#1 like and ill draw them kissing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shirefantasies · 2 months

Text

LoTR Characters + Pregnant Reader (Wife!Reader)

Back with more parent AU because it's some of my favorite fluff! Consider this a Part 1 to an anon request that’ll be on its way hehe (also an AU where something happens with Celebrían apparently 😥)

Warnings: conception, pregnancy-related illness and symptoms mentioned, very long post lol

Aragorn

✧ Neither of you had made any concrete plans. No set in stone hour of your marriage reserved for the growth of your family or dubbed too early. Thus, you are unsure how your husband will feel about your news, the fact that you got yourself checked out the first moment of illness, mother's intuition in full service already, it would seem. You cannot keep your smile to yourself, though, as you stroll in search of Aragorn, hand hovering about your own waist as if in disbelief. He had just returned from a hunting trip when you found him, smiling shakily at his amusement when you pulled him immediately aside into the next room over. "What troubles your heart?" The man had intuition of his own, years of silent observation- there was no lying to him. "I just learned that I am with child, Aragorn," you took his hand, seeing no point in being anything but direct, "due for the birth next spring if all goes well." "With blossom comes the next blessing of my kin," your husband replied, that wise look in his blue eyes causing you to shake your head fondly, "what could be more beautiful? What a gift you have given me and how could I ever repay it?" Shaking your head once more, you simply grinned and, sighing with relief and anticipation alike, replied that being the amazing father you know him to be will be all you need. Leaning forward, Aragorn laid his head against yours, brushing your noses as he held you.

✧ Looking out upon the kingdom, the realization that is is his kingdom still sinking in, and that he has made this place a home for new life as well. That this is the very reason he fought for a safe world. It brings such a rush to his heart that he goes off in search of you at once, kissing you warmly and caressing your still-small bump.

✧ Aragorn loves doing anything he possibly can to make your days easier, treating you like the queen you quite literally are! He pampers you with treatment like massages, washing your hair for you, drawing you baths, and the like.

✧ While you no doubt have many people at your disposal, quite similarly your husband enjoys cooking for you by hand and memorizes everything that makes you sick if anything as well as the random foods your cravings make you obsessed with, trying to creatively incorporate them into everything.

✧ You knew it already, but your pregnancy brings about the reminder that this man has such a way with encouraging words, his voice the only thing that cuts through the clouds of your changing moods.

✧ Aragorn is the one who tells you not to be so hard on yourself, that you are doing an amazing thing and you are desirable as yourself, no more and no less. No need to hide yourself, no need to perform, no need to feel anything less than the beautiful soul you have always been. Remember, he tells you, he is going nowhere, and you will endure all together.

Legolas

✧ For so long had you and Legolas hoped for your little life, long enough of trial and hope that you’d all but given up until you felt a shift. Felt on the brink of illness at nearly all times, seeking healing for a mystery illness and leaving with news that had your husband holding you for minutes on end, tears sliding down his cheeks, and refusing to let go of your hand all day. Holding you like you might shatter, his other hand wrapped gently around your waist where his hand can brush the curve of your soon-to-be-growing belly. “We did it, my love. We will finally be three.”

✧ Your husband grows wistful, getting a distant look in his eyes before smiling and reminiscing on his younger days. “What demeanor shall our little one have, do you say? I would not mind having two of you,” he teases, while you say a child like him would be much easier!

✧ “Both of your little ones sound quite healthy.” “Both?” You are shocked, but Legolas’s grin never falters, nor does his surprisingly tight, hearty grip upon your shoulders. “Twins,” he keeps repeating in wonder throughout the day.

✧ You and Legolas have a bet running on the twins, if they are to be identical or not. You think they are both boys, while Legolas thinks he has a little girl waiting for him, too. “Wishful thinking,” you tease him. “Absolutely,” he agrees, smiling softly at you.

✧ As time passes, he does tease you about your waddle. “Shall I slow down a bit?” Cheeky prince, but that’s why you love him!

✧ Legolas’s eyes never fix you with anything but awe. He is simply amazed at all the wonders your body is capable of and what it endures. Even though that wonder also manifests as him almost constantly asking if you are alright, it is worth it when your husband looks at you as though captivated by a goddess.

Boromir

✧ Boromir caught you with your eyes bulging out of your head, not a single chance of delaying your discussion. Such news as you have just received can only be considered a blessing, and yet you still are shaken to the core with the spiking precursor of excitement and hope, hope that your husband would be happy. Your words burst forth the moment he took your hands, asking you whatever was wrong and nodding faster and faster with each step of your detailed medical visit. His smile grew and grew until he could hardly help himself, taking your face in his hands and pulling you into a kiss that more than assuaged your worries. “Why do you look so worried? Such a wonderful blessing was beyond anything I could imagine,” he tells you, a hand reaching to rest gently upon you.

✧ He all but tackles you to bed that night, kissing again and again your lips, your cheeks, and down finally to your belly.

✧ Boromir’s appreciation of your body never ceases your entire wait. His hands always caressing you, his words always sweet upon your ears, especially to cut through the deprecating ones your own lips utter. It baffles your husband that you cannot see how utterly glowing you are.

✧ One hundred percent though will he be teasing you about the odd cravings you get; even as he goes to fetch them he’s making faces, asking if you’re sure, joking about what strange taste the little one has.

✧ You suspect you are carrying a son while Boromir’s guess is a little girl. After you remind him that a mother knows, he rests a hand over your bump and replies with a teasing grin “Why can’t a father know as well?” “Because you do not have to carry him for the better part of a year!”

✧ One of Boromir's favorite things in this world is the sight of how his lent garments fit you tighter and tighter, bringing a twinge to both the loving and the possessive sides of his heart...and his hands to wrap around you or cup your cheeks and pull you into a kiss!

Gimli

✧ His intuition is off the proverbial charts. It is he who first makes any mention of your chances, stating you should not strain yourself in your condition. You are confused, you even protest, but in the end you have your little appointment and your husband has a smug little moment of ‘I told you so’ before the realization of just what he’d been sensing hits him, dropping his jaw and sending his arms flying about you, lifting you up into the air with a hearty laugh. “The mighty line continues! And thanks to such a beautiful lassie no less! You'll want for nothing, I promise you, and no harm'll come to either of you while I yet draw breath."

✧ Has strong opinions about how well you should be eating, so barring you being stricken with sickness Gimli will be making or otherwise providing for you the heartiest of meals, all the things he believes are necessary to raise up a strong little dwarfling. Thank the fortitude and solace of his people, but you are sick very little your entire journey with this and all other little ones you share!

✧ Given the strength of dwarven genetics, you both assume that you are expecting a boy; thus, your husband insists on crafting a tiny axe for him. “For when he’s older, of course!” Gimli assures you, waving his hands defensively.

✧ No worries about your pregnancy weight here- suffice it to say that a dwarf finds the extra pounds quite appealing and has no hesitation about showing you such!

✧ Any exhaustion you feel is the only thing that stops Gimli from taking you around to all his friends and loved ones and likely anyone else who will listen and announce that he has a child on the way!

✧ Nesting is a very strong instinct of his! Gimli builds and crafts by hand all of your baby's furniture and decor, even an adorable mobile of horses, little dwarves with pickaxes, and little effigies of your favorite animal all dangling above his crib! Leaning his head against your belly, he asks the baby "Well, what do you think? Only the finest for my little flame!"

Frodo

✧ Your husband wasn’t sure at first. Not sure if he would feel whole enough after all he endured to bring a life into this world, but you, oh, you… The one who brought life vividly rushing back to his heart, color returning to his life and comfort to his pain. One day a pang struck his heart and he realized it would mean the world if after it all he was able to create life, and more importantly to have something so amazing come of your love. Soon after you both eagerly hoped for the signs, and it took but a few months. Frodo worried you would be sick, but confirmation comes after weeks without your cycle, nothing more. For once, no pain shall come to Frodo Baggins or those he loves.

✧ Your health is his greatest concern, so much so in fact that Frodo has soon befriended practically every midwife in the Shire, melting them with his endearing eagerness to know all he can about your possible afflictions and what you need. His concerns soon gather you the proverbial village of help should you ever send Frodo off for something beyond his breadth.

✧ It breaks Frodo's heart when his nightmares or moments of panic coincide with your own fragile emotions for the first time, for he should be caring for you, not the other way around, but when you hold each other, tears soaking into the opposite shirt, he realizes that what you two have is an understanding and trust strong enough to fortify each other even in darkness.

✧ In case you were not already aware, you are so lucky in your choice of husband! Discussing names soon emerges into your conversation and it almost takes you aback how quickly agreements on a girl and boy name are reached!

✧ The one time during your entire wait for your little one that brings tears to Frodo’s eyes is the day you bring home a bolt of fabric and when he asks what it is for, you answer to make him and your new arrival matching garments.

✧ You catch him smiling widely at you, love glowing in his bright blue eyes as he watches you do even the smallest things, your little waddle or the way you practice folding diaper cloth. All you can imagine is those same eyes fixed upon a babe in his arms, shooting Frodo the same look right back.

Sam

✧ It seemed that every other conversation you shared with your beloved Samwise revolved around babies, so much so that your few still-unmarried friends had grown sick of it. Anyone with a baby in the Shire, though, knew who to look toward for care! You and Sam gushed over little clothes, little hands, went on for goodness-knows-how-long about how much you'd like a little Sam and he wants a miniature version of the loveliest girl he'd ever seen followed of course by you saying why not both? Sam loved life so much, saw beauty in growth and creation and every joy in it, so of course he wanted a big family and all his infectious sunshine on the subject just made you fall in love with him more and more. Months of trying passed, though, before you came to Sam in a daze, before you cupped his precious face in your hands and whispered to him we did it. Before he tackled you to the soft grassy ground and held you, weeping tears of joy and kissing your hands, your cheeks, finally your lips once he'd spoken how much he loved you.

✧ Takes to sleeping a bit lower, his head nuzzled against your torso. In the night you can feel his nose and lips ghosting over it and even hear little whispers when you both can't sleep, but you say nothing, letting Sam have his moments with the little one.

✧ The worry he has about everything the first time around. "Are you sure you can eat that? I don't want you to get sick." "Is that too heavy?" "Don't trouble yourself a mite when I'm right here, I'll bend over for it." "Alright, only if you're certain nothing will happen to the baby, sweetheart." As much as you want to remind him that you are still a fully functional woman, you know that Sam is an action man and this is his way of showing he cares.

