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robinsgrl · 2 days ago

Text

FEARLESS

chapter three. boobs and beers

pairing ⇢ rafe cameron x plus size!reader

word count ⇢ 4.7k

warnings ⇢ fatphobia, insecurities, mention of a panic attack, boobies lol, uhmmmmm shopping as a fat girl, heather should be her own warning, daddy issues, mentions of alcoholism.

authors note ⇢ heyyyyy….. im sick and i am soooo fatigued but i wanted to release this, i’ve been spoiling the kildare nights readers and i needed to give fearless some attention. sorry for any mistakes queens, love you guys! gimme ur thoughts!!

“Why are we here?” You ask as he plops down onto the seat across from you at the mall food court. He slides over a cup of fro-yo at you. A frown falls to your lip when you take a peek in it. “You get plain fro-yo?”

His eyebrows furrow, shrugging. “Yeah?”

You scoff in pure disbelief as you glance into his own cup. Plain chocolate. “That’s… like… a crime.”

Getting up off your cold metal seat, you pick his cup as well and walk back into the frozen yogurt shop. The cute worker behind the register has a bored expression on her face until she spots you. A bright smile falls onto your face, as does hers, as you meet each other. “Heather.”

“Gorgeous!” She squeals happily as you walk over to the register with the tall guy trailing after you, watching the two of you curiously.

“My friend here, he doesn’t know the art of fro-yo. Is there any way we can add some toppings? Promise I’ll pay for every cent.” You ask her sweetly. The red head nods happily, ushering you to go on in.

You can feel Rafe’s eyes on you as you walk over to the toppings station. A wave of embarrassment flushes through you as you realize something. This makes you look fat. You are. You are a big girl but you try and hide it. With big sweaters, baggy jeans, eating small portions when out— not showing others that you come to the fro-yo place so often that the cashier knows you by name.

“My dad and I come here all the time.” You don’t mean for your words to sound so defensive but it’s what you’ve had to do most of your life. Defend yourself. “It’s the one thing he can afford.”

His eyebrows furrow, head tilting gently. You realize he’s not one for many words but his looks say a lot. He’s curious about you. And confused. “Isn’t your dad rich?”

You take a quick peek at him and feel a weight lift off your shoulders when you see his eyes have moved to scour the toppings. “Anthony isn’t my dad.”

He nods, ahh-ing. “Right, he’s your step-dad. What about your real father?”

You shrug lamely, not really wanting to talk about him. “Nothing. We just like fro-yo. Are you seriously putting Graham crackers in your fro-yo?” You ask, eyes wide and with a glint of disgust at his choice.

His eyes squint with annoyance as he looks up at you. “What’s wrong with Graham crackers?”

“Everything.” You reach over the toppings and scoop up a spoonful of gummy bears. “Graham crackers are like… green peppers on your pizza.”

This gets a reaction out of him. “You don’t like green peppers on your pizza?”

You scoff out a laugh, “I don’t know how we’re gonna get along with all these differences between us.” Your tone is playful as you speak this. You reach over and grab a few maraschino cherries and plop them on your fro-yo.

“Now that, I can get behind.” He scoops up the cherries and loads them into his cup. He’s scooping up Oreo crumbles beside you as you take him in. There’s a slight stubble growing on his jaw, a green baseball cap on top of his head. He's a lot more laidback than you’ve ever seen. He's usually in khakis and polo shirts. Today, he’s wearing a pair of baggy jeans and a baggy hoodie, with thick sneakers that you’re sure cost a fortune.

“You know,” you speak up after a moment, his eyes turning to you. You can’t make eye contact, eyes looking everywhere but his eyes. “We’re twins.”

“What?”

You point to his clothing and yours. You’re wearing baggy jeans and a baggy hoodie. “We’re dressed alike.” The two of you are done and back at the register, weighing your cups for the price. Heather begins ringing you two up and you’re about to swipe your credit card when he beats you to it. “I had that.”

But he ignores you as the payment goes through and Heather wishes you two a good day. “First things first,” you’re walking down the mall side by side, eating your fro-yo. “You need to stop dressing like me.”

“Hey, this is comfortable.” You defend yourself.

“Comfortable won’t get you anywhere. You have to show some cleavage every now and then.”

This offends you, a scoff leaving your mouth. You’re glaring up at him but he doesn’t seem to care, eyes moving to and fro, checking the mall out. “Why do I need to do that?”

“Real talk?” He asks you, eyeing you as if trying to see if you’ll get offended or not.

You take a deep breath in and nod. “You look like a little boy.”

You should be offended. But you can’t. Instead, a laugh bubbles out of you and you have to cover your mouth to hide it. “N-no, no I don’t.” But you don’t believe your own words. You sigh, eating another spoonful of fro-yo. “Okay thine.” If your mother were here you’d be getting a scold for talking with your mouth full.

Rafe simply rolls his eyes at the sight and hands you a napkin which you happily take. You chew on your cold gummy bears for a moment before speaking again. “Fine. I’m guessing that’s why we’re here?” You look around the mall with a soft and annoyed huff. “Where to first, sensei?”

You can see he’s visibly holding back a smile when he says— “Victoria Secret.”

The store is unbelievably pink. But your eyes flicker about the store and the mannequins with a sparkle to your eyes. You’d never stepped foot in this place unless Scarlett was at your side. Nothing about you ever felt sexy and she came here to feel sexy. So you never found your footing in the store. And now, with Rafe at your side, you feel even worse. Surface level, you only see undergarments for skinny people. Smaller people. And the idea of not finding anything and Rafe watching you get shut down makes you dread the rest of your day.

“Never seen someone look at mannequin boobs and frown.” You’re brought out of your painstakingly insecure thoughts at the sound of Rafe’s voice. You peek up at him and are surprised to see a softer look to him. Well, as soft as Rafe Cameron can get. “Seriously, it’s just bra shopping. And pantie shopping. I thought girls went crazy for this shit.”

“Okay, misogyny.” You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. To anyone else, it would look like a natural pose but you’re hiding your chest, as if that would stop this from happening. “I’m just… shouldn’t I do something else before shopping?” You hope he understands what you mean.

But he doesn’t. He shakes his head, “nah.” His nonchalant response sends a twinge of annoyance through you, biting down on the inside of your cheek. He starts making his way into the store, too much interest in his face when you call out to him.

“Seriously, Rafe, I’m too big for this.” This stops him in his steps turning to you with a look on his face that you can’t decipher. Not that you ever can, Rafe Cameron is an incredibly hard person to read.

“There’s a plus-size section.” Are his words and you feel a wave of heat come over you. Your mouth twitches as you try to hide the shame you’re feeling. But it seems you and Rafe don’t have that in common— you wear your feelings on your face.

“Look before we… I should probably, I don’t know… lose some weight.” Is your response to him, eyes refusing to meet him at all.

He sighs loudly, and you sneak a glance at him to see him rubbing the inner corner of his eyes with what you think is annoyance. And this only worsens your intense feelings of insecurity. And he speaks, “you don’t need to lose weight to be hot, ___. You’ve got a stunning body, you just have to know how to work it.”

Your eyes widen as they meet him for the first time in a while. And oddly enough, you can see he’s telling the truth. You wanted to see a lie on his face. You wanted to be proved right and know that he’s just as disgusted by you as all the boys in your school. But you can’t find it. “Now, are you gonna keep fishing for compliments or are we gonna find a bra that makes your boobs pop?”

You bust out laughing at this, covering your face with your hands in a shy manner. “Fine, but you have to promise to never repeat the word Boobs to me. Like, ever again.”

“How about breasts?”

“Gross.”

—

One of the kind ladies in the shop finds a few pieces for you that fit well. Surprisingly, you have a good time. The lady is unbelievably kind and finds you matching sets. And you come to realize you’ve never had a positive female shopping experience.

Most of your shopping was done with Scarlett and your mother at your side. And they seemed to be the unstoppable duo that knew just how to put you down. Your mother would grab at your stomach when you tried on a shirt that didn’t fit quite right. “This is where you need to focus,” she’d point at the spots that she felt needed to be fixed. “Next time you’re at the gym, focus on this. Talk to my personal trainer, he’s there all the time.” You went to the gym the next day. Apparently, she had spoken to her trainer and he grabbed you in the same way your mother did. You never went back again.

Scarlett. She’d make it a competition. If you found a top that made your eyes crinkle with the thought of wearing it proudly, she’d find the smallest size there was and try it on. Once you’d see her walk out with a top you were carrying on your arm, you’d set it down. She puts you to shame every single time.

So, now that you’re in a new shop, wearing a new push-up bra that fits like a perfect corset for your chest, you feel anxious. Beyond anxious. There are people everywhere. Chats coming from every single direction. But the last thing you need is to have a panic attack in front of Rafe. You barely know the guy.

“Okay… so what now?” You ask, clearing your throat to push away the bad memories of the store.

“Now, we shop.”

It takes an hour. A long hour to walk throughout the store and have him pick out outfits for you. Having him know your size was absolutely terrifying. But he didn’t bat an eye as you told him and he jumped right into it. Every now and then, he’d find an ugly shirt and hold it up to you and he’d mutter a joke. Jonah would love this one, is his go to. And before you know it, you’re no longer on the verge of a breakdown.

You’re in the dressing room and for the first time in your life, you don’t worry about how you look. Or how the jeans fit you a little too snug around your hips. You don’t feel panic at the thought of trying clothes on in the stuffy dressing room.

You come out in the first outfit and Rafe immediately busts out laughing. The green jeans are ridiculously long and the top is a corset top with blue hand-drawn flowers on them and ridiculously large bows at the shoulder straps. You knew it was a joke outfit but it was nice to mess around.

You jokingly strut, pretending the room is a runway. “Keep it in your pants.” You laugh as you give him a spin and this only makes him laugh some more. You feel a sense of pride for making Rafe Cameron laugh. Sarah’s text flashes through your mind. A man who hasn’t smiled in years. And yet, he’s holding onto his side as you strike another odd pose.

“Alright, alright,” his smile is pretty, you notice. And contagious, unable to hide your own as you listen to him. “We need to get serious.” But he’s still chuckling. “Try on a real outfit this time.” So you do. He likes them all. A few shirts ride up over your belly a bit too much and some jeans don’t fit over your thighs but you leave the store with eight new outfits.

Usually, you leave with hurt feelings and nothing but.

You two are on the ferry back home when your day together is over. It’s a forty minute wade back but neither of you seem to care. He’s sipping his Big Gulp drink and watching as you try and balance the water bottle lid on your nose.

“I don’t understand what you’re trying to do.” There’s a tinge of amusement to his tone.

Your head is thrown slightly back as you keep trying but it’s to no avail, it keeps toppling over. With a huff, you pick the cap up and shove it into your pocket. “It’s a trick my dad usually pulls. It’s better with a quarter though.”

Avoiding the topic of your father is a skill you take pride in. Your mother always turns into a sobbing mess when you bring him up. Your step-dad isn’t ever really home and when he is, it’s awkward. The only person you could share him with was Scarlett. That was the one topic she never snarked at you over. Not to your face, at least.

“Can I ask?” You turn to him, criss cross on the bench that you two are sitting on, wind blowing your hair. You tuck a strand, nodding. “Where is your dad?”

“The cut.” You answer honestly. Your mother hides him from her new rich friends. She hides her past from all of her new rich friends. Her story isn’t as compelling as Ward Cameron’s. He built his way up. Your mother caught the attention of an older man and married him. She’s ashamed about it.

This seems to shock him but he’s not Rafe Cameron if he doesn’t try and hide it. “And you’re close?”

You shrug, turning to the cloudy sky. It’s easier to talk about hard things when you don’t have to look at anyone, you find. “We’re… we definitely have a relationship. But… it’s hard to build on it when my mother doesn’t know I’m talking to him.”

You can feel his eyes on you, mouth slightly parted as he takes your words in but you can’t turn to him. “She forbids you from seeing him?”

You hum a small ‘mhm’. “He’s a stain in her perfect life.”

“Not in yours?”

“He’s a…” you pause, searching for the proper words. “An escape. Like… in Coraline. The door. He’s my door to a… less suffocating world. Without the buttons, of course. And alcoholism.” You try to joke. He doesn’t find it funny, the look on his features softened and taking you and your words in. Letting them settle. “He’s not perfect. I get why my mom left him. Why she wanted better. He’s a drunk who can’t keep a steady job. When we go out, I buy us dinner. He couldn’t take care of my mom or me so…”

“So she found the next best thing.” He finishes off for you. You turn to him at this, nodding as your hair keeps blowing in the wind. You don’t feel exposed in the way you do when speaking of your father to anyone. Rafe’s not judging you or figuring out how to use it against you. His eyes are sincere. Face stoic, but his eyes are sincere. You hate eye contact but if it means getting a better grasp of Rafe, you’d never look away. And you don’t.

“What about you?” You ask with sincerity. “I heard the rumors. The Cameron men butting heads.” You admit sheepishly.

He sighs, turning away. It’s his turn to look away while speaking of the hard stuff in his life. He lays back on the bench seat, long legs stretched out and kicked back up on the rail. “Well… you know… fathers…” it doesn’t take much to see he doesn’t want to speak of it.

