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hyperdramas · 1 month ago

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pitapat | lee seokmin

pairing: lee seokmin x reader

warnings: non-idol!au, boyfriend!seokmin, sleepy!seokmin, bratty!seokmin (not really, reader calls him that once), domestic fluff, kissing, pet names/nicknames (reader uses 'babe', 'seokkie'; seokmin uses 'love', 'angel'), seokmin lays in reader's lap, sleepy!seokmin is a menace (a cute one nevertheless), waking up seokmin for the day proves to be a hard task for reader, cutesy morning antics ensue

now playing: pitapat (dkdk), fromis9 (see what i did there)

a/n: that first picture did something to me when i first saw it i'm gonna use it again just you wait☝

word count: 1063

"Seokmin, please get up." Sighing, you draw the curtains open, letting the sunlight stream though as your eyes automatically squint at the bright light.

Even though today is Saturday, you and your boyfriend have a lot of errands to run—groceries, buying dinner preparations, making book returns, scheduling a house hunting day, and cleaning your house for Seokmin's parents' visit were all on the itinerary for today, and you had to start now or you'd be behind schedule.

Due to your sleepy boyfriend's antics, though, you were close to being twenty minutes late.

"Seokkie, we've got to get moving. We have to go buy groceries and dinner preparations or we're not going to have a good lunch or breakfast later today." You shook him softly as he groaned, turning away from you as he continued to sleep, unbothered with your plea.

After a few minutes of tidying your room and hoping Seokmin would wake you, you resorted to kissing him all over—his arms, his legs, his cheek, and everything—to let him know that it was time to get up and start moving.

But, of course, your loving boyfriend hadn't moved an inch.

Seokmin was a heavy sleeper on weekends, and he wasn't one to stop routines out of the blue—it was almost already 10 am, and you had wanted to leave the house at 9:40 to get a headstart, but Seokmin had still not gotten out of the bed yet.

The sun was streaming through the windows too, birds chirping and singing along with the breeze—you were surprised the sunshine boy himself wasn't stirred by the warmness on his tanned skin, but he was sleeping like a rock, sharp nose buried into the soft pillow.

As you sighed, he let out a little snore like his was purposefully taunting you and the fact you couldn't wake him up with just your words.

Shuffling to the bed (still in your pajamas since you obviously weren't going anywere), you pile on top of him seconds later, pulling a groan from out of him as he starts to wake up.

"Seokmin, we've gotta go. We've got errands to run, babe." Your hands find a comfortable place on his neck, playing with the curly locks of hair resting at the nape of his neck.

"Angel, let's stay home, please?" Seokmin goes quiet for an odd amount of seconds, as if he's still sleep, but you know he's stirring, as his deep breath becomes more shallow and his muscles tense under you.

After a few seconds, he starts to turn on his back, and grasping the memo, you dive to the side, avoiding nearly being squashed by your cute yet very built boyfriend.

"Do we have to? I'm tired, angel—so sleepy and so comfortable and warm here," Seokmin's voice is groggy from sleep, but he still affords to let out a cute whine, to which you laugh and push the strands of hair from his eyes. His eyelashes flutter against his skin before his eyes open, revealing bleary and wet dark brown eyes.

"Yes, we have to, Seokkie. You want to make your mom's seaweed to surprise her, right?" Seokmin is half-asleep, eyes sharp and half-opened as he nods slightly, barely even moving his head.

He moves slowly in his spot, finding your lap before he adjusts his head to be laying on your lap. Your hands fall on his hair, moving the strands back from his face again as he nuzzles into your lap. Giggling as his face tickles your thighs, you push him away, leaving a limp Seokmin to continue to sleep for a bit more as you check your phone quickly.

Time was slipping away from you more and more, and you sighed, putting your phone away as you turned back to the impending task at hand: waking Seokmin up.

You press your warm finger to the corner of his resting eyes to get rid of the sleepiness from his eyes. "You need to get up and get ready—you have sleepiness residue, you know."

Seokmin lets out a small giggle, lips turning into a tired half-smile as he finally takes the initiative and tries toopens his eyes, stretching like a cat as his arms tense and he groans. "Sleepiness residue? What's that?"

"You know, the small crusts that form around your eye when you sleep, Seokkie," You sigh, obviously not exasperated for real as Seokmin chuckles at your explantation. "Sleepiness residue—I've never heard it be called that."

Sighing again at your boyfriend's slow yet tired mind, you start to get up, seemingly pulled back in bed at the second you have the thought to leave. Seokmin reaches his arms out to you like a tired baby, a pout on his lips as he still struggles to open his eyes.

"I like sleepiness residue, love. I wan' more." Seokmin's words start to slur, signaling his departure again. You act quick, slipping your hand behind Seokmin's stationary head and struggle to lift him up for a second before you lay him on the headboard.

"Seokmin, please. I need you to get up, babe." You say firmly, and Seokmin glares at you, eyes sharp and half-lidded yet making your heart flutter as he frowns. "I need my coffee."

"Lee Seokmin—don't you dare get bratty with me." You say, and Seokmin mumbles something sleeplingly, adding "I'm not," at the end of whatever he just said.

And here comes the onset of "Bratty 'I need it now' Seokmin", you think to yourself.

"And you will get your coffee, babe, I swear it. Now please—will you get up?" You quesetion, and Seokmin pauses, pretty eyes rolling in annoyance as he reluctantly agrees and makes his way out of the bed and into the bathroom.

"Fine." Seokmin has a pout on his face, and you kiss the corner of his lips before kissing him directly on his lips a few times. "Thank you, babe, I appreciate it." Seokmin doesn't reply, obviously a bit cranky at the fact that you woke him up early.

Seokmin always seems to recover from his tantrum when he's had his coffee, and you had a surprise waiting for him—two iced americanos and a pack of warm powered donuts at Seokmin's favorite coffee place.

"I love you, Seokmin. I hope you know that, babe." You remind him, and he nods, mumbling a sad "I know." as his mouth is still stuffed with a toothbrush. Pecking his lips—and earning the softest, cutest smile from your boyfriend you've think you've seen—the two of you finally get ready for the day.

taglist: @kyeomssant, @realmofclouds, @oojiehae, @kstrucknet (comment to be added!) || comments, reblogs, and likes are always appreciated! don't be shy to pop up in my inbox either <3

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seventeenreasonswhy · 2 months ago

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bf s.coups reacts to your scars ❤️‍🩹

CW: self harm (pls take care 🫶), angst / fluff, seungcheol is the sweetest

~850 words

AN: This just came to me for some reason. I feel like S.Coups would be so kind in this scenario. He's always reminding CARATs of how precious and worthy of love we are, and he's right! ❤️❤️❤️

Seungcheol had been noticing that you wore long sleeves a lot. When you’d first started dating, it didn’t even occur to him since it was winter. But as it got warmer outside, he wondered. “I run cold,” you would smile, shrugging it off if he tried to broach the subject.

The first official weekend of summer arrived, and he took you on a date to a tennis match. You looked so cute in your summery, sporty tennis skirt. The pattern on the skirt matched the bright berry color of your... long-sleeved top.

“Y/N,” Seungcheol smiled at you when you got out of your car, but quickly frowned at what you were wearing.

“It’s going to be like 100 degrees,” he said when you reached him.

“You don’t feel chilly?” You said, nonchalant. Seungcheol squinted at you. The sun was beating down so hard, anyone would be sweating. He’d worn over 50 SPF sunscreen and a baseball hat that day, it was supposed to be so brutal.

“Y/N,” Seungcheol’s tone shifted, and you felt a slight catch in your chest. He’d stopped walking toward the tennis court bleachers, and you turned to look back at him.

His face was darkened, and you felt like something was off...

“What?” You said, trying to maintain some composure, despite his shift in mood making you uneasy.

“C’mere,” he said, softer than you were expecting. Your face crinkled in confusion, but you made your way toward him. When you got close enough, he softly took you by your forearms.

You nearly jumped out of your skin—you had a feeling he might be wondering about this. It was something that came up in all of your relationships eventually. Your scars. You did your best to cover them up, not exactly because you were ashamed (although, you were admittedly working on that with your therapist), but mostly because you didn’t want to explain. You’d seen too many people, well-intentioned as they might be, get uncomfortable or not know what to say or how to act around you. You felt like it stuck a sign on you that might as well say “damaged goods, do not touch.”

Seungcheol’s gentle grip squeezed you ever so slightly.

“Here, let’s go sit in the car,” he said—you hadn’t realized he was standing so close to you. The grip on your arms wasn’t harsh... but he didn’t handle you overly-delicately either. But still, you couldn’t help but feel panicked. What if he didn’t... get it? What if it turned him off...

“I’m sorry—” you breathed out. Seungcheol stepped back a bit, his grip now supporting your weight. He had a feeling that the reason you wore long sleeves all the time was because of something painful, but he hadn’t anticipated you looking so shaken up.

“Don’t worry,” he said, as reassuringly as he could. “I’m not trying to put you on the spot.” He breathed the words so softly, only you could hear him. You looked at him, still feeling slightly nervous, but something in his eyes made you relax a little. He didn’t seem angry, or eager, or like he was pitying you. The warmth in his eyes was simply... there. Like he was saying, Don’t worry.

Once you were both seated in the car, away from any passersby in the parking lot, you decided it would be best to just rip the band aid off. You pushed the sleeves of your athletic top up, showing the faded but persistent scars along your forearms that you had managed to hide from almost everyone for a long time. He looked at them for a moment, his face remaining placid, only slightly tinged with concern. You start babbling, trying to explain that they were from a long time ago, when you were younger and more lost than you are now... but after a moment, you felt his fingers wrapping around your forearms again as he traced some of the scars with his thumb.

“Thank you for sharing this with me,” he said in a quiet voice, a small, grateful smile on his face that shot straight into your heart. you didn’t know what to say, and were mortified to feel a lump in your throat inching its way up. no one had ever thanked you for this information.

“it’s nothing,” you said, your voice shaking slightly.

“it’s not nothing,” he said simply, as he brushed a hand through your hair, noticing that you were on the verge of tears. “you went through something very difficult, and handled it the best way you knew how at the time. I think it’s really admirable that you’ve come this far, and it means a lot that you shared this part of you with me.”

His kind words had a genuineness to them that sent you over the edge. You didn’t know what to say, and Seungcheol didn’t mind. He brushed a tear away from your cheek with his thumb.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said, lacing his fingers in yours.

#seungcheol #choi seungcheol #scoups #scoups imagines #scoups x reader #scoups x you #scoups x y/n #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol fluff #seventeen seungcheol #seungcheol angst #svt angst #svt fluff #svt reactions #svt choi seungcheol #seungcheol x you #seventeen fanfic #cheol

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last-starry-sky · 8 months ago

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too sweet pt 3 - innocent!reader x graves

(original idea inspired by this post by the lovely @shotmrmiller - part 1 here - part 2 here)

NSFW - MIND THE WARNINGS - MDNI: (slut shaming, a lil bit of body horror-ish stuff, pov switches, lots of pet names (as per usual lol), dub-con if you squint (reader is a bit drunk so ymmv), fingering, look me in the eyes and tell me graves isn’t the type of guy to pack heat 24/7, i’m really leaning into how much of a virgin reader is so buckle in, no hard smut (again, sorry lmao))

You were standing around the kitchen island with your mother. It was your usual morning ritual, but this morning was different somehow. You just couldn’t place it. Things seemed . . . weird. Off. Just a little to the left of normal. Like how the sun felt a too bright, blasting in the front windows like a floodlight, far too bright for the early morning.

You squinted at the bleached out white walls and shiny tile floor as your mom was cradled your face in her hands. They were cold. Your cheeks were cold. You shuddered in her grasp, peeling her off you as you stepped back. Your foot hit the leg of a stool behind you. You plopped down, falling right into the cushioned seat.

“How was it sweetie? You have fun?” she said picking up her coffee cup with a smile so wide you wondered if it was hurting her.

Her voice is unbearably high-pitched and sweet; like cold syrup pouring in your ear. It took you a moment to realize you had heard those words before, that this was not a dream.

It's a memory.

Oh yeah, you realized, this was the morning after you went on your first date. You felt the stupid smile you had walked in with return to your face. Your first date with Phil.

The thought of him warmed your brain. His hand in yours as he led you to the front door. How he’d let you doze off in his car on the way home. How warm and protected you felt laying against him by the bonfire. The memory was comforting, creating a mix of pleasant feelings in your chest.

“Yeah mom,” you replied automatically, “had a lot of fun.” It was the exact answer you had given her that morning.

Her hands clenched around her steaming coffee cup, knuckles white.

“Tell. me. how. it. went.” She said punctuating every word, smile gone taught; practically carved into her cheeks.

Weird, a rouge blip of a thought came to your mind. Those were the right words . . . but her voice, the way she said them. It was far too terse. This was not how you remem-

“Really good,” you responded on queue, still dreamy and automatic. It was like you were on a track, all of the lines already set and all you had to do was say them as they came, no matter the parts of your conscious brain screamed at you that something was wrong. You have to stop. You have to stop now.

“That’s good!” she said flipping back into her overly-happy demeanor so fast it gave you whiplash. “He seems like such a nice man. Your dad just wouldn’t stop talking about him after you left!”

That was . . . normal. You still felt weird, squirming in your seat and looking at your hands just to look at anything but her. Maybe if you kept going everything would go back to norm-

“He is nice,” you said before you could stop yourself. “So nice. I’m glad you both like him, too. We want-”

She interrupted you.

"Oh, but I don’t, honey.”

“What?” you gasped off script, cracking away whatever part of the memory had it’s tenuous hold on you. This isn’t how this went. You remember this morning. You remember what she said. You know-

“You heard me. Whore,” she said, smile dripping off her face. Her words were like a black hole. Void of emotion and sucking you in with a terror like oblivion as the unreal brightness of the room turned dimmer and dimmer behind her.

Your mouth fell open. You tried to do something, anything: turn around, backpedal, run, but you couldn’t. Of course you couldn’t. You never can run away in a dream. You were forced to watch your mother’s face swirl off into the cheery kitchen around her as her voice turned acrid and shrill.

“Don’t play dumb with me you little slut.” Her eyes falling inward into black pits that shone back at you. Mirrors into your own guilty soul. “I know what you do when you’re alone in your room. I can hear you. And now, even that’s not enough? Look at you. I spent all that time, raising you right, taking you to church, putting the fear of God in you, and still you ended up like this. What would your father think if he saw you now? Letting a stranger touch his daughter, in public no less!”

“Mom!” you managed to gasp out, cheeks burning. How did she know? How did she find out?

“Don’t mother me!” her squaking, multitudinous voice called out, echoing around the little kitchen as a pit twisted deeper and deeper in your gut.

“You think you’re still my little girl? Look at where you’ve done. What you’re planning to do.” You felt like God himself was there shaming you. The cup shattered in her hand, spraying blue ceramic in slow motion. “I sure hope you enjoy your night with him because you’ve made your own bed now.”

The truck sways, bouncing up and down and then left to right, waking you suddenly from your soft, childlike sleep. You hear Phil mumble a quiet ‘sonofabitch’ above you as he corrected the truck with his left hand while squeezing your waist protectively with his right. You’re still right where you’re supposed to be: cuddled safely into his chest.

You crack open your eyes a slit. The cab is dark, interrupted only by the irregular pass of streetlights that flooded the cab suddenly with light only to plunge it back into inky, silent dark a second later.

You can feel his bicep flex, tensing to hold you close, behind your head. When he’s got the truck back safely in his lane, his muscles in his arm relax. He sighs into your hair and you feel his hand move back down to your thigh, the rough skin of his fingers slowly stroked at the exposed skin south of your skirt. You sigh softly, shivering at his touch, burying your face in his shirt as you stretch yourself in his lap.

His hand stops when you move, turning to look down at you. It lays there, warm and strong, on your thigh.

“I wake y’up, sweets?” he asked, his breath rustling your hair.