✧ The meals he cooks you. You will be eating like a queen all because Sam wants to keep the baby strong, of course! As a bonus, it truly is like he knows what sets you off and avoids those things without even having to ask.

✧ “Imagine all the wee feet running through here,” Sam muses in bed one night, your head tucked in the crook of his neck. “The little hands grasping ours,” you add. “All the little ribbons we can tie in a girl’s hair.” “Taking your little boy out to the garden!” Once again, your friends act positively sick of how sweet you are, but inside anyone can see how deliriously happy you and Sam are and feel warmed by it.

✧ “When the time comes,” Sam always assures you, your hand tightly in his, “I’ll be right here. Wild horses could hardly drag your Sam away.”

Merry

✧ Your reveal is made a bit anticlimactic thanks to your husband’s teasing ways. “You’re knitting.” Glancing down at your work, you simply nod. “Yes.” “You never knit.” Merry’s eyes narrow. “Is it for somebody?” “If you must know,” you set your needles carefully in your lap and tease back, “this is for your child. Any complaints now?” “My child?” Jaw dropping, Merry looks at you like you’d just offered him the whole of Middle Earth. “That’s right,” your voice softens, even cracking a bit with emotion at the sight of his smile, “you’re going to be a father, Merry.”

✧ Merry’s adorable little habit of making you a pillow pile to lay on during your time of the month carries right through to your pregnancy. And of course it continues even when you remind him you’ll not be able to stand up from in because he will be right there to help you up!

✧ Because you've taken up knitting, Merry wheedles with all his charm and love and kisses an additional creation from you: a sweater made from the same yarn as baby's. "You are lucky to be so adorable," you tease him, looking up from your work to kiss his lovely lips. Maybe, you thought, a whole matching set for three would be in order, though…

✧ Another one who teases you, joking about how he is finally able to outrun you!

✧ The type of father to chastise the baby whenever they kick you too hard, lecturing to the front of your dress about hurting your mother and how that simply won’t do, then looking up at you with a humored smile.

✧ Compliments increase at least twofold upon your revelation, Merry never sparing the kindest words about your strength, certainly, but mostly your beauty. Never once during any pregnancy do you feel unloved, unwanted, unattractive, for even when your eyes can find no light within your reflection there your husband is practically worshipping every corner of your form.

Pippin

✧ Desire for a family was something that had drawn you two together as a couple, though you may have found yourself talking Pippin down from ten children! “Maybe start with five,” you would always tease him. So the moment your hypothesis is tested and confirmed, a grin you can’t remove spreads across your face and you run to collect everything for your surprise. Surprise is the only word you can use when Pippin opens his gift and sees the tiny knitted hat you’ve placed inside the box. “What is this for? Little small, is it not?” “If it was for us, perhaps.” It ended up taking you reaching out for his hand and resting it upon your lower belly for the massive grin to spread across his face, but once it does Pippin is laughing loudly and giddily, swinging you back and forth in ecstasy!

✧ Runs to get you whatever your need with barely an question. After all, who is he to say what it's like being with child, and if you want it, you shall have it. Hot water bottle? Certainly. A cup of tea? Of course. Three more pillows? Why, he'll strip your whole bed down. Panics a little if the request is to relieve pain, so prepare to hear a crash or the shuffle of a trip or two before you have the item in hand or on body.

✧ "What is this for?" "What are these?" Lucky you love him, your husband does have many a question of all the supplies you gather for after your new addition is welcomed. "Oh, to keep the hands safe? That makes sense." "Wait, you need to wear that... to catch the bloo- oh, my." He gulps. "I'm going out right now. I'm getting you a cake and some jewelry and some flowers and anything else you'd like."

✧ Can barely keep his hands to himself. Pippin was always the most affectionate husband you could ask for, but now? Now you two are practically a package set and nary can you travel without his arm around you, hand about your waist and gently running up and down over your little growing bump.

✧ Your baby seems to have inherited your husband’s personality, for even before the birth many signs of how active your little one is are present! Those poor ribs of yours will get kicked more than a few times with all the fluttering your little one stirs up inside of you! Pippin, of course, wants to feel it all and luckily he is never far from the scene. If he is, though, you bet he will run!

✧ Pippin is always laying with his cheek resting on your belly, talking to the baby about anything from how his day’s gone to how they have the most amazing and beautiful mother. Your heart can’t help fluttering every time.

Faramir

✧ Faramir has the most uncanny way of reading you like a book, a habit endearing as it is frustrating. Thus the moment he catches you smiling to yourself he is smiling back, approaching you with teasing question of what has you so happy. For once, though, you have the satisfaction of catching your husband off guard, resting your head against his shoulder and a hand upon his chest as you tell him you just cannot wait to see him as a father. "Someday, my love," he takes your hand and kisses it, "if I am so blessed." Giggling, you shake your head against him. "Blessed indeed! Someday shall be this fall," you answer, and peeling back from him you receive another spike of satisfaction at his wide blue eyes, the drop of his jaw and the race of his heart beneath your hand. "Are you certain?" You nod. This time, he takes both of your hands in his and with tears in his eyes thanks the heavens for you even as he shakily laughs, your bright demeanor never failing to put a smile upon his face. "Our child will be so loved." "I know."

✧ Your husband finds himself lost in reverie more and more often, drifting out of reality into some distant, but nowhere near out-of-reach, dream of your family, seeing you as a mother the most beautiful sight he can conjure.

✧ Faramir adores holding you from behind, his hands curled gently over where your bump forms and his head resting gently upon your shoulder, flowing hair tickling your cheeks and neck lightly.

✧ "One for each of us," is Faramir's joke when one of Gondor's finest medics grants you the knowledge that you are not expecting one child, but two. Your husband is there in the storms, the waves of anxiety rolling within you over being there for your twins. "You are not alone," he always reminds you, a hand joined with yours right over the twins' little hearts.

✧ If you wanted a husband who actually does his due diligence learning all he can about growing babies, birth, and postpartum care, then Faramir is another excellent choice! He’ll be spouting off facts about the whole thing ranging from what size the babies currently are to why you might have contractions after giving birth. Your mood determines whether you listen in or tell him to kindly stop.

✧ Just as with you, Faramir’s insecurities sometimes get the better of him, but they also fuel him, bringing a fire you can see to his fair eyes as he speaks with determination how he will love all his children equally.

Eomer

✧ Pride glows upon your countenance as you flit about the kitchen putting the finishing touches on the roast you'd made for dinner. A kingly feast is in order, for not only had you heard your husband performed exceptional drills this day, but you yourself are the host of something exceptional. Eomer and you have been enjoying each other's company much these days, so the news is not so much of a shock as it is a celebration, exuberance at a line enduring, two dreams fulfilled as one, especially for your husband, who speaks often of how he longs for a full, boisterous home. Six if he's lucky. Well, you can hardly wait to help him along, pulling Eomer into your arms for an enthusiastic kiss before he can even toe his boots off, and when he chuckles and asks what has taken hold of his beautiful wife you let your news fly. Shouting for joy with abandon, Eomer lifts you up into his arms bridal-style, kissing your lips again and again. Dinner is all but forgotten as he kneels before you, holding your waist and pressing kisses all over the bodice of your dress and thanking you for making his day, nay, his life, perfect.

✧ Eomer is always proud of you, but the moment he finds out you are with child that feeling swells and positively drips off of him, every outing with him suddenly seeming quite like a chance for him to show you off. An arm around you at all times, a smile of great joy and satisfaction, news shared to all who dare make conversation with you both, and even kisses in public! Eomer is simply on top of the world and not a thing will topple his spirits.

✧ As somebody who never much studied the workings of women, though, Eomer is… a bit out of his depth. You will have to teach him some things like why your emotions swing so or what to look out for to know when your water breaks. This man has been in battle, seen heads roll in the most literal sense, and yet when you describe the eventual passing of your placenta his entire face contorts in a look of horror that has you all but doubled over in laughter.

✧ “You look so beautiful with child,” Eomer purrs, “we’ll have to do this again sometime.” You smack his arm, but cannot resist giggling at the way your husband still gives you butterflies.

✧ Your new addition had not even arrived yet and Eomer is commissioning a child-sized saddle, unable to contain his excitement as he describes all their future rides to you!

✧ As you dream up names, Eomer has many suggestions from the great halls of his own people, ancestors and great warriors alike, but making considerations of your own background is equally important to him, so he is more than willing to go back and forth for the perfect solution.

Eowyn

✧ No one had thought it possible, but they should have known. Impossible was not in Eowyn’s lexicon, and that was exactly why you loved her, one part within many of why you became her wife. And now, the healer confirmed you were carrying her child. …Very well, technically her banner-bearer’s child as the two of you had been forced to get a bit creative, but to have support and help from those who had begun with such uncertainty meant the world. Even Eomer had come around, having offered similarly, but of course you had to remind him that Eowyn wanted a child of her own, not a niece or nephew! Without Guthláf’s, er, donation, you would never bear witness to the broad and beautiful smile on your wife’s face, the tears glistening in the gorgeous blue of her eyes. “A child…” “Our child,” you add, leaning forward until your foreheads touched and noses brushed, a tearful smile upon your own face as your wife gently held your waist.

✧ Having worked so many times as a nurse lends well at least to Eowyn, for she is firm and unrelenting in her urging, nay, forcing, you to rest. No ifs, ands, or buts are to be accepted from your strong-willed beauty, let her dote on you, for she does it with great pleasure. And besides, the harder you fight, the harder she'll work to keep you lain down.

✧ Understanding the pain and symptoms of your time of the month completely also translates; thus Eowyn is ready with remedies for your aches and pains, hot water and herbs awaiting you. She rarely snaps back at your moods, choosing to be silent in the worst of times because she knows. Really, she does.

✧ She cooks for you, and whether you say anything about that or not likely depends on how willing to hide your honesty behind the hormone excuse if it is not taken well.

✧ Reminds you constantly how strong you are. In your lowest of moments, the times you struggle to stand and straighten your aching spine, feeling massive and utterly useless, Eowyn is there to hold your hand and tell you that you are hosting and creating life as she so speaks. You have made the ultimate sacrifice of your body and the greatest of pain to bring just as great a blessing to yourself and your wife. Far from useless, you are divine.

✧ “What does it feel like?” Resting her head on her hand, the one that wasn’t lain against your fluttering belly, she questions you as the baby kicks. “For you?” Part of her wishes to have this experience herself someday, while another takes your descriptions with trepidation. She does not enjoy being restricted, after all.