Instead, you nod, a small and sad laugh leaving you. “Yeah… fathers.”

The ferry stops at the port a while later after thirty minutes of talking about your classes to him. He’s dropping you off at home, bags of clothes at hand. “By the way, we’re going to a party tonight.” And he drives off, leaving you stumped.

—

Debut one of your new outfits. What the fuck does that mean? You can’t picture yourself going to a party in clothes that aren’t your comfortable ones. Your comfort hoodie and sweats are what you spend most of your time in when out of school.

Getting ready without a friend is depressing. Usually, you’d have Scarlett at your side fluffing up your hair and helping with your makeup. Not that you wore it often but on the rare occasions that you needed to go to an event with your family, she was by your side. And it was during those moments that her honest side shined the brightest. She was careful with you. Honest but not brutal.

You shake your head to get yourself to stop thinking about her. You don’t want to be affected. You don’t want her to have this much of a hold over you. You need to stop loving her.

“Woah, what happened to you?” Anthony’s voice is heard as you make your way to the door. You freeze in your step, not wanting to see him. Your mother had gone on a so-called spiritual retreat in Puerto Rico without telling you so now, you were under Anthony’s care. But he didn’t have kids of his own and you came to him when you were twelve years old, he never had to take care of you.

You turn in your spot, a stiff smile on your face. “Uhm… nothing. Just… going out… to watch a movie…”

He gives you a bore expression, hand in a bag of chips. “You don’t put on a mini-skirt to watch a movie. You’re going to a party, aren’t you? God, you’re a baby, you shouldn’t be wearing that.”

You scoff, “bye, Anthony.” You open up the door and slam it as he’s telling you to be careful.

Rafe’s truck is in your driveway and he’s standing out of it, leaning up against the hood. His eyes are closed and he’s bopping his head gently, singing a quiet song. The sound of your shoes hitting the gravel of the driveway catches his attention, eyes immediately opening and on you.

Your smile is shy as you hold your arms out, showcasing your outfit. It’s a black mini skirt matched with a simple black and low cut top, a leather jacket over it. Simple. But extravagant for you. “So… how do I look?” You really, really want to know.

His eyes are taking you in. Starting from the shoes you picked out, to your thick thighs, your hips, your waist, your chest (which you’re proudly wearing your push-up he bought you), your neck. And he settles on your face. Done up in makeup, hair let loose in its natural form. He gets up off the hood of his car and walks up to you. “You look…” he pauses, eyes flickering across your face again. He's lost in thought, eyebrows furrowed slightly, tongue lightly ghosting his dry lips. You nervously put your weight on your other foot, and this awakens him. “Fine. You look fine.”

“Oh.” You didn’t expect much. But you also didn’t expect very little. “I mean… like, if Jonah were to see me do you think he’d be… starstruck and completely in love.”

This gets something out of him, a small snort of a laugh. “Give a girl a push up bra and she thinks she’s a goddess.”

“Hey!” You laugh with disbelief as you walk after him, the two of you making your way to his truck. “You told me I need to be more confident!” He opens the passenger door with no qualms and helps you in. He closes your side of the door and hops into the driver's seat. “Okay, so what’s the game plan?” You ask as he starts driving out of your driveway, hand stretched behind your seat and looking back for any other cars.

“The game plan is,” he turns the wheel, the veins in his arms popping slightly but you have to force yourself to look away and straight at the road as he starts driving off. “Act nonchalant. People are going to notice the style change but you’re going to ignore it. If they ask, you simply wanted to try something new. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“So… if they compliment me, I… ignore it?”

“You’re hopeless. No, I mean, accept the compliments but brush off other comments.”

“Okay, I’m confused.”

He huffs and before you know it, the two of you are bickering. Back and forth. What he means. What you mean. It’s almost hard to remember that just last week you two weren’t even in the same world. Now, you’re in his truck, wearing the new clothes he bought you and bickering.

The walk into the party is nerve-wracking and all you can think of is how your thick thighs are in the wind. Which means you’re much colder than usual you’re not used to being cold outside, always so wrapped up in your warm clothes. You stop at the patio of the raging house, looking up at Rafe. “So… this is where we part ways?”

This visibly confuses him. “What? Why would we part ways?”

You shrug, “I don’t know… I didn’t come to parties often but the few events I went with Heather… we would part ways.”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “That’s stupid. I’m here with you.”

“You don’t have to be a dick about it.”

“I’m not being a dick.”

“That’s you being a dick. I’m not stupid for—“

“I’m not calling you stupid, god.”

“You’re here!” A loud squeal pulls you out of your mini argument with Rafe. Your eyes meet a pair of familiar brown ones. Sarah rushes to you immediately and practically jumps into your arms. You laugh happily as you hug her right back.

“I’m here!”

She pulls away from you with a small pour. She’s drunk. Kiara comes out from behind her, pulling you into a quick side hug. “Guess who else is here?” Sarah’s voice is loud as the four of you walk into the home which is blasting with music.

“Who?”

“Scarlett.” This makes your blood run cold. That little piece of confidence that you carried vanished. You weren’t feeling yourself anymore. She’d see you in your new outfit and would make fun of you.

“We’ve got your back.” Kiara’s arm wraps around your shoulders as you walk side by side. “You won’t have to deal with her alone.”

“By the way, you look so damn good!” Sarah squeals as you all make your way into the kitchen where Kie grabs a few beers and tosses one each to the group. Rafe catches his beer easily and when he notices the slight panic in your face, he catches yours next, opening it quickly for you. You take the beer mindlessly, listening to Sarah drunkenly babble. Kiara’s entertaining her, laughing when she says something she shouldn’t say far too loudly. And you find yourself enjoying it.

You always dreaded parties. When a kid went around inviting everyone, they’d stop with you and Scarlett but only invite her. They would barely spare a glance at you. And at the time, you told yourself it didn’t matter. You’d rather be at home and cuddled up in bed with your cat, binge watching a show. But this… you like this. You like that Kiara and Sarah are bringing you into the conversation even when you’ve been quiet for minutes. You like that Rafe’s by your side like a scary guard dog. Well, you don’t really like that part so much. People are staring. They aren’t used to the Rafe Cameron not having a baddie on his arm.

Kiara and Sarah are in the middle of dancing a silly dance in the kitchen when you turn to Rafe. “No ones even noticing me.”

He snorts out a scoff of a laugh. “I’ve caught like eight guys since we came in, looking at your boobs.”

“Okay, first of all, that’s not anyone noticing me. That’s them noticing my girls. And second, I told you not to say boobs to me.”

“Boobs. Boobs. Boobs. Boobs.”

“God, shut up. You’re gross. There’s no need to— stop!” Back to your bickering, a laugh leaving you when he just won’t quit it.

You’re both in a comfortable space when a shrill of a voice cuts you two off.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” Time stands still for a second at the sound of Scarlett’s voice. You and your new friends immediately turn to look at her. And your eyes widen. You’re wearing the same skirt. A laugh bubbles out of Sarah and Rafe’s big hand covers her mouth to shut her up

“You know what I’m wearing.” You retort with a roll of your eyes. Heather angrily puts her red solo cup down, stomping closer to you.

“Do you know how embarrassing this is? You need to change!”

Kiara laughs at this. “Girl, get over yourself. It’s a skirt.”

Scarlett is very clearly exasperated. And upset. It’s weird seeing her so put off. Your eyes don’t leave her as she keeps throwing her tantrum. “It doesn’t even look good on you! You’re… you’re embarrassing yourself.”

Rafe is watching with an amused look to his face. He hadn’t seen the fight, only a few clips that were taken last minute. But he’d never seen them go head to head. And you know he’s been dying to. Rafe is many things but dramatically inclined was not one you had added to your list until recently.

You're about to answer. You’re about to fight back. You wouldn’t let her embarrass you in front of your new friends. Loud gasps and yells erupt when a drunk splashes onto Heather. “Dumb bitch!” It’s Sarah. She threw beer right at Heather’s face which is now dripping down to her clothes.

Scarlett, quick on her feet, grabs her own cup and tosses it. On you. You gasp for air as it falls in your nose. “What the fuck, Scar?! I didn’t do shit?!”

“For not fighting your own fucking battles!” She yells, so angry that her face is red. Which you’re sure is from embarrassment as well. “You’re weak! Always have been and always will be!”

Kiara gets in between the two of you, “back the fuck up.” She hisses. “She’s with us now.”

Scarlett laughs like it’s the funniest thing in the world. She looks behind Kiara and glares harshly at you. “Hanging with the pogues? Seriously? This is a new level of trashy. Even for you.”

“Alright, alright,” it’s rafe now that grabs your arm and starts dragging you away. “You guys are very dramatic.” He tells you as he takes to the other side of the house in the living room.

But you’re frowning. It’s hard not to be upset. And you’re dripping with beer. “My outfit…” you pull your arm from his, stopping. In turn, this stops him and he turns to look down at your sad figure. “It’s ruined…”

He’s quiet. And you’re about to tell him it’s time to call it a night. His hand grabs your chin, making you look up at him. There’s a look of determination on his face, which shocks you greatly. “You’re not giving up. I’m gonna make sure Jonah sees you for the hot piece of ass you are, alright?”

His words send a hot flush through your body. You hate how shy you get when he’s nice. Or when he’s trying to be nice. Even during his kind moments, he’s abrasive. But you’re learning to take him as he is.

“Now, push those boobs up and be confident.”

“Stop saying boobs!”

—

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gamerexdrex · 1 day ago

Text

"Hey! Let me go you oversized lizard!" Screamed the farmer, struggling against your grip.

Honestly, if it wasn't to prove to the stuck ups at the council, you would have never bothered even looking twice at this human, much less putting up with her screeching; but alas, sacrifices must be made for your tesis.

But it's damn hard when the human has been biting at your fingers. You are not sure why she thought it was a good idea, it has only been bothering you and might hurt her teeth.

When you finally, FINALLY, make it to the old castle, your are about ready to sleep a hundred years; but it isn't the time! You need! To teach! The human!

You land on the patio of the castle, with plenty of space for practice, and gently put the raving human down.

"Listen human-"

WACK

The human somehow found a large stick in the five seconds you've been in this place and immediatly hit your eye.

You should have just horded gold like your mom

"Listen-"

WACK

"human-"

WACK

"do you-"

WACK

"want-"

WACK

"to learn-"

WACK

"magic"

She stops in her tracks, and looks at you confused. "Soooo you are not going to eat me"

Your eye twichs "If I wanted a meal, I would have eaten the king's whole army of horses"

"Oh"

There is a bit of awkard silence

"So when do we begin?" She beams

You smile

"When I finish taking a nap, give 5 minutes and we'll start."

.....

You scribble the runes yet again, and once again, nothing happens.

The dragon seems even more disappointed than before somehow.

"It should work now, I don't know how this is possible"

You stare and can't help but feel frustrated with yourself. it's supposed to work, you two have been trying up until sundown.

It's probably your fault nothing happens.

You can hear the dragon's voice above you "let's take a break, shall we? Maybe when our heads are clear, we'll find a solution"

You wonder if the dragon is either very positive or very stubborn

After a fire and a couple of sheep the dragon got from...somewhere for dinner, you stare at the stars. You don't think you've seen this constelations before

"I'm sorry"

You turn to the dragon, surprised.

"I brought you here against your will, told you I would teach you magic, and we have yet to get a reaction from the runes" He lowers his head "So I apologise little human"

After a moment of shock, you smile sadly "It's alright, I guess I just wasn't cut out for this"

"Don't say that human; acording to my research, every human has the capacity to channel magic; and we did everything right"

You bite your cheek "If you say so" you look over the runes "what does it say anyways?"

You don't notice the dragon freezing in place but you do notice when he speaks up

"What"

Confused, you turn to him "well, yes? I don't know what we are writing so..."

He stares some more "Isn't this common knowledge? There are books written by you humans! That's how I know you could do magic!"

Is your turn to stare

"Quick question, how are those books?"

"There are just a little over a hundred yea-" the dragons stops and, after processing the imformation a bit, slams his head on the ground.

"I forgot to account human ages, of course I did"

You sit besides the dispairimg dragon "Soooo I assume meaning and understaning are important for magic"

"Mhm" He answers, head still on the ground "We've been writing the true names of spirits and powerful beings. You summon or imbude the strenght of those entities by writing them on this language. But it only works if the entity is understood to be powerful."

You ponder for a bit, and run to grab your big stick

"Can you tell me your name?"

The dragon looks up "huh?"

"Or at leats how it would be written in that weird old language, I have an idea"

The dragon looks at you a bit more, shrugs, and begins writing on the ground with it's claw

You carve the runes on the stick, now with the understanding that this is the name of your teacher.

Once finished, you looked at the letters and something odd happens. They begin to shine.

You aim at the sky, and a blast of purple light comes out of the tip of it, so strong that it send you flying. You are caught by the dragon. The hairs of your neck are standing up.

There is silence

"Y-you did it"

"I did it"

"YOU DID IT"

"I DID IT"

You both begin to laugh, of delight, of satisfaction, of relief, of excitement.

You did it

The other dragons laughed when you shared your thesis that humans should be capable of learning magic. Infuriated, you fly off to capture a human and teach it the ways of magic.

