing you your favorite food from the pantry that he raided, when in bed he’d always shimmy close to you purring in your ear and on top of it all, he did the weirdest thing. He’d sit down on his knees slapping his tail on the floor and would look up at you with wide pupils pawing and mewling at you.

You loved these little things he did in his heat, but you couldn’t stand him being handsy and his bed shimmy. You thought to yourself about your morals and the morals of doing it with him. “He’s a cat ! But he’s a man with cat features ! He’s both but what is he more of ? I can’t do him, or can I ? Will I get into trouble if I do?” She argued and contemplated with herself. While arguing with herself as she just stood in the middle of her bedroom she heard his bell as he crawled in on all fours, rubbed his head on her leg and sat back on his knees like he’s been constantly doing. She looked down at him for a moment, she bent down to pat his head and rub his ears as he nestled his head into her palm and purred loudly. “Mrrrow” he let out as he looked up at her with his big begging eyes. You just couldn’t deny him any more and you couldn’t say no to your urges either. You wanted him, and you wanted him bad, clearly he wanted you in return. You had plans for him though, you wanted to see him beg, to plead, to cry for you. You turned around in the bedroom and walked to the closet to open a very particular box. One unfamiliar to Kyo. He looked at you with a curious look and his head tilted slightly to the side. “Mrow.” He let out as he got up on all fours to walk over to you. “No, sit and stay.” You said to him in a demanding tone as he obeyed your order as if he were a loyal dog.

You placed the box a little away from him, just out of view inside of it as you pulled a few things out. A blindfold, leash, two sets of cuffs, and a feather rod. Kyo looks down at the items and sees the feather, he gets up and pounces on it to play with it. He swatted it around as you teased him with it, but this playtime was over, and a new playtime was about to begin. “Sit boy.” You commanded as you pointed at the floor. He obeys immediately as he eagerly looks up at you. With the blindfold in your hand you tie it behind his head covering his eyes so he can’t see anything. Reaching down for the cuff sets you place them on his wrists and pull his arms back to his ankles keeping him in an upright position with his chest puffed out. Reaching for the feather rod you lighty glide it up his back as it pulls away, forcing his position to be more upright and curved, just the way you like it. Moving the feather down his spine and across his butt cheeks you see his ears flatten, tail poof up, fingers strain and notice that he’s getting excited. You tease him even more by moving the feather across his bare chest, his nipples hard and his body begging for more, sliding it down his stomach and stopping for a moment before you tease his cock with the light touch of the feather to see it twitch in anticipation. “You’re so small aren’t you?” She began to speak about him. His face evidently turned red as he moved his head down in shame, ears flattened back and he used his tail to cover himself. “Tsk tsk ah ah ah, you’re not allowed to do that. Move your tail.” He denied the order as he bit his lip showing his two long fangs. He only curled his tail around him more. “What did I just tell you Kyo, you’re not allowed to cover yourself.” She said in a demeaning tone as she moved his tail out of the way and placed it under her foot lightly applying pressure to keep it from moving, she could feel it twitch below her as he tried to cover himself again. He closed his legs and leaned forward in another attempt to hide. “You are what you eat huh Kyo? All that shrimp through the months got to you I see, but you have nothing to hide, I’ve already seen it all.” The blush on his face turned from pink to a bright red of embarrassment that he felt “What do you have to say for yourself, being so small. Thinking you can take me. With what size to offer.” she continues, she grabs the leash and attaches it to his collar and pulls up on it harshly, forcing him to sit up and look in the direction of the mistress in front of him. “Open your mouth and stick your tongue out, now.” She commanded him. This was an order he could obey, and that he did. She knelt down and examined his teeth, moving his lip out of the way to the gum to see it all. “So precious, so sharp and dangerous, these are bigger than you down here.” She states as the other hand goes down to touch him. “Mmnng mrow” Kyo let out. “You don’t bite, do you Kyo? You wouldn’t bite me would you little one?” She whispered in his ear with a seductive voice. He swallowed hard and stuck his tongue out again like before from his previous order as his ears perked back up. She placed her index finger below his chin and thumb on his tongue. “I want to see your eyes, your needy sweet face.” She goes to take his blindfold off to see his eyes watery and ever so hungry. She goes back down to his member and pulls on the leash to get his face close to hers. “Being so small where it matters most must be so humiliating for you, you’re so big everywhere else but here, how do you feel about that.” She asks with a devious grin as she interrupts him with a kiss. The tears in his eyes swelled so much that when he closed them for the kiss salty tears fell down his cheeks. When she separated from his lips a line of saliva kept them connected, as she dived right back in, she fondled him while they made out and he whimpered through the pleasure into her mouth.

She wiped away the tears that fell down the left side of his cheek and said with a kindhearted smile. “You make the cutest noises, continue that for me, can you do that for me and be a good boy?” He smiled at her, tears still in his eyes as she stroked him below. He let out the cutest moans and mewls as she touched him so caringly. Moving her hand away from his cheek she moved it to Kyo’s chest and played with his nipple. Pinching, pulling and teasing it as she caressed his chest while stroking his cock. “That’s right, moan for me, you’re being such a good boy for me right now.” His body jolted in her hand eagerly for more of her touch as he was close to his climax. His face was one of desperation, he was on the edge and couldn’t take it anymore. She unbuckled the cuffs with the hand that was placed upon his chest and he immediately placed his hands on her shoulders and his face to her collarbone for support while she continued her work on him. His body was quivering so much, his mewls picking up more. With tears in his eyes he looked up at y/n one last time with the most desperate face, begging to be allowed to release himself as he mewled hopelessly. She looked at him, and without mercy told him “I’ll count down from ten, when I reach zero, you can come.” At last, there was hope for him. The countdown began but her hand picked up the pace edging him on even more, making it all the more hard for him to hold back. The mewls and pants that escaped him were so precious to her, she wanted to hear them a little bit more. “10….9…..8…..7…..6….5, halfway there Kyo, keep it in a little longer boy, 4….3….2….1….ready little one.” She paused for a moment and leaned into his ear as he whimpered and mewled into hers, she whispered the final note. “Zero.” Kyo let out a loud series of moans, mewls and purrs as he was able to let go and release himself, making a mess all over himself, his mistress and the carpet. Big long shots of cum came out of him, it was the most that y/n had ever seen. She stroked him through his orgasm and gave him much praise. “You’ve been such a good boy for me Kyo. You’ve been a very very good boy tonight. Such a good kitten for me and obeying my orders.” She said as she rubbed his ears. “Now let's get you cleaned up, little one.” Y/n said as she took off the leash and guided him to the bathroom for a bath in the tub.

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