Haldir

✧ “Lie down, please, my love.” Haldir’s concern with your sickness increased daily as did the pain of seeing you feeling so weak and ill. You tried to push through and for as much as he loved your strength, your husband was not having it this time. Pride was not worth seeing you doubled over again, whether from pain or, arguably worse, illness. You relented in the end, resting and beneath the spinning of your head at the end of the day feeling not a seed of energy to protest an inspection. Healing herbs had you perking up a bit, and perked up you needed to be when the dark-haired, round-faced healer nodded sagely and with a wide smile told you you were with child, and these early days were likely to be the worst. For the first time in days the sobs that escaped you were accompanied by a smile, your face utterly breaking as Haldir held you against his chest, weeping too and thanking you for all you would endure for this blessing.

✧ Physically carries you places as often as he can be spared to do so. Lifts you up bridal-style to move you across your home and sits you up before he feeds you. Your illness brings out a tender, caring side you have never seen in your strong, stoic husband, but it makes your heart swell that much more for him and for the life you two are to have with your child.

✧ Another symptom you experience is the aching and swelling of your feet, but Haldir sits you down facing him and makes the best work of them he can, hands gentle as always as they soothe your skin.

✧ Even in the later months as your illness abates, though, your husband remains protective as ever, standing between you and any potential harm with the fiercest look upon his face and a hand upon your middle, even if the threat is an object you’ve hurt yourself on.

✧ The way shock melts into a wide, ecstatic smile unlike your husband’s typical demeanor when the healer repeats that yes, she could definitely hear two heartbeats beside yours is worth more than any gold in the world. Haldir pulls you into his arms, chuckling deeply. You feel his head shake slightly, slowly, atop yours in wonder.

✧ When you sleep, Haldir will always be holding you close, whether it is an arm draped over your bump loosely if you’re hot or need space or else you fully tucked into your husband’s warm embrace.

Galadriel

✧ Galadriel is actually the one who assuages your worries that your dream will not come true, having full faith in you as much as the magic of this world. And she is right, of course, confidence proven in the aid you receive from a member of her guard and even the way she knows it to be true before the healer even confirms the news. As much as she jokes about seeing a glow around you, the width of her beautiful blue eyes, the shine therein, tells you that your wife is as elated to hear it beyond a shadow of a doubt as you are: you are hosting a little life for you both to nurture.

✧ You being pregnant only aids in her mysterious nature. She can be convening in a council with the wisest of minds from afar and will use you as an excuse to step away at her will. "If you will excuse me. My wife is with child." They are not even aware she is married. Some of them may not understand how it all works, but before they can ask any clarifying questions Galadriel has already slipped away to be with you.

✧ One tendency you unwittingly adopt is falling asleep in the oddest of places, your exhausted body giving out upon its own terms. Always will you wake up draped in one of your wife’s shawls or blankets, however, no matter how odd the spot.

✧ Both of you can hardly resist the allure of tiny garments, smiling every time you see them. It also rings a bell of realization within your minds as you hold a tiny gown up to your midsection. Truly as you speak, there is a tiny body within you! What magic it is to be a woman!

✧ What magic indeed, you later reflect as another pain strikes your back not long after. Hosting tiny bodies came with all the assorted blessings and curses of your kind, one not long without the other. Sighing, you make to approach the chaise across the room and soon your wife is with you, moving its drapes aside and lowering you gently to its cushions, a soothing hand tracing up and down your aching spine.

✧ "I hope she looks like you," you both turn to each other and say simultaneously, mothers' intuition firmly aligned in your hearts, from which so much love for each other pours from, Galadriel immediately drawing you closer to press her lips to the crown of your head.

Arwen

✧ Elrond had been quite hesitant about your relationship with his daughter at first- were you the best choice for her? Could someone like you keep her safe? And how, of course, would she be given the child she so desired? Questions you yourself had posed to her, but she refused to listen, telling you her mind, and heart, were sealed. Little do you know, however, that all of Rivendell would come to love you as their own, see and praise the way you cared for Arwen, and in Lindir’s case even provide the healers with a chance at you giving your wife the family you both yearned for. The moment you tell her the healers’ method worked and she is to he a mother, you both are, her features lighten, taking on the wondrous joy of youth again as she grabs your face, falling onto you with a kiss of pure love.

✧ So accusing if you've overexerted yourself, leaning in closer with a look of sometimes-teasing, sometimes-serious scrutiny. "Surely you did not carry that up the stairs all by yourself, right?"

✧ Do not even bother trying to fake feeling up to anything, whatever the task, for Arwen can see right through you and will insist you sit down, taking your hands in hers. "Rest. You have your burden- let me take the others. My heart bears no ill."

✧ Her affection gets softer, light touches to your waist and hands resting over yours. One hand upon your hip or belly and one on your shoulder as you two sway gently, foreheads pressed together.

✧ Arranging your nursery is one of Arwen's favorite pastimes: painting a gorgeous meadow mural upon the wall, stitching a soft toy to lay within the crib, asking you which fabric you prefer for blankets.

✧ Your bundle of joy can make sleep difficult, but one silver lining Arwen points out in a low whisper one morning is how many sunrises you’ve now gotten to share with each other.

Elrond

✧ Reservations about having a fourth child so long after the others disappeared every time Lord Elrond caught sight of you holding a neighbor’s child or even just showing the loving care that had him convinced he would be well even marrying a second time at all. Every smile, every sweet thing you did, all of it came back to Elrond in a rush when you told him he was to become a father again. For once he did not feel too old, too tired, nothing but the elation of his every desire unfurling to him before his very eyes from your warm embrace. To be chosen as the father to your child was the greatest honor the lord of Rivendell could imagine.

✧ Your every ailment is minimal, for Elrond knows exactly what is best for each and every one. Nausea? The perfect tea blend awaits to calm the waves you feel. Aches and cramps? Your husband is happy to give you the most heavenly massage, his hands finding every needed spot as if by magic. A swell of emotion? He does not speak unless bidden to, simply holding you through sudden waves of tears, frustration, or both until he feels your body relax against his.

✧ Being married to an elf with the gift of foresight comes with the benefit of worries soothed, but also a joke shared between you both. For many a time you teasingly chastise him not to look too far and spoil the surprise of whether you have a son or daughter on the way!

✧ Standing behind you, Elrond rests his hands around your middle and presses a kiss to your cheek. Just when you think the bliss of this moment, of having your whole little new family all together within your husband’s arms, cannot increase is when Elrond shifts his hands, taking on the great weight you carry. Peering up into his soft blue eyes, your whole body deflates in a sigh of sweet relief as he holds you.

✧ He can never truly understand your experience, but Elrond has witnessed this process. All he wishes is to tell you all your pain shall pass, even the worst memories will fade and ease, but such words will sound insensitive, so all he does is continue to hold your hand and stand proudly at your side.

✧ One thing your husband cannot resist is showering your future little one with gifts, even jewelry for when they are a bit older and the tiniest circlet to place upon the beloved head, matching Adar's perfectly.

Want to meet the little ones? Part 2 coming soon 😉

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @kilibaggins @mossthebogwitch @ibabblealot @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia @datglutengoblin @letmelickyoureyeballs @mossyskinn @wordbunch | Message/Reply/Ask to join 🥰

430 notes · View notes

moineauz · 2 months

Note

helooo, 1 ticket for Exodus, starring Boothill & gn Reader as main leads

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ THE HOUSE OF MUSICA PRESENTS... 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐒𝐘𝐌𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐘 𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 ノ𝐄𝐗𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐒 — boothill !

synopsis: a gradually rekindling bond between two ill-fated souls. in other words, you encounter a partner you never thought you'd see again.

side comments: not me writing more boothill... also this was partly inspired by the song too sweet by hoizer.

extra: boothill calls reader 'doll', uses the word pretty for the reader, mentions of alcohol, boothill and reader have their issues ig, gn reader, boothill backstory spoilers, fluff and angst word count: 1, 385

Being part of the IPC was like a ticket to an expressway: smooth sailing amongst galaxies and stars. You could have slipped your wrist in the rings of planets; allowing them to adorn your human flesh in glitter and gold.

"I reckoned the IPC would send one em' tonight," insinuated the man beside you, his voice husky and gruff, "Didn't think you'd fancy your whisky neat."

You share a winsome smile, still gazing ahead, lifting the glass to your lips unfazed, "Who said I couldn't have my whisky neat?"

The man scoffs before chuckling lowly, "Well, I thought the IPC are a little..." he leans forward, his cool breath brushing against the shell of your ear, "Soft, don't you think doll?"

The bar is thronged that evening. Chatter warms the walls while candlelight swishes above in scintillating opulence. One chime after another, click and sway, swish and pull. Your ears heed the bar lines of inordinate movements like a song. Even the subtle whirl of the man's arms and the click of his heel is oddly pleasant.

"And I thought galaxy rangers keep to themselves," you languidly turn your head to meet his face; fixing your eyes on his like the head of an arrow kissing its bullseye. "A shame I have to endure your presence. Considering you're a ranger, you're awfully loud," you riposted.

"Ha! You don't know what you're missin' doll," the man teases, yet, there is an edge to it, "Do all IPC members talk like that? All bark and no bite?"

"I'd like to say bite and no bark," you reckon smoothly, like velvet curtains draping over the walls. "Why waste your breath when all you need is a single shot?"

A splitting grin grows on his face while he shakes his head charmed, "Now you're talkin' my language doll! One bullet does make a heck of a difference."

You bite the insides of your cheek, your jaw tight before him, "Spare me the small talk Boothill," you retorted placidly: a facade of indifference casting a shadow over your face. "You know I don't fancy playing cat and mouse in your boots."

"Oh you never change," he chides, placing his left shoulder on the bar's smooth counter. Boothill's face rested in his metal palms as his shiny eyes settled on you. "That's your only fault."

The corner of your lips quiver slightly, he doesn't notice. "Even metal carries its dents," you pause, your words suspending in the air's murky atmosphere, "And it seems you carry that burden quite well."

Boothill stills as you call for another fill. Whisky trickles into your glass; swishing in hues of sweet amber. It soothes the bitter lump in your throat as it gushes down sip after sip like the ocean current churning away.

Silence draws you closer; knitting you together. You heave a sigh, gingerly placing the glass on the counter, not a sound echoing above. "You always drank your whisky neat," you remarked bitterly, "And you always got drunk afterwards."