#writers #writers on tumblr #writing prompts #writeblr #I did this while in a car trip lmao

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a-confused-spoon · 2 days ago

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...y'know, it's not just the fact that Caitlyn knows Viktor, but the fact that this Caitlyn met this Viktor

I know I already talked about this, but like- HELLO??!

Mind you, Caitlyn isn't just a little sister to Jayce, her parents are also Jayce's patrons and her mother works with Heimerdinger (who Viktor used to work for) on the Council- the Council that basically dictated what kind of use hextech was going to serve in Piltover for however long the timeskip was (as said by Jayce in 1x04), so there's no way these two didn't have at least a couple interactions once Viktor becomes Jayce's partner.

Tell you what, I think these two vibed pretty well too.

First thing first, I just know Caitlyn treated the idea of meeting Viktor the exact same way a younger sibling wants to meet their older sibling's crush; "yeah I need to meet this so-deemed super cool person so I can shit-talk about you to them 'cause it's fun, but also what makes them so special to you and/or so stupid they'd want to spend time with you, allegedly?" type of deal. And there's more to this too 'cause- no wait, I really need to stress this point:

I think it's safe to assume Caitlyn didn't have many friends growing up, if any at all, and Jayce (who's what, twice her age?) is seemingly the only person she shared a bond with where she didn't have to pretend to be someone she didn't feel she was, which only became more and more a thing as time went by.

And everything is fine until the events of 1x02: there's an explosion, Jayce is put away, there's a trial and all of the sudden she's lost her big brother under no explanation other than "he's a misfit and you can't be friends with him anymore", and as far as she knows, Jayce will no longer be in her life and will likely give up all his hard work. She lost her best friend and he lost his purpose in life, all in the span of a single day.

...and then, the very next day, everything seems to be fine again? There's a Council meeting, she's allowed to be cool with Jayce again and when she asks what the fuck happened to this man he opens with "So there's this guy...".

I can only imagine little Caitlyn's thoughts whilst she was processing all the new info: "Okay so you're telling me there's a guy with a funny accent, Piltover's most important person's ex assistant, who I nor anyone's ever heard of nor seen for some forsaken reason, who you met literally last night and he sweet talked you into not giving up because it didn't work when I tried- rude but okay- and then he convinced you to commit a crime to help you complete the research my parents funded? When you were already at risk of exile? And that research was super personal to you specifically, but now it's a you guys' thing? And he's from the- WAIT, HE'S FROM THE UNDERCITY?!!"

'Cause Caitlyn was curious about the undercity as a kid too, innocently so; you're telling her she has the opportunity to talk with someone who didn't just go there, but used to live there? Someone who managed to get where he is with nothing other than the sheer power of will?!

Meeting this Viktor guy is no longer just a little "I wish", it becomes a fucking mission.

...meanwhile Viktor's barely aware the Kirammans have a daughter to begin with.

I mean- he does know, but just because Jayce mentioned her a couple times, perhaps forgetting to mention her being a 14 year-old.

Not that Viktor would give a shit either way, he isn't really fond of anyone in Piltover (aside from Jayce, Heimerdinger and Sky) and the likely spoiled heir of an ultra-rich family is no exception to this, regardless of age. However, she is close to Jayce, and her extremely important family is funding what is also his research now, so he's like "whatever, I guess I'll be as cordial as I can with this miss Caitlyn if I ever meet her".

Which happened, at a certain point in time.

I think Viktor was pleasantly surprised to find out that this good hearted and fairly smart girl was also very curious to know more about the undercity- perhaps he's taken a little aback at first; she is a councilor's daughter and he has to pay attention to what he says around her after all. But at the same time, she is a councilor's daughter and if she's so well intended then why not answer truthfully to her questions when she could, one day, help through her family's influence?

And on the other side, little Caitlyn absolutely adores Viktor, and not just because he's witty and has a funny accent, but because Viktor talks to her like she's an adult.

Cait isn't really used to this sort of treatment, but of course Viktor doesn't address her like a clueless child that needs protection from the real word: that's a privilege the kids in Zaun aren't really given, and they are no less important than her. Besides, what's the harm?

It's also great because whenever the Kirammans organize a ceremony of sorts to celebrate some new hextech achievement as Jayce's patrons, Caitlyn and Viktor would manage to chat separately from the rest of the obnoxiously rich guests, so she doesn't have to feel out of place or babied and he doesn't have to be at the centre of attention as Jayce's partner. Viktor would also get a healthy dose of rich people gossip through little Cait's unintentional open disdain for the environment her parents keep her in, and the only reason why Caitlyn allows herself to lower her guard when talking about it is because she knows damn well that Viktor both probably agrees and has no intention nor reason to tell anyone. If anything, he just comments sarcastically to most stories, and she's happy she can share them with someone who won't say "now now, don't say that about so and so".

And of course, whenever Caitlyn comes to visit them in the lab (not a very common occurrence since the 1x01 accident), Jayce is just happy to see them getting along... whenever Caitlyn isn't whispering something to Viktor while they both look at him, at least.

#oh if only arcane had the time for filler episodes #arcane #caitlyn kiramman #jayce talis #viktor arcane #jayvik #arcane league of legends #caitlyn and jayce #headcanon #some wholesome stuff to distract myself from how upset s2 made me

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planetpedri · 23 hours ago

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Lando Norris Bf!Headcanons !

‘ obessed with your mind / waste all my time / all for you.’

Bf!Lando who, cannot seem to take anything serious (unless it’s absolutely necessary.) He is all giggles and smiles. He jokes all the time, but it’s mostly just so he can see a smile on your face. He will—and does, do everything to see your smile crack and the creases your eyes make.

Bf!Lando who, loves affection. It is most certainly his love language. He loves to cuddle and seeks out your hand in any setting. Flesh on flesh contact is what grounds him when he’s anxious. It’s very, very rare that he would ever pull away from you if you initiate contact. In fact, it makes his heart soar if you do something as simple as nudge his shoulder when walking. He longs for anything you are willing to give.

Bf!Lando who, teases you constantly. He has a string of nicknames for you that grows with every passing day. They aren’t mean, just small seemingly stupid things you do that he finds great amusement in.

“Can you hand me the extra blanket you fuzz-hog?” He’d quip after one night when you accidentally stole the blanket during the night. You’d turn to him with a glare, “fuzz what?” But, he’d shrug it off, motioning to the blanket with a teasing grin.

Bf!Lando who, nearly drops to his knees whenever you wear McLaren merch or, well, anything of his for that matter. His tee shirt you stole? He’s staring at you with a loose jaw. His beanie you also stole? He’s fixing it on your head before looking down at you with an adoring smile. His McLaren jacket? It’s yours. Forever. He’ll get a new one so you can match.

Bf!Lando who, definitely gets jealous. Not for insecurity, but because he knows you are beautiful. He knows other guys look at you. He doesn’t like it—but it also makes him feel a sense of pride. If he sees a man looking at you, he’ll smirk, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him.

Bf!Lando who, understands when you need silence. He is an obnoxious person, loud and bubbly, but he knows when it’s okay and when it is not. If you had a bad day, he is silent beside you, rubbing your shoulders to relieve some stress—any way you need help, he is ready to provide.

Bf!Lando who, finds it hard to open up at first, but eventually is surprisingly very emotionally available. He goes to therapy, and if he feels there is something you need to know—for example; he was struggling mentally, he will tell you. He knows the effects it has on relationships when someone gets too far into their own head. So, he will encourage openness and vulnerability. Because losing you is more terrifying than being vulnerable.

Bf!Lando who, said the first ‘I love you’. He said it on accident, trying to cover it up by making a joke after—but when your eyebrows raised and a bright smile overtook your lips, he stopped the jokes. He went serious, his cheeks flushed.

“I meant it, y’know. I do love you.”

likes, comments, and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future lando posts.

ᝰ.ᐟ tags @halfwayhearted @lechrts @joaoflms @h4vertzz @sakashq @spidybaby

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toxycodone · 2 days ago

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mouthwashing characters when you’re depressed

ship. tulpar crew x reader cw. sfw + fluff/comfort

an. s/o to @xyfanficarchive for the Daisuke ideas!!!! my muse…

Curly

Oh he gets it. Full understands what you’re going through. (You can’t tell me he isn’t on some sort of anxiety/depression meds or at least got a potential diagnosis).

Curly most likely predicted that a depressive episode was coming. Whatever your key “tell” is: whether you start pulling back, issues sleeping, more nonchalant, appetite changes, it starts setting off bells in his head and he’s prepping.

He doesn’t wanna outright ask “are you depressed?” (He doesn’t know how to approach the subject at first really). So he just acts/reacts accordingly. He makes meals, helps you shower/bathe (he’s not gonna force you every day but if you go 2 or more days without it he’s putting you in there himself).

He even does little things like making sure you wash your face at least once a day and brush your teeth too.

Honestly, he does enjoy taking care of you. I think this is how he’d show he loves you for real. Even when you’re at your lowest you’re worth caring for. (It also distracts from his own issues buuuuut. That’s another story.)

My only qualm is I think he has that “toxic positivity” mindset unknowingly. He’s always like “it’s gonna get better! you need to drink more water/take vitamins/work out!” (these are just things he’s constantly telling himself tbh).

But Curly isn’t stupid. Like he will quickly pick up that’s not working for you and not what you need to hear and shift into a “shut up and help out” mindset. He moves from self help mode to just being there for you. I really have this mental image of him just hugging you on the couch and talking about his day. Sneaking in a few kisses or just giving compliments. But also if you’re not into that he just rubs your back while you bedrot. You’re quiet but enjoying time together and you know he’s there for you.

Jimmy

Been there, done that.

Okay, but seriously. He’s not to pressed at first. He’s basically living between bouts of depression, general neutrality, and mania. So this just seems like an inevitable “phase” you gotta go through.

But this is what makes him the most realistic when dealing with this. Jimmy isn’t gonna baby you or anything. He’s just like “it be like that” forreal. And unlike curly he’s not gonna rebuttal with reasons why life is great and why you shouldn’t be sad, he’s gonna agree. You say life is shit? Yeah, Jimmy 100% agrees. You two commiserate and it’s actually really cathartic because for once someone doesn’t make you feel crazy for being so down when there’s “so much to live for”.

He self medicates when he’s depressed. You’re getting offered pills or alcohol or a blunt or something. Whether you take it is up to you.

I can say Jimmy, for once, would stay sober. If he’s in a good enough mental state he’ll take one for the team and trip sit you or whatever so you can get that nice dopamine rush in peace.

Jimmy thinks it’s insane that he’s doing this, but when you’re depressed, and like really depressed—going through one of those terrible phases he’s been through before, he genuinely feels sympathetic. And it prompts him to do things he never thought. By that I mean doing your laundry, cooking what he can, making the bed. He doesn’t really get why, but he wants to do this and only for you. He really is angry about the fact no one has done this for him when he was in the same boat, but the thought of you having to suffer like he did? Just no. He’s gonna pitch in. He just has to.

But again, he’s best for commiserating. You two bitch heavily about how much the world sucks over way too many beers on his back porch. Probably throw rocks or smash junk while absolutely hammered, too. Then the next morning you’re hungover as shit and spend the day recovering before it’s back to “it is what it is.” Like yeah, it sucks and you feel like shit, but at least you have each other in your corners. If one of you is still kicking, it’s only fair the other is too.

Anya

Like Curly, she knew this was coming a mile away. Anya is not stupid. She’s spent so much time with her nose in psychology books that she gets tipped off insanely fast.

Unlike Curly though, she wants to address the problem. Anya starts gently at first with a simple “are you okay?” It opens the floor for you to be honest. And if you aren’t willing to talk about it or if you mask it with an “I’m fine!” She just. Frowns. Anya does not believe it, but she’s not gonna force you.

Until you start with more textbook symptoms. Then she’s like “I think you might be having a depressive episode.” She’s not letting you dance around it by then. You two are facing this head on.

and the good thing is that you guys talk about it. Like actually talk. Anya listens, lets you say your peace. Nods in understanding and shows you she’s actively taking her time to understand you. Then instead of giving her two cents, she asks you what you want her to do. Anya wants to know how she can help you in the moment and in the long run.

And she does it! Whatever she’s able to, she’s gonna do it. Anya is a really reliable partner and just truly solid. It can be anything from sharing a shower, ordering takeout and chilling on the couch, or even if you just need her to be in the same room but leave you the fuck alone—she’s there for you.

She’s definitely recommending tips from psychology books too. Journaling, eating spicy foods, getting a little exercise if possible—you guys go down a laundry list to help kick this episode in the butt.

And then when the time comes, you two have a good conversation about therapy/medication. (Don’t worry she won’t offer to be your therapist and encourages you to see a neutral third party you can be honest with)

Daisuke

Okay…Daisuke is a bit of a mixed bag. I think he’s been sad, but not truly depressed.

He doesn’t catch the warning signs, so at first when it hits, Daisuke just thinks you’re in a bit of a funk. It’s okay! He’s been through this before. And he’s happy to help you out of it!

Daisuke takes you to the arcade, thrifting, maybe on a little shopping spree…but when that doesn’t work (or when he can’t even encourage you to do it in the first place), Dai hits a wall.