You squirmed in his lap as you shook your head, stretching your neck and wiping at your eyes. His hand tensed on your leg.

“What happened back there?” you asked sleepily. The alcohol had made your tongue heavy and clumsy in your mouth. You could still taste strawberries when you swallowed.

“Ah. Oh that? Just a . . . just a log in the road,” he said with a pause and a shrug.

He patted your thigh once before reaching up to take the wheel with both hands. He let out a soft groan as he canted his hips, shuffling your body on top of him as he readjusted himself in his seat. His eyes were focused straight down the road. It made you sad to lose his touch but you understood. Out the windshield you could see the road he was driving you down, if only what was illuminated by the headlights. Pine trees thickly lined both sides of the unfamiliar two lane road, interrupted only by the odd set of mailboxes that signaled a line of houses down hidden dirt roads. Everything was dark green and black. No stars. No moon. You didn’t know he lived so far out in the country, but then again, you had never been brave enough to ask.

“You okay?” you asked quietly, still not quite woken up. You wrapped your arm around his ribs, relaxing into him, stealing his warmth.

“Yeah,” he said moving his left hand, letting it drip down the steering wheel until it just barely hung off the bottom. “Musta been a raccoon or somethin’ in the road. Got distracted.”

He let go of the steering wheel, bringing his hand to grip your thigh where his other hand had been just a few minutes ago, right on the hem of your skirt. His thumb swiped back and forth, gently tracing from the soft, sensitive skin of your inner thigh to the top of your leg. The motion sent tingles racing to your core. You moved your leg a fraction of an inch to relieve the pressure but had to bite back a moan. Oh no, you thought tipping your head against his chest. You could feel how wet you still were.

“Saw it too late ‘n had to swerve,” he added as an afterthought. You wondered if he had taken his eyes off the road to watch you now; if he could see you with your eyes closed, lip caught in your teeth, blissed out and squirming against his leg.

He spread his fingers, pressing his warm palm flat to your leg, as he brushed up under your dress. You let your head loll back against his bicep behind you, unable to to keep your next moan from escaping.

“Now I got you distractin’ me,” he said with a hiss into your hair, sliding his hand up further. His fingers brushed at the edge of your panties. You squirmed under him as he danced ever so close to where you wanted him. Needed him.

“Phil,” you sighed.

You were just about to crack, to grab his hand with your own and make him touch you, when he stopped, resuming his absent stroking.

“Hold on jus’ a little bit longer, darlin’,” he said with a squeeze to your upper thigh. “Last turn’s comin’ up.”

He slowed down fractionally, taking a wide left turn that swayed the whole truck, the driver’s side wheels falling down into the slope of the ditch before pulling back onto the road. You bounced in his lap as the truck transitioned from the rough, but still somewhat maintained, concrete country road, to dirt and gravel. The trees lined the narrow road even closer than before, choking out the light from the increasingly rare streetlights.

He took his free hand out from your dress, nudged in between your legs and his pants and adjusted himself. He closed his eyes for but a moment and groaned as he palmed his cock. It made you blush, you weren’t exactly used to men acting like this around you, but it also made you wickedly excited. He was like this because of you. You had made this strong, older man, a soldier, race you home on a dark rainy road just so he could get his hands on you.

He put his hand chastely on your waist for a moment, flexing his fingers into your skin. It was as if he was weighing his choices. When you sighed into his touch he let out a held in groan. His choice was made. He skimmed his hand down your body to the press of your legs. When he got to the edge of your dress, he slid his hand under, bunching it against his sleeve as he sought out his prize.

It was the tip of his middle finger that first grazed your pussy. It made you jump, his touch punching out a gasp even through the cloth of your panties. He kept going, pushing his whole hand to palm at your warm, aching core. He ground the bottom of his palm against you, fingers stroked at your weeping hole, earning a pitiful whine into his chest. The brute, indirect pressure was making your legs shake.

You grabbed at his arm, looking up at him with pleading eyes. His eyes stayed stubbornly on the road. “Phil . . . please,” you begged. “Please-”

He cut you off by twisting his hand, curling his fingers under the waistband of your underwear to stroke at your silken folds in a single, fluid motion. You clenched, nails digging into his arm as you squeaked out a silent Ah as your eyes flew shut.

The truck slowed to a crawl, headlights swaying back and forth, illuminating the same frame of unfamiliar road and dark, foreboding trees, as he concentrated on slipping his fingers through your untouched pussy. His ability to drive completely shot. You were lost too in the overload of new sensations. Your wetness covered his fingers, dulling the rough texture of his skin. He used his strength to press almost too hard as he made a circuit through your labia, up to your clit, finally swirling down and around your hole. You’d never had someone else touch you there, and even your own “experiments”, alone and frustrated in your bed, hadn’t yielded very much pleasure. But this, the tingling, shooting pleasure coiling tight in your core that had you open-mouth panting. This could be something.

He took his remaining hand off the steering wheel to wrap both his arms around you, leaving his whole body flexed on to the brake like a vice. He pressed his face into your hair as he rolled his hips against you with a moan.

“Fuck, baby,” he said with a flick of his fingers across your clit that made you flinch. He was completely blissed out - his voice rough and heady. The combination made you shiver against him. “Fuck. We can’t-” he said tipping your jaw up, forcing you to face him again as a blush crept over your cheeks, “-can’t do this here.” He pressed an open mouthed kiss against your lips before pulling back, his nose sliding against yours. “Open your mouth for me now, babydoll,” he said taking his hand away from your pussy to peel your bottom lip open with his thumb, your own slick painting your jaw.

Somehow, someway, he did manage to pull his brain out of his cock and drive that last stretch of road to his house. As much as he had wanted to throw his plans to the wind and just fuck you in the truck he reminded himself that this was your first time. He needed to make it good for you.

No high school specials tonight. That wouldn’t make you stay.

He let himself indulge in one more sleepy, dazed kiss before he mechanically went through the motions to shut off the car. Slide the clutch into park, unbuckle, radio off, lights off, turn the key in the ignition. He had to move you off his lap to get out first before he could scoop you back up into his arms to bring you inside. When he leaned in to pull you out he saw his jacket crumpled into the corner of the passenger seat. You nuzzled your head into the crook of his neck, almost ready to fall asleep again. A corner of your bright purse stuck out. It was tangled inside his jacket, almost completely hidden. He hugged you tight to his chest as you shivered from the misting rain. Your phone was probably in there too.

Shame, he thought as he slammed the door shut with his free hand, you’ll probably be looking for that in the morning.

He didn’t set you down until he got to the front door, not that you protested. Your useless heels would have sunk into the mud of the lawn anyway. It was still cold night despite the weather clearing. He liked feeling of you shivering against his side in the dark as he unlocked his front door. It wasn’t longer than a moment before he had the deadbolt and door unlocked, shooing you inside ahead of him.

You ambled in, tipsy and disoriented, in the dark, heels clacking in an unsteady gait across the wood floor. He listened with amusement as you made your way around his unfamiliar home with only the sparse outside light to guide you. Sometimes he forgot how dark it could get out here in the country.

He stopped at the dinner table, taking his time, unloading his usual carry: wallet from his left pocket, phone from his right. Each made a light clink against his keys as he tossed them onto the table. He reached around his back and unclipped his holster from inside his slacks. His clip followed shortly. They both made a weighty thunk on the table. He rubbed at the sore spot the grip had worn into his back, suppressing a groan. It didn’t help that his holster had slid to the middle of his back, making him adjust the way he sat the whole drive home with you wriggling in his lap.

Once his watch was off his wrist and his shoes kicked behind him, he walked silently back to the door and locked the deadbolt. The sharp CLACK of the metal had always been comforting, but now, it was exciting. A sign that everything was ready. That you were safe now. Finally. he thought with a sly smile creeping across his face. Locked inside his home (could be yours too, in a heartbeat, if you asked). With no one around for miles to bother you. Right were you were always meant to be, darling.

The only safer place you could be is wrapped in his arms, and he planned to remedy that problem as soon as he found you.

It didn’t take much of a hunt to find you. You’d made a light thump as you found the end of the couch with your hip in the living room and had decided it was as good a place as any to lean against. He had to give you credit, you had hauled yourself up onto the arm of the sofa all by yourself. It was almost cute to watch you struggle to keep your balance as you reached down for your ankle straps, little frustrated noises falling from your lips.

He was quiet in his socks. He could tell you hadn’t heard him when you jumped as his hand touched your knee. He laughed at it as he slid up your thigh boldly.

“Phil . . .” you said grabbing his belt, looking up with pleading eyes.

“Need help, baby?” he teased, trailing his hand back down to hook under your knee. You let out a gasp, crumpling his shirt at his waist as your fingers clamped suddenly together. He held your hips with his other hand, hiking your leg up to his hip, allowing him to smoothly slot himself in between your legs.

This was going so fucking well.

It took a little bit of fiddling in the dark, but he managed to unclasp your left heel, letting it fall with a loud THUNK against the floor. It didn’t help that there was not another sound in the house beside your rasping breaths. You were such a cute little thing like this: holding on for dear life, whining into his chest, barely able to breathe already. He smoothed his hand up your leg until it met his other hand at your waist. He couldn’t help but give you a little squeeze. You yelped, head shooting up out of his chest to lay your pleading eyes on him.

He pressed his advantage immediately. He chuckled and leaned down to peck a gentle, toying kiss on your lips. His hand was already moving down to your remaining shoe as he pulled away, a small, disappointed oh falling from your lips. This time, he wouldn’t let you hide. He moved his hand from your waist to the small of your back, rough fingers catching on the smooth, clingy fabric of your dress. You were red cheeked and panting, a small ah all the noise you could make, when he pressed you forward, forcing you flush against his front. Only an inch of needy, heated space separated his cock from your barely-clothed pussy and, good fucking God, did he need it.

Need it. Need it. Fucking need-ed-it.

Your ankle in his hand, he deftly popped your hip open. He tilted forward that last, cloying centimeter to feel you. His eyes fell shut as he pressed to you with a groan. You were so warm. He could feel it through his pants. You let out a shamefully high-pitched whine in return. He felt his trapped cock jump in his pants. He was throbbing and, fuck, so were you. He couldn’t feel it yet, but he knew you were wet. How could you not be? All that excitement in the car had to have your pussy working overtime.

Your second heel fell to the floor.

“Phil . . .” you whined in the silence that followed, pawing at his sides and back. His dress shirt made soft swishing noises under your nails. It was almost like music.

He chanced looking down at you. Fuck did you look gorgeous. Your skin shimmered in the dark with sweat. The first thing that caught his eye was your breasts pushed against his ribs, that little silver cross hidden safely away, swallowed entirely by your chest. Your eyes were huge, with pupils blown wide and glassy with tears as you looked up at him. You were chewing on your bottom lip again, the irritation making it all the more red and kissable. The more blissed out and needy he made you, the more irresistible you became.

A perfect, vicious circle. A positive feedback loop.

He let go of your ankle to place his hand on your cheek. You were beyond flush, more like burning. When he felt you fold your leg around his hip of your own volition he couldn’t help but feel satisfied. He rutted forward into you. It was a rough pleasure that did almost nothing for both of you, but it was something. A tease in this slow, slow dance he had been leading you on, a preview of what was to come, maybe even a reward for holding on this long, for doing so so well.

“Doin’ okay, sweets?” he asked, petting your burning cheek with his thumb.

You nodded with a bat of your lashes. You straightened your back suddenly to make yourself taller when you saw him leaning down to kiss you. You were still so excited, enthusiastic.

Trusting.

He let all the chains come off. Long gone were the quick, chaste pecks at your front door. The ones that drew you into him. A delicate summer moth hypnotized by a porch light, never to escape. Even the “real” kisses he’d had with you outside the restaurant and in the truck were blown away. He held your jaw open with an iron grip while he forced his tongue in your mouth. He was sloppy, aggressive, taking what he wanted. He would only momentarily break away to nip at your open, panting lips, before diving back in. It amazed him how submissive you were. You weren’t fighting him in any way, just let him control everything while you let out an occasional moan or whine. It took him longer than he wanted to admit to figure out why that was.

You’d never been kissed like this before. How could you have an opinion on how you liked it when you’d never- Fuck, he forgot. How could he forget? You’d never done anything before. He’s got a little virgin in his hands, whining and squirming, practically begging for it.

Hmm, he thought. Could he really . . . could he make you beg for it?

He squeezed the side of your thigh as he rolled another thrust against you, groaning against your lips. You yelped at the pain of his fingers biting into your skin, but it dissolved into another high-pitched whine. Fuck, could listen to that all night. Your legs tightened around his waist, keeping him close.

“Phil,” you sighed as he rolled his hands up your thighs, dragging your dress up with it. “Phil please.”

Oh fuck, he thought. She’s really going to do it.

“Please what, darlin’?” he asked hoarsely, resting his forehead against yours, watching you squirm as he tried to pull your dress out from under you.

“Please . . .” you trailed off shyly, trying to make him stop by pawing at his hands. Not that you could.

“Gotta tell me what you want, sweetheart,” he said voice drawn gruff and dry.

He balled the stretchy fabric of your dress in his fists and pulled. It resisted, pulling ever so slowly from where it was trapped under you. The sound itself was delicious tension. More music to his ears. It was a long, soft noise as the knit stretched to it's limit in the quiet of the room. You tried to turn your head away, to hide your pants and whines, but he prevented it by shoving his face into your neck. He kissed and nipped at your neck until, without fanfare, your skirt popped out from under you.

You slammed a hand to his chest before he could make another move. This time, he obeyed you.

“Phil!” you plead, red faced from embarrassment, “Can we . . . can we not- um can we go . . . ” You caught your breath for another couple moments, wiggling your knees on either side of his waist, before turning to him. “Can we do this in your bed . . . please?”

He hauled you up by your thighs, throwing you up onto his chest without another word. You scrambled to throw your arms around his neck as he backed away from the couch.

“Yes, ma’am,” he whispered into the side of your head.

#mw2 #graves/reader #graves x reader #cod fanfic #starry writes #call of duty #cod mw2 #here i am once again blue-balling my audience by delaying the smut for another chapter :)#sorry this took a fucking month i was outta my groove #also. just lookit me using dividers and shit like a real author #don't mind me just editing my headers reeeeall quick

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k-slla · 9 months ago

Text

A/N: a little idea that has been playing around in my head got finally written down :)

Pairing - Dean x Fem!Reader

Warnings: fluff, angst, show level violence, death

WC: 1120 | My Masterlist

All mistakes are mine. Feedback is appreciated!

Enjoy!

Sun. You could feel its warmth softly caress your cheeks. Through light sleep you heard children laughing in the distance. A door sliding open next to you brought you out from your sleep.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” Dean lowered himself next to you and kissed your forehead. “Don't you want to take a nap in bed?” He sat down next to you on the porch swing.

You opened your eyes and squinted at him in the brightness of the sun.

“But it's so warm here.” You smiled and moved closer into his arms. You rested your head on his shoulder and both looked out into the yard. You couldn't help but smile to yourself seeing your older twin boys chase around the yard after their little sister. It still doesn't feel real to you to think that you and Dean really got out of the hunting life. You got married. You have this beautiful blue house with a huge yard for your dog to run around. And what was most perfect about this all - you had three beautiful, perfect children with him. Twin boys who turned 12 at the start of the summer and a five year old daughter.

It was a warm quiet summer evening. You still had a few hours before Sam and Eileen were supposed to come over for a little barbeque. “Sometimes I still think that this is a dream that we're having. It feels almost too perfect.” You said quietly and snuggled to him.

“It does, doesn't it? Look at me, Y/N.” Dean's voice was soft when he spoke. You turned your eyes up to meet his gaze. He was still perfect. Years had started to show on his face, but all that just made him even more beautiful. They made him yours. And even after all those years hunting, he never lost that spark in his eyes. You both had gone through a lot over the years. Pain, grief, losing friends and family, but for all those things you were there for each other. Helping each other to heal. He ran his fingers over your sunkissed cheek, before lowering his head to kiss you softly, lovingly.