Boothill's smiles echo some ineffable tenderness and it caresses your cheek despite its distance. "Ha! Don't make me all sappy over here doll, might have to bring her out if you keep this up." Despite his words, Boothill's voice is strangely hushed: hollow like the crevices of a skeleton. Or a body that doesn't quite fit its soul.

You smile, pushing the bounds of his words with your voice, "Then bring her out Boothill. It's been some time since I last saw your precious gun. A shame you hold her so much closer."

"As sharp as ever," Boothill conceded; twirling the gun like a toy. Its varnish slick like butter as it glistened under candlelight. "Seems I have to up my ante."

In one swift movement, Boothill instinctively slips his nippy hands around your waist: his belt of bullets pressed against your hips with benign familiarity. His other hand intertwines with yours, like the lacing of a corset- tight and tender. Boothill lifts your arm, raising it with frivolous flare accompanied by a wicked grin. Your shoes click against the bar's smooth surface and Boothill leans forward. The shadows of his bright face made known to you anew. Now, the two of you stand, one breath apart.

"Seems like old habits die hard," he mutters, his eyes following the curve of your lips and the pools of your eyes, "Can't help it when you keep sittin' here all pretty. Sippin' whisky for fudger's sake..."

You raise your eyebrow tentatively before an unabashed smile stretches across your face and you giggle. Your laugh slips through the air like a fine mist and Boothills breathes it in. The cogs of his chest whirl a touch faster as you sparkle in all your quiet limelight: tucked away in a corner bar, it beats boldly one step at a time

"Looks like the IPC employee can laugh," Boothill teases, the jazz band kicking off its rhymes with the beckoning call of the trumpet.

"Is that all you think of me?" you surmised, a mirthful expression pressed against your skin, "I expected better from you," you teased.

"Shallow?" Boothill muses, the band's drummer now pushing the song as you and Boothill shuffle to the center of the bar, feet moving as one, "I'm all but shallow; especially when I'm dancing."

You press your hand on his metal shoulder, the spark in your eyes dimming slightly, "Then show me."

Being part of the IPC was like a ticket past the waiting rooms and into the hospital bed: refuge under the captive's wings. You could have laid your heart there to rest; allowing yourself to be part of a grand tapestry, one of them.

"Looks like you still have it in you after all this time," remarks Boothill as his fingers find their way to your waist, "One more song?"

"I've had enough," you state, yet, the roused smile on your face still beams, "It's late."

Boothil clicks his tongue. "Come on... just like the old times, wouldn't hurt for another spin," surmised Boothill, his voice oddly mellow with a trace of dejection.

"You don't want to dance," you rebutted, "You want to talk."

You slip your hand off his metal body, its coolness lingering on your fingertips like a ghost. Boothill blinks, his hands now fallen by his sides, the grin on his face tight as he shakes his head.

"I'd reckon you'd... catch on. You always had bigger fish to fry."

"You know I hate fish."

Boothill chuckles. However, it's mellow and lush. Reminiscent of the open plains the three of you once wandered. Sweetgrass brushing against your legs in rhythm with the breeze. The cusp of the morning sun nestled in the palms of your hands like a nest. In the evenings you lingered amongst free horses; braiding through the stars and their lush mane while weaving through riverbeds, singing sweet dreams.

"I miss the kid too."

Boothill smiles, "I know."

"Then keep your promise," you amble towards him, your shoulders in parallel as you promptly seize his hat, swiftly placing it on your head. "If you want your hat back," you jested, "Meet me at the bar when you're done catching your 'Acheron.'"

Boothill smirks, placing his hands on his hips, languidly leaning to the side, "And why would I do that? I've got plenty of hats."

You scoff, "Is that so? Then I guess I don't owe you my answer."

Boothill pauses abruptly, his eyes wide, "You-"

"I still have the ring," you interject, a subtle quiver emerging from the back of your voice, "But I never gave you my answer."

"Doll I-"

"You vanished before I could give you my answer."

Boothill grows quiet and you sigh. Neverthless, you slip your business card into his pockets and press a curt kiss on his cheek, his hat still on your head, "So keep your promise, Boothill."

Boothill nods; heaving a prompt sigh before gazing up at the ceiling, a spark flickering within the corners of his eyes, "I won't let you down."

"Good," you surmise, gradually ambling away, his back still turned from you and vice versa, "I won't let you down."

Boothill grins quietly, muttering to himself as the aroma of whisky clings onto his metal body, "You never did, not once doll. Not once."

masterlist.

#( the house of musica ⨾𓍢ִ໋ )#—stellaronhvnters.#writing ᝰ.ᐟ #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #boothill #boothill x gn reader #boothill honkai star rail #honkai star rail angst #hsr angst #hsr fluff #boothill x you #boothill x reader #boothill angst #boothill fluff #hsr boothill

374 notes · View notes

fanaticsnail · 6 months

Text

The Hawk and the Fledgling (P2)

Masterlist Here, Part 1 Here.

Word Count: 3,365 (Yeah, it was meant to be a drabble but the words ran away with me again)

I ended the year with Mihawk, looks like I'm starting the year off with him too! Lets goooooooo.

Warnings: Kissing, pining, longing, fighting, mentions of illness, drinking, kissing.

Taglist: @whatthemonsterfuckisthis, @writingmysanity, @gingernut1314, @alphaash99, @someobsessionrequired, @bookandstar

Hanahaki Disease is a disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from unrequited love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings, or when the victim dies. It can be cured through surgical removal, but when the infection is removed, the victim's romantic feelings for their love also disappear.

You presented your thumb and index finger up to your swollen lips, chapped and coarse from the hoarse coughing while warm to the touch. You felt no remanence of the illness that once eclipsed your body and rendered it unresponsive and trapped beneath the curling vines. The only aspect that remained was a small flurry of pale flower petals atop your tongue, prompting you to reach your fingers inwards to pull them out.

You were still sitting atop the wooden table Mihawk had placed you on moments prior, shock falling from your every fiber. You felt warm, light and breathless. Even though you had no weight placed on your chest, you felt burdened by the knowledge that lord Dracule Mihawk thought himself not to be the harborer of your affections.

As soon as you pinched one of the soft petals from its place atop your tongue and held it up to your eyes to examine the almost innocent-looking harbinger of doom, the door swung wide and Zoro was shoved harshly onto the cobblestone floor. His heavy boots were thumping franticly against the stone with haste, his eyes wide and searching yours for any affliction.

“I’ve brought the oaf for you,” your mentor spoke, his eyes not meeting with yours as he hastily walked through the kitchen to the leather-bound wall displaying his vast collection of wines. The many bottles were laying flat, perpendicular to the floor in catalogued rows from whites, roses and reds. Selecting one without reading the label, he reached his hand down and found a corkscrew and began hastily, and almost aggressively, brandishing it to rid the cork from the bottle neck.

Zoro gasped, sauntering over to you with wide strides and taking your cheek beneath his palm. He rose your chin upwards with the angle of his wrist, eyes darting between yours as his thumb smoothed a small circle over your cheekbone. He circled his grip down, your bottom lip feeling contact from his calloused thumb atop it as he continued looking you over.

“Hanahaki, right? Love unrequited?” he whispered softly, leaning down lower to your face in a low stoop. His eyes were warm, soft and almost apprehensive – a painted triad you were yet to see atop the green-haired swordsman.

This was the fifth time you were rendered speechless this day: the first being the knowledge that such an affliction exists in this realm, death and withering away your body by the doomed flowers and vines strangling your organs. The second was the knowledge that your unrequited and intense emotional love for your mentor, Dracule Mihawk, was the factor propelling you into this dooming fate. The third, Mihawk assumed your doom was due to the fact you were infatuated with your peer and his fellow pupil – not himself. The fourth, Mihawk confessed he had held a certain romantic fondness towards you; your love not as unrequited as you once thought.

The fifth was the fact that Zoro was descending in his stoop; his face leaning closer and closer to you, his lips drawing ever nearer to yours as he closed his eyes. Halting his descent, he raised his unoccupied hand up to brush several strands of hair out from shieling your gaze from his. Your lips were almost brushing, you could feel the heat from his breath tinted with the flavor of green matcha-mochi and cherry blossom tea.

“I do not yet harbor love powerful enough for you romantically,” he whispered, moving his hand through your hair to cradle the back of your head, while falling his other to rest atop your shoulder, “but I am a fast learner.”

At that, your eyes widened further as he pressed his lips against yours in a slow and deliberate kiss. You rasped out a small squeak as Zoro deepened the kiss, his brow furrowing as he deeply inhaled through his nose and circled his chin to rotate the open mouthed kiss he was pressing against you. He reached down, pulling your wrists upwards to circle his neck in order to bring you closer against him. His torso pushed flush against yours, he redrew his palms upwards to collect your face and lace his fingertips into the back of your hair once more.

He was passionate, deliberate and also cautionary. He was falling all of his desire onto you, along with the desperation that comes with the knowledge that one of his friends is ill – this embrace being the only cure, to his current knowledge. Hearing a small ‘pop’ of the cork being pried away from the green-stained wine bottle, the next sounds that were heard within the room was the glugging pour from the bottle into a crystal glass.

Continuing to remain unresponsive, and eyes perpetually unblinking and wide in shock, you brought your shaking hands down to Zoro’s chest and gave him a small shove to halt his movements. He apprehensively drew himself away from your lips, eyes first closed while his lips almost chased yours in response to his withdrawal. You pushed him a little harder to halt more deep and passionate kisses being pressed into your lips, while listening to a small whistled chirp sound indicating Mihawk was oxidizing his selected vintage over his palate and tongue.

Zoro received the message and pulled away from your lips, a frown prominent against his face and kiss-swollen lips partially parted. His eyes searched yours, leaning forward to press his forehead against your own to bring himself closer to you.

“Are you okay? Is everything okay? Was this okay-?” he began, halting as you pressed your four fingers against his lips to halt his words. Pushing your forehead against his in return of his physical affection, you whispered in a voice only audible for him to hear.

“Zoro, I adore you. You are my best friend, my peer. My brother in arms,” you removed your hand from his lips and caressed his cheek. Sighing out a deep breath, you shut your eyes as you spoke low your confession, “but it was not you that was holding me hostage to the disease.”

Zoro’s eyes widened, immediately seeking the gaze of his mentor who seemed to be looking bored and as disinterested as he could make himself out to be. His arms were crossed, him holding the crystal wineglass filled to the brim with crimson liquid and leaning against the marble benchtop with his legs crossed at the ankles.