He’s confused. And worried. Really worried about you. This depends on you as a person and whether it makes you feel better or worse, but I think it’s very visible how your depressive episodes affect him. Until he really understands what it is and what it means, Daisuke’s really fretting when this happens.

And so…he voices that concern. “I just noticed that you seem sad. Like, really sad. And I don’t know what to do!” So!! He asks!! What can he do to help you? Or do you even want his help?

And whatever your answer is, he does it. He’ll give you reminders that he loves you, takes care of you, even binges shitty tv shows over even more terrible for you junk food. As long as he can just keep showing he’s there for you and that you’re worth it. That he loves you even when you’re at your lowest…that’s what matters the most.

And just being the goof he is, he’s gonna do things to make you smile. Dancing around the kitchen, showing you his playlist of funny TikToks, cracking some stupid jokes he may or may not have stolen from Twitter. Any time he can crack even a hint of a smile he’s fist pumping and celebrating.

And then…he is probably going to recommend therapy. (He has an awesome adhd therapist he’s working w so. He’s singing the praises for it to you.)

Swansea

Oddly enough I really see him similar to Jimmy. Swansea’s so realistic he’s just like “you’re depressed? Yeah life sucks, so what? You keep going.”

But he’s smart enough to not be like “just get off your ass”. He takes pity on you, whether he likes it or not. Seeing you out of your element does make him upset.

He’s a comiserater, but he’s always going to counter with like “but we keep going anyways.” And if you’re like “but why?” He’s like “why not?”

Like yeah, shit isn’t always good, so you settle for mediocrity. Because the mundane can actually be really nice. Swansea’s a simple pleasures man—good coffee, good food, good times spent relaxing either alone or with the ones you love. That’s what makes it all worth it.

Swansea’s like “you can have your little moments where it all seems like shit, but eventually you gotta face the music and go back to reality.”

He’s a very grounding presence, though. I’ll give him that. He’s also 100% going to cook for you. And you can tell he cares because he has difficulty leaving you alone. He hopes that you seeing him doing stuff. Persisting. That it’ll give you some hope.

and when you start getting more back to normal, showing interest again in your usual hobbies or responsibilities—you can see a weight visibly lift off his shoulders.

#mouthwashing x reader #mouthwashing #anya x reader #curly x reader #daisuke x reader #swansea x reader #captain curly #Jimmy x reader #jimmy mouthwashing #anya mouthwashing #curly mouthwashing

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sugawhaaa · 2 days ago

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JEONGIN SMUT HEADCANONS

Sex with Jeongin would...

[Dom ver]

Warnings//genre:: SMUT, oral, fingering, BDSM, spit play, sweat fetish, auralism, probably more I forget 😭

Pairing:: dom!jeongin x sub!fem!reader

A/N:: I accidentally used the same photo twice but...Shh I'm too lazy to re-edit the thingy. Also the tiles for each section are a little vague, it's just for the vibes

Skz masterlist:: 🎀

🎧::

Feel like::

☆-Jeongin is a sucker for deep and fast sex...like listen Jeongin can be impatient as hell and he just needs to get in there yk what I mean?

☆-I can see him being a bit of a tease with this like when he first goes inside he waits like a few second before just putting in all of his pent up lust into pounding into you.

☆-Jeongin has been getting big asf lately and I can see him kinda having a size kink, ofc in the sense that he's bigger than you, so doing things like lifting you by your hips or guiding your body by the waist is totally his thing.

☆-Messy kisses with a fuck ton of tongue while fucking you 😫

☆-he likes to put his hands around your face and neck area. Not deliberately choking but just asserting his control, you know? Also making a mess of your spit, dipping his fingers into your mouth and making you suck on them.

☆-some spanking every now and then ^^

☆-He loves to roam his hands all over your body, your tits, thighs, ass, tummy, back, wherever he has access to his hands are gently massaging.

☆-hes so gentle when taking your clothes off ggrrr but once in a blue moon he doesn't give a fuck, he needs you naked right fucking now.

☆-You'll find his fingers in your hair quite often. Sometimes it's to pull your head back and add just a twinge of pain or other times it's just to ground himself and pull your head closer to kiss you deeper.

☆-his fingers are so long and feel perfect against or in your body. He'd use this kind of method where he sorts through your folds with his fingers by gently gliding his finger down the seam of your pussy.

☆-his fingers also hit very deep inside you to the point he has to curl his fingers so he doesn't hurt you <3

☆-hes not very into anal or anything but he would like to put a vibrator in one of the two holes and then fuck the other 😩🤌

Sound like::

☆-this man loves dirty talk so much that he is just rambling and rambling the entire time in between moans and cries. He'd say all kinds of kinky things you wouldn't imagine him to say but...he does have a freaky side.

☆-"I love it when you make that pretty face" "stick your tongue out," "awh is my baby crying?" "Shh, it's okay, you can cum soon,"

☆-He really likes hearing the sounds of your bodies colliding in anyway, the sound of your tongues dancing, the bed creaking, his hips slapping against your ass, his tongue sorting through your folds, and the sounds you make when you suck him off 😩

☆-sometimes he'll play music in the background to set the mood as well, something lofi and more relaxing than sexual unless, of course, it's one of those real freaky nights.

☆-wet noises <3 when he fingers your wet pussy so deep and he can hear your arousal sorting through his fingers.

☆-hearing your moans is his favorite thing ever, he does anything and everything to make you moan louder and higher pitched.

☆-as I mentioned earlier he is a deep and fast kinda guy so you best believe the bedframe is often begging for mercy 😁 (imagine the headboard hitting against the wall all night while the members are just trying to sleep)

☆-whispering dirty words to you <3

☆-he curses a lot during sex, though he kind of feels bad about it. He wants to keep it romantic and passionate but when your walls hug him so tightly and your nails are digging into his back he can't hold back.

☆-"Oh fuck baby," "shit I'm close!" "God damn baby, you suck me so fucking good,"

☆-I can see Jeongin making a mix of noises between grunts, moans, growls, and so on, you get the point. He's very vocal though, loud and passionate, he doesn't hold back a thing.

☆-he isn't too into daddy type tropes but he does love calling you all kinds of things that make you feel small, like babygirl, darling, princess, etc. However he is into calling you mommy 👀 but that's for the next part

☆-basically to sum up this section, sex with Jeongin is loud and he loves embracing that fact.

Look like::

☆-hear me out...sweaty sex. I feel like he'd sweat quite easily when pounding you, sweat building along his hairline and down that sharp ass jawline 😩

☆-Sometimes I feel like people forget how sexy his body is, his thin waist that perfectly tapers to his sturdy hips and thick thighs, like come on.

☆-Most of the time you'll see Jeongin on top of you in the dark. The only light source being the night sky as he looms over you, his broad chest covering your body as his knees trap you between him 🥴

☆-backshots...also cumming onto your tummy as well 🤌 he does really like creampies but he loves messy sex even more. Usually in one session he'll cum outside and inside of you at least once each. A good balance.

☆-he loves loves loves making you squirt. That sexy face you make every time, the way your body moves on its own, the way you moan, it's everything to him and best of all, the mess you make, all for him.

☆-this may sound weird but I can see him smiling a fair bit during sex. After very explosive orgasms or when it just feels so good he has to smile with a little chuckle.

☆-bro would love shower sex, I firmly believe this, so seeing him all wet is a common occurrence during sex. His hair clinging to his face as water drops down his face and chest before pressing you against the wall to fuck you all over again.

Taste like::

☆-this man eats pussy so good, have you seen his tongue work on stage? He knows how to make a woman cum 5 times over in one sitting.

☆-I can see him being really sloppy when he eats you out, his saliva dripping down on his chin and all over your pussy.

☆-oral for him can be whatever really. Sometimes it's slow an sensual or romantic and sometimes it's more...erotic

☆-he loves hearing the sounds of his cock wedging down your throat though 😩 and he likes when you let him cum on your face or make cum bubbles etc, be messy.

☆-eating you out from behind >>> he'd get you to go on all fours and he'd come up behind you to make out with your cunt.

☆-he loves spreading your folds, thighs, or ass when eating you out, he needs to get right up in there.

☆-he's the type of guy to not finger when he eats you out, he doesn't need his fingers to make you cum, only his sweet tongue and lips.

#Spotify #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz fanfic #skz smut #skz x reader #skz jeongin #stray kids jeongin #yang jeongin #jeongin smut #jeongin #skz headcanons #stray kids smut #stray kids #skz

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sugurus-thoughts · 10 hours ago

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❅ pairing — soldier!nanami kento x nurse! reader

❅ summary — I'm dreamin' of a white Christmas. Just like the ones I used to know May your days be merry and bright. And may all your Christmases be white.

❅ w/c — 8,23k

❅ warnings — WW2, mentions of death,pain, heartbreak, takes during 1940's WW2, nsfw, angst,mentions of memory loss (amnesia), fluff, smut, MDNI.

❅ a/n — honestly I don't even know where to start, this is actually such a sad sorry I thought of I was inspired by the movies called The English Patient. I immediately thought of Nanami and how the story would fit him,i cried so much writting this but I hope you enjoy it, thank you for reading and please do tell me what you think!!! Merry Christmas to everyone out there!! 🎄🤍

❅ taglist — @getobitchs, @coffee-and-geto 🍰

15 December 1954

You were his everything. You still are. Yet here you sit in a stark white hospital, holding his hand, hoping that some flicker of recognition will spark in his eyes.

But his eyes. Just the weight of his gaze empty and unfamiliar, and the cruel reality that he does not remember you, not even your name.

The man you loved once looked at you as of the sun had risen in your smile. Now he looks at you as if you are a stranger. And still you remain here : wiping his brow, cleaning his burning wounds, reading him stories, trying to remind him of the life you once shared. Because if you let him forget, it would mean letting him go forever.

During

World War II - 1946

The slow rustling of doctors, nurses rushing as if a life was at stake,but you are— you stand there as your trembling figure tries to hold every little ounce of yourself together. Never have you thought the war would take such a toll on him. His body covered with bruises and burned marks, his scarring figure in pain—for you cannot bear to see him like this. Every bit of memory you have shared was not lost “My dear Kento”, as tears threatened to spill, like a snowflake falling to the ground and slowly disappearing… as if there was no trace.

“Y/N”, Mei gave you a small nudge as the tears pricked down at the corner of your eyes.

“Go sit down, we will take care of this”, your colleague helped you regain the little bit of strength you had left and set you in one of the chairs.

Never have you thought, your life would change, just by the snap of a finger.

16 December 1954

Slowly nightfall approaches as all the nurses and doctors that took care of him have been sent home, only for you to stay behind. It was your duty as nurse, to take care of him and your other patients.

“Y/N…”your friend Shoko and her husband Haibara appeared next to you. She was a doctor, and Haibara was a veteran just like Nanami. You smile softly at the two, for some reason they looked so perfect next to one another —something you wish you had in that moment.

“I'm… sorry, Y/N, if there is anything the two of us can do for you know that we are here”

Haibara pointed out and looked at his friend's lying body,as Shoko approached your frail figure in a hug.

The two of them, giving you an empathic smile as they left the hospital's doors. You stood there in your worn out uniform,as a few tears left your eyes.

❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅

Today was the day he returned to the hospital, just as he had every year for the past nine years. And yet, despite all the time that had passed, he still hadn’t regained any memory of you—not even your name.

Heartache crept into your chest like a familiar intruder, but you pushed it aside as you always did, wiping the tears from your cheeks. Memories of the life you once shared threatened to spill over, but there was no room for such thoughts now. Not when others needed you. You moved through the hallways like a ghost, checking on each patient, ensuring they were tucked in, safe, and resting peacefully.

Finally, your feet brought you to his bed, as if by instinct. His familiar form lay still beneath the dim light, and your breath caught when you found his eyes wide open, staring into yours.

“Thirsty,” he rasped, his voice hoarse but steady enough to make you spring into action.

You hurried to his side, lifting him gently as you pressed the glass of water to his lips. Despite his weakened state, his eyes never left yours. They held a quiet intensity that made your heart ache.

The silence between you was heavy, broken only by the sound of him sipping the water. You wished, desperately, that he could say something more, something that would spark a memory—a fragment of who you were to him. But his gaze, though warm, held no recognition.

“You’ve been crying,” he said softly, his voice rough but unmistakably tender.

You froze, caught off guard by the observation.

“I’m sorry,” you replied, brushing quickly at your eyes. “Nurses aren’t supposed to show emotion. I got carried away.”

But the truth was far deeper than that. Inside, your heart burned with the need to reach for him, to take his hand and beg him to remember. You longed to hear him say that it was all going to be okay, that his memories would return, that he would return to you. But the fear of his blank stare, of the emptiness where love once was, kept you silent.

“Could you read to me?” His voice broke through your thoughts, hoarse but so gentle it tugged at something deep within you.

Your smile faltered but didn’t fade entirely. “Of course. I always do.”

You reached for the worn copy of "Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman" , the same book you had read to him countless times before, both in the past and now. The edges were frayed, the pages soft with wear, but it was a comfort to you. It was the last thread tying you to the man he used to be.