“I love you, sweetheart. I know this seems so unreal even after all those years, but it is. We are free.”

A soft moan got suppressed in you when he kissed you once more. “I love you, Dean.”

You heard a phone ring inside the house and Dean got up to answer it, while you remained seated and looked over the yard at your children laughing and playing together.

After a little while, Dean stepped back outside. “T’was Sam. Said they might be running a little late. Julia had asked him to ask if Auntie would make her some of her “yummies”, but I told him you're tired, so no.”

“What? Dean!” You got up quickly. “Call him back. Of course I can do them.” You protested loudly, but figured out quickly that he was just messing with you from the smile that was all over his face.

You walked into the kitchen and started to gather things for your “yummies” as Sam and Eileen's daughter Julia called them. They were just simple brownies with a little almond butter swirled into it with whatever berries you had at hand. Today you decided to use raspberries. Can't go wrong with some classics. You thought to yourself as you put the tray into the oven. Soon the decadent smell of chocolate and almonds filled the kitchen air.

A few hours later everyone gathered around the fire pit in your backyard. Dean was handling the grill, you and Eileen made drinks for everyone and Sam stayed with the kids around the fire. The whole evening was filled with laughter and joy, and you could really feel yourself being at peace, happy around your family. It was already dark, but kids were still running around while the four of you were sitting around the fire.

You started to nod off again next to Dean. You heard him quietly whisper to you. “Y/N. Wake up, please.” His pleas were growing more desperate. “Please, sweetheart. Wake up!” You were still so warm and wanted to snuggle in closer to him, but you opened your eyes and saw that you were alone around the fire. It all started to disappear fast with Dean's voice getting clearer and clearer with each passing second.

“Open your eyes, baby. Please..” You knew that voice. You had heard that same tone many times before. “Wake up. Don't leave me! Please don't leave me..” It got cold around you and you felt like something else was pulling you out. Then you remembered. The hunting trip you went on. You were certain that you could've done it alone. Apparently you were wrong.

Djinns. The whole lot of them. More than you had expected, that's for sure. You didn't know it then, but as soon as you stepped out of your car, you were done for. You had no chance.

You forcefully opened your eyes and saw Dean hover above you. “Dean..I..” You were tired. You wanted to cry, but no tears would come. Your throat was sore and scratchy as you tried to talk. “Dean, I’m..sorry..” You were laying on the hard concrete floor, Dean right beside you.

You tried to reach out to his cheek, but you couldn't move. “I'm.. there were so many..” You whispered.

“It's okay, baby, just stay with me, okay?” He pulled you closer to his chest, kissing your forehead softly. You felt warm tears run down your cheeks. His tears.

“I don't..I don't think I can..” Your breaths were quickening when your fate slowly made itself clear. “I love you..Dean.. I'm..” Dean hugged you tightly. “Y/N, no, please don't…please don't leave me.” He cried out, voice barely above whisper.

“I'll always..love..you..Dean.” Now you felt like you were crying. When it really felt like you were taking your last breaths. “Dean…please…tell..” With a last effort to pull your strength together, you reached out to Dean's cheek again. Your eyes locked with his, hoping he could read out from them what you were too weak to spell out. Please tell me you love me. Tell me it's okay.

“I love you, Y/N. I always will.”

His last kiss on your lips was what took you over. It all felt like you were just falling asleep.

When you opened your eyes again you were sitting on a porch swing in front of a blue house. There were no children laughing. Dean wasn't next to you. But there was sun shining. You could feel its warmth softly caress your cheeks.

Taglist: @cevansbaby-dove @jackles010378 @deanwinchestersgirl87 @nescavaneck @il0vebeingdelulu @suckitands33

#dean x reader #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #jensen ackles #dean winchester x reader #angst #fluff

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candiedcoffeedrops · 4 months ago

Text

Cloud Gazing

Ring Schwarz x Reader (no pronouns used)

Notes: I just wanted to write something sweet and fluffy to take a break from trying to write three other things all at once and this came out. Not a lot to say here, just fluff!

WC: 674 CW: None, but it is written from Ring's perspective. Also, tooth-rotting fluff, but that's it that's all I can think of.

Oh yeah, still no beta. We die like mne.

“Ring! That one looks like a crocodile in a sun hat! See look, that part there is the snout, right? See how it’s open like it’s smiling? Then-”

I sit on the grass beside you, the sun's warmth soaking into my skin as the clouds drift lazily overhead. Your voice, light and full of laughter, fills the air as you excitedly point out shapes in the sky. My gaze follows your outstretched finger, tracing the contours of a particularly fluffy cloud that might indeed resemble a crocodile in a sunhat—if I squint. But my attention inevitably drifts back down to Earth—to you.

I try to focus on the clouds, really I do, but my gaze keeps sliding back to you. Something about the way your eyes light up when you spot a new shape, the way you smile as if you’re discovering a treasure in the expansive blue above, draws me in completely. My chest tightens with a mix of comfort and a kind of yearning welling up within me as I become acutely aware of your proximity. My eyes dart downward, noticing your other hand is splayed on the soft grass, fingers pointed towards me, and my own twitch with the suppressed urge to reach out and touch them. Surely, that wouldn’t be too forward, right? After all, we’re–

Your attention turned to me and I immediately refocused on the cloud, hoping you didn’t notice me staring. But the warmth spreading across my cheeks betrays me, and I silently curse my traitorous face.

Your giggle bubbles up beside me, and I feel the flush intensify. I turn my head, my lips thinning as I try to hide it.

“Caught you looking,” you tease, another laugh escaping your lips. “What’s so fascinating? Do I have something on my face?”

“I–wasn’t…I mean, I was, but–”

Before I can finish, you shift closer with a soft hum, and warmth envelops my hand. I glance down to find our fingers intertwined, your gentle squeeze a soothing balm to my nerves. It’s a simple, sweet gesture, but one that never fails to ground me. “It’s okay. I look at you like that sometimes, too. So, I don’t mind.” Your voice is warm, and your smile is bright. I breathe a small sigh of relief, the tension ebbing away as my own lips curve into a smile.

A silence passes over us, though not uncomfortable and I’m grateful for the chance to collect myself. You return to cloud watching but I remain focused on you. Every once in a while I’ll see your eyes shift to me and a subtle pink graces your cheeks as you point out new shapes in the sky. You bring so much light to everything, even small things like this and it makes me so immensely grateful I found you. You put the sky above to shame.

Your voice becomes a soothing rhythm, lulling me into a sense of calm. I hadn’t realized how tired I was, but now, with the sun warming my skin and you beside me, the tension I’ve been holding onto starts to slip away. My eyes grow heavy, and despite my best efforts to stay awake, and spend time with you, I feel the need to rest.

“Hey,” I begin, drawing your attention to me again with a curious tilt of your head. “May I…lean on you?” I ask, and I know it comes out as more of a nervous murmur than an actual question, but still, you smile softly at me and nod, offering your shoulder. The warmth of your body against mine is comforting, grounding me even as sleep pulls me under. I nuzzle closer, the scent of your hair filling my senses. A soft sigh escapes me as the tension begins to melt away.

The last bit of consciousness I have allows me to hear you hum softly, your fingers threading gently through my hair. “Sleep well, Ring.” You say and I can’t help but smile as I let myself fully relax into a sweet sleep.

Cloud dividers by @drinkthesky

Banner done by me.

@drachonia

#a reader insert for my boy!#putting off writing smut so I wrote this! ta-da!!!#tooth rotting fluff #ikemen villains #ikevil #ring schwarz #ikevil ring #ikemen villains fanfiction #fanfiction #ikevil fanfiction

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zelphin124 · 8 months ago

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SeasonTale - Chapter 6

I'm not super proud of this one... and it took forever to finally sit down and write it, but I hope you enjoy! There will be a poll at the end, so look for that as well. Here we go!

Masterpost

~o0o~

School was boring now.

Summer couldn’t bring himself to pay attention in his education. There was no joy in learning anymore. There was no joy in… well, anything. He had lost all motivation and will to keep going.

But he wasn’t sad either.

He was confused, mostly. After the procedure yesterday, he didn’t even enjoy throwing the ball up for himself anymore. When the kids played without him at recess, he didn’t feel sad either.

Every bit of emotion was gone.

Although Summer wanted to hate it… he couldn’t bring himself to.

He twirled one of his pens in his hand, watching it fly in different directions before the bell rang. Summer had never packed his bags so fast; and he planned to get out of there as soon as he could.

“Summer,” Summer!Alphys inquired. “Could you come here real quick?”

“Ooh Lemon is in trouble,” some of the kids laughed as they ran outside.

Summer couldn’t even bring himself to care about what they said.

“Hey, you had trouble paying attention in class today. Is everything alright?” The teacher asked, sitting at her desk and motioning for Summer to follow suit.

Summer obeyed, but he had to adjust so the sun didn’t block his vision. “Yeup,” he nodded. “Everything is just dandy.”

Summer!Alphys glanced at the desk, her fingers fidgeting with one another. Summer could tell she was worried.

And he envied that.

The way he saw her emotions, and the way they wrestled within her. He wanted that again. He wanted… He…

He couldn’t figure out what he wanted. He was tired, and sleep sounded amazing. It was one of the only ways to get rid of the nightmare that he lived in, but he couldn’t care enough to go and take a nap.

He existed. That’s all he could bring himself to do.

“You know that friend I was telling you about? Who wanted to play catch?” His teacher spoke gently. “He’s here, if you wish to play ball.”

“Sure, that sounds fun,” Summer shrugged, smirking and digging through his backpack. He pulled out the red ball and squished it in his hands.

It didn’t shine like it used to.

“Honey,” Summer!Alphys’ gaze locked with the skeleton’s. “Do you… do you have anything at home that you would wish to bring if you were gone for a long time?”

Summer looked away and stared at the red ball in his hands. “Nah, just this red ball.”

“Okay,” She got up, brushing off her bright yellow skirt. “He’s outside.”

Summer bounded toward the door, carrying his only toy in his hands. He opened the door and looked around. Most of who he saw were others in the school, but he saw someone who he didn’t recgonize before. His eyes squinted at the glorious light the figure held with him.

He was a goat monster of some sorts. His horns blended in with the magnificent crown on his head that glimmered like the stars. HIs yellow eyes were dazzling, and they bore such kindness within them.

Summer thought his cape was dope; its sleek white fabric on the outside completely sealed the night sky inside of the cape, that radiating hundreds of stars and galaxies within it. It changed whenever the creature moved. The only way Summer could compare it to was seeing the sun and stars in the middle of space.

The rest of his clothes were made up of the silky white fabric, with dozens of gold accessories scattered across his body. Chains connected various parts of his wear, and the two shoulder guards made his figure look broad and powerful. It was clear that he was older than most of the adults that Summer saw, but it came with a lot more wisdom.

In his hand rested a long, shining weapon. It had three sides and a pointy thing down the middle. Summer recalled that it was a type of spear that the Asgore monster formed. As a matter of fact, he looked very much like an Asgore.

But the skeleton couldn’t figure out what season he was from.

“Hello young one,” his voice roared like a thousand lions, but was as gentle as the morning breeze. “You must be Summer Sans?”

Summer nodded, his attention fully focused on the monster before him.

“My name is Solstice,” he smiled, giving a soft bow. “Do you want to play catch?”

The kid nodded some more, looking at the red ball and tossing it toward Solstice.

Summer watched as Solstice’s eyes gleamed with delight as he caught the ball. The goat tossed it from hand to hand before tossing it back towards him.

Summer faked a smile as he barely caught the ball. He’d never have a ball tossed back to him, so the angle he usually caught the ball didn’t help him.

“Oh, I did not mean to throw it so hard,” Solstice sighed as he approached the half-fallen over child. “Here, mind if I take your hands?”

“You’re… you’re not going to hurt me, right?”

“Of course not,” Solstice shook his head before looking up at Alphys, who had come out of the building to watch. Summer watched as they communicated with no words, but he couldn’t figure out what they were saying.

For the next hour, Solstice took the time to teach Summer how to catch and throw the ball better and more efficiently. Summer listened to every word and felt a glimmer of hope, despite is apathetic state. They tossed the ball back and forth; the only time they stopped was when Summer accidentally threw the ball into the twisted trees, which Solstice didn’t hesitate to get it out. They rotated a couple of times to keep playing in the shade, as the sun was unbearable in the afternoon.

While they played, Summer finally had enough time to notice the large ocean not far from his school. He caught the ball and pointed towards it. “What’s that?”

“That is the Tidal Sea, my boy,” Solstice smiled. “It contains beautiful waters and coves for miles under its surface. No one knows what’s on the other side.”

“Can we go there?” Summer asked, curious.

“Perhaps we could-” Solstice paused as Alphys motioned toward him. He sighed, kneeling down. His gaze had changed, and it unsettled Summer.

Why did his mood change? Did I do something wrong? Summer began to worry. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you I’ll do better-”

“Buddy, hey, hey,” Solstice smiled at him. “You did nothing wrong, I’m just really concerned for you.” Solstice took his hand and tilted Summer’s face to observe it. “Did Summer!Gaster do this to you?”

“Y-Yeah,” Summer shuddered, remembering how it was done. “But it’s fine, I don’t want to talk about it-”

“It’s clear you don’t want this to happen again to you, huh?”

Summer stared at Solstice. How- How did he know? He thought, shaking his head in response. He would do anything to get away from his dad at this point. He remembered that he cared for his dad…

But that feeling wasn’t there anymore, just like the rest of them. All he wanted to do was avoid physical pain, but he couldn’t find the will to run away again.

“I’m with the rebellion,” Solstice informed. “I save many people like you from your dad and others who are cruel like him. If you allow me to, I’ll make sure you’ll never have to go through an experiment like that again.”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s a place in the mountains that we hold as refuge, we hide there so we can plan our next action of justice, and restore the kingdoms to their former glory.” Solstice explained. “Life doesn’t have to be like this.”

The sun started shining on Summer’s face, warming his bones. “That’s a lot of big words,” Summer smirked, thinking for a bit. Life doesn’t… it doesn’t have to be this way?

“You will learn them all in due time,” Solstice reassured. “I plan to teach you a lot of things.”

“We don’t have much time,” Alphys ran out from the school. “He’s coming, you must decide quickly.”

Solstice locked eyes with the boy again. “This might be the only time I get to speak with you. I wish to help you. Come with me and I’ll keep you safe. If you don’t like it, you can come back. Help us restore SeasonTale to justice.”

Summer could hear traces of his father’s footsteps. He recgonized them anywhere, for whenever he was near, bad things happened. He looked worriedly at the school door before grabbing onto Solstice’s sleeve.

“Please,” he begged. “I don’t want to be in another experiment.”

“Say no more, my boy,” Solstice hoisted Summer up on his back. “Hold on, we are going to get you out of here.”

“He’ll look for me,” Summer shivered as Solstice booked it into the forest, the sun becoming brighter and brighter as they went.

“Don’t worry, he- he won’t find us-” Solstice gasped between breaths.

“Where can we go that he won’t?”

There was a moment of interrupted silence before Solstice answered. He paused once he reached the ocean shore, whistling into the sky. He turned around and pointed inland. “You see those mountains way over there?”

Summer’s eyes widened, seeing the mountains he saw in his dreams. One covered with white shades and clouds that covered the sun. “Yeah?”

The skeleton’s eyes widened even more when he saw a huge creature land from the sky, folding its wings in and snorting out a cloud of smoke. It’s head was similar to a gaster blaster, and his wings and structure were all bone, expect for the inside of its wings and belly, which shined like the night sky.

“Is that a dragon?!” Summer gasped, bewildered that the creatures even existed.

“Yes, and you can pet him later,” Solstice walked toward the dragon and hoisted himself onto it. “Those mountains, we will be going there.”

Summer was too distracted by the dragon to pay attention, but one thing he did know, was that this was far more exciting than anything his dad did with him.