“But you’re okay now. What does that mean?” he asked, his tone curious and almost frantic. He drew his gaze back to you and a warm blush tinted his cheeks as your confession dawned on him. “You haven’t spoken to Perona yet, so I doubt it was her. Does that mean- did he, did he-.”

“-Zoro, if you wouldn’t mind,” you winced out, a blush rising of your own to spread warmth over the apples of your cheeks and tips of your ears. Zoro immediately got the message, his nose scrunching up and shoving you playfully with his arm as his wolfy grin spread over his lips to paint his face with his knowing smile.

“A shame,” he chuckled, turning from you to make his way out of the kitchen, “I would’ve liked to see where this goes.” You laughed in response, looking to the ground as you swung your legs down from their position atop the table and jumped to place them on the floor. Mihawk’s unblinking gaze trailed after Zoro, scowling at the smirk his young apprentice offered. Zoro turned once more, arched his eyebrows up twice at you and closed the kitchen door behind him.

“What does that mean, Fledgling? Rabbit done with you so soon?” He arched his brow up as you approached. You steadied your breath and reached up to collect the wineglass from Mihawk’s fingers and placed it on the countertop behind him.

“I was drinking that, Fledgling,” he lazily disregarded you, turning away and bringing his hand over to collect the stem of the crystal glass from atop the counter. You immediately halted him by placing your hand atop his wrist, your eyes brimming with caution over how he’d receive such a touch. Keeping your gaze fixed on the hand clutching his wrist, you sucked in a slow breath and allowed the caution to remain steadfast in shielding your intentions from him.

“Sir,” you addressed him, his chin lazily snapping over to hold his intense and spiteful irises against your smaller form.

“Yes, fledgling?” was all he said in response to you words. You took a moment to syphon through your thoughts, attempting to relay what you needed to in order to confess your disease and the cure of it; only to have them halted as soon as they formed behind your lips.

“Little kiss fixed you up, did it? The rabbit and the fledgling, hardly a fit I would match. However,” he turned his gaze away from your face to fixate on his wineglass atop the marble bench behind him, “it is fitting, considering your age and stage. A match many would desire: similar interests-.”

“Sir,” you uttered a little more firmly, hoping to break him away from his lazy and annoyed rant; but alas, to no avail.

“I should move your rooms closer together. It would be good to spur on your training: pit you against one another to bring more passion into your sparring-,” he continued, rolling his eyes and breaking his wrist away from your grip to reclaim his crystal chalice filled with the bitter taste of a darkened Shiraz. Your temper was hanging by a thread, your nerves shot alite under your emotional state.

You had nearly died of a broken heart, Mihawk had confessed his fondness for you – healing you with his words. Zoro had kissed you, something you neither needed nor desired for yourself – especially since recovering from the death-like illness. And Mihawk: your boss, your mentor, your love, he was continuing to absolutely dance around his own confession by continuing to drink, and talk.

“My lord-,” you attempted to draw in his attention to you by using his formal title, to no avail.

“-I shall send for a priest. Perhaps you’ll be married by the weeks end-,” he turned away from you and drew up the chalice to his lips. Agitation was growing within him, his lips curling up and eyes narrowing.

“Lord Mihawk-,” you hoped his name would bring some kind of sway over him, but he continued on his tirade of nonsensical theatrics.

“-I will have Perona be your witness. Considering no family for either of you present; it will be up to me to give you away, I suppose-,” his voice was increasing in volume, his anger rolling off him in waves.

“-Lord Dracule Mihawk!” you reached your arm to collect his shoulder beneath your palm, only for him to roughly shake off your tender touch.

He turned to face you, his brows deep in their descent against his forehead. He was enraged; understandable from his perspective. He not only witnessed his own unrequited love be cured of their disease by another, but willingly drew him in to present his lips against your own. All he could do was watch and wallow in his own rage.

“And where will you honeymoon, hm?! Going to make some strong, sword-wielding children soon, I presume! You’ll need to halt your training in favor of your-.”

You lunged forward, jumping high enough to grip his shoulders with your arms and wove yourself around his form: legs hooking his hips and joining together behind him by your ankles. You immediately circled his neck with your arms and dragging him onto you and smashing his lips against your own to silence his taunts. Your hands wove into his hair, his form immediately falling victim to your embrace with a small stumble. His right hand clutched the wineglass firmly, although the liquid spilt over the brim at the hastiness of your embrace.

His unoccupied hand drew itself up to hook itself around your waist and hold you flush against his torso. Opening his lips, he danced his tongue around your swollen bottom lip and joined it with your own with a low gasped moan. Sharing breaths, you continued to harshly reciprocate his almost violent and desperate collision of lips, tongue and teeth. If he pushed firm, you pushed harder. If he brushed his tongue with yours, you lightly bit the organ with your teeth.

As he trained you to continue to advance in brandishing your blade towards an enemy, never backing down for any reason; you continued this mantra as you wove your fingers into his blackened waves of loose curls atop his head. The actions, however, were absolutely reciprocated by the man woven between your thighs. If you bit his tongue, he pushed your face away and trailed a violent flurry of open mouthed kisses against your chin, jaw and neck – tongue swirling over your pulse before reclaiming his lips with your own.

You reached your hands up, removing his wide hat from his head to get a better anchorage against his body, prompting him to unceremoniously throw the crystal chalice against the polished cobblestone floor. The red liquid pooled at his feet, prompting a gasp to rise from your parted lips. Taking this small moment of distraction, Mihawk used both arms to hook beneath your legs and rotate you around him – pressing now your body against the marble countertop and burying his face on the exposed flesh between your neck and shoulder. His lips grazed over the skin, a tingle shooting up your spine and elevating the hairs on the back of your neck to stand to attention.

“M-My lord,” you stuttered out in a breathy whisper, your eyes glazed over and irises blown with lust. He growled in response, claiming a small portion of skin between his pearled teeth and biting your flesh gently. He moved his lips up, trailing and pressing soft and tender kisses against each area of skin revealed to him.

“If this be the only time I will ever be permitted to kiss you,” he whispered against your cheek, pressing a soft brush of his kiss-stricken lips atop the smooth area; his silken moustache scratching against the skin, “I won’t waste a single moment on words, Fledgling.” He pressed a slow and timid kiss against your lips, his eyes closed as he allowed himself this small tender moment to fall over him and onto you.

You shook your head into the kiss, arching your back against his torso to remove his latch on your lips. His strong arms held you firm, you feeling his arms grip you tighter in response.

“Mihawk,” you managed to utter, his name being the only thing to halt his advance at this stage. He fell his forehead against the base of your neck, feeling his dark curls tickle your chin, and his heavy breath fall against your chest.

“Forgive me, Fledgling,” he uttered, removing his hands from their grip beneath your thighs and placing them atop the marble beside your hips. He was not quite ready to fall away from your embrace, but did not want to push his luck further.

Gathering enough courage to finally break your confession through, the words flew from your mouth at lightning speed.

“My lord, it’s you. You were the reason I suffered in such a way. You were why I was pushing myself so hard in training. You were the reason I broke my body under your direction, daily. My lord,” you took his whiskered chin beneath your fingers and elevated his gaze to you. His eyes were glazed, pupils blown only a little while he held such sorrow behind their deep amber. You brought your hand up, tracing the manicured beard up and cradling his cheek within your palm, “It’s you.”

His eyes widened, reality of the situation finally dawning on him. The pin had dropped, finding below it’s descent a balloon of latex and puncturing it beneath its small prick. As a balloon would deflate from its air and dart all around the room with no rhyme nor reason, Mihawk began to place the pieces of the evening together.

“But the Hanahaki-,” his words were halted within his throat as he continued to place them together, “-was broken with my offhand confession.” He sighed deeply, shaking his head to rid itself of his own assumed stupidity.

You smiled at him, continuing to hold his face within your palm and take in a visual map of the man you had come to adore. Dark hair tussled, lips swollen and tinted with the bruising shade of red, great-cloak disheveled and hanging loosely over his shoulders - his bare chest more so exposed to you. He was so beautiful.

“I hold such a deep admiration for you, my lord Mihawk,” you shook your head as you brought your other hand up to his forehead and brushed his hair from shielding his face, “it fell into something deeper along the way. As the disease indicates, it has swelled into love. I love you.”

He sighed, leaning first into your palm before placing his forehead against yours. You both felt waves of emotion falling from the two of you in this one moment, both pausing to feel the rise and fall of one another’s breaths and the heat reverbing from your bodies’ proximities. He allowed himself one final moment before he spoke his own confession.

“I loved you from the moment you first came to me,” he drew his hand from its position on the counter and placed it over the middle of your chest, “your spirit was so strong. At first, I wanted to break you as punishment for drawing such weakness from me. But then,” he withdrew his forehead from yours and replaced his prior position with his lips, “I saw you soar.”

Withdrawing his lips from your head, he held such deep devotion in his eyes as he relayed his final words to you, “and that is why I love you.”

“Because I’m a glutton for punishment?” you quipped at him, withdrawing your eyes from its connection to his and falling to the pooling red wine and shattered glass on the floor.

“No,” he chuckled at you, hooking his index finger below your chin and pulling your gaze to return to him, “it’s because, Fledgling, you are not a fledgling at all.” You knit your brows in confusion, knowing that he gives names to all of his apprentices. Zoro, the rabbit. Perona, the ghost. You, the fledgling.

“If I am no fledgling,” you whispered, “then what am I to you?” He smiled deeper, his eyes crinkling up at the corners as he revealed a rare and intimate smile with you.

“You’re a Formel,” he whispered, “My Formel.” You laughed a breathy giggle at this new title, placing a small kiss against the whiskered chin below his lips.

“Does that make you my Tiercel, my lord?” you asked him after pulling away from his chin. He chuckled at you and offered you one final utterance.

“Only in private moments, Formel,” he cautioned you, “which I hope we are to share more of together.”

Mihawk broke away from your embrace and looked to the mess he’d made on the floor with the wineglass. As you were about to hop yourself down from your seated position against the marble countertop, a strong arm hooked its way beneath your knees while another steadied itself around your back. You squeaked in surprise as he lifted you up and began carrying you away from the mess to exit the kitchen. You looked at the puddle of wine and glass on the floor before turning back to your love carrying you. His expression was almost playful, with his signature flavor of arrogance cascading over his face and posture.

“I’ll have Zoro clean that up,” he grimaced, lips pulling up in a sneer, “a fitting punishment for kissing my Formel.”