As you read, your voice steady despite the tears threatening to spill, your heart ached. Every word, every line, felt like a plea to a man who had forgotten you. Was there any hope left after nearly a decade?

Suddenly, a hand brushed against yours.

You froze, your breath hitching as his fingers curled slightly around yours. His gaze met yours, and though his smile was faint, it was there. It wasn’t a memory—not yet—but it was something. A flicker of connection, subconscious and fragile.

So you kept reading, your hand still in his, holding onto that flicker as tightly as you dared.

17 December 1954

The next day, the hospital was unusually quiet. As the sun dipped below the horizon, you stepped outside for a moment to catch your breath. The cold December air bit at your cheeks, but it was refreshing after the suffocating warmth of the wards.

That’s when you saw them: the Lanterns.

Hung along the hospital’s stone walls, their golden glow flickered like tiny stars against the encroaching night. The sight stole the breath from your lungs, not because of their beauty, but because of what they reminded you of.

Lanterns. The lanterns.

Your knees felt weak as the memory came flooding back.

Before the World War II

14 February 1944

Borgo Fiorito is a small, picturesque town nestled in the rolling hills of Tuscany. Known for its cobblestone streets, vibrant flower boxes, olive groves, and a quiet town square with a stone fountain. It was quite small but nothing compared to its wonders it had to offer during summer and winters.

Not far from the small village—a historic hospital called Santa Maria della in Florence, an hour from Borgo Fiorito. It’s housed in a grand, aging building with high ceilings, wide windows overlooking the Arno River, and the faint smell of lavender from the surrounding gardens. The hospital rooms were simple, with a large window framing the rooftops and a hit of lavender which covered each window with its beautiful colour.

It was the little things that made this hospital bloom but during the cold midst or air that is when you clung to your cross, on— your knees begging to the heavens.

War.

It poisoned everything it touched.

Every corner you turned, it was there—etched into the broken faces of soldiers, painted in the dark crimson stains on your uniform, and carved into your soul with every life you couldn’t save. The halls of the hospital were a cacophony of suffering: groans of agony, the scrape of gurney wheels against blood-streaked floors, and the faint murmur of words spoken by men too weak to cry out.

Why must there be war?

The question haunted you, an ache that throbbed with every heartbeat. You asked it as you worked, stitching wounds and holding hands, as though the answer might somehow reveal itself in the lifeless eyes of those you couldn’t save. But there was no answer. Only the unrelenting march of chaos and death.

War turned men into shadows of themselves. It robbed them of their laughter, their dreams, their limbs, and often their lives. You hated it for its cruelty, its unrelenting appetite for destruction. The sight of blood had once made you queasy; now it was as common as water, soaking into your skin, your clothes, and the deepest corners of your mind.

The hospital was no stranger to the foreign men who stumbled in, limping, shattered, and pleading. They came from different places, spoke in fractured sentences, and carried photographs of families who would never see them whole again. And you—what could you do but try? Try to patch them together, to offer comfort, to shield yourself from the unbearable truth that it would never be enough.

You wanted to scream at the futility of it all. For every man you saved, there were ten you couldn’t reach in time. For every life you mended, there were countless others torn apart. War didn’t care about your efforts; it didn’t care about anyone. It swallowed everything in its path, leaving behind nothing but ruins.

And yet, you kept going. Not because you believed it would change anything—not because you believed it would ever end—but because stopping wasn’t an option. Because in the face of something so monstrous, all you had was your hands, your skill, and your humanity.

As you walked the halls, you tried not to think about what lay beyond the hospital walls: the battlefields littered with bodies, the towns reduced to ash, the lives that would never be the same. You tried not to think about how war had taken everything from you too.

But it had.

And still, you fought back in the only way you knew how.

Despite these inner conversations and confusion of the dark side of this world there was always a way to overcome these challenges and for you that was— family, friends and your faith. Although you have lost so much, you have also gained plenty more.

Like Him, during those times

Lanterns.

It was a warm summer evening in Borgo Fiorito, and the air was alive with the hum of laughter, distant music, and the faint scent of lavender carried on the breeze. The annual lantern festival was a cherished tradition, illuminating the cobblestone streets with golden light and bringing the small Italian town together under a blanket of stars.

You stood on a rickety wooden ladder, your arms stretched high as you tied a delicate paper lantern to a post. The lantern swayed slightly, catching the soft glow of twilight, and you bit your lip in concentration.

“Careful up there,” a deep voice called from below.

Startled, you looked down to see a young man standing with his hands in his pockets, his honey-brown eyes warm with amusement. He was tall, broad-shouldered, blonde hair, and unmistakably out of place in this little town. His neatly pressed shirt and polished boots stood in stark contrast to the casual attire of the locals.

“I’ve got it,” you replied curtly, adjusting the knot on the lantern.

His smile widened, revealing a hint of mischief. “Are you sure? Looks like you’re one strong gust of wind away from disaster.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the corner of your lips twitching upward. “I’m fine. Just hold the ladder steady if you’re so worried.”

He stepped closer, his hands grasping the sides of the ladder with steady confidence. “Consider it done.”

As you finished securing the lantern, you glanced down, catching his gaze for the first time. There was something about the way he looked at you—equal parts curious and captivated—that made your heart skip a beat.

“Thank you,” you muttered as you climbed down, brushing your hands against your skirt.

“Happy to help,” he replied, releasing the ladder and stepping back. “I’m Nanami Kento , by the way. And you are?”

You hesitated, the words caught in your throat. “Busy,” you finally said, a teasing smile playing on your lips as you walked past him.

He chuckled, falling into step beside you. “Busy, huh? Well, Miss Busy, do you at least have time to show me around? I just got stationed here, and I’d hate to miss out on the best parts of this beautiful town.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. “Stationed? You’re a soldier?”

He nodded, his expression softening. “For now, yes. But tonight, I’m just a man enjoying the lanterns.”

Something in his tone made your heart ache, but you didn’t press further. Instead, you gestured toward the square, where the festivities were in full swing. “If you’re not afraid of getting your boots dusty, follow me.”

Present

The soft glow of the lanterns outside the hospital cast long shadows across the snow-dusted courtyard. They swayed gently in the cold December breeze, their golden light reminiscent of the festival you hadn’t thought about in years.

You stood frozen, staring at them as the memory flooded your senses. For a moment, you were no longer in the hospital. You were back in Borgo Fiorito, laughing with him beneath the lanterns, your heart light and full of hope.

“Why are there so many lights?”

His voice pulled you back to the present like a tether,and you turned to find him standing in the doorway. His frail frame leaned against the doorframe for support,but his eyes—those honey - brown eyes were fixed on the lanterns.

“They’re lanterns,” you said softly, stepping closer. “They’re meant to bring light to the darkness.”

He nodded slowly, his gaze distant. “I’ve seen them before… haven’t I?”

Your breath hitched slightly, hope began to flare in your chest but yet you feared so much.

“I believe you have, yes”

His brows furrowed, in frustration flickering across his face as he rubbed his temple. “It's… familiar. But I…. can't”

“It's okay” your voice steady even though there was a storm within you.

“Don't push yourself. Just…. take your time”

He looked at you then, his eyes searching yours as if trying to grasp something just out of reach.“Were you there?”

Your heart clenched, and you forced a smile. “Yes. I was there.”

You wanted to tell him everything but you know that his recovery was frail and if you said anything it could ruin him just like that. Besides the storm that ruffles within you, you weren't going to shatter him.

“Let’s get you back inside,” you said gently, moving to his side. “It’s too cold out here, and we still have to wash you up”

He didn't protest as you guided him back to his bed, but as you helped him settle, he grabbed your hand, his grip surprisingly firm.

“The lanterns,” he murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion. “They mean something, don’t they?”

You swallowed hard, blinking back tears. “Yes. They mean hope.”

He nodded faintly, as you started to take off his badges. For a moment you felt hopeful again and the lanterns were the one thing that gave you that.

19 December 1954

The morning light filtered softly through the hospital windows, casting a pale golden hue across the quiet ward. In your hands, you carried a simple vase of fresh flowers—white camellias and sprigs of rosemary. Their scent, earthy and sweet, filled the air as you stepped into his room.

You placed the vase on the table beside his bed, arranging the blooms carefully. The flowers were a small act of devotion, a way to bring life and beauty into a place so often filled with sorrow.

The scent lingered as you worked, subtle but insistent, and suddenly, it hit you. You froze, your hands trembling slightly as the smell transported you back.

Before the World War II

23 June 1944

The olive trees stretched endlessly, their twisted branches heavy with silvery leaves. The world felt suspended in a timeless moment as you walked beside him, your steps crunching softly against the earth. The air smelled of ripening fruit and wild rosemary, a fragrance so intoxicating you could almost forget the war that loomed beyond the horizon.

He had asked you to meet him outside the village, promising a surprise. You had gone, curiosity outweighing your hesitation, and found him waiting beneath the shade of an ancient olive tree.

“This” he murmured and he inhaled the air, “is my favorite place in the word” as he gestured towards the tall grass of the field.

The rows of olive trees surround your figure out like an ocean green sea. The scent of wildflowers and sun-warmed earth hung filled your nose as you couldn’t help but smile at the smell,the faint chirping of birds could be heard in the background.

“It's beautiful” you whispered softly as if the words were only meant for you, turning to look at him.

But he wasn't looking at the grove. He was looking at you.

“Yeah”, he said softly yet so tenderly he whispered. “It is”.

The colour crimson dashed against your skin and he only smiled at your shyness.

He held out his hand,and you hesitated for a moment before taking it. Together you walked through the grove, hands swaying and you walked. The sunlight filtering through the leaves painting patterns on the ground.

“Why did you bring me here?” you asked tenderly.

He stopped, turning to face you fully. His expression was serious, but there was a softness in his eyes that made your heart flutter.

“Because this place is special to me,” he said, his fingers brushing lightly against yours. “And so are you.”

Your breath caught, the weight of his words sinking in. He didn’t wait for a response, instead pulling you gently toward a clearing where a single white camellia bush bloomed, its flowers bright against the green.

“They only grow here,” he said, plucking one and tucking it behind your ear. “Just like you. One of a kind

You giggled softly, the sounds didn't go unnoticed by his ears. “Now you're just making things up, stop”

“And if I say no?” he asked you teasingly. You couldn’t answer,not once as his lips quietly pressed against yours. Your hands slowly wrapped around his neck as his gliding their way to you hips pulling you flush against him

And in that moment surrounded by olives trees, wildflowers and camellia, you knew.

Present

The camellias in the vase seemed to glow in the soft morning light, their white petals pristine against the sterile backdrop of the hospital room. The scent of rosemary mingled with their delicate fragrance, weaving through the air like a ghost of the past.

You stood there for a moment, your fingers lingering on the edge of the vase as the memories washed over you. The olive groves, the sunlight, the way he had looked at you as if you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

A soft rustle behind you broke your reverie, and you turned to see him awake, his honey-brown eyes watching you from the bed.

“They’re beautiful,” he said, his voice hoarse but steady. “The flowers.”

“They reminded me of you,” you replied before you could stop yourself.

His brow furrowed, his gaze flickering to the vase. “The scent… it’s familiar.”

Your heart leapt, but you kept your expression calm, your voice even. “They grow in olive groves. There were camellias like these back in Borgo Fiorito.”

“Borgo Fiorito,” he repeated slowly, as if tasting the name. His eyes narrowed slightly, his hand twitching against the blanket. “I know that name.”

You took a step closer, your breath caught in your throat. “You do?”

He nodded faintly, his gaze distant. “It’s… it’s on the edge of my mind. The smell, the name… I’ve been there before.”

A flicker of hope ignited in your chest, but you forced yourself to remain steady. “Yes,” you said softly. “You have.”

His eyes met yours, and for a moment, they were filled with something you hadn’t seen in years: recognition, or perhaps the shadow of it.

“Were you there too?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart ached, but you smiled, keeping your voice steady. “Yes,” you said simply. “I was.”

He didn’t say anything more, his gaze drifting back to the flowers. But as he reached out and brushed his fingers against one of the petals, you saw something in his expression—a spark, a glimmer of the man he had been.

And as you stood there, watching him, you let yourself hope. Maybe, just maybe, the flowers would lead him back to you.

❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅

The night had settled in, cloaked in a shroud of stormy gray, the faint patter of rain echoing through the halls of the hospital. The cold crept in like an uninvited guest, seeping through every crack and corner, chilling you to your bones. You weren’t beside him this time. Duty had pulled you away, leaving him alone in the quiet of his room.

You moved through the dimly lit ward, tending to the others who needed you—feeding those too weak to lift a spoon, bathing those unable to move. Your hands worked tirelessly, but your mind kept drifting back to him. Was he sleeping? Did he call out in the night?

Finally, as your tasks come to an end, you let yourself breathe. Retreating down the corridor, you nearly stumbled into Shoko. Her presence was a welcome relief, a familiar face in the ever-turning wheel of your routine.

Her tired eyes softened when she saw you, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “You look like you’ve been through the wringer,” she said lightly, though there was an unmistakable note of concern in her voice.

You tried to smile, but it wavered. “I’m fine,” you murmured, brushing past her, but Shoko wasn’t convinced.