As the dragon took off into the air, Summer gasped and held tight onto the dragon’s neck, looking down at the ground. Everything became smaller as clouds brushed against the child’s face. Summer could see the entire landscape of the known land, including all the other kingdoms he never got to see before.

“Soon, all this land will be free from the Gaster’s hand,” Solstice explained as he steered the dragon towards the colder area of SeasonTale, up in the mountains. “And you can help rule it all.”

“Really?!” Summer smiled as something jolted inside him.

The goat smiled, sighing with relief.

“I promise.”

~o0o~

#seasontale #seasontale story #writing #chapter #utmv #undertale au #sans au #undertale #summer sans #summer alphys #summer gaster #solstice asgore #solstice dragon #WOAH IK THERE ARE DRAGONS #hehe #gosh there's so much here #and no motivation

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peppymintdreams · 8 days ago

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Beach Buddies

Elias x Barista

The sound of waves and the distant cries of seagulls grew louder as Warden drove along the coastal highway, the salty breeze slipping through the cracked windows of the family car. Tara, seated in the passenger seat, had her sunglasses perched on her head, flipping through a guidebook of beachside activities. In the backseat, a three-year-old Elias squirmed in his booster seat, his tiny hands gripping a red plastic bucket and a shovel as he excitedly kicked his feet.

"Are we there yet?" Elias chirped, his voice high-pitched and brimming with energy.

"Almost, kiddo," Warden replied, glancing at him in the rearview mirror with a smirk. "You ready to build the biggest sandcastle on the beach?"

"Yeah!" Elias cheered, bouncing slightly in his seat. "Bigger than the car!"

Tara chuckled, reaching back to pat his knee. "It might take all day to make one that big, sweetheart."

"I don’t care! I’m gonna do it!" Elias declared with all the confidence of a toddler convinced he could conquer the world.

As they pulled into the parking lot near the beach, Elias practically burst out of his seat, his bucket and shovel in hand, ready to hit the sand. Tara laughed as Warden pulled the sunscreen from the bag.

"Hold on, tiger," Warden said, catching Elias before he could take off. "Your mom’s gotta slather you up first."

"Why?" Elias asked, tilting his head as Tara knelt in front of him, squeezing an enormous glob of sunscreen into her palm.

"Because the sun is dangerous," Tara said matter-of-factly, rubbing the cream into his tiny arms and legs with care. "We don’t want you to burn."

Elias scrunched his nose, looking up at the bright sky. "The sun doesn’t look scary."

"That’s because it’s sneaky," Tara replied, her tone playful. She dabbed a bit on his cheeks and then his nose. "There. All done. Now you’re safe to play."

Elias beamed, grabbing his bucket and dashing toward the sand, his chubby little legs kicking up small clouds of it as he found the perfect spot to begin his castle. Warden spread out a blanket nearby, setting up their little camp while Tara watched their son with a fond smile.

For the next half hour, Elias was fully immersed in his work, his face serious as he dug trenches and piled sand into little towers. Tara occasionally helped by handing him shells or smooth pebbles to decorate his creation, but Elias insisted on doing most of the work himself.

When he finally deemed his castle finished, Elias turned to Warden. "Dad! Look! It’s bigger than the car!"

Warden chuckled, pretending to measure it with his hands. "Almost, bud. You’re getting there."

Satisfied, Elias grabbed his beach ball and waddled over to his dad, tossing it at him with all his might—which wasn’t much. Warden caught it easily and tossed it back, making sure to keep it low enough for Elias to catch.

"Go long, champ!" Warden called, tossing the ball just a little higher. Unfortunately, the ball sailed over Elias’ head, bouncing and rolling down the beach.

Elias froze for a moment, watching it go, before deciding to chase after it. "I got it!"

"Not too far!" Tara called, watching him closely as he toddled down the sand.

The ball eventually came to a stop near another child about Elias’ age, who was busy poking at the sand with a stick. Elias skidded to a halt in front of the ball, picking it up before turning to look at the other child, who glanced up curiously.

"Hi," Elias said, holding the ball tightly against his chest.

"Hi," the other child replied, tilting their head.

Elias squinted at them, then asked, "Why are you poking the sand?"

The child held up the stick, their eyes wide with excitement. "I’m looking for treasure! My dad said pirates used to hide stuff here."

Elias’ jaw dropped. "Really?!"

"Uh-huh." The child stood, brushing sand off their hands. "You wanna help?"

Elias hesitated, glancing back toward his parents. Tara waved at him, giving him a reassuring smile.

"Okay," Elias said, dropping his ball and crouching down next to the child. "But if we find treasure, we have to share it."

"Deal," the child agreed, holding out their pinky.

Elias blinked at the gesture, then linked his pinky with theirs. "What’s your name?"

The child smiled. "I’m [Barista]. What’s yours?"

"Elias," he replied proudly.

And just like that, a friendship began, their laughter mixing with the sound of the waves as they dug through the sand, imagining the treasures they might uncover. Tara and Warden watched from a distance, their smiles soft as they saw their little boy happily bonding with his new friend.

#sakuverse #zsakuva #peppymintdreamsproduction #elias zsakuva #zsakuva elias #elias sakuverse #elias x barista #sakuverse elias #elias is a simp #au #baby version #elias x reader #fluff #baby Elias #little barista

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thehollowwriter · 6 months ago

Text

RWarnings: Injury, swearing, probably full of mistakes. Word count: 5k+

Key: Regular text is for the present. Italics is for flashbacks, bold is for journal entries

(Pls reblog and leave a comment ❤️)

Lamentations Pt 5

There is a term, more of a feeling, really, that humans use called "walking on air." An elated, fluffy feeling of delight.

I can't "walk" since I don't have legs, but that's a perfect way to describe how I felt when Morrigan kissed me that night. When he wrapped his arms around me and looked at me like I was the only thing that ever mattered to him.

I think about that moment a lot, when dusk settles into night and life slows down for a short moment. I think about how different things were all those years ago, how different I was.

Silas stopped writing and stared at the page for a long, long time. He found himself back in that dim, dingy shop, gazing into those bright, loving eyes. Those eyes... so intelligent, yet so innocent at the same time.

What had he done to deserve Morrigan, really? What could he have possibly done, in his life filled with death, to be blessed with such a loving man?

Silas pressed his pen against the paper again so hard he nearly broke the tip.

I'm... I'm not going to sit here and tell myself I'm a good person. I'm not. I have killed and eaten hundreds of my own kind in my lifetime, and I still do so today.

I have torn them apart and swallowed every piece until there is nothing but bone to indicate their existence. I've lied, cheated, and stolen whatever I possibly could to keep myself alive.

I am a murderer. A cannibal. A monster.

What is the worst Morrigan has done? Land some kids in the hospital as a teenager and nearly get expelled? Almost kill someone? Almost.

Morrigan, for his smugness and cockiness and aggression, for all his violence and rage, is not an evil person. He is not perfect, but he's not a monster.

I cannot truthfully say that Morrigan's parents' and the other citizens of Atlantica's fear and distrust of me is wrong. I cannot say they are being too quick to judge, that they just haven't taken the time to get to know me.

I fit the Abyssal merfolk stereotype like a glove. I'm the horror story spread when the lights go out brought to life.

I told this to Morrigan that night, after my grandfather had taken his medicine and gone to bed. I suppose you could call it a warning, a flashing sign telling him to leave.

He simply smiled me, sharp teeth glinting and eyes burning with passion and desire, and shrugged.

"I know," He said. "I'm not changing my mind. I love you."

It was stupid. Insane, even. And yet Morrigan spoke as if he were telling me the earth revolved around the sun. Like it was an unshakable fact, something that cannot be changed.

Oh... oh, how I love him.

Morrigan was surprised when Silaa began pulling him upstairs. He had never been on the second floor. For all their time together, he had been limited only to Silas' little shop.

Silas began calling for his grandfather, and the dopey grin that had been affixed to Morrigan's face was briefly replaced with a confused expression, but he schooled it quickly.

"Well, I've horribly misread the situation." He murmured so Silas couldn't hear, perking up when Silas' grandfather swam in with a yawn.

"Mm, Silas, is it time for that awful drink alr-" He stopped short when he caught sight of Morrigan, surpised. "Well, if it isn't our favourite city boy. I'm surprised Silas brought you up here."

He squinted at them, then gasped.

"Are those-"

"Yes," Said Silas, reaching to grab Morrigan's hand. "We are... together now."

Morrigan grinned and clasped their hands together. "I hope you don't mind me stealing your grandson, Mister Emrys, sir."

The old mer laughed and drifted over to them to take Morrigan's free hand in his own. "Why, of course not. You're perfect for Silas, my boy. You should stay the night with us. We can celebrate."

Morrigan's grin widened. "I'd like that, sir."

It was a lovely evening. Morrigan and my grandfather, Emrys, got along well. It made me happy to see them banter with each other.

My grandfather retired to bed after taking his home brewed medicine, bidding us goodnight and leaving us to our own devices.

There was nowhere for Morrigan to stay. No guest room, no lounge. There was the kitchen, my bedroom, and my grandfather's bedroom.

Morrigan didn't mind. In fact, he said he'd be happy to share with me with that grin of his. I considered nipping him for that, but I don't think he was trying to be funny.

It was nice, actually. Sitting together, tails intertwined, talking through the night. Morrigan held me tightly, as if I would drift away from him.

He was very affectionate, as I soon came to learn. Kisses, holding me, complimenting me, and so on. He always asked first, and he always seemed so gleeful every time.

I never expected to enjoy physical affection, but it seemed Morrigan was always the exception. I often found myself melting into his kisses and holding his hand tightly, feeling warm and safe.

Our new relationship altered our routine once again. Now, Morrigan visited as much as he could after his classes, greeting me with a kiss and hugging me gently when our games finished.

Then we would sit close together, our tails curled around each other, and just... talk. We often got distracted, though, finding ourselves kissing roughly and... well, perhaps I should write that down somewhere else.

I was delighted that he came over more. Morrigan's visits were the highlight of my week, after all. There was just one issue I unknowingly stumbled into.

Morrigan knew me well by the time we began dating. Almost too well. He knew my personality, my tics, my likes and dislikes, and so on. But even with our games and our long talks, there are things you miss when you only meet once a week.

I always made sure I was feeling or at least appearing to feel my best when Morrigan came round, even if hunger clawed at my insides and the pain that shot through my body made me feel as if I were being branded with an iron.

I wanted to have fun, and I didn't want Morrigan to worry.

I think I was also too cocky. I put too much faith in my own abilities, even though my health was probably the worst it had ever been.

This overconfidence came back to bite me when Morrigan and I got into a playful tussle one day and... well.... I broke a rib.

It wasn't Morrigan's fault, no. I could never blame him for that. It was mine. I had perfected the art of making myself seem stronger, bigger, or more threatening than I actually was for the sake of my own survival.

My magic was strong, yes, but it wasn't something I used often. It was precious, a resource only used for emergencies, even before I learned what blot was.

Silas winced at the word, then continued writing.

I was so convincing, it seemed, that I overestimated myself far more than Morrigan did.

A sickening crack wiped the smile from Morrigan's face, and he instantly released his pinhold on Silas. He carefully moved and turned Silas over, his eyes wide with horror and concern.

"Oh shit, oh shit, shit shit shit, Silas, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean- oh, Sea Witch, how bad is it?"

"Ngh..." Silas blinked up at the rippling kelp above them, wincing at the mind numbing pain that exploded somewhere around his ribs. "I'm fine. Just a little... ngh, sore..."

Morrigan shook his head wildly, his eyes as wide as saucers. "Darling, no, I heard something break o-or fracture when I pinned you, oh no, what did I do to you-"

Darling. Morrigan said, "darling." Not Silas. Darling.

Silas didn't know why, but that made him incredibly happy, even though the situation didn't really call for such a feeling.

Morrigan, still alarmed, carefully hoisted Silas into his arms. "We need to get you to a- a doctor or a hospital or something-"

Silas' hand shot up to grip Morrigan's wrist tightly.

"No doctors." He hissed, struggling to take in a breath.

"Silas, your rib is broken-"

"And my grandfather will help me treat it. I've dealt with worse. Take me inside."

Morrigan bit back a protest and obeyed, swimming inside and placing Silas down on his bed.

"Just call my grandfather, please," Silas mumbled, wincing.

Morrigan didn't answer at first. He stared at Silas for a moment, tapping his claws together, and swallowed.

"I really think you should go to the hospital."

"No hospitals."

"Silas, you could end up with a pierced lung!" Morrigan snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Look, I never said anything because you seemed fine, and I didn't want to pry into something so personal, but... even without a broken rib, which I will repeat is very bad, you and Emrys should go to the hospital. Should have gone, actually. Long ago."

Silas laughed, taking in a sharp breath at the pain. "Hah, for what?"

Morrigan raked his left hand through his hair and clenched his right one into a fist. "Both of you are skin and bones, literally! I can see your ribs, Silas! That's not normal! Have you been eating anything at all?"

Silas let out a soft sigh. "I... I have a few scraps a day. Eating anything more... makes me throw up. Grandfather as well."

"That's even worse! You need to go to the hospital, both of, you or something-"

"I said no hospitals." Silas growled.

"Why not?"

"Morrigan, please. ...I... I can't. You think a doctor would want to help us?"

I suppose you could call a distrust of doctors a family tradition in a way. Not a single one of us trusted medical professionals, not because we thought they didn't know anything, but because we feared what they could do when given access to us at our most vulnerable.

I trust Morrigan with my life, however. I trust he will protect us and ensure nothing happens while we are in such a strange place.

The first obstacle was convincing my grandfather to go, too. He did not have the same amount of faith in Morrigan as I did. His history ran deeper than mine, after all.

My grandfather's grandmother was a child when our family was forcefully driven out of the Coral Sea and into the Abyss. The horror stories of before and after were passed down to him, and then he passed them unto my parents and to me.

Unlike me or my parents, my grandfather had a clear memory of my great great-grandmother's face when she told him of her experiences. He, young and impressionable, could see the fear glistening in her eyes, the way she seemed to be taken back to those moments, reliving the terror all over again.

There is a little saying, a proverb, she passed down to us. It was short, but it said all it needed to.

"They will hate you with a veil kindness. They will smile at you and fill your veins with poison."

And really, what else would such a saying do other than strike fear into your heart?

My grandfather was horrified at the very idea of going into Atlantica, never mind the hospital. It was the closest thing the two of us had ever had to a fight.

I told him Morrigan would protect us, and if he were to fail, I would make sure we got out and home safe. He needed to get better, or else he wouldn't last the rest of the season.

My grandfather eventually agreed, saying that it was only because he wanted me to recover safely, and then we began our trip to the city.

This experience was well over thirty years ago. My recollection of most of the events is fuzzy, but the little details aren't too important anyway.

What is important is the fact that we ended up staying in that hospital for a very long time, as there was far more wrong with us than even Morrigan could have guessed.

It was a very distressing experience. I was surrounded by doctors and nurses taking my temperature, asking me invasive questions, poking and prodding at me, shining lights into my eyes, and pricking me for blood.

Morrigan had to hold me back from breaking someone's face when they wanted to draw my blood for testing, telling me it was going to be okay and to let them do their thing.

I hated it. I hated it so much. It was a terrifying experience, and it is not often I feel genuine terror. But they... they just carried on, like it was your average weekday. Cold. Uncaring.

It didn't help that I barely understood half of what they said. Medical jargon. Utter nonsense.

Morrigan's doctor, the one he told me he trusted, did her best to make sure I was comfortable. She noticed I was confused and started slowly explaining what they were doing to me.

I don't know if she was genuinely trying to help or talking down to me, but either way, it did help. I felt better understanding what was happening to me.

There was... so much wrong with me. The doctors were surprised I hadn't died of malnutrition, but concluded my magic had something to do with my survival

I could never figure out why I kept throwing up food if I tried to fix my own starvation. It made me angry that I finally had a steady stream of food but couldn't actually eat much of it.