“On your orders, sir,” you uttered in return. He hummed, leaning down to press a small kiss against your cheek as he continued walking you both away from the kitchen and into the halls.

#one piece #opla #opla fic #one piece live action #x reader #mihawk #dracule mihawk #mihawk x reader #hawkeye mihawk #mihawk x you #hanahaki #mihawk one piece #opla mihawk

448 notes · View notes

nyrandrea · 9 months

Note

hiii I’d like to request (again if that’s ok, it’s me the one who asked for the injured ) but if so then may I ask for this time so what if everyone’s at camp all asleep when a few people sneak in and kidnap reader but Astarion wakes up hearing something wasn’t right seein what’s going on watches as reader disappears then ofc hunting them down to see them being used in an ritual all tied up and weak dndeueududid ( sorry it’s like 1:18am I’m laid awake thinking about random things 💀 )

Helloooo again! I enjoyed your last request and certainly had fun with this one too so thanks again! (1:18am is the best time for random thoughts :D )

Warnings for canon typical violence, kidnapping, rituals (kinda), blood and swears

Word Count - 2.9k

Enjoy!

xxx

Under the silvery embrace of the crescent moon, nestled within the heart of a tranquil forest, you and your companions had surrendered to the gentle clutches of slumber, a collective of soft snoring weaving its way through the rustling leaves and whispering trees.

A clearing in the woods served as your base for the night after a long, grueling day of travelling. The grass beneath you was like a plush carpet, and a delicate blanket of dew kissed the blades, glistening like diamonds. The air was crisp, yet tender, cradling you in its nocturnal embrace.

Your team had all gathered in a sort of semi-circle, heads pillowed upon hands or nestled into makeshift cushions fashioned from backpacks and rolled-up cloaks. You weren’t sure how or when, but throughout your sleep you had unconsciously rolled over and inched yourself closer to where Astarion lay, his delicious scent drawing you in.

One could observe the group and note the serene expressions etched upon their faces. They appeared as though they were sculpted by dreams, their features softened by the embrace of rest. Your eyes fluttered beneath closed lids as you chased the remnants of recent adventures.

Unfortunately for you, you were being observed.

You flinched as the corner of your vision registered a goblin kneeling beside you, the tip of his dagger against your throat before you could even scramble for your own weapon.

“Ah, I wouldn’t do that if I were you," he purrs, smiling smugly down at you. “Not if you want your friends to keep their innards intact.”

Your eyes widen and dart over to where the rest of the group lay, completely oblivious to the goblins that threatened their very lives. You were even surprised to see Astarion still in a deep trance of meditation; he was usually so much more alert at night.

“What do you want?” you whisper.

“For you to come with us, true soul,” the goblin answered. “We are in desperate need of your... assistance.”

‘Great,’ you thought. ‘Just what I need, more Absolute nutjobs.’

“Look, I don’t think I can help you.”

“Oh, but you are the only one who can,” he retorts, slowly pulling the knife away from your throat. “It’s our leader, you see. She is gravely ill and only a true soul like yourself can cure her.”

Your face scrunches up in disbelief. “If she’s ill, then it’s a healer you need, not me.”

The goblin frowns. “It’s you she needs, she said so herself.” His blade edges closer to you once again, signaling for you to get up. “Now, if you’ll be so kind as to come with us. Or am I going to have to resort to a bit of… persuasion?”

He exchanges a glance with one of his men, who seemed all too giddy to slash Astarion’s neck.

“No…!” You almost shout but restrain yourself so as to not alert the others and incur a massacre. “I-I’ll come with you, just... leave them be.”

The goblin grinned up at you, and you had to force down the bile that was rising in your throat.

“Now that’s what I like to hear,” he crooned, gesturing for you to follow.

You hesitate for a moment, your gaze darting between your weapon and the goblin, his eyes are trained on you, almost as if he was daring you to try. Ultimately, you were outnumbered, and they held the element of surprise over your companions. No matter which way you tried to cut it, there were going to be casualties if you didn’t do what you were told.

So, you begrudgingly allowed yourself to be led into whatever hellish fate this cult of the Absolute had in store for you. A plan of escape would have to come later, when you were far enough away from your friends.

Unbeknownst to you, one of them was already on your trail.

xxx

Amidst the shroud of night, when the moon hid its luminous face behind a thick blanket of heavy clouds, you and your merry little band of kidnappers ventured into a meadow cloaked in long, swaying grass. The air had an eerie stillness about it, broken only by the distant whispers of nocturnal creatures.

As you traversed the meadow, moving with cautious steps, your feet sinking into the cool earth with each stride, you silently weighed up your options. The grass was like a sea of shadows, their whispers brushing against your legs like ghostly fingers; it would be so easy just to blend in and disappear.

You would have considered it, if it were not for the worgs.

The air was imbued with the scent of dew-drenched grass, but those beasts would still be able to track you down within seconds. Only... there were most certainly four of them the last time you checked. But looking around now, you only noticed two.

It appeared the goblins had noticed too; their hushed conversations were like faint echoes in the vast expanse, mixing with the symphony of crickets and the occasional haunting call of a night owl. You couldn’t make out a damn word they were saying, but they looked nervous.

“It would seem that we have a stalker in our midst,” the leader of the group growled, holding up a hand for everyone to come to a halt before he grabbed your wrist, forcing you down to his level. “Sod it, change of plan. You’re with me,” he commanded one of his men before turning to the rest. “You lot deal with the bastard while we take our friend here back to base.”

“Hey!” You grabbed his wrist and tried to wrench yourself free. “Let go!”

“With pleasure,” he grinned as he simultaneously released his grip and struck the back of your head with a blunt weapon, rendering you unconscious just as the ambusher seized the opportune moment. With lightning speed and calculated precision, he pounced from the grass, launching himself like a shadowy wraith. Long grass bent and swirled in his wake, mimicking the dance of phantoms.

In that fleeting moment, you caught the glint of a blade unsheathed, reflecting a cold, silver streak in the night. Chaos ensued, and the long grass became a battleground, hiding the combatants in its tangled embrace.

The clash of steel rang through the night, intermingling with the desperate cries of your name as you slipped away into darkness.

The ambusher moved with ruthless determination; his scarlet eyes ablaze with a wild, unholy fervor. In the end, silence fell upon the meadow, broken only by the ragged breaths of the victorious, standing amidst the long grass, a solitary figure bathed in the haunting glow of the moon, his cloak billowing like a specter as he followed the trail of broken grass the other goblins had made as they carried your prone form away.

xxx

The first thing you could feel was a pounding in your head. You try to sit up, to pull your knees up so you can curl up and settle the turning in your stomach. Slowly, your eyes opened as your breath sped up.

You were lying on the dirty floor in the middle of some sort of temple, hardly able to move due to your wrists and ankles being bound by chains. You struggle to draw in shallow gasps as you blinked through the blurriness of tears that clung to your eyelashes.

“What?” you whisper to yourself, wiggling to try and find an opening in the chains, trying not to hyperventilate as the bindings dug painfully into your skin the more you tried to move.

You bite your lip as your mind races with ideas to escape, to get away from this place, to kill these people for having the audacity to kidnap you, to threaten your friends.

Different scenarios play out repeatedly in your head, but the reality was that you were powerless to do anything.

“Comfortable, are we?”

A goblin slinked her way over to you from the shadows, she was unlike the crude and menacing stereotypes that often plagued her kind. She possessed an eerie, captivating beauty and moved with an uncanny grace; as sinuous as a serpent. Her skin, the color of moss, bore intricate tattoos that seemed to pulse with an otherworldly energy.

Your skin tingled, hairs on the back of your neck prickling up as the goblin prowled behind your back to watch over your shoulder, her warm breath brushing behind your ear.

“I do hope so - it is truly an unimaginable honor to have a true soul like yourself amongst us, especially one with such... soft, tender flesh.”

A soft whimper pressed from your throat as warm hands slithered over your shoulders, kneading gently into tensed muscles. It sent a shudder down your spine, pressing your entire body in on itself.

“No need to be so coy, dear,” she said. “We’ll be getting to know one another, after all. For what is to come.”

Your lips pressed tight together as you swallowed down a knot in your throat, but your chin was forced up so that your eyes locked with hers. The symbol of the Absolute flashed on her face like a dazzling light, but no matter how much the tadpole wriggled and pulsed inside your head, nothing was happening.

You held no authority here.

“Those little mind tricks won’t work with me,” she sneered, pointing a clawed finger to her temple. “For I too, am a true soul. In fact, I am the one and only true soul!”

“W-w-what do you mea-?”

You were silenced with a hard slap.

“You may not speak in my presence, worm,” the goblin growled. “Speaking of, I’ve got so many of the little buggers up there, I may as well be as powerful as the Absolute themselves!” She barked a laugh and grinned maniacally down at you. “And your parasite will make a fine addition to my collection.”

‘Gods, this bitch is fucking crazy,’ you thought, but your mind immediately seized up and burned as she pried her way into it, and she was not too happy with your choice of words.

“You haven’t even seen crazy yet,” she growled as she traced a claw down the side of your face, drawing a thin line of blood. “I think I’ll pry your worm out myself with my bare hands and make you watch as I consume it before we gut you and roast you on the spit with the rest of the pigs.”

Strong hands took hold of your arms and legs and dragged you onto a slab of stone that had markings etched along the edges. You could just make out they were in Infernal—akin to the ones on Astarion’s back—but like his, you couldn’t decipher their meaning.

You kicked, flailed and screamed in desperation, but you were soon silenced by the goblin as she wrapped her hands around your throat while the others formed a circle around you and started muttering some sort of ritualistic prayer.

Your senses were dulling further by the second and a part of you wanted to give in to the pain, to just let yourself black out and fade away, but something within you pulsated with the will to live. To fight to your very last breath. Was this the parasite’s doing? Or was it something else?

“Just give in to the Absolute, dear, "the goblin said, her tone almost sickeningly gentle. “You’ll be all the better for it.”

“F...f...”

“Aw, your last, dying words,” she purrs, leaning in closer to listen. “I will permit it.”

“...Fuck you,” you spat.

The goblin’s smug expression warps into one of pure fury, and she bares her teeth at you as she grabs a hold of your face with one hand, using the other to slowly inch her claws towards your left eye. Her hiss garbles into a shrill wheeze as a dagger is plunged into her back and through her chest several times, relentlessly. A stray drop of blood trails down her mouth as she screams silently before she is rolled away from you, her body plopping onto the ground with an unceremonious thump.