“Wait,” she called after you, her voice gentle but firm. “Come with me.”

You followed her, your legs moving automatically as she led you down the stairs to the small chapel nestled beneath the hospital. The tiny room was quiet, the storm outside reduced to a faint hum. The soft glow of candlelight flickered against the walls, the silence pressing down on you like a weight.

Shoko turned to you, her brows knitting together. “How are you really doing?”

For a moment, you opened your mouth to give the same rehearsed response, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, your chest tightened, and your carefully constructed walls began to crumble.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I—I can’t keep hoping, keep waiting. It’s been ten years, Shoko. Ten years, and he doesn’t even remember my name.”

The tears came then, spilling over like a flood you could no longer contain. Your body sagged under the weight of it all, and before you could collapse, Shoko was there.

Her arms wrapped around you tightly, pulling you into her warm embrace. “Let it out,” she murmured, her voice soothing. “You’ve carried this alone for so long. Let it out.”

You clung to her, the sobs wracking your frame as the storm within you broke free. Shoko held you without judgment, her hand rubbing slow circles on your back.

“I know it hurts,” she said softly, her tone laced with empathy. “I see it every day. But you’ve been so strong, stronger than anyone I know. And if anyone can hold onto hope, it’s you.”

You pulled back slightly, wiping at your tear-streaked face. “What if… what if it’s all for nothing? What if he never remembers me?”

Shoko cupped your face in her hands, forcing you to meet her steady gaze. “Then you’ll have loved him enough for the both of you. But don’t give up, not yet. He’s still here, and as long as he’s here, there’s a chance.”

Her words settled over you like a balm, soothing the raw ache in your chest. You nodded, swallowing back the lump in your throat. “Thank you, Shoko.”

“Always,” she said with a small smile, squeezing your hand. “Now, go to him. He needs you, even if he doesn’t know it.”

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself as you left the chapel and made your way back to his room. The storm had quieted, the halls now silent save for the soft hum of machinery.

When you opened the door, you found him awake, his honey-brown eyes meeting yours the moment you stepped inside.

“You’re back,” he said, his voice hoarse but steady.

“I am,” you replied, moving to his bedside. “Did you need anything?”

He shook his head faintly, his gaze drifting to the book on the small table beside him. “Will you read to me?”

Your heart clenched, but you managed a small smile. “Of course.”

You settled into the chair beside him, picking up Leaves of Grass. The words flowed from your lips, familiar and comforting, filling the quiet room. As you read, his gaze remained on you, and for a fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was still hope.

Finally he was asleep, you sigh with relief. Setting the book neck to you,as you open your bag to look for your dairy.

Usually, you would write in it but it's been longer than three months now. Opening the book you smiled reminiscing as you discovered little to do lists you wrote down for yourself. As you flip through, a pressed wisteria flower falls to your feet.

Your breath hitched, at the sudden sight.

The memories, of that day

15 August 1945

The village of Borgo Fiorito was in full bloom, its cobblestone streets lined with bright bursts of flowers and the scent of fresh citrus carried by the warm breeze. The war seemed like a distant shadow that day, as if the world had conspired to offer a brief reprieve from its relentless cruelty.

He had asked you to meet him in the lemon grove just outside the village. You found him there, standing beneath the canopy of trees laden with ripe, golden fruit. The sunlight dappled his face, catching the edges of his smile as he turned to you.

“You’re late,” he teased, though his tone was light.

“I’m not late,” you countered, your lips curving into a smile. “You’re just impatient.”

He laughed, the sound so rare and genuine it made your heart ache. He stepped closer, his hands slipping into his pockets, his expression suddenly serious.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to say,” he began, his voice steady but tinged with nervousness.

Your stomach flipped, the playful air between you replaced by something heavier, more profound. “What is it?”

He reached out then, taking your hands in his. His palms were rough, calloused from months of war, but his touch was gentle, grounding you in the moment.

“I don’t know what the future holds,” he said, his voice low. “The war, the uncertainty… It terrifies me. But the one thing I’m sure of, the one thing I’ll always be sure of, is you.”

Your breath caught, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

“I love you,” he continued, his gaze locked on yours. “And I want to spend whatever time I have left by your side. Will you marry me?”

For a moment, the world seemed to stop. The war, the fear, the chaos—all of it faded away, leaving only the two of you beneath the lemon trees.

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

He smiled then, a smile so full of relief and joy it left you breathless. He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as if afraid you might disappear.

The scent of lemons and wildflowers filled the air, the trees swaying gently in the breeze. It was a perfect moment,

But the moment wasn’t over yet. When he pulled back, his gaze softened, deepened, filled with an unspoken longing that made your breath hitch.

“Do you trust me?” the question came out vaguely as he held out his hand. You tilt your head to the side as if to ask him —I literally just said yes to marry you, how can I not? —he chuckled, when you put your hand in his.

After his proposal, the two of you had walked to the little cottage at the edge of the olive grove, your hands intertwined like they were meant to fit together. You could still feel the faint weight of the ring on your finger, its presence grounding you in the surreal beauty of it all.

Inside, the room was simple yet inviting—rough wooden beams overhead, the scent of lavender from a spring tucked into the windowsill, and the faint flicker of candlelight casting shadows on the walls. You had been nervous, but so had he. It was written in the way his hands hovered just above your shoulders, unsure of where to land, in the way his breath caught as you stepped closer.

“I…as you know I-I…” his stuttering got the best out of him as always. You smiled, as you kissed him. Your hands wrapped around his neck as he found comfort around your waist.

The kiss was slow, much more tender than usual almost as if he was being careful not to overstep any boundaries but you both knew tonight, there were no boundaries. You acted on your own as you jumped and wrapped your legs around his waist, a small giggled escaped your childish actions when he laughed while carrying you to the bed slowly.

He carried you to the bed with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

“I'm sure Kento,I've always been sure about you” you said as he looked you deep in the eyes, almost looking for a sign, any sign of hesitation.

You smile. And that was all it took for him. His lips found yours soft at first, tentative, as if he were afraid this moment would shatter. But then he deepened, the kiss and everything else melted away. You forgot the world outside—the war, the uncertainty, the shadows of tomorrow. In that moment, it was just the two of you, and it was enough.

The kiss grew so much his lips started making its way down to your collarbone. Kissing the skin softly, he kissed a certain part which made your hands find home in his hair and the sound that escaped from your lips was beautiful to him—it's as if he could hear an angel. His eyes never left your features as he sucked on that certain part—the simple sounds only rushed to his pants now becoming tighter by the second.

“Kento” a hoarse moan escaped your lips while his calloused hands, traveling down to the skirt of your dress. For a moment you looked him in the eyes, almost like a silent reassurance. His hands reached the corners of your silk underwear, “May I?” his voice laced with uncertainty but yet deprived from like a man's natural hunger.

You nodded softly as you felt the air hit your bare core.

Honestly you were very shy, he was the first man to see you like this,and he will be the last. With your dress still covering you,and for a moment before you could prepare he finally kissed you.

The spot where you needed him so desperately, your hands flung to the bedsheet as you gripped them hard so your knuckles turned white. Your breathing hitched as he licked you for a second.

“Kento,my love” he gave you a little hum, to acknowledge your calling upon him. You knew that at this moment he had lost himself within your waters. One of his hands found you intertwining your fingers with his, as he prepared you for his next coming mission.

Like a starving predator, he was devouring you as if you were his last meal. You back arching slightly as his name rolled off your tongue.

Never in your life have you felt this amount of pleasure. Yes you have sneaked off many times with your past lovers:kissing, caressing and canoodling but never like this.

This was your first time, your first time making love to a man you've loved so much.

Your moans grew louder by the minute, and your grip on Kento tightened.

“Kento, oh my…. my-my” a shiver ran down your back and you heard him mutter “ you taste so sweet” his lips came into contact with your clit, and he slowly sucked on it.

You could feel it.

The feeling of erotic bliss creeping into your. You were so until you felt him enter a finger. A low gasp escaped your lips

“Forgive me my love”, the apology sounded so sincere, while he penetrated through your walls.

Slowly that feeling started to build up again. Your hands flung to his hair, begging to find a solution to this feeling.

“Relax, for me sweetheart” he whispered against your wet womanhood.

The fresh scent of lavender surrounds your state,as the wind gushes through the window.

“Oh my god, you smell amazing” the sudden compliment threw you off guard. Your walls tighten around his finger, back arched fingers between the loose strands of his hair.

You whine, as you start to move your hips against the rhythm of his tongue and fingers. You were so close—that feeling was starting to dwell within you again.

Like a bliss you felt a release, your thighs shaking as you were coming down from the pleasure. Nanami held your hips in place and he kept lapping up your waters. You squirm, at the sensations you were feeling.

“So sweet, like lavender I swear”, he whispered against your thighs kissing his way up to you,only to find your foreman against your eyes.

“My love…” he murmured softly. Trying to remove your arms and what he saw could not compare to anything in this world.

Your beauty, it was your beautiful eyes that he so adored. It was the way your lips curved into a sudden smile even though droplets of tears seem to form at the corners.

He cupped your cheeks and whispered softly “You are so beautiful”

You shy away from his gaze,but he kisses you again. It's as if you can feel the love even through every little action.

His hands wander down, to your chest. The feeling of his rough calloused hands squeezed your fully clothed breast.

“Kento… my-my god” you moans against his lips. His lips traveled down to your chest, slowly unraveling the button. His eyes never left yours, just to be sure that you were okay with this.

Your dress discarded on the floor, you fully naked in front of him was something he always imagined but never thought he could have. His eyes darted down your figure, taking in every single detail, every scar, every single birthmark. You were beautiful— laying there lips parted, half lidded eyes, nipples erected just for him. Only now he realized that you finally belong to him, and that he is finally yours.

“Kento, you know it's rude to make your fiance wait” a teasing smile spreads across your lips

How could you just lay there and look so beautiful. He smiled and took off his briefs, your eyes ranking over this masculine figure l, your eyes widened slightly at the sight of his manhood. You swallow, loudly enough for him to hear,only for him to smirk at your reaction.

Finally reaching you, he leans down framing your head with his forearms. You gasped, feeling his torso against yours,the feeling of it against your thigh was enough to make you wonder if it would even fit.

The pad of his fingertips traces patterns against your cheek , his eyes searching for any concerns.

“Kento… ” your tone is so soft and low, wondering if you'll ever get the chance to say the words. “make love to me” as you looked into his eyes.

The confession itself made it clear that you wanted just as much as he wanted you.

“I promise I'll go slow”

The weight of his words lingered in the air, and finally he kissed you. The kiss wasn't as tender as it used to be. Instead there was passion, desperation and a pleasant force of love. Your hands flung around his neck as his hands slowly ran down the silhouette of your body, settling against your hips.

You could feel his member lining towards your entrance. One push was all he needed and that's what you felt, him finally stretching you out slowly. For the first time you felt it, and it was painful, yet so pleasurable.

His eyes found yours, with such concern. He mumbled “Are you okay?” you could only nod and smile. He kisses your temple before he withdraws slowly, but then pushes again the pattern following thoroughly—but steady.

At first it was as if you were dying from pain but now as the rhythm of his slow and gentleness suppresses you could only feel pleasure seeping through and that wasn't enough.

“Sweetheart I hope you don't mind, but I'm going to move a bit faster” his half lidded eyes ranking your features.

He kisses you again as the rhythm of his strokes begins to increase.

“Kento….ahhh oh my god” you moaned loudly.

“You feel so good, god Y/N” it's as if his hips were snapping with pleasure. You could feel every bit of him so deep within you.

Your breath hitched, quickening with every movement, as he angled his firm length to press against a spot that left you trembling.

“I know, I know sweetheart” he says as he kisses your now wet skin slowly making his way to your breasts,sucking the soft flesh as he continues his ministries.

“Kento I can't - can't” you moaned loudly, the stinging sensation was there. Your hands searching for anything to grip on,he kissed you so suddenly the pleasure overwhelmed you.

Your eyes met for a brief moment as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear. You feel the rhythm of his hips, while his heavy member keeps pushing into you.

The feeling of his groin rubbing against your clit ws enough to send you into the stars.

“I'm so close,sweetheart” you heard him whisper “tell me you're close, oh just tell me you're almost there” he continued.

And you were, “Kento…. I…I think I'm gonna-” you couldn’t finish your sentence as you felt him thrust against that one spot. Just like that you came, your thighs shaking to the core. Your toes curl and your hands find their way to his hair gripping onto him for dear life, not even soon after you feel long strings of ribbons follow after you,with the sounds of Kento’s groans stringing along with your name.

Moments pass, moments of silence where you both could hear the sound of birds singing. It wasn't morning but it's as if they were singing for you—after your wonderful bliss.

Afterward, you lay tangled together under the thin linen sheets, his arms wrapped protectively around you. The cicadas sang their nighttime song, and the moonlight painted silver streaks across the floor. He traced lazy circles on your back, his voice a soft murmur in the darkness.

“Mia Stella” he whispered to you.

You tilted your head to look at him,you frowned and he laughed at your confusion.

“You’re my guiding light in all this darkness, my star.” he whispered to you as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Kento…” you couldn’t help but be emotional, tears started to build up again.