As it turns out, it is because of something called Refeeding Syndrome. Medical complications caused by aggressive nutritional rehabilitation. That is, too much nutrition at once after a prolonged period of starvation.

The best way to treat our malnutrition was by feeding tubes. Slowly giving us the nutrients we were lacking in a controlled environment. Morrigan had to hold me back again, as the idea of these strangers sticking a tube into me and pumping my body full of fluids terrified me.

I can't remember exactly how long we were in that hospital, but I do remember my recovery was slow and painful. Morrigan stayed by my side the entire time, making sure I was alright and using his magic to block my own when it lashed out when I caught sight of a needle.

There was an issue when we realised that neither I nor my grandfather had any form of identification. No ID, no birth certificates, nothing. Just our names, and we had no last name we could recall.

I distinctly remember a nurse muttering, "This is what happens when you leave them to breed down there." Morrigan shot her a look so dark it seemed to make the lights flicker, and she shut her mouth.

When we were healthy enough to move around and eat solid foods again, we had to do physical therapy. It was something that irritated me, even if I was glad to no longer be confined to a bed.

Being led around and told what to do by a stranger like I was a child made me feel the urge to throttle someone. Morrigan... Morrigan calmed me down, though. He was good at that. Rubbing my hand with his thumb and whispering words of comfort to me.

The worst was the psychiatrists. Morrigan couldn't stay with me during those little sessions, and I was trapped alone with a bored shrink who quite clearly didn't want me there.

It was quite obvious how they felt. I was taking up what could have been a free slot. I was taking time away from city merfolk.

They, the psychiatrists and the doctors, and the nurses, thought I was stupid. I know they did. It was soaked into their tones, bleeding out from behind plastic smiles.

Staying there was a terrible experience. I hated it, even if Morrigan's doctor tried her best to make things better. However... I don't regret it.

I still clearly remember looking into the mirror in the hospital bathroom one day and seeing the true colour of my skin for the first time.

It took me by surprise. My whole life, I had been a dull lilac-grey. But in that bathroom, I saw I was a deep flourishing purple. I spent ages tracing my skin and picking at my scales, entranced.

"You look amazing," Morrigan said to me, wrapping his arms around me. "Big I'm just glad you're healing."

My grandfather, who always appeared to be a dull brown-ish hue, was sunset orange. It left the two of us in awe, taking in the vibrant colours indicative of healthy skin.

It's strange how you sometimes only realise the extent of your problems after you've healed or gotten away from them.

When we were finally discharged, I had never felt so alive. My ribs no longer showed, my body no longer screamed with constant pain, and my insides no longer felt like they were being torn apart.

This sudden strength, this sudden joy and energy, made me realise just how much pain I was always in. How sick I was. I was one mishap away from a death that had nothing to do with starvation or being eaten, and I didn't even know it.

I was, unfortunately, instructed to "take it easy" for a few weeks until I could get back to hunting.

I couldn't do that. I had work to do, bills to pay. Morrigan could cover medical costs, but he couldn't also pay for my house and my staff's wages. I couldn't risk so much as a cent.

"It'll be okay, Si." Morrigan said to me with that warm smile of his. "You can still tell your party what to do. You just can't join them."

Morrigan was always optimistic.

My full recovery was much quicker than expected, but still very boring and nerve-wracking. Spending all my time inside, flitting about the shop, or lying on my stone slab of a bed, staring at the ceiling, was mind-numbing.

My grandfather was not so lucky. He still spent much of his time sleeping even though he was healthier now. His health always was much worse off than mine.

"We think Emrys was exposed to an oil spill," said Morrigan's doctor, whose name I can't remember. "His magic cleared most of it, but it still caused erosion on his fins and enlarged his liver."

It didn't help that he was nearing eighty. Merfolk can live much longer than that, but when your body has taken so much damage, that lifespan is cut short.

I looked after him the best I could. Helping him eat, giving him his prescribed medicine, thar sort off thing.

It was pretty miserable. The only thing that made it bearable was the music from the radio and Morrigan's visits.

He brought sweets for us. Can you believe it? Candies. Chocolate. Fron the surface.

"A friend from land sent it down," Morrigan said with a grin, unwrapping a bar and handing it to Silas. "A congratulations and a get well soon mixed together. Don't worry, the doctors said it's okay."

Silas blinked at him questioningly, and Morrigan quickly clarified.

"Oh, right. I told a few friends I'm officially taken... and that my new boyfriend was unfortunately in hospital. They sent this stuff down as good wishes."

Silas hummed, an amused smile crossing onto his face, and took a tiny bite out of the small piece of chocolate he broke off the slab. It was delicious.

Silas' grandfather politely declined Morrigan's offering of chocolate, telling the two to enjoy it and that he was going to lie down for a while.

Silas stared at the chocolate in his hand, and his eyes suddenly felt very wet.

"I don't... I don't think he's going to be with us for much longer." He said softly. Morrigan pulled him into a tight hug, and Silas tried his hardest not to cry.

It's nice to be cared for. Morrigan visited every second day to make sure we were alright. It was annoying to me that he didn't let me fight him, but I understood his reasoning.

When I was finally cleared to hunt again, the first thing I did was challenge Morrigan to a fight. I won, and I'm partially sure be let me, but I don't mind.

He looked ethereal, laughing in delight, covered in bruises and bitemarks, with his hair splayed out on the sand. Happy. Happy I was finally healthy.

This whole experience brought on a new issue. Morrigan had not yet told his parents we were dating at the time. I didn't care whether he told them or not, as it wasn't their business, but it was strange to see him stress over it so much.

I told him if they had a problem, then they weren't worth his time, and he just laughed. It sounded hollow.

He couldn't keep us secret forever, of course, especially since he took time off to stay with me while I was in the hospital.

He eventually told them a few months after I began hunting again. The day he did, he came storming into my shop, not even bothering with our game.

Silas perked up at Morrigan's presence, frowning when he saw the state he was in.

Morrigan was breathing hard, fists clenching and unclenching angrily. There was a raging fire, a maliciousness sparking in his magic that made Silas' skin prickle in all the best ways.

"What happened?" Silas didn't ask out loud, but his questioning and concerned look said all it needed to.

Morrigan looked at him, and his aquamarine eyes burned.

"You know what she said?" He asked, his voice set to a whisper, almost trembling. "She fucking said 'no'. What the fuck is that supposed to mean? I'm not asking for her permission or- or approval. And dad, Seven damn it, shaking his head like I've broken some fucking rule-"

Morrigan was on the verge of hyperventilating and Silas drifted over to wrap his arms arms around him and press his face into the crook of his neck.

Morrigan stiffened in surpise, then relaxed. He rested his chin on Silas' head and sighed.

"Sorry, darling. They're- my parents- not happy. But I'm not breaking it off so they want to meet you. Next week."

I was never unaware of meeting the family as a custom. It is a custom we even have in the abyss, if you're lucky to find a partner.

However, something that still perplexes me today about both Coral Sea and apparently land culture is the idea that you have to consider your partners family your own, and you must get along at all costs. If you dislike them, you smile and tolerate it.

Perhaps I don't understand it because keeping up appearances and faking getting along was a waste of energy in the abyss. If you didn't like a family member's partner, you could say so and carry on.

That's why I always felt so confused whenever Morrigan complained about his sister-in-law, muttering about how she got on his nerves with her smart alek quips and obnoxious way of talking.

"Then tell her that." I told him, and he looked at me like I was insane.

"I can't say that! She's my sister!'

"She's your sister's wife, not your sister. She doesn't need a free pass."

I think my way of thinking was part of the reason he avoided telling his parents about us for so long. I'm not offended, though. I never was.

There is... a trope in movies and TV I've come to notice. The overbearing in-laws. It's very strange to me, parents who are so obsessive and controlling over their adult children and, by extension, their children's partner.

I found it stupid and unealistic at the time. Who would behave like that? Who would try to take control of a wedding or decide their word is law in someone else's marriage?

Well, the answer to that would be Morrigan's parents.

They don't like me and I don't like them. They are not my parents or my family, not matter how much they insist they are.

I disliked them before I even met them. The snippets of how they treated Morrigan like their trophy I caught onto, the way they seemed to unashamedly hate me already, that was telling enough for me to dislike them.

I was unsure about meeting Morrigan's parents at first. They refused to come to Midway, instead insisting I come to them.

"I'll keep my exposure to the abyss limited to just the butcher, thank you," Morrigan relayed to Silas in a high-pitched voice, mocking his mother. "At least then we'll have a lesser chance of being infected with something."

Infected. Infected, she had said, in a snobbish upper-class accent, at least according to Morrigan. As if I were diseased.

Still, it was best to bite the bullet and just go see them. We made the trip there the next week, leaving at sunset to travel to a suburb near the heart of Atlantica.

I felt uncomfortable the entire trip there. The streets were busy even at night, bustling and noisy, lit with all too bright lights from advertisements and streetlights.

We finally arrived at a quaint house constructed from stone and metal. It was big, at least to me, and quite fancy.

"Hey, mother, father," Morrigan called out, unlocking and opening the front door. "We're here."

"Hello, Morrigan," came an aged voice, feminine and shrill. "And... you."

A small, thin woman with saggy skin and pursed lips stared at Silas with turquoise eyes as cold as ice. Her hair was silvery white, and her skin and scales were pink.

Silas silently stared back until her resolve wavered, and her gaze turned elsewhere, and she gestured for them to come inside.

"They're here, then?" Came a louder, deeper voice. Morrigan's father blinked at them with a pair of bright gold eyes. He was also thin, his skin the same deep green as Morrigan, but it didn't suit him. It was ill-fitting.

"Mother, father," Morrigan said slowly, sounding much quieter than usual. "This is Silas. Silas, this is Cyrus and Kiran, my parents."

Cyrus and Kiran stared at Silas, picking him apart, narrowing their eyes at every scar, every hole in his fins, every little imperfection.

Silas stared back. They were thin but not too thin. They were unnmarred, perfectly comfortable. Well-fed.

Weak. Spoiled. Prey.

Kiran cleared his throat. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Silas." He said, like a liar. "I hope our Morrigan isn't too much for you."

Silas didn't answer, and an awkward silence fell.

"Well," Cyrus said suddenly. "I suppose we should thank you for your services these past few years. Buying from you has been a big help financially."

Silas nodded his head and continued to gaze at them. Morrigan gently elbowed his side, and he blinked.

"Ah- it's... no issue."

The silence descended again, and they all floated there, staring at each other. Morrigan's parents were quite clearly uncomfortable with Silas there, neither coming near him nor looking him in the eyes.

"I must ask," Cyrus said after a while, her icy eyes glimmering. "Why are you dating Morrigan? I didn't think someone like him would pique the interest of... someone like you."

She tried to phrase it so politely. As if it were a mere difference in culture. But Silas knew what she meant.

"Because I love him," Silas rumbled. "That's reason enough, I'm sure."

"W-Well yes, but surely there are other factors-"

"No."

Cyrus looked taken aback by Silas' curt response, exchanging an aghast look with her husband.

"T-That's good, I suppose. Make yourselves comfortable, I'm making a prawn salad for a light meal. Kiran, you can get the wine out, and Keres, stop lurking over there and say hi to your brother."

Another mer, pink with dark blue scales and fins, swam into the living room with a huff. His hair was white with dark blue highlights, and his gold eyes glistened in annoyance.

Morrigan started, looking between this new mer and his parents.

"What's he doing here?"

Keres pulled his lips into an exaggerated pout. "Come on, Morrigan, that's no way to greet your little brother." He said, his voice dripping with manufactured sadness. "I'm just here for a visit to our loving parents. And to meet the lucky guy."

He waved at Silas and grinned. "Hi there. Keres Clearcove. Second oldest of the our clutch. Nice to meet you."

Silas blinked at him, unsure of how to answer, and Cyrus laughed. "Oh we'll let you three chat for a bit." She said, grabbing Kiran and making a swift exit.

"I'm not in the mood for your bullshit today." Morrigan hissed at Keres. "You've said hello, now go away."

Keres raised his hands, looking offended. "Sorry, Your Highness. Forgive me for forgetting my place. Just the lowly brother of special great mage Morrigan."

"That's not what I meant-"

"I'm sure it wasn't." Keres smiled. "Let's not fight in front of your man. Though I doubt it'll affect him much, considering his... background."

Morrigan drew his lips back threateningly, and Silas gently touched his arm. "Calm down. I'm sure Keres knows better than to run his mouth."

Silas stared at the mer in question until he swallowed and nodded his head. "Y-Yeah, of course! I'm not looking for trouble. In fact, I'm here to tell mother and father about a new client of mine."

"Client?" Silas glanced at Morrigan.

"He's a lawyer." Morrigan muttered.

"Indeed I am." Keres said proudly. "While Morrigan here babysits magic wielding brats all day, I consistently work with very high calibre and high paying clients to buy nice things for my children. I recently scored a CEO. Can you believe it?"

Morrigan's eye twitched, and Silas decided against answering.

"Tough crowd. Well, I'll be on my way to hide in my room while you-" Keres pointed at Silas. "-get scrutinised down to the tiniest detail and hounded about babies. Have fun."

He then left as quickly as he arrived, before either of them could respond.

"What a brat," Morrigan hissed, looking more irritated than Silas had ever seen him.

Keres was not wrong, unfortunately. I was, in fact, scrutinised down to the last detail, asked questions that ranged from odd all the way to invasive and rude. The topic of children was briefly brought up, though Cyrus expressed poorly hidden disgust at the idea and recommended adoption instead. As if we were planning to have children at all.

It was worse than the doctors at Atlantica General, I dare say. At least they weren't asking about my fertility since they "wanted grandchildren from their eldest."

Morrigan seemed to be on the verge of either punching someone or slamming his head against the wall the entire time but opted to dig his claws into the dining room table and grind his teeth instead.

Silas couldn't blame him. The fake kindness, the mock sympathy, the plastic hospitality made his teeth itch to bite something. He wanted them to stop lying. Call him a monster if they really wanted. He hated those forced smiles so much

Finally, finally, the conversation was coming to an end, when Cyrus said... something rather odd. And stupid.

"Listen, Silas, you seem... Nice." The lies kept spilling. Flowing out of her mouth like a winding river. "But we don't want you dating Morrigan. It isn't safe-"

"That's not for you to decide." Said Silas, and Morrigan sucked in a sharp breath and nearly tore through the table.

The facade cracked and Cyrus' face twisted into an angered expression.

"Now listen here, I will not have our son bee manipulated by-

"Shut up!" Morrigan snapped, wrenching his hand back and tearing through the table. "If you can't behave then we're going to leave."

"Come now, Morrigan, think carefully about this." Said Kiran. "You know, the merchant's son is a nice young man-"

"I said shut up." Morrigan tugged on Silas' wrist and began making his way to the door. "Come on, Silas."

Morrigan stayed with us that night, fuming silently. He wasn't just angry. He was hurt. Very hurt. I did my best to comfort him, though I don't think it was much help.

Unfortunately, that was not nor will it ever be the last time Morrigan and I clashed with his parents. They're a stubborn pair, hellbent on getting what they want even if they repeatedly fail.

They won't ever truly accept me as Morrigan's husband, and I can accept that. They can continue being hateful cretins, and I will carry on as I always have.

A knock on the door broke Silas from his writing trance. He put his pen down and took in a deep, slow breath. Even writing about Morrigan's parents gave him a headache.

"Coming, Timo." He called, then packed his writing away and left.

...........................................

Guide: Start, Prev, Next

A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! It really was a wild ride

Tagging: @distant-velleity @br3adtoasty @rainesol @theleechyskrunkly @jovieinramshackle

@galaxies-and-gore @cyanide-latte @cynthinesia @officialdaydreamer00 @krenenbaker

@offorestsongs @kitwasnothere @elenauaurs @boopshoops @inotonline

@1dont-really-know @kazumify @minteasketches @elysia-nsimp @skrimpyskimpy

@casp1an-sea @offorestsongs @tixdixl @poisoned-pearls @the-trinket-witch

@ramshacklerumble @ghostiidasponk @thegoldencontracts @the-banana-0verlord

#silas clearcove #morrigan clearcove #lamentations #twisted wonderland #twst oc #oc x oc #writing

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mrslankyman · 11 months ago

Text

Do I Wanna Know?