You try to catch your breath, thanking whatever Gods were out there that they decided to spare you today.

“Don’t thank them, darling, thank me,” a familiar voice teased, though his shaking voice betrayed his light tone. “They would have done bugger all, anyway.”

A tiny, joyful laugh escapes from your raw throat as your eyes fall onto the welcome sight of Astarion, who seems just as relieved to see you.

“Are you alright?” he asks, quickly approaching with what appeared to be a pair of bolt cutters.

You nodded desperately, holding out your wrists.

Astarion took a moment to get the teeth of the bolt cutters properly in place where they wouldn’t bite through the skin but snapped them together fairly easily.

You shuddered a soft sob, relief dripping from your eyes as you rubbed at your wrists. Astarion didn’t wait for further instructions, you needed to move.

He knelt by your feet, slotting one link of the chain between the thick metal teeth, then braced one handle against his thigh. It bruised and dug into the flesh of his leg, but he didn’t stop.

The metal didn’t relent, but neither would he.

“Astarion-”

“Just... hold on, darling!” he says, pausing only briefly to give you a reassuring smile. “I’m no Lae’zel or Karlach; strength isn’t exactly my forte but I’ve... almost got it...!”

Teeth grit, fueled by fear and desperation, Astarion pulled harder and harder, feeling the bruise work against the bone and listening to his back crackle at the strain. He shifted, readjusting – maybe one half of the link would be enough? It was dented – that was a good sign.

You rested both hands on Astarion’s shoulders, steadying you both as he groaned under the effort. He jerked the handle to and fro, desperately trying to force the iron link to submit to iron teeth.

With one final effort, the metal finally crunched, and you were free.

Astarion’s arms encircled you with a strength that made you feel safe and cherished, while you nestled your head against his chest.

“You... how did you...?”

“I knew from the moment they took you,” Astarion said, smoothing down your arms, the motion was slow and helped calm you down a little. “I was, let’s say, aware of their presence in camp. But like you, I wanted to avoid a messy fight and so I tracked you down myself and... thank the gods I did.”

“Guess they helped out a little, after all,” you weakly joked.

“Oh shush,” he softly retorted. “It was fairly easy, what with that awful stench those creatures' reek of.”

“So, it was you... in the meadow.”

“It was,” he smiled, but it was tinged with bitterness. “I almost had you, if only I’d been quicker, or less sloppy, you wouldn’t have...”

His eyes, pools of worry and tenderness, never left your face. He reached out with a hand that trembled, his fingers brushing away strands of your disheveled hair. His touch was feather-light, as if he feared causing you any more discomfort.

With a voice softer than a whisper, he asked, “Did… did they…?” The words carried the weight of a thousand unspoken emotions.

“It’s okay,” you said, reaching out to caress his cheek. “I’m okay.”

He nodded, his lips curling into a tender smile as he leaned into your touch. Gently, he began to inspect your injuries. His fingers traced the contours of your throat, seeking out any sign of any permanent damage. With each touch, he was meticulous, ensuring that he didn’t aggravate the forming bruise.

"Does it hurt much?" he inquires softly, his expression unreadable, almost dazed.

You wince slightly but shake your head. "It's bearable.”

He leans in, his breath warm against your skin, as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. "You're so, so strong, my dear," he whispers, his words a soothing balm to your wounded soul.

His soft gaze hardens as he glares down at the goblins' bodies that littered the room. “Death is too good for them. I’m almost tempted to have them revived so I can make them suffer just a little longer.”

“How did you even manage to kill so many?” you ask, you knew he was a dab hand at killing but even he couldn’t take on a whole horde by himself.

“They were all so engrossed in their little ritual, they didn’t even see me coming,” Astarion said with a shrug. “That’s what you get for blind faith, I suppose.”

You wanted to laugh, but your throat hurt too much.

“Come on, darling,” Astarion gently looped your arm around his shoulder and guided you, going as slow as your aching legs would allow. “Let’s get you home.”

Your eyes met his in a gaze that transcended words, a silent conversation of empathy and understanding. In that moment, the world ceased to exist beyond the contours of your bodies, and the only reality was the sensation of skin against skin, the intoxicating scent of each other's presence, and the unspoken promise that he would never allow this to happen to you again.

xxx

Links to my other Astarion works

Everything's Fine

Restless

Request - Astarion kills everyone in his path to get to you

#bg3 astarion #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #astarion ancunin #my writing #fanfiction #tw kidnapping #request

496 notes · View notes

nebulablakemurphy · 1 year

Text

Moves & Countermoves (Part 10)

Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing.

“Everybody stick to the plan. That means you, sweetheart.” Haymitch is sure to address Katniss directly, she loves to deviate. “We need this big, make them pay attention.“

Peeta looks to Katniss.

“We’re ready.”

Y/N taps Katniss’ chin, with a sad smile.

The lights backstage dim.

“Tonight is a night like no other.” Caesar narrates, “tonight we are joined by the victors of district twelve.”

The audience applauds.

“That’s right, we have Katniss Everdeen, Peeta Mellark, Y/N and Haymitch Abernathy and two very special guests!”

The clapping only amplifies as the music begins.

“Let’s bring them out,” Caesar calls.

A beat later shouts of excitement can be heard all around as Everest tears down the isle, from the very back row. Hands reaching out as he passes, brushing against his own.

“Ah ha ha!” Caesar can barely contain himself, “it’s Everest, it’s our boy!”

Arista cartwheels out into spotlight after her brother has found his seat on stage.

“Oh, an acrobat!” Caesar rejoices. “Our little gymnast, Arista.”

The response is near deafening. Katniss wonders if they might actually short circuit as Peeta dips her back and kisses her.

“Our lethal lovers!” Caesar fans himself until they break apart.

Y/N’s dress is skintight, drawing attention to the ever growing bump. If we show them, then it’s real.

Those who are still seated rise; a standing ovation.

“Oh my gooooooooooodddddd!” Caesar howls, “how did this happen?”

“Come on, Caesar,” Haymitch claps his back, “there’s kids here.”

Caesar cackles, “well I mean, when? We had no idea-”

“It was a surprise.”

“What a happy surprise!”

“Saved it just for you,” Y/N informs him.

“May I?” He holds out a hand.

“Please.” Y/N smiles down at her belly as Caesar touches it lightly.

“Hello there, little one. It’s Caesar.” A swift kick meets his palm and he jumps back, mouth wide open. “Now that was a kick.”

The audience rejoices.

“Please, take a seat,” Caesar motions toward the children. “Let’s catch up. Katniss, Peeta, tell us, how is your new life treating you?”

“Good,” Katniss takes the lead, “it’s been incredible.”

Peeta nods in agreement.

“Thanks to the generosity of the Capitol, not only did we find love, but a second family.”

“So sweet.” Caesar coos, “and what about you, Peeta?”

“Y/N, Haymitch and the kids opened their hearts and their home to us. We’ve been very fortunate.” Peeta takes comfort in this truth.

“And what a lovely family you have.” Caesar holds a hand to his heart. “So tell us, what’s next?”

“I-I’m so sorry, Caesar.” Peeta stammers, “I just can’t wait any longer.”

“For what? What is it Peeta?” Caesar leans in.

Peeta kneels in front of Katniss, her eyes wide as he reaches into his pocket.

“Katniss, I have always loved you.”

“It’s happening.” Someone shouts from the crowd.

Caesar moves his mic closer, so everyone can hear.

“These past few months have only brought us closer and I know now, more than ever, that there’s no one else in the world I’d rather spend my life with.” The box is opened, revealing the ring.

Katniss’ hands fly up to her mouth.

“Katniss…will you marry me?”

“Yes.” Her tears are genuine. She is overwhelmed and ill equipped to handle such a myriad of emotions.

The ring goes on and he kisses her. For better or for worse.

————————————————————————

“Mommy,” Arista calls her mother back to her bedside.

“Yes,” Y/N smiles, patiently returning to her perch at the edge of the mattress.

“Do you think we made everybody happy again?”

Y/N exhales, “there’s really no way to make everyone happy. But I think Caesar was pretty happy, huh?”

Arista giggles, “yeah, he was so happy.”

“You know that’s not your job, right? Making everybody happy.”

She shrugs.

“You’re just a little girl.” Y/N reminds her, “and all that stuff is grown up stuff. Ok?”

“Ok,” Arista nuzzles against her pillow.

“Should I ask Aunt Madge to come lay with you until you fall asleep?”

She nods. “I love you, Mama.”

“I love you more.” Y/N kisses her forehead, in parting. “Sweet dreams.” She leaves her then, allowing the sliding door to close behind her.

Madge is already there, standing watch between the kid’s rooms.

“She wants you to lay with her.”

“I’m on it.”

Y/N catches her wrist, causing Madge to look up at her. Really look at her.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just wanted to thank you, again.”

“It’s the least I can do,” Madge shakes her head.

“You don’t owe me,” Y/N needs her to know that. Not for taking care of you when mom couldn’t. Not for chasing monsters away when dad had to work late. Not for any of it.

“I’m here because I love you, you’re my sister, Everest and Arista are my niece and nephew. I want to help, I want to be here.” Madge assures her. “I know this isn’t your ideal night out, but we get to leave after the party. So take a breath, do your thing, I’ll hold down the fort.”

“I love you.” Y/N pinches her little sister’s cheek, once for good measure. Then runs both hands over the front of her dress. Vanity has truly outdone herself.

Haymitch comes to collect her after a bit of pregaming and saying his own goodnights.

Katniss and Peeta are dressed and ready for the short walk to the presidential palace. They’ve never been, so their initial state of awe is to be expected.

“Everyone who is anyone is here and they’re all dying to meet you, my victors.” Effie smiles, guiding Peeta and Katniss towards the stairs, lined with Capitol elites.

They gawk as if they’ve never seen a victor before, one even brushes his hand against Katniss’ shoulder.

Once they are inside Effie breaks off, she has friends here, people she knows, Katniss doesn’t. Even Y/N and Haymitch are quickly whisked away, leaving her and Peeta to fend for themselves.

“Y/N, Y/N, you have to try this. It’s new.” The Capitol woman accosting her is named Lyra; sporting a headpiece which resembles curtains.

“Oh,” Y/N stares down at the pastry in her hand.

“I need a drink.” Haymitch whispers against his wife’s ear. “You alright here?”