“You really are the light of my life, Y/N” he said again and in those final moments, you knew that you were his and he was yours.

Present

The hospital room was quiet save for the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. You sat by his bedside, your fingers brushing against his as he slept, your mind still lost in the memory of the lemon grove—the day he proposed, the night you gave yourself to him completely. It lingered in your chest, both sweet and devastating, knowing that he didn’t remember it.

You reached for his hand again, searching for the man you once knew in the warmth of his skin. But as you turned his wrist slightly, your eyes caught the faintest mark—a thin, pale scar wrapping around the back of his neck.

You froze.

It was the scar left by the chain of the locket you’d given him all those years ago.

Your breath hitched as your heart clenched, and in that instant, you were no longer in the sterile, somber hospital room.

1 Day

Before the World War II

13 September 1945

The train station buzzed with the chaotic energy of departure. Soldiers in uniforms stood in lines, their faces hard with resolve or softened with barely hidden tears. Families clung to one another, desperate to stretch seconds into minutes, minutes into hours.

But for you, the world had gone still. All you could see was him—Kento, standing there in his olive-green uniform, his jaw tight as he avoided meeting your eyes. His hand gripped the strap of his pack, his knuckles white from the effort.

“Do you have to go?” you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of everything unsaid.

He finally looked at you, his amber eyes softer now, filled with sorrow and love. “You know I do.”

The tears you had fought so hard to hold back began to spill as you clutched the small locket in your hand. You’d chosen it for him the day he received his orders, a tiny token to keep him grounded, to remind him of home. Of you.

“Then promise me,” you said, your voice cracking as you fumbled with the chain. “Promise me you’ll come back.”

He reached out, his rough hands gentle as they closed over yours, helping you fasten the locket around his neck. The silver pendant rested just below his collarbone, glinting in the weak sunlight.

“I promise,” he said, his voice steady even as his eyes betrayed the fear and uncertainty he couldn’t voice.

You threw your arms around him, burying your face in his chest as sobs wracked your body. “Don’t let it take you,” you begged. “The war… don’t let it take you from me.”

His arms came around you, holding you tightly, as though he could shield you from the cruelty of the world. “Nothing could ever take me from you,” he murmured into your hair. “Not really.”

But as the train’s whistle pierced the air, cutting through the haze of desperation, you felt the lie in his words. The world could take him from you—just as it was about to.

When he pulled back, his hands lingered on your face, his thumb brushing away the tears that refused to stop falling. “Stay strong,” he said. “For me.”

You nodded, though your chest ached so fiercely you thought it might shatter.

The final whistle blew, and with one last lingering look, he turned and climbed aboard the train.

You stood there on the platform, clutching yourself against the cold as the train pulled away, its wheels screeching against the tracks. He leaned out of the window, his locket catching the light as he waved to you.

And then he was gone.

Present

19 December 1954

Your breath came in shallow gasps as you blinked back into the present, your hand trembling as it hovered over the faint scar on his neck.

That locket. You remembered how he’d sworn to return with it, to bring it back to you when the war was over. But he never did.

Tears welled in your eyes as you swallowed hard, the ache of that day at the train station crashing into you like a tidal wave.

“Kento…” you whispered, your voice cracking. “Do you still feel it? Somewhere, do you still feel me?”

He stirred slightly, his lips parting as he murmured something too soft for you to hear. The faint motion pulled you back, grounding you, though the pain in your chest lingered.

Wiping your tears, you leaned back in the chair and opened Leaves of Grass again. Your voice wavered as you began to read, the words trembling with the weight of love, memory, and hope.

You didn’t stop. You wouldn’t stop.

Because you still believed—somewhere deep in your heart—that the man you loved was still in there, waiting to find his way back to you.

25 December 1954

The morning sun filtered through the frosted hospital windows, its weak rays casting a golden glow on the endless white expanse outside. Snowflakes drifted lazily from the heavens, blanketing the earth in a serene stillness. The halls of the hospital buzzed with quiet activity, nurses exchanging soft smiles as they wished each other a Merry Christmas. You, too, wandered through the corridors, stopping at each room to offer gentle holiday greetings to the patients.

But your heart felt heavy.

It had been days since the flood of memories had overwhelmed you, each one more vivid than the last—his smile under the lemon trees, the sound of his laughter, the warmth of his embrace. You carried them like fragile glass in your chest, terrified that holding them too tightly might shatter you completely.

Today was Christmas, a day of hope and miracles, but for you, it was just another day to face the ache of loving someone who didn’t remember you.

With trembling hands, you approached his room, your heart thudding in your chest. The small, wrapped gift in your hand felt heavier than it should have. It wasn’t much—just a token, a gesture—but you’d hoped it might bring a flicker of light to his eyes, even if he couldn’t recall why it mattered.

Pushing the door open quietly, you stepped inside. He was sitting up, his body still frail but his presence strong. His amber eyes turned toward you, and for a fleeting moment, you thought you saw something there—something familiar, something real.

“Merry Christmas,” you said softly, forcing a smile as you approached his bedside.

He nodded, his lips curving into a faint smile. “Merry Christmas.”

You placed the gift on the small table beside him, your fingers lingering on the ribbon as you tried to steady your breath. “It’s not much, but I thought… I thought you might like it.”

He tilted his head, studying you with an intensity that made your chest tighten. “You’ve been crying again,” he said, his voice hoarse but gentle.

Your eyes widened, caught off guard by his observation. “I’m fine,” you whispered, shaking your head. “It’s just… the season. It brings back memories, that’s all.”

His gaze lingered on you, and for a moment, the silence between you was suffocating. Then, he reached out, his fingers brushing yours as they rested on the edge of the bed. “Tell me,” he said.

“Tell you what?”

“About the memories,” he said, his voice quieter now. “About… us.”

Your breath hitched, tears welling in your eyes as you struggled to find the words. “Kento, you—”

But before you could finish, his hand tightened slightly around yours. “Mia Stella,” he whispered.

The world stopped.

You froze, your eyes snapping to his as your heart began to race. “What… what did you say?”

“Mia Stella,” he repeated, his voice stronger this time. His eyes, once clouded with confusion, now shone with a clarity you hadn’t seen in years. “That’s what I called you. My star. You were my light, even in the darkest times.”

The tears you’d been holding back broke free, streaming down your face as a sob escaped your lips. “Kento…”

“I remember,” he said, his voice cracking as his own tears began to fall. “I remember everything. The lemon grove. The nights under the stars. The way you always smiled, even when I was too stubborn to. And I remember… how much I love you.”

You collapsed onto the edge of the bed, your hands clutching his as you wept. “I waited for you,” you choked out. “For ten years, I waited. I never gave up, even when it hurt, even when I thought you were gone forever.”

He reached up, his hand trembling as it brushed against your cheek. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “For all the pain I caused you. For making you wait. But I’m here now. I’m here.”

You leaned into his touch, your tears falling freely as you nodded. “You’re here,” you echoed, your voice breaking. “That’s all that matters.”

He pulled you closer, his arms weak but steady as they wrapped around you. “Mia Stella,” he murmured again, his lips brushing against your temple. “You’re my everything. You always have been.”

For the first time in a decade, you felt the weight of your heart lift. The man you loved had returned to you—not just in body, but in spirit.

And as the snow continued to fall outside, blanketing the world in white, you held onto him, knowing that this Christmas was a miracle you would never forget.

It was the White Christmas he had always promised you.

©suguru's-thoughts 2024, do not copy or translate my work. Art work does not belong to me and my deviders are from the lovely @adornedwithlight 🍰🤍

a/n — I will not lie the dates got me mixed up but I hope you enjoyed this story it was so nice to write but yet so emotional. Feel free to comment your thoughts one this :')✨

wanna be on my taglist, comment 🍰🤍✨

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starlighttsv · 1 day ago

Note

request: Paige and reader making gingerbread houses, lots of fluff etc <3 ty

Day 4

Gingerbread - p.b

Sum: building gingerbread houses with Paige

Warnings: fluff

Note: I didn’t know what to put in this story and I wrote it when I was about to fall asleep so I’m sorry if this sucks

Pair: Paige x gf!reader

Wc: 640

My masterlist

“Nooo” you whine out when your gingerbread house falls again, making Paige chuckle “karma” Paige says amusingly making you glare at her. Before you can say anything though her house also falls down “haha karma” you say pointing at her and she just shakes her head staring at the edible house in disappointment

You on the other hand immediately get back to work on trying to make your house stay put so you can decorate it - Paige eventually does the same.

“Why’d we decide to do this as todays holiday activity? This is just making me mad.” Paige says as her house falls again “Because it’s fun” you reply back starting to ice the roof of your house “Where’s the fun? I’m not having fun.” Paige reply’s back sassily making you look away from your house and make eye contact with her

“You just need to have patience. The house will stick eventually.” You start making her roll her eyes “Don’t roll your eyes at me, you know I’m right! My house fell down like ten times, you watched it fall each time. But I didn’t give up and now look at it! You’re giving up and you don’t have patience so obviously it’s not sticking.”

She just huffs while staring at the house and then eventually leans forward grabbing the icing and starts trying to carefully ice and place the cookie pieces together.

“Finally!” She yells excitedly after around another 20 minutes, throwing up both her fists in the air “babe look” she says with excitement in her voice, making you look up from decorating the door on your house to see that her house is standing upright…finally

“See? What’d I tell you? Patience.” You say looking at her house and then back to her, she rolls her eyes amusingly with a fond smile on her face “No need for the ‘I told you so’ moment.”

“Yes there was” you reply back starting to go back to your house but you turn your head to face her again before doing so “good job it looks great” you see her smile cheekily before turning and going back to decorating your own house

After some time you both finished decorating your houses and obviously cleaned up the mess, once you guys were done doing that you both decided to lay on the couch - Paige laying her head on the couches armrest with you laying in between her legs with your head on her lower stomach

You both decided to watch some Christmas movies, so with one of her hands massaging your scalp and her other one rubbing your back - you’re almost asleep but not quite there yet

“You know you can go to sleep right? I don’t mind” Paige says not stilling her movements, you mumble a response while rubbing your thumb in circles on her bare stomach. She just carefully lifts your head up and away from her stomach holding your head up for you with her hands on your cheeks “say that one more time?” She asks you meaning about what you mumbled “I’m not tired” you say mumbling still just not as muffled since your not talking into her stomach

“Uh-huh, then can you tell me why you’re about 10 seconds from falling asleep with your head in my hands?” You just groan instead of answering knowing you can’t get yourself out of this one, you pull your head out of her grip and scoot up on her now laying your head just above her heart

With her hands back to massaging your scalp and rubbing your back and now on top of that - hearing her heart beating in her chest, you’re out like a light.

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x fem!reader #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers x reader #paige x reader #uconn x reader #wnba x reader #paige bueckers fic #starlighttsvchristmascountdown

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 2 days ago

Text

Sweet like chocolate

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 23

Prompt: Hot Chocolate

Rated: T

Tags: Post-Vecna; Vampire Eddie; Bloodbank Steve; Sexual Tension; Blood Drinking; Pining; Eddie has a crush on Steve

When Eddie walks into the living room, Steve is on the sofa with two mugs sitting on the table.

“Finally,” he says. “I thought they'd get cold before you moved your broody ass down here.”

Eddie grinds to a stop.

“What the fuck?” he finally mutters, inching closer like a wild animal smelling a trap. The scent that hits him makes his stomach give a violent, empty lurch. Sweet and creamy and heavy. “What's this?”

“Hot chocolate,” Steve replies, picking up one mug to take a generous sip. The other one, he nudges towards Eddie. “You said you used to like it.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says slowly. “Used to. That's the problem, Steve.”

He did. He used to love hot chocolate. The sweet, rich taste of it, the whipped cream and marshmallows on top. It used to be one of his favorite things in the world.

And then he died.

Which blows on so many levels, really. He can't go out in the sunlight, he's always freezing, and he must’ve given himself approximately two dozen accidental lip and tongue piercings before he figured out how to draw in the fucking fangs.

But the absolute worst part are his newly acquired dietary needs.

So yeah. Maybe he's been a bit grouchy about it. Which probably isn't entirely fair to Steve.

After all, the guy has not only opened his home to him, offering him a place to lie low while the rest of the Party figure out this unfortunate situation. He's also been offering so much more.

“I thought we might try something,” Steve's voice tears him from his thoughts. When he pats the free spot next to him, the collar of his sweater slips, revealing the never-quite-fading bruise on his neck. “Sit?”

Eddie does. He doesn't think Steve realizes how much he'd do, simply because he asked. Steve takes another long sip from his mug, then gestures for Eddie to take the other one. There's a thin film of whipped cream on his upper lip, and Eddie finds he needs to look away.

“What are you trying to do?” he mutters at the little marshmallows in his cup. It's warm as he takes it and cradles it between his cold hands. His fingers never seem to get warm anymore. “Tease me? You know I can't drink this.”

“I know,” Steve confirms. “But you can pretend.”

Eddie wrinkles his brow at him.