Wrote this a while ago - 2,906 Words

Daryl Dixon - Prison Era (Not based on any episode in series)

February 12, 2012

As far as I know today is February 12. That's what Carol tells me. She keeps the days tracked. I guess she does a lot around here.

She's pretty reliable. Rick's been out scouting for a while. We're running low on supplies. Might have to make a trip to the closest town.

I head out of the main corridor of the prison where we've been staying. Pulling my pistol out from my holster and switching it into my dominant hand.

I opened the door that lead outside. The sun hit my face and I squinted. Living in the dark of the prison sure as hell made your eyes sensitive to any bright lights.

I passed Glenn and gave a curt nod. He was heading to the watch post for his daily steak out. I walked up to the fence. Looking out into the field. Only a few walkers today. Better than yesterday. There was a whole hoard out there. Thank god for Daryl. Him and his cross bow. That damn cross bow. He loves that thing more than anyone.

Speaking of the devil the familiar sound of a motorcycle filled my ears. I turned to the gate as Glenn pushed it open. Daryl came riding into the prison. Stopping his bike and taking the keys out of the ignition. He unwrapped the three rabbits he had killed. Of course he was out hunting. When wasn't he doing something? He barely slept because he refused to be useless.

"What ya catch out there Daryl?" Carol asked walking out of the Prison. Daryl looked up at her and held up the three rabbits. "Nice." She smiled and took them from Daryl. Forgot, the cook and the hunter were best friends. I groaned and looked back out into the field. Everyone in the group seemed to have someone.

I was just left out. I joined late and it felt like when you joined a friend group but the kids before had been friends for years. I was always the odd one out. At least I can survive here. That I am grateful for.

"What are you doing just staring off into the field?" A low voice asked behind me. I'd be lying if when I first joined that voice didn't set me off. In a good way.

Now it's just a constant reminder that I'm just lonesome. Daryl never cared for me. I knew from the day I joined. At first he tried to come across as friendly. In his own way. He just said Hello. Which was more than anyone else did. After about a week I guess he got tired of it.

"Yes I am. Does it bother you Dixon?" I asked not looking at him. My voice was laced with attitude. Hoping he got the point to leave me alone. It was what he did best. Ignoring me.

Daryl must've gotten annoyed. At least I assume because I heard him turn away and head inside. I let out a sigh and put my pistol in its holster on my waist. "I hope this shit ends one day." Such an idiotic thought. It was never going to end. The world was over.

-----

"Alright, we need to plan out the group's going out for supplies tomorrow." Rick said as we all sat down to eat. "We need more canned foods, medicine, and first aid supplies. Ammo too if we can find any." As Rick carried on I looked over to Daryl.

He was sitting next to Carol on the floor. They were talking about what I don't know. I rolled my eyes. He was starting to get really close with Carol. It was annoying seeing him make friends. I don't know why but it did.

"Y/N did you hear me?" Rick's voice pierced through my ears. The angry dad tone. I looked up at him. "What?" I asked. "You and Daryl are going out to Greens Burrow to search the market place up there for food." Rick said pinching the bridge of his nose. "Ok everyone else listen up." Rick said gathering everyone else attention again.

I looked over at Daryl. He was looking back at me and chuckling.

I guess me getting scolded is what made a almost 40 year old man laugh now a days. I rolled my eyes and ate my stew.

----

After we all ate dinner everyone headed to their cells to sleep. Besides Rick. He headed out of the prison. I assume to go on watch or snoop around somewhere. I don't really care.

As I headed down the short walk way to my cell I bumped into a broad shoulder. I looked up and groaned. Daryl. "Watch where ya going." He huffed out. I rolled my eyes and went to walk past him. "Annoying asshole." I mumbled under my breath.

A hand grabbed the back of my shirt collar and slammed me into the cement wall. I groaned as a slight rush of pain pierced my head.

Daryl looked down at me. His hand holding my shirt to the wall. He leaned closer his eyes squinting at me. "Wha'd ya call me?" He asked in a low whisper.

I glared at the man in front of me. No way in hell he was talking to me like this. "Wha'd ya think?" I mocked him.

I smirked a little in sanctification as the annoyances crept its way onto his face. "Is the big hunts man mad?" I teased as his hand bunched into fist. I took the opportunity before he could speak to flip our positions.

I slammed him into the wall. Watching as his eyes widen in shock. "Before you go around shoving women into walls.." I leaned into his ear. "Make sure shes not a professionally trained wrestler." His face scrunched up.

I laughed as I let go of him. "Ass hole." I cooed as I walked off to my cell. Completely satisfied for once.

----

"I seriously cannot believe I have to go with you. Rick could've chosen anyone." I complained as I fixed my pistol in my holster.

Daryl was getting his bike ready. "Stop complaining." He grumbled in annoyance. He got on his bike and looked at me. I stared at him confused.

"Get on the fuck are ya doin?" He asked as I still stood there. In utter silence. "I'm not getting on that bike with you." I rolled my eyes.

He leaned his head back in exasperation. I was making this hell for him. I could tell. I kinda liked it.

"I'm gonna leave without ya." He kicked up the kick stand of his bike and revved it up. "Fine! But only because I don't feel like walking." I saw him smirk slightly from the side mirrors on his bike. Our eyes caught each other and he stared at me for a second before looking away.

I walked up to the bike and threw my right leg over the seat and sat down. "You're gonna have to hold on." He said as he revved the bike up again. "I think I can balance." I rolled my eyes. "Sure." He chuckled as the gates opened.

He revved the bike up one more time before shooting out of the prison and onto the road ahead. My body wobbled and I flung my arms forward. Wrapping them around Daryl's waist.

Daryl Pov

I knew she wouldn't be able to balance. I felt her arms wrap around me and bit my lip. The breeze of the wind flowing my hair felt nice. But not as nice as this. I'll admit it's been a while since someone has ever touched me like this. Maybe that's why I don't mind.

Or maybe I just wanted to prove her right. I closed my eyes slightly. It was nice to get out of the prison. Even with the dead being all over.

My thoughts slipped to last night. Her slamming me against the wall. Her face as she leaned into my ear. Her voice.. I felt a shiver run down my spine. No I couldn't like this snobby woman. She was also keeping to her self. A strange woman in a now strange world. Not so strange at all If you really think about it.

I'm too hypocritical.

I was and still am like that. Sure I've gotten closer to a lot of our people but I still keep my distance. I opened my eyes. Watching ahead for any walkers or living people.

I could see in my right side mirror Y/N looking around. She looked nice with the wind blowing her hair. A carefree look on her face.

I looked ahead and kept going. All the way to Greens Burrow. Trying my best to ignore the thoughts I had of the woman behind me. I'm just going crazy. This world has changed me.

----

I stopped at the local market. I kicked down my bikes kick stand and waited for Y/N to get off. Once she did I got off too.

She grabbed a stray shopping cart and headed inside. She better not fill that shitty thing up. The two bags on my bike only had enough room for a few things. If we found any.

I shoved open the door. Carts and random shelves blocked the entrance. We climbed over them and got to the main center of the store. Empty shelves and random new papers littered the room.

I looked over at Y/N to ask her what we should do but she was already walking off. Pushing the cart down a random isle all the way at the back of the store.

"Is she dumb?" I asked myself as I followed her. I left my cross bow back at the prison. Fuck. I pulled out my pistol from my holster and lifted it up. Checking each isle as I walked over to her.

This idiot could've been eaten. I guess not everyone is as smart as you think.

Once I finally made it to her I saw the cart. Stock pilled of random canned goods and chips. "We can't take all of that." I grumbled as I lowered my pistol.

"We can just take some and then come back for the rest." She shrugged like it was no big deal. She is starting to really piss me off.

"I do not wanna be stuck running around all day with an idiot." I pinched the bridge of my nose in annoyance. I felt her hand pat my chest and I looked down at her. "Get over it." She smiled but her tone was rather angry.

I shoved her away and headed off down the rest of the isle. Checking for walkers so this idiot of a woman doesn't die.

----

Regular POV

It's been about a week since me and Daryl's run. He has been avidly ignoring me. I guess I really pissed him off when I said this walker with the ugliest fucking face looking like him. I thought it was funny.

Today I was out checking the other cells around the prison. Killing any walkers that I stumbled into or that stumbled into me. I had finally made it to the end of cell block E.

I was going to be late for dinner. Oh well. I headed back to the front of the prison and walked into the main cell block we were all settled in. Just as I thought.

Everyone had ate and there was nothing left. I groaned and mentally cursed Rick for giving me the worst jobs. I lowered my head and started walking up to the stairs.

"Not gonna eat?" A familiar deep voice asked. I looked over at Daryl. He was holding a bowl of stew. I rolled my eyes. "No." I huffed and turned to keep walking.

"Come on and eat. I don't need you to starve." He insisted. Talking to me like he cared.

"Why do you care if I starve?" I sneered. He just gave me a look. The 'you better do what I say.' look. I gave up and walked back down the steps and over to him. He held out the bowl to me and I took it.

"Thanks.." I say unsure. Should I be thanking him or telling him off? He had ignored me for a whole week.

Why do you care about me so much all of a sudden? You ignored me all week." I antagonized him. He just stared at me. Bitting his bottom lip.

"I didn't ignore you. Now good night." He turned away and began to walk up the stairs to his cell. I rolled my eyes and started to eat my stew.

Then it hit me.

He wasn't ignoring me. At least he was verbally.

He would purposely bump into me and give me a rude look. Even if it was his fault. He'd look at me anytime we all ate dinner together. Constantly pick the same time to do guard duty as me. Even if he didn't speak to me.

I shook my head. Maybe I was just over thinking it. We were in a prison after all. With maybe 10 people. It's bound that we bump into each other and have the same shifts.

———

Again. Today I had to check Cell block A. I groaned as I walked down the hall. I was always chosen for the dumb jobs. I headed into a cell unit. Checking each cell for any sign of life .. or death. As I got to the end of the cell block a hand grabbed me and pushed me down to the grown.

"Ah- what the hell.." I looked up at the walker infront of me. It's jaws slammed together as I pushed it away with my hand. Keeping its mouth away from my face and neck. "ah- fuck!" I looked over to my side. My gun had fallen out.

"Shit shit shit! I kicked at the walker. It didn't budge. I tried shoving it off. No use. My arms grew tired and I trembled under the weight of the dead. This can't be how I die. No way.

As the Walker lowered its self. Close enough to take a bite out of my flesh. I swear I could've felt the pain of teeth bitting into my skin. A loud 'phew' echoed and an arrow pierced the Walker through the head. It flopped down. I pushed it off my quickly and scrambled away from it. Catching my breath.

Daryl stood at the end of the corridor. His crossbow in hand. He lowered it and walked over. Pulling the arrow out of the walkers head.

"What are you doing here?" I asked still trying to recover from the shock.

"Saving you. Dumb ass." He grumbled and set his cross bow down. He walked over to me and held out his hand. I hesitantly held my hand out and took his. He pulled me up and I stumbled into him.

He looked down at me as I looked up at him. "I heard you. I was walking around tryna find you to tell ya dinner was done. Since you missed it the day before." His voice echoed in my head. This time it wasn't annoying.

"Oh really? What makes you care so much if I miss dinner? It just mean more food for you. I don't get why you're trying to be so nice to me but stop."

He stared at me. His eyes narrowing slowly. "I just saved ya. Doesn't it prove I are about ya?! Do I have to spell it out!" He yelled flipping his arms into the air and back down.

"Why did you save me? Aren't I just an annoyance to you?" I went on. His hands bunched up into fist. "Maybe you are!" He sneered.

"Good I like being the reason you're so mad." I smirked and pushed him against the wall. He stared at me. Slowly catching onto my game. "Agitating you makes my day." I clicked my tongue in his face at the end of the sentence.

He bit his lip and glared at me. His hands grabbing my sides slowly but firmly. My heart rushed slightly. I pushed the feeling down. I wanted him to make the first move.

"Maybe I like that you agitate me." He added on, pulling me closer by the waist. His voice was deeper now. More low and quite.

I pressed my body against his. My arms wrapped around his neck. "I like that you like it." I whispered in his ear in a slow, low tone. I could feel him growing hard as each one of my silky smooth words touched his ear.

I pulled away and looked at him. I laughed slightly. Who knew a women could make a grown man melt at a few words so easily.

"Maybe I'll-"

He cut me off and pressed me against his chest. "Just shut up and kiss me." He demanded. I smirked and gladly listened. Pressing my lips against his cold chapped ones. His stumble rubbed against my face and I'd be lying if I said it didn't turn me on more.

We stayed like that for a few minuets. Just kissing and saying things I'm sure he wouldn't want the others to know about. Men get embarrassed so easily.

#the walking dead #daryl dixon #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl x reader #daryl x y/n #daryl x you

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kayann9 · 7 months ago

Text

The Darkest Night

Thank you again to everyone :) This is pure fluff. I always believed that Gale and Tav definitely know they have some feelings for each other before the 'Big Confession' and this is one of those moments. I have a sort of second part to this too.

Set just before Shadow Curse Lands.

Pairing: Gale X F! Tav (Serena)

Words: 1047

Rating: T (a lot of fluff)

The shadows around them seemed to grow heavier than anyone would have thought possible and they hadn’t even arrived there yet. Serena hated the dark. She’d never told anyone that. Her tent was always adorned with a flickering light, just enough to offer her some warmth against the unforgiving gloom. She had long since accepted that darkness was part of her life, part of what she needed, but each time the sun set and the midnight darkness shrouded her like the embrace of Shar, she could not help but feel lost and afraid.

She hid it well.

Always walking straight; always talking; always stepping ahead of the others, but each time a wayward patch of night caught her eye, a shiver erupted up her spine and the helplessness she’d known as a youngster flooded back into thoughts.

The Shadowcursed Lands loomed ahead, and this pervasive sense of dread loomed right along with it.

When they set up camp, it took all of her effort not to listen to her limbs urging her back up towards the Mountain Pass and the glowing vista they were leaving behind. No more lush greenery and bright flowers; no more sunsets and sunrises with the multi-faceted colours of a glowing sky. Serena had never wanted to go to a place less than the next step of their journey.

She rubbed her hands over her face before wandering over to her favourite companion’s tent hoping for some kind of distraction from her impending worry.

“What’re you doing?”

Gale smiled at her. He knew that tone well. The same tone she’d used before they’d traversed the Underdark. Her sing-song curiosity of the things he did made his soul smile.

“Perhaps you should come and find out.” He laughed and made room for her on his bedroll. She’d been in here a few times; enough times for him to make sure it was always kept orderly just in case she visited. Over the last couple of months, he’d tried convincing himself that he was making a fool of himself, but now he was facing down eternity, he could not bring himself to care as much. Instead, he soaked up her attention like the roots of a starving flower desperate to soak up moisture from the rain.

One evening, not long after the fated visit from Elminster, she’d fallen asleep in there as they’d sat and read together. Ever since, he’d spent nights hoping it would happen again.

As she seemingly liked doing, she perched next to him, her chin resting on his shoulder and her eyes looking at the book he held. The kind of physical touch that was typical of lovers. The kind he’d not had in so long. It was difficult not to indulge in and now that he’d made peace with his destructive condition, it seemed silly not to indulge in it for who knew how long he would have left to enjoy it.

Selfish, maybe? Needed, certainly.

Gale had long since concluded that whatever her story was, she needed it as much as he did.

“This is like another language.” He could hear the squint on her face.

“Because it is another language. I found it in the temple. It is Githyanki. I think I have worked out a few of the key terms such as Queen but I am still trying to work out the narrative.”

“Why not just ask Lae’zel?”

Gale turned, his face only an inch from hers as she looked over his shoulder and smiled. “Well, if I were to simply ask Lae’zel, then she would be able to translate this simple passage for me, but I would not have learnt how to translate the myriads of passages encapsulated in those crypts. Imagine the knowledge trapped in these texts. If I can work out the terminology in this one, then I can do it for the others. Of course, the plan is Lae’zel can check that I am correct while we have her here.”

Serena scrunched up her nose and chuckled. “I like watching you learn. Can I stay whilst you uncover the great mysteries of the Githyanki?”

“Of course, you can. You needn’t ever ask permission sit with me.”

Serena did not need a second invitation, especially with the gravity of what hid on the horizon for them. Instead, made herself comfortable leaning against him taking in his warmth like he was the sunshine she was leaving behind.

How she loved watching him as he read and studied; he was so far removed from the people she usually encountered that she had been almost captivated with him from their first meeting. His stories and how he told them with his whole body, his graceful manners misaligned with occasional clumsiness, his over-confidence and uncertainty co-existing oddly together; all of it made her feel lighter. Dare she say, happy? He was her own little slice of daylight amongst an oncoming storm.

“Thunder or perhaps clouds?” The low hum of his voice broke through her daydream.

His brow creased as he grabbed the quill and scribbled on a stray piece of parchment.

She closed her eyes at the scratching on the paper and curled up next to him, tucking her feet underneath her. She stifled a yawn as she leaned into the softness of his side, breathing in the scent of the autumncrocus he’d spent the day collecting. His shirt was soft and without a second thought, she wrapped an arm around his middle before letting her drowsiness claim her.

Gale stilled at the movement but after one look at her peaceful face, the face he’d decided he definitely loved, he relaxed and let his arm drape around her in the same way, his fingers stroking her hair.

“You are more captivating than any language that could ever be spoken.” He whispered into the air, part of him hoping she was asleep but an ever-growing part of him wishing she had heard. “Whatever is causing you the worry you feel, I will make sure I do my best to shield you from it.” He pressed his lips gently to the top of her head.

Carefully, he put the text down, trying his best not to wake her and instead decided to study the subject he was most fascinated by: Serena Tavarnos.

#bg3 #bg3 gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 tav #gale bg3 #gale x tav #f!tav

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samcarpentersgirlfriend · 1 year ago

Note

i have a request for wes hicks, so make a fic where it’s wes last day and like they have a date and all before he gets killed and then after the reader finds out he’s dead the next day, if that makes sense 💀

sorry this one took so long!!

YOU’RE ALL I WANTED || WES HICKS X READER𖤐₊˚.

summary: above

word count: 3k

warnings: fluff to angst (non happy ending), swearing, use of y/n + y/n/n in some places,

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

“Can I open my eyes yet?”

“Nope.” You dont have to be able to see Wes to know that he’s smiling that boyish smile of his.

“But Wes, I can’t see.”

“Huh, it’s almost like that’s the point,” he replies sarcastically, laughing when you swat at what you guess is his arm. “Come on, we’re almost there, I promise.”

“You said that five minutes ago!” You all but whine, a pout on your lips. You were willing to humour whatever Wes was planning, but if you had to stumble through darkness any longer, the anticipation was probably going to kill you. You’d gotten out of the car what felt like an eternity ago at a place you didn’t recognise, and Wes had been leading you ever since then. And you had no idea where you were heading - or what you even were supposed to be doing.

You open your mouth to speak once more again, but before you can, Wes takes his hands from over your eyes with a flourish.

“Surprise?” He says hopefully, pointing towards something that you can’t quite see yet. It’s a beautiful day today, and you squint as your eyes adjust to the bright light. But once you see it, you can’t hide the grin that appears on your face.

“Wes!” You gasp, “You shouldn’t have!”

It’s a cliché thing to say, you know that, but he really shouldn’t have. He’s led you to a field - a beautiful one, with flowers of all kind blooming off to the side - and in front of you lays a blanket with all your favourite snacks upon it. Fruit bowls, chips, cupcakes - the fancy ones that Wes knows you love even though they’re totally overpriced. It’s completely and utterly perfect. And without a doubt, the most thoughtful thing anybody has ever done for you.

You tell Wes as much as you throw your arms around him and and press a kiss to his temple, and you don’t miss the adorable way that his cheeks flush in response.

“It’s nothing,” he says nonchalantly, even though this whole thing must’ve took a hell of a lot of planning and most definitely not nothing. “Honestly. And you deserve it - all of it.”

He says that casually too, like it doesn’t fill your chest with warmth and make your heart skip a dozen beats. It’s like Wes doesn’t realise that he’s too good; too good at this whole date planning thing, too good at being your boyfriend - too damn good in general. You’ve only been together for a couple of months, but honestly? It’s the happiest you’ve been in a long time. It’s like you’re in a constant state of bliss with Wes, your whirlwind romance lighting up your days in way that puts the sun to shame. Texting with him alone is enough to make you practically giddy, so being here with him now is your own little idea of heaven.

“So,” you ask in between a bite of a cookie once you’ve sat down,“what made you think of all of this? I mean, it’s seriously like something out of a movie!”

“Just wanted to do something nice for you.” Wes replies with a smile and a shrug. “I didn’t know what, but then I remembered this place. I haven’t been here in years, but it hasn’t changed a bit.” Wes pauses, and you notice his expression falter for a moment. “I used to come here when my parents argued - when I needed to clear my head, you know? I don’t know, it’s probably stupid, but…”

Wes trails off awkwardly, dropping his gaze. You know that his parents aren’t together - haven’t been for years - but Wes barely talks about his sorry excuse for a father. In fact, you think this is the most he’s ever spoken on the issue to you.

“Hey,” you say gently, pressing a hand to Wes’ cheek and carefully turning his head so that he’s looking at you once more. “It’s not stupid. Not in the slightest. I get it. It really is a beautiful place.”

Wes nods and his eyes gain their light once more, and he places his hand over yours. Wes had never really been big on public affection, but it seemed as if the two of you were the only people around. It doesn’t matter anyway - it certainly feels like you are. You could stay here forever like this, the sun on your skin, legs messily interlocked. It’s all you’ve ever wanted.

“Thank you for this, for today.” You say quietly. You’re still trying to make sure that you remember it all - the food strewn across the blanket, all of the different types of flowers and all their different hues, the smell of strawberries and your boyfriends’ coconut shampoo - it’s something you never want to forget. In fact, when the two of you pull way from each other, you take out your phone and snap a picture of the setup just in case, before taking one of you and Wes too - the two of you smiling, the photo slightly blurry but still somehow perfect.

Even though you’ve been out for most of the day, you still can’t help but be disappointed when the sun sets and the two of you have no choice but to leave - especially when Wes’ mom tells him it’s way past his curfew and sends him one not - so vaguely threatening text about the dangers of staying out past dark.

Still, it feels as if you’ve barely stopped smiling today - but you haven’t had much reason to. Even as Wes drives you home, his free hand loosely interlaced with yours, you still can’t shake the butterfly feeling in your stomach. Maybe it was just the “honeymoon” stage of your relationship, but it felt like it was so much more than that. Maybe this was just how dating Wes was going to be - constantly feeling like you were on cloud nine. You’re more than okay with that.

“You know, you don’t have to to walk me to my door,” you tease as Wes exits the car when you reach your destination what feels like far too quickly.

“I want to,” Wes responds simply. “Besides, you never know what could be hiding in the bushes.”

“It’s a thirty second walk,” you laugh, letting him trail besides you nonetheless. “But thank you, my knight in shining armour.”

Wes simply chuckles. “Thanks for coming today. I had a really great time with you.”

You frown in disbelief. “Are you kidding? Thank me for coming? Wes, you set up this whole thing? I need to be thanking you. I loved it - I love you. It was more than perfect.”

Wes’ eyes widen ever so slightly, and you belatedly realise that you don’t think you’d ever said those words out loud before - I love you. Not because you didn’t mean them, but because you were worried that you’d look too eager, too desperate. It wasn’t something you said early on in a relationship, it just wasn’t.

Oh, to hell with it. You meant what you said, societal rules be damned. You love Wes, love spending time with him, love the way he makes you feel. Love his beautiful blue eyes and his infectious smile and just how damn thoughtful he is. You love Wes Hicks, plain and simple.

And by the way he wraps his arms around your waist and presses his lips to yours, you’re left to assume that he feels the same way. Well, you don’t even have to assume, not when he tells you as much when he pulls back, tells you that he didn’t want to scare you off by saying it before and isn’t that just ironic?

The whole thing almost makes you forget that Wes has to leave, and you can’t contain your sigh when he reminds you that he’s already late back. “I’ll text you when I’m back,” he assure you, “promise. I love you, okay?” Now you were both ready to say it aloud, you had a feeling you’d be hearing those three words a lot from now on

“Love you too. Night, Wes.”

Wes simply grins as he walks away and gets into his car, sparing you one last glance before he waves and drives away. You stare at his empty spot on the road for a minute, before you realise that staring into the empty sidewalk in the dark probably makes you look like a complete creep and make your way inside your house and up to your bedroom.

You receive your promised text almost twenty minutes later, just after you’ve climbed into bed. It reads:

wes: at home now

wes: are you still awake?

y/n: yeah

y/n: glad you’re home safe ♡

wes: thanks baby

wes: I’ll call you in the morning, okay?

y/n: okay

y/n: night wes

wes: goodnight y/n/n

wes: sweet dreams <3

Sighing in contentment, you put your phone down onto your bedside table and flick off your lamp. It’s like the events of today have suddenly caught up with you all at once, and you feel your eyes start to flutter closed, consciousness slowly slipping away. You briefly wonder if you’ll dream tonight - although you doubt anything your sleeping mind could conjure would top your date today.

⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ✿ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹

It feels as if you’ve only just closed your eyes - although the light shining through your curtain tells you otherwise - when you’re awoken by the sound of buzzing. It’s strange, you think to yourself, you didn’t set an alarm - although you cast your mind back and remember that Wes did say that he would call you in the morning.

Blinking blearily, you pick up your phone to see that it’s not ringing at all. No, instead you’re greeted with a plethora of message notifications from all sorts of social media platforms. That’s even stranger; your phone never blew up like this, especially not this early on a Sunday morning. It freaks you out a little bit, but you’re more curious than anything.

Especially when you see some of the names of the senders. Liv. Amber. Chad. Tara. Mindy.

Your boyfriend’s friend group. That’s not to say you’re not friendly with them, but they were still definitely more Wes’ friends than they were yours. And they rarely messaged you - especially not all at once.

And from what you can tell - all your of them are basically saying the same thing.

liv: oh my god

liv: i heard the news and I can’t even imagine how you’re feeling right now I’m so sorry

chad: hope your doing okay after everything

chad: i get if you need space but if you need anything, you can call me.

tara: i know there’s nothing I can say to you to make this better but god I’m sorry, if you need anything, we’re all here for you, always.

Your eyebrows knit together in a confused frown. I’m so sorry? Sorry for what? Everybody was sending you well wishes, but you had no fucking clue why. Had Wes broken up with you without even knowing? No, he couldn’t have. Not after yesterday. Why go through all of that effort to dump you the next day? It didn’t make sense. None of this makes any sense.

You decide that the only way to clear any of this up is to call Wes yourself. Sure, it was still early, but he was a light sleeper and the ringing of his phone would be more than enough to wake him. You unlock your phone and click on his name in your contacts and wait expectantly for him to answer.

Except he never does.

“Hey, this is Wes. I’m probably doing something, so, uh, leave a message.”

Groaning in frustration, you try again. And again. When Wes doesn’t pick up the forth time, you send him a message instead.

y/n: call me right now

y/n: it’s urgent

y/n: you need to explain everything to me now

Unlike usual, typing bubbles don’t appear within a minute. Not even after five. Sure, this is probably all just a misunderstanding that Wes will clear up for you when he’s awake, but if he’s done what the ugly voice in the back of your head is telling you that he’s done, then he owes you answers immediately.

Growing frustrated, you start to type a reply to Tara, asking her what the hell is even going on, but your phone chooses that exact moment to die and power off. It makes you want to scream.

You feel sick. You feel stressed and irritated and like you desperately need to punch something. You find your charger and connect your phone to the wire, bouncing your leg as you anxiously wait for it to turn on. You need answers.

Within the space of a minute, it feels like centuries have passed. And it’s not doing anything to help your nerves. In an effort to calm them, you reach for your remote and turn your TV on, flicking through the channels until one catches your eye.

BREAKING: TWO FOUND DEAD IN WOODSBORO - SUSPECTED COPYCAT ATTACK.

Your initial thought to that headline is again, really? You still remembered seeing almost the exact headline when those two highschoolers tried the same thing almost ten years ago. Your second thought is much more macabre. What if it’s somebody you know? It had to be: Woodsboro wasn’t a huge place, everybody practically knew everybody anyway. It was bound to be- no.

No.

It couldn’t be.

It’s all starting to make sense now, but you desperately wish it wouldn’t. Wes’s friends messaging you with their condolences. Your phone blowing up. Wes not picking up his goddamn phone.

No.

You turn up the channel, wishing the fucking reporters would just get to the damn point already and tell you what you needed to know. You listen to them ramble on about how horrifying and utterly tragic the whole thing is but you’re only half listening - will only be half listening - until they utter that name. His name. You need your phone to turn on. You need to call Wes, hear his voice so you can laugh and tell him how paranoid you were and how much he scared you. How much you need him. You need to breathe.

But you can’t. You’re feeling like you’re suffocating and it’s stupid because you don’t know anything, not yet, except you do. You can feel the dread deep in your bones, the horror in the out of your stomach. It’s Wes.

Like some twisted coincidence, it almost at that exact moment when two pictures pop up on the screen. You don’t hear the accompanying words, not over your sob. Because it’s him. His yearbook picture, the one that hung in his living room, the one you helped him get ready for and assured him he looked absolutely beautiful in. His mother’s is the second, the same picture that was on her badge. The badge she was so proud of.

No. It isn’t true. This is all some twisted nightmare and you need to speak to Wes and he’ll tell you everything’s okay because he always does and your phone is finally on thank God and you call Wes again and why won’t he pick up he needs to pick up and you can’t breathe-

The tears streaming down your face make it hard to see anything. You don’t want to look anyway. Not at Wes’ smiling face because he’s not smiling, not anymore. He’d never smile again, you’d never hear his voice again, because he was dead. Wes, your Wes, who was the kindest person you had ever met and had never done anything to anyone, was dead at the hands of some psychopath fulfilling his sick fantasies. It’s not fair. None of this is fair.

You can’t wrap your head around it. Wes is - was - so alive. You saw it, in every crease by his eye when he smiled and the way his whole body shook when he laughed and the way he kissed you like it was the most important thing in the world. He was the most important thing in your world.

A world that was plunged in darkness now, because how were you supposed to live out the rest of your life after Wes? You knew how happy your felt with him, how much you adored him and felt adored, and how were you supposed to carry on knowing you’d never feel that again. You can’t. All you can do is cry, your body shaking with the efforts of your sobs. It isn’t fair. It isn’t fair. It isn’t fair.

Your phone starts buzzing once more, and although know it’s not him, can’t be him, you can’t help but check anyway.

Your naïve hope is stupidly misplaced. Of course it isn’t Wes. Just an influx of messages from family and classmates whose names you only half recognise telling you how sorry they are. You don’t fucking care. Sorries don’t bring your boyfriends back to life. They won’t let you be able to hold him again, tell him how much he means to you. How much you love him.

You can’t deal with them. Not now. You go to turn off your phone, and it freezes for a second on your lock screen before fully shutting down once more. The lock screen you changed on the car ride home yesterday, the one where you’re looking to the camera and Wes is looking half to the side but it’s okay because he’s still smiling nonetheless.

Still alive.