“You know how you told me that you can sort of … tell when I've had lots of sweet or spicy stuff to eat?” Steve asks. The bruise on his neck darkens as he blushes, just a little. “How the taste is different? I thought we could- … I know it’ll probably not be the same, but…”

He trails off and averts his eyes, suddenly bashful, and that’s the exact moment it clicks into place for Eddie.

“You want me to feed while you drink this? Like what, second-hand hot chocolate?”

Steve snorts, blush darkening. “Yeah, nevermind, it was a stupid idea.”

He makes to get off the sofa, but Eddie holds him back with a hand around his wrist. He’s absurdly strong, these days, but he’s learning how to control it.

“It’s not stupid,” he blurts before Steve can say anything else. “I… It might work, but …Are you sure?”

Steve smiles. “Sure, why not? You feed from me all the time.”

But not like this, Eddie wants to say. Not all soft and cozied up on the sofa, with the lights low and hazy, Steve's warmth bleeding into his own, cold skin. Not like it is anything other than a strict necessity. Not like it means anything.

“Yeah,” he hears himself mutter. His body develops a mind of its own, inching towards that warmth, that thrum, as if pulled on an invisible string. “Yeah, you're right.”

“Right,” Steve says. He, too, sounds just a little breathless. He takes another long gulp of his drink, throat bobbing, and Eddie feels his fangs slide out and saliva gather on his tongue, hunger coiling low in his stomach like a living thing. And then, Steve puts down his mug and leans back, baring that perfect long neck, and the hunger explodes into pure, primal want.

He's in Steve’s lap before he even knows he moved, fangs piercing the familiar spot. Steve's taste floods his senses, sweet and rich and heavy, and so, so addictive. He moans, and Steve’s pulse kicks against his lips. Steve has gone perfectly still - bar for the light hitch of his breath, the barely there stutter of his heart, the minute twitch of his fingers in Eddie’s hair, almost like he's trying to draw him closer. Almost like he's enjoying this.

It's torment, forcing himself to pull back, but Eddie does it. For a few seconds, they sit and stare at each other, jagged breaths mingling in the space between them.

“Good?” Steve asks. His pupils are large and fuzzy, his lips pick and lightly parted, still with traces of whipped cream clinging to them. Eddie wonders if his body would reject it if he licked it off.

“Yeah,” Eddie whispers. “Yeah, great.”

The mug is still in his hands, warmth seeping into his fingers, his arms, his blood. He leans in.

And the walkie on the table crackles alive.

“Steve? Eddie?” says Dustin’s voice. “Do you copy? We've got something you should see.”

Eddie groans as Steve slips out from under him and stands.

“Hey, don't pout,” Steve says, taking the walkie. “Maybe it's a lead on how to turn you back. Let's go check it out. I can make more hot chocolate once we get back.”

Then, he's gone, talking to Dustin on the walkie while he runs off to get his car keys. Eddie stays on the sofa until he comes back and throws his jacket in his face.

For the first time in weeks, he isn't cold anymore.

More holiday drabbles

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfic #steddie brainrot #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddie holiday drabbles #hype's holiday drabbles 2024

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baronessvonglitter · 2 days ago

Text

Quiet in the Woods

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: 1.9K

Summary: You've mouthed off to Joel one too many times. He finds a way to shut you up and release some frustration.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit. The whole thing reeks of dub con. Dead Dove Do Not Eat. Unprotected piv. A couple of clit slaps. Name calling (slut). Orgasm denial. Rough sex. Belly bulge. Breeding kink if you squint. Facial. Come eating. Slight teabagging. Panty gagging. Nipple play. Breast slapping. Fingering. Oral (f receiving). Squirting. Overstimulation. Veiled threat of gang rape. Mean, snarky, frustrated Joel and bratty reader. Reader has breasts and vagina but is otherwise undescribed. No use of y/n. Joel's POV.

Author's note: This was the fic that burrowed its way into my brain last week and I may have made Joel more mean that I intended, but I think the majority of us can say we love him that way.

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

"Joel, are you crazy? We're in the middle of nowhere, what if-"

He cuts you off with his heavy hand clamping down over your mouth, quickly following with a easy slide of the first few inches of him into your warm and wet cunt. Your moan vibrates against his palm, and when your hips tilt up, a wordless offering of yourself, he presses deeper, two more hitched thrusts until he's bottomed out, cock nestled nicely between your puffy pussy lips, your cotton panties pushed unceremoniously off to the side.

You hadn't needed much to get you going. Shit, you were wetter than Niagara Falls once he'd teased you with his fingers. And with the necessity of staying quiet he needed to be quick as well.

A hasty check of the surroundings and he's focused on you again, grunting as you squeeze around him. From the look in your eyes he knows you're just trying to get him to cum, and not in a 'you really need this, Joel, please use my tight little pussy to relieve some stress, and oh by the way, thank you for being so selfless and guiding me through the apocalyptic wilderness, you're the best!' kind of way.

No, you're definitely pulsing your tight little hole around him to tease him, to goad him into shooting his load, and he isn't going to give you the satisfaction..

He pulls out leisurely, making sure you feel every inch in the sweet, slow drag of his cock, until just his tip is at your soft, welcoming entrance. He taps the broad crown of his dick onto your nether lips and grins when you whine under his clamped hand.

"Be. Good." He slaps your clit with his cock, emphasizing each word.

You mumble something under his palm and he pretends he can't understand you as he pushes back in, letting you feel the entirety of him in one go. "Good and quiet, little slut," he grunts, setting a vicious pace.

One leg of your jeans is still on, your bare leg hooked over his shoulder, foot still in its boot, laces dangling untied. Joel spreads your other leg, wanting you spread wide so he can see himself ramming you.

He pulls your shirt down, freeing your tits from the bra cups, using it for leverage, watching your tits bounce with every rough thrust. Beneath him you're moaning in time with each merciless snap of his hips.

Joel does another quick check, slowing as he does so, and as he's distracted a moment he catches too late that you've snuck your hand down to your clit to rub yourself, get you there faster.

"I don't think so," he utters, moving your hand away. "Keep your hands up over your head. I can't fuckin' do everythin' for ya." You grumble beneath his palm but do as you're told.

Something primal in him is pleased when you obey him, but he knows you well enough to suspect you may have a trick up your sleeve. You can still coerce him with your cunt, which is now currently stuffed with him, the wet and slimy sounds of your slick unmistakable proof that you wanted this long before you got on the ground.

"This is what you get," he punctuates those words with jabbing thrusts, "when you don't. Stop. Runnin'. Your. Fuckin'. Mouth."

Fuck being quiet. Joel needs to taunt you, lord it over you that you're spread out beneath him, folding easier than a cheap lawn chair. You were probably getting under his skin just so you could get under him.

He knows it's safer in this sparse area of woods rather than that little trail by the river where you'd first started bitching about your feet hurting, or was it your head.. point is, he found a better use for you, one that suits his needs and will shut you the fuck up for once.

He watches your eyelids flutter, the way your body tenses when he knows he pushes in too deep, too close to that soft and tender part. Just to fuck with you he lets the tip of him brush against it, the head giving it a couple light kisses, watching you squirm in both pleasure and pain. "Dead end, huh sweet cheeks? C'mon, you know you like it. You ain't never been a 'just the tip' kinda gal."

Joel places his free hand on your belly, just at the waistband of your panties. "Feel 'im in there? Givin' him a nice lil' home, aintcha? C'mon, feel 'im." He takes one of your hands and presses it down to the bulge in your belly that grows as he thrusts home.

"Your thighs are quakin', baby. You close?" His voice is almost mellifluous in its teasing, and he laughs when you glare at him. "Hey, you started this. Knew you'd end up under me one day if you kept yappin' and complainin'."

You growl beneath his palm and he tightens his grip on you just a bit, enough of a warning. I can fuck you or you can risk getting us killed. You must have decided on the former, because you become so sweetly pliant beneath him again, your hips moving against his, his hand vibrating with your muffled cries.

For a flash of a moment he considers burying himself deep in you as he comes, painting your walls with every drop that's been storing up in his balls, giving it all to you whether you want it or not, and watching it slowly dribble out of your wrecked pussy. He'd love that. Probably even get hard again just at the sight of it.

But you're already annoying enough on your own, and such a fucking yapper that he knows he won't risk putting a baby in you - just one more mouth to feed and one more thing that won't shut up.

"Fuck," he grumbles as he realizes he can't hold back any longer. He moves up and kneels over your chest, stroking his cock, sticky with your creamy mess. Eyes shut tight he works himself until that tingly feeling creeps up into his balls and he opens his eyes just in time to see his cum squirting onto your face, your own eyes shut tight, lips pressed together in a frown.

He doesn't stop until he's covered your entire face, pleased with the way it starts to drip down the sides and into your hair, down your chin. Only when he's empty and his dick softens does he smile down at you. "Lookin' so pretty like that. Keep your eyes closed, now. Got a little somethin' on ya." You open your mouth to sass him and some of it slips between your lips. Joel chuckles as he watches you greedily stick out your tongue, seeking more of his taste.

"Somethin' better than Chef Boyardee, ain't it?" he teases, knowing you're growing tired of eating expired tinned food. "Plenty more where that came from, darlin'," he says, plopping the heft of his ballsack on your lips and growling when your pink tongue pokes out to lick it. "All right, enough," he grunts, stuffing himself back in his boxers and jeans. He's not about to let you take the upper hand and get him hard again.

He takes out his knife and cuts off the remains of your panties. "Not like you'll need these much anyway," he says, imagining bending you over in front of a tree whenever he takes a notion, just to get it out of his system. It's really the only thing you're good for.

In a rare show of gentleness he wipes his cum off your face with your panties, both of your fluids combining, absorbing in the material. "Better now?" he smirks when you open your eyes and fix him with a death glare. "Uh-uh," he whispers, silencing you with his finger. "Quiet. Just fuckin' nod."

Still glaring, you nod.

"And say, 'thank you, Joel.'"

"Fuck y-"

He cuts you off with his hand over your mouth. "I know why you're so ornery, darlin'. You ain't come yet, huh? How.. ungentlemanly of me," he says drily. "Open up," he instructs you, and stuffs your panties, smeared with your arousal and his come, into your mouth to quiet you.

"I'll be nice this one time," he says, moving down your body. He briefly thinks of kissing his way down, but he doesn't want you to think he's the romantic type. Who has time for that? He does however swirl his tongue over your nipples, your breasts still on display from where he'd pulled your bra down earlier. He sucks them each greedily, using his teeth to get them nice and hard, then slaps them to watch then jiggle, and to watch you squirm under him.

"You're just full of kinks, aintcha? How the fuck you think a kink is gonna serve you out here in the wilderness?" A few more slaps of your supple flesh and he moves down between your thighs again. Your cunt is still drenched.

"Don't even gotta rev up the engine again," he says in admiration, swirling one finger around your sopping, wrecked hole. "Not that I'd mind. It's kinda fun seein' ya all worked up and ain't nothin' you can do about it."

Joel dips his head to your quivering cunt, watching it clench around nothing. "Always needs somethin' stuffed in there, don't she?" he smirks. "Consider yourself lucky I'm feelin' generous today."

He presses two thick fingers in, hearing your muffled moan, noticing the greedy tilt of your hips. "You look so pretty like that, y'know.. I oughta find a way to gag ya permanently." He starts pistoning his fingers before you can try to utter a word, and soon you're putty in his rough hands.

"You're mad at me, I know," he says soothingly. "But you must like what I'm doin', else you'd be fightin' me, using what strength you got to push me to the ground. Little sunflower, you like this." And he pushes his hand violently, grinning at how wet you are, the glossiness evident on your inner thighs. "Hear how she's rejoicin'?" he says over the sloppy sounds your pussy makes as he plunges his fingers in over and over.

He bows his head between your legs, tasting you, tickling your clit with his tongue, adding the sweet little pressure he'd kept you from exploring for yourself just moments ago. Your body bucks beneath him, your cries still muffled, and he imagines how needy and loud they'd be if he didn't want to attract attention.

A spray of liquid hits him, only making him go faster, eager to see how many more times you can squirt as he wipes his face with his flannel sleeve. "There she is," he mutters, keeping up the pace. "You didn't really need to stop for water earlier, I can tell you're plenty hydrated. Ha, well, were." He makes a mental note to give you some of his own canteen water once you're done. Just because he doesn't want you passing out on him.

You come two more times under Joel's relentless fingers, only warding him off when you twist your body away, crying due to oversensitivity.

"Aw, that's all?" he feigns disappointment. "Did real good, sweetie. But stay on my good side. I won't hesitate to loan you out to some raiders if you start gettin' mouthy again, hear me?" He removes your panty gag and helps you to stand, watching as you arrange your clothing.

"Hey, hey, don't gimme that look," he warns. "You were askin' for it. Now.. you gonna be good?"

You nod.

"And quiet. Repeat it."

He relishes the evil glare you give him, and if looks could kill he'd be dead on the spot. "Quiet," you repeat with an icy tone.

dividers by @saradika-graphics 👑

tagging those interested from the wip: @milla-frenchy @itwasntimethatdidit40 @slimybeth69 @almostfoxglove

@almostempty @604to647 @sunshinehaze1

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller tlou #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal cinematic universe #ppcu #ppcu fanfiction #ppcu fics #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character

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