#scream x reader #wes hicks #wes hicks x reader #wes hicks imagine #scream imagine #scream 5 #scream #scream x you #wes hicks x y/n #wes hicks x you #dylan minnette #dylan minette x reader #scream 2022 #scream headcanons #fanfiction

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kinda-thoughtless-critic · 2 years ago

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Recruitment at Sunset

(jealous) Jean x Reader

It was a pleasantly warm evening at the survey corps headquarters, fading amber sun rays shone through open windows and avian chitter echoed from the leafy tops of trees outside. A relatively newly appointed Section Commander was at his desk shuffling some documents around. Many a parchment was discarded at a near automated speed, the applicant’s name was scanned and nine times out of ten dummped on a stack towering at the desk’s edge. Another, much smaller pile sat patiently in front of the young soldier.

His long fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as tired eyes forced themselves to squint at less than impressive chicken scratch. A calloused thumb pad sank into the paper, creating creases like that of those framing his features, and he sighed, wishing the setting sun would pause and prolong the day a little longer.

It was then the warm oak door to his office opened with a slight creak of its old hinges, and that wish disappeared through the widening gap. Too quick did bright eyes meet his, curved to the softest gaze, the sheet of paper cropping off a smile. Jean jerked upright at your entrance, only having seconds to swiftly sweep the larger paper pile into the metal bin below and place the one he’d been scanning on the one in front.

You cocked an eyebrow as you drew closer to his desk, the door closing slowly behind.

“These are the applications for your new squad,” he said nonchalantly, handing you a flimsy stack of papers.

You skimmed through the applicants, flipping through the limited number of pages. Impressed by their statements, but disappointed with the lack of choice, after the 5th you stopped. “They’re all female”

“Yeah, that seems to be the case,” he responded, resting his elbows on the desk, light brown eyes piercing in the subdued light, “the top four ones are the people I think you should pick. Bridgette and Lina placed 10th and 8th in their Training Corps a few years back, Winnie was a well respected Garrison soldier and I think it will be good to have one of the new recruits like Piper join your squad and learn the ropes.”

Your smile returned as he pitched his suggestions, noting the stray hairs falling from their carefully combed positions to brush the tips of his nose and cheekbones. “You’ve thought about this a lot haven’t you?”

Jean smiled, softer lines replacing rigid ones, and his expression relaxed. “I’m your superior now; it’s my job.”

“Except on this occasion it isn’t, Commander Hange gave me the okay to choose my own members,” you smirked, “not for my Section Commander to do it for me.”

Jean sat back a bit, running a hand through disheveled locks, “I saved you time. It would’ve taken ages for you to decide on the right ones, so I thought I’d help you out.”

“This doesn’t seem like much.” You flapped the documents for extra effect, then glanced sidelong at the recently filled bin beside his desk. “Unless I am to count the ones you threw away just a moment ago.”

He followed your eyes down and promptly folded his arms. “Those aren’t important.”

“In your opinion perhaps, but not to me,” you said, stalking over to them and fishing them out. Jean frowned, displeasure evident in the reappearing creases gathering around knitted brows as you flipped through them. “So here are all my male applicants.”

“The ones I picked out for you were better suited,” Jean insisted.

You almost laughed. “You sure? Because one of these guys, Isaac Milton, was a Squad Captain in the Garrison.”

“He was stationed at Yarckel,” he countered, “He’s never seen a titan.”

“We’re not really fighting titans anymore. At least, not like before.”

“True, but he’s got little battle experience compared to the veterans I’ve picked, and won’t be as sharp as the new trainees. We don’t know exactly what we’ll be up against. Y/n, I don’t want you getting yourself killed protecting him.”

You sighed, clutching the stack close to your chest. “I’ll need his leadership experience- plus he was in the top 20 after graduating.”

“Leadership experience like choosing which barrel to sit on while you drink away the shift playing cards?” His words were sarcastic but his tone nothing short of sincere, this combined with the intent gaze he fixed you getting up and walking round made for a dangerous combination. He took back the stack with without resistance. “Hange and Levi are giving you a squad because they know what you can do. You’re more than capable of leading them.” He let the pile land with a thump on the desk and rested a hand on it, leaning his tall frame towards you. Attentive. “Have faith in yourself.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his immediacy, amber rays highlighting the precise curve of his smile, sheer softness in this gaze. The musky scent of imported cologne played annoyingly with your senses, threatening to distract your thoughts.

With a huff, you gently shoved his shoulder. “I’m fully capable of your promotion.”

He let out a soft chuckle, allowing his body to sway slightly with the impact. “Alright, then maybe you’ll get the next position that comes up.”

Shaking your head, as if you could brush off the natural half smile clinging to your cheek, you reached around his arm to pick up the lighter stack. Both of you knew he wouldn’t stop you if you really wanted to choose differently, but you were never going to. His judgement was more than reliable, had saved your life multiple times, for the longest time you never questioned trusting it. That said, you weren’t going to make it easy for him. “Is there a reason the only ones you approved were female?”

Jean took his hand off the tall paper pile, subtly hiding it from view as his lower back leaned against the desk. “Nope. They’re the best here.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely.”

“Fine,” you reached up to jiggle his bearded chin. He allowed it, for a moment, before playfully batting your hand away. Turning on a heel you made your way to the door, “I’ll go with these four, so they better not disappoint, Horseface,” finally calling out as you left, “Actually to be on the safe sight, keep those ones on file for me...”

A heavy sigh juxtaposed your friendly wave goodbye, followed by a quiet grumble seeing your fleeting figure, taking away what little light had been left with it.

~~~

Thanks for reading!

Masterlist

Burden of Duty (Jean x Reader angst)

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f1crecs · 1 year ago

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Fic Rec List - Daniel/Max (Angst)

if your fic is on this list and you don’t want it to be, please let me know and I will remove it immediately, no questions asked. I have contacted most of the authors on this list, but sometimes people fall through the gaps - just pop me a message🤍

have a pairing you want me to do next? please read the faqs and then head to my inbox.

don’t forget to give the authors featured on this list some love in the form of kudos, bookmarks, and comments!

I can't believe the Queen of Maxiel Angst herself is requesting angst from me! I hope you enjoy these, bb. 🤭

if the sky falls by @mysticalbreadcollective | M | 2.4k Max and Daniel are caught in a building collapse. Bread's angst is always fantastic, and especially here, with an edge of immediate danger. Bread does emotion so well. It was hard to choose just one Bread fic to recommend for this list!

'He sounds- scared. Which yeah, no shit, Daniel’s scared too. But hearing Max scared makes this real. Makes it all real. Max never gets scared. Ever. He gets quietly angry, he gets even, but he never gets scared like this, and it just highlights how much trouble they’re actually in.'

if tomorrow never comes by @toastandvegemite | T | 2.8k (content tags: suicidal thoughts) This is a very well written, sensitively handled fic. This author's writing is always incredibly engaging, but this story is on another level - I don't think I breathed once during my first read. No one does emotion quite like this. Stunning.

'Still smiling, still losing, still trying desperately to be something he can't even see clearly.'

nsfw: Figure Me Sweetly by @love-leah | E | 5k The pining here is just exquisite. This is a real masterclass in Max's very specific brand of suffering - wanting so much, so intensely, but not allowing himself to have. Achey and gorgeous. This one will stay with you long after you've finished reading!

'Daniel has no idea if that's true. When they were teammates, he knew exactly how much Max could drink before he got stupid in a way only Daniel and Max thought was fun; how much more before Daniel had to cut him off or he would puke. Now it’s been a fucking year since he got drunk with Max.'

nsfw: in that iron ground by @lilyrizzy | E | 41.8k (content tags: parental death, grief) Daniel and Max travel to Daniel's hometown for a funeral. This is a beautifully written story. The emotions are visceral - I remember having to take a few laps of my home after reading this for the first time. It's simply stunning.

'Max is squinting at Daniel in the bright sunlight. How the fuck is the sun still shining? Shouldn’t thunder be sounding, shouldn’t lightning be flashing across the sky? Shouldn’t something look different in Daniel’s world, now that there is one less person in it?.'

so can we make the most out of no time? and And my hopes, they are high by @wolfiemcwolferson | M / E | 96k This whole series is well worth a read; the Daniel and Max section sets the tone beautifully. The dialogue and relationship development here is second to none. Daniel and Max go through a lot, but it only makes their ending that more satisfying. I love these fics so much, and I think you will, too.

'Max’s smile is so small you would miss it if you weren’t looking for it, but Daniel is. Daniel is looking for it.'

#maxiel #daniel/max #f1 rpf #pairing:daniel/max #driver:daniel #driver:max

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bumblebeehug · 3 months ago

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Lovely Seasons - Spring

Summary: Natsu and Lucy take a break from walking on the way home from a mission. Part 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 of the Lovely Seasons series Ao3 Art made for this fic: <3

***

“No way! Look, Natsu, a field with wildflowers!” Lucy’s face lit up as she excitedly pointed towards the grassland. Natsu had to squint due to the sun shining in his eyes, but just as she said there were small flowers in different colours gently protruding from the soft grass, almost as if they were peeking out from the long winter to see if their season finally had arrived.

Happy was quick to fly to one of the trees standing in the field. It almost stuck out like a sore thumb, but the pearly white flowers in it made it fit in nicely. Natsu and Lucy eagerly followed him. It was about time they got to rest, their feet were sore and they were tired after the long day. Lucy took a seat with the tree trunk as her backrest, taking the opportunity to continue with the book she brought on their mission. Natsu took his chance to take a quick nap in the sun, allowing the soft grass to act as a mattress.

The three mages were currently on their way home after an easier mission in Hargeon, and Lucy had agreed to walk all the way home since the job had required them to take several vehicles. Lucy thought Natsu deserved the break, and since the weather forecast told them the weather would be good all weekend, she didn’t actually mind the hike, especially considering how beautiful the landscape became during these weeks. The change in scenery actually inspired Lucy and she easily got a few more chapters done thanks to nature. While the transport issue might have been the main reason, it wasn’t the only reason Lucy agreed to walk with them home. She loved to spend this special quality time with her two best friends.

Natsu didn’t know this though. He just felt lucky that Lucy didn’t force him to take a train home - not that he wouldn’t do what she asked at the end of the day, he knew Lucy didn’t always pick the most comfortable shoes for every mission. He actually appreciated how considerate she was. Most of the time she would complain when Happy and Natsu started begging to walk home, but she compromised a lot with them. “I’ll do it if you promise to let me have a few breaks on the way” and “We can walk home if you agree to cook food for me for at least 5 days” were sentences they heard on numerous occasions, and thankfully Natsu and Happy could agree to simple requests like that.

Natsu could only think about that far before the warm breeze and the smell of freshly growing grass lulled him to sleep. The rhythmic sound of Lucy turning pages and Happy’s purring from Lucy’s lap topped the cake and he drifted off in complete bliss.

Lucy had just finished a quite satisfying chapter and was not sleepy at all. The landscape in front of her was the best muse she had gotten in a while, so she picked up her notebook and started writing her ideas. A smile graced her face as she excitedly closed the notebook again. She’d have to convince Team Natsu to stay at home a few days more so she could properly write these ideas down. The sky above her was a light shade of blue, a shade that could only be seen at this time, right before lunchtime. Small fluffy clouds embraced the blue yonder and she wondered what her spirits were seeing from the celestial world. Was the view as beautiful as it is from here? Or is it even prettier from afar?

As the wind grabbed hold of the tree crown, the sun blinded Lucy’s eyes through the gaps in the leaves. It was indeed a bright day outside. She glanced at Natsu’s sleeping body, a few feet away from her. His face was in direct sunlight, and she couldn’t help but wonder how he could rest in this brightness. As she looked closer he didn’t actually seem that comfortable, with his eyebrows slightly furrowed and his eyes squinting in his sleep. But deep in dreamland he was, because his mouth rested as it always did when he was asleep. When he’s awake he always seemed to be smiling or even grinning, with the occasional frown or pout, but when he slept his face relaxed like it never did otherwise. Lucy had learned to love all his faces, but this face was one she held extra close to her heart. Not many people knew this side to him unless they looked closely, and to be fair, no one really had the guts to after seeing Lucy once getting punched in his sleep. Those rivalries with Gray never seemed to simmer down, but Lucy could only assume that it was an important part in their relationship. The trust they had in each other to always be the one they’re striving to beat one day, fair and square.

Happy had rolled off Lucy’s lap in his sleep, so Lucy took this chance to straighten her legs. They had almost fallen asleep in those short minutes, so she had to take a few seconds to recover. What a dreadful fate to be stuck under a sleeping cat, not having the heart to move it. But then again, she would rather deal with Happy while he was asleep than dealing with him awake - he could be quite the rascal.

As her legs got their blood flow back in them, Lucy plucked a few flowers with long stems. She tried to remember if she still knew how to make thick flower crowns, but her memory failed this time so she made thinner versions that she made as a child. She just took a flower, splitted the stem in half as close to the base of the flower as possible, making sure not to break the loop or make the loop too big, causing the next flower to go through, and then she stuck the stem of the next flower in the loop and repeated the pattern. She had to check the size of her head a few times before she got it right, but soon enough her golden hair was decorated by small, delicate flowers.

Lucy glanced at Happy and Natsu again. She could probably make flower crowns for them too, but she wasn’t sure how well they would turn out, or if they’d even fit properly without any try-ons. She went working though, finding the activity to occupy her bored mind. As she made the crown for Natsu she was careful not to pick any pink flowers - it would make the flower crown look silly when it actually sat on later, due to the colour of his hair. She could already see how the colours clashed as he laid there in the fields, so why write herself up for failure when she could prevent it? The light blue flowers were rather nice against Happy’s blue fur though, so she didn’t have to struggle with his crown.

With three flower crowns done, Lucy finally stood up. The sun had moved quite a bit from its initial spot, but she didn’t want to wake them up quite yet. So she took a small walk across the fields, exploring the hill they rested on. A few metres downhill she found a small brook, rippling as the spring water replaced the old water from the winter. She saw a few gnats coming to life, hinting at the summer that was in front of them, and she quickly turned around. She wanted to live in the bliss of the in-between season for just a while longer. As she came back to the tree they sat under, Natsu had moved slightly, now sleeping on his side with his arm as a pillow. It looked quite uncomfortable, but she wasn’t the one to complain. Lucy carefully stepped up the hill and sat down next to him. His hair was moving gently in the lukewarm winds, and she brushed away a lock that was poking him in the eyes.

What a man she had met. To think that she would be blessed enough to be with him every day made her speechless. He had saved her in so many ways, at more occasions than he could ever understand. And what he probably didn’t know, was that in a few weeks their anniversary would be coming up. Another year spent with Fairy Tail, another year with Natsu as her friend. Or maybe he did know, since he always seemed to remember the most important dates when it came to Lucy. Her real birthday, her second birthday, or “real-real” birthday, as he called it, when they first met in Hargeon, the anniversary of her mother’s death, the anniversary of her father’s death even. He even knew the dates of when it was time to buy bulk products from the grocery store - though that might be due to his constant raiding of her kitchen.

Still, this man never ceased to amaze Lucy. She carefully laid down beside him, letting herself rake in all his presence. She could almost feel his emotions change as he dreamt, feeling his body heat rise and fall occasionally. Lucy nudged herself closer to him, just close enough to almost touch him.

“Thank you.” Her words came out as a whisper, and she wasn’t sure if he actually heard her. But her voice was filled with sincerity. There was no one in the entire world she was more thankful to than him. And sometimes she’d allow herself to believe that she meant just as much to him, because right before she fell asleep to the sounds of Natsu’s steady, methodical breathing, he laid his arm across her waist, pulling her in the same way he did when they slept in her bed. She felt so noticed in his presence, and the flower crowns were almost forgotten in the bliss of the moment.

#bumblebeehug writes #fairy tail #lucy heartfilia #natsu dragneel #nalu #fairy tail nalu #nalu fanfic #nalu fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #ft fanfic #ft fanfiction #fairy tail fanfic #fairy tail fanfiction

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