“Yeah, go.” Y/N kisses him once in parting before making herself at home. The food is good, more than enough to feed the starving families in twelve.

“What are you hoping for this time?” Lyra wonders, motioning to her belly.

“Um,” Y/N stammers, “I’m happy either way. Just healthy, that’s all I want.”

“That goes without saying,” The woman agrees.

“My daughter wants a sister though.”

Y/N isn’t sure how much time is lost in meaningless conversation. Others join them, asking about her dress, the children, the baby. Eventually she excuses herself to the powder room, taking a deep breath and stalling until there is a knock at the solid, white, door.

“Thought you fell in.” Finnick remarks when Y/N answers.

“There are ten other bathrooms here.” She narrows her eyes at him.

“Eleven, actually.” He corrects her, “besides I wasn’t looking for a toilet.”

“What were you looking for?”

“You.”

Y/N scoffs, “I’m flattered.”

“May I have this dance?” Finnick holds out a hand to her.

“One dance,” Y/N agrees; allowing him to lead her onto the dance floor.

“Everything ok?” Finnick asks.

No. “Yes, why?”

“I don’t know,” he looks away for a moment, then down to her bump. “I just feel like there’s something between us.”

Y/N snorts a laugh, “how are things?” How’s Annie?

“She’s doing better.” His playful demeanor is all but forgotten. “It’s always hard when I leave.”

Y/N nods, deciding not to push the issue. He doesn’t want to be here, nobody does.

“Mags is with her. It helps.”

“Mags is good?”

“Everyone’s alright.” Finnick’s eyes scan the room. “Looks like you’ll be having an interesting evening.”

“Why?” Y/N whips her head around.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.” She’s very skittish tonight.

“What do you know that I don’t?” Y/N arches a brow. That’s why he sought her out, why he asked her to dance. Not to flirt, or to shoot the breeze, but to be her friend. To give her a heads up.

Finnick leans in, to let her in on a little secret. Right as the nation’s anthem booms out, the presidential welcome. “We better go.” He says instead.

Y/N finds Haymitch waiting for her, near the center of the excitement, with Peeta and Katniss. He waves her over, not expecting her to come flying into his arms.

“What happened?” Haymitch pulls back after a moment, giving her a thorough once over.

“Nothing.” Nothing yet. But this is how it starts, this is how it always starts.

He wants to tell her right then about his conversation with Plutarch; about the rebels, the growing support to end the games and the truth about district thirteen. But they’re being watched, especially here and the train is bugged.

There’s an old trick, one Haymitch and Y/N have used since the beginning of their marriage. In the shower, hushed whispers drowned out by the guise of something else. They can speak freely. He’ll tell her tonight.

Without another word Haymitch turns her toward Snow’s balcony. Both arms around Y/N as they watch the display, his mouth set in a firm line. The president has come to greet his guests, met with applause and when he speaks, complete silence.

“Tonight, on this the last day of their tour, I want to welcome our two victors. Two young people who embody our ideals of strength and valor.” Snow pauses, “and I personally want to congratulate them on the announcement of their engagement. Your love has inspired us, and I know it will go on inspiring us everyday, for as long as you may live.”

Y/N’s heart stops, unable to determine if this revelation is good or bad. Still she smiles, pointing toward the spectacle of lights behind them.

Katniss turns back to meet Snow’s gaze as the fireworks boom, leaving only him and her. Finally he nods. They did it. He’s convinced.

Part 11

Series Taglist: @praline357 @flowercrowns-goodvibes @justheretoparty420 @avocadotoastwithegg @treehouse-mouse @emo-markie @spilled-mi1k @magical-spit @greaser9902 @jessicamellarky @yourebuckingkiddingme @smuha2004 @sendhelplease @ninimackbrews @wittiestrain184 @r1dd1kulus @erenluvr69 @helpimhyperfixating

#moves & countermoves #haymitch abernathy #haymitch fanfic #haymitch abernathy x y/n #haymitch abernathy x you #haymitch abernathy x reader #thg haymitch #haymitch x reader #haymitch x y/n #haymitch abernathy fanfic #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #the hunger games #thg #hunger games

450 notes · View notes

thelov3lybookworm · 9 months

Text

Mere Coincidence? (Part two)

Part 1

Summary: Y/n never thought she would ever be treated like more than trash. So it's a surprise when one of the most powerful men in the entirety of Prythian saves her.

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: okay, so this one is a good one.i like it, and it kinda gives me hope that ill be able to write a slow burn for once(whenever i think of doing slow burn, I end up making the characters kiss and make them get together 🙄)

I also feel like this chapter doesn't make sense kinda? Like everyone's pissed for no reason? Was that a spoiler?

Anyways, Enjoy!

•○🌑○•

The slight burn in her hands was almost unnoticeable as she scrubbed away at the dishes. She'd been at it for hours now, washing away the piles of dirty plates.

It had barely been a few hours since her wings were almost clipped, and she was doing her chores like nothing happened.

She simply stared out of the window in front of her, the work not requiring any of her attention, having almost become a habit, a clockwork. She had been doing chores around the camp pretty much before she even learned how to walk without faceplanting in the snow.

She was alone in the kitchen, had been for a while. It was quiet, calm. Which was slightly concerning.

The sun was setting, the fading glow turning everything slightly orange. To someone who had never visited the Illyrian mountains, it would have been beautiful.

But the people who lived here, especially the females, knew how often the orange-red snow from the sun, was colored so red due to blood.

And she was still wondering if it was a mere coincidence that the snow in the center of the camp wasn't covered in her blood at the moment.

It was puzzling, how the General of the Night Court's armies had arrived at the perfect moment to stop her wings from being clipped. How, he was so sure that he would know if her father tried to clip her wings again.

The most peculiar thing was, he was ready to rip her father apart if any more attempts at clipping her wings were made.

She could not, for the life of her, understand why he would do that.

Sure, he was known to be against wing clipping, just like most of the elite members in the High Lord's Court. But she didn't think anyone of them would go to such lengths to protect any females wings. The law had been in place for decades, probably centuries, and still the Illyrians clipped wings left and right.

So, that agian brought her to the starting point. The same question.

Why in the Cauldron's name, was the General so interested in Y/n's wellbeing?

A crash brought her out of her daze, and she blinked as she looked next to her.

There, she found a little girl, who looked barely over five, staring at the broken pieces of glass next to their feet. Y/n hadn't even heard her enter.

When the girl glanced up at Y/n, her lower lip was wobbling, her eyes glassy. Y/n quickly washed her hands, setting the cleaned plate she was holding aside before she picked up the little girl and carried her towards a counter nearby, where no glass shards had reached.

Y/n settled the little girl on the counter, her tiny legs dangling over the stone top.

"What is your name?" Y/n questioned gently, pushing the hair away from the trembling girl's face.

"T-Tiya." The girl answered in a small, shaky voice, still staring at the shattered pieces near the washing area.

"Tiya. You have a beautiful name." Her futile attempt at distraction was wasted, as Tiya continued shivering.

And she was not shivering because of the cold.

It was fear.

Because she had broken a plate.

"Are you afraid?"

That finally seemed to draw Tiya's attention. "They will beat me. They will make me sleep without eating."

It broke Y/n's heart, seeing how scared such a young soul was because of a simple plate. Someone who should have been wondering about what she would play next was wondering if she would get beaten and punished, if she would be forbidden from having whatever scarce dinner the females in the camp were provided.

"Tiya. I want you to listen to me very carefully. Okay?" She waited till Tiya nodded before continuing. "The plate you see there? I was the one who broke it."

Tiya glanced up sharply, her eyes wide, and shook her head. "You are mistaken. I broke it–"

"You didn't. You were in the kitchen, finishing your chores, and you saw me dropping the plate. You hear me?"

"But... is that not lying?"

Y/n's face softened. "It is not. Its just hiding the truth. And even if it was lying, it would be okay, because we're doing it so we do not get hurt. Lying is not okay when we do it to hurt others. But now we are merely trying to keep ourselves safe. It's alright to lie to keep yourself safe."

"They will beat you. They will make you sleep without food." Tiya's eyes lined with tears as she stared at Y/n. "You will get hurt if I lie. That is not okay, right?"

Y/n couldn't argue with that. But she had to. She couldn't let this little girl get hurt. She wouldn't let her get hurt, because no one had tried to save Y/n when she was a kid, and it was not fair. It was not fair that the little kids who should be frolicking around and giggling were stuck sweeping around the camp and having the laughter stolen from them.

And someone had to step up, in whatever way they could.

Y/n could not stop these practices, because who was she if the even the High Lord hadn't been able to get the idea of these primal practices from the thick skull of Illyrians. And because she could not stop them from hurting children, she would take on the punishment for them.

It wasn't much, but it was something. Especially when one good act of hers could help the little ones belive that there was good in this world, and it was not just lashings, beatings and starvation everywhere. That there was still hope, and all that they had to do was hold on and be strong.

She wanted to do this so that the children wouldn't become the hopeless female Y/n had become.

"Can we be friends Tiya?"

Tiya blinked, before nodding.

Y/n smiled. "So consider this our secret, because friends have secrets. You do know what a secret is, right? You can't tell anybody about this. If someone asks, you will tell them that you saw me dropping the plate. Nothing more, nothing less. Okay?"

Tiya sniffed, but nodded. Y/n placed a kiss on Tiya's forehead, hugging her little frame for a moment before picking her up from the counter and setting her down on the ground.

Tiya gave Y/n a small smile before turning, nearly sprinting out the door.

Y/n watched her go, hoping to quickly clean up the mess before one of the head females saw her. If they did, Y/n would receive and earful on top of the beating and starving, and she was in no mood for all of that at the same time.

Tiya came to a sudden stop just outside the kitchen doors, staring up at something–or someone– next to the door.

Y/n's blood instantly chilled.

What if it was one of the pompous asses of the camp, who would run to Y/n's father at every little piece of information just to have the Lord acknowledge his existence? What if this person had heard everything? If that was the case, then both Y/n and Tiya were in deep shit.

Y/n quickly made her way over, prepared to beg the illyrian to keep their mouth shut.

But who she found herself staring at was not who she would have expected.

The General of the Night Court's armies stared right beck at her, his eyes slightly wide.

Tiya's tiny hand closed Y/n's, clutching tightly. Y/n glanced down, looking at the girl who was trying to hide behind Y/n. She turned back to the General, who was now staring at Tiya.

He swallowed, then slid his hand into one of his pockets and pulled out a candy wrapped in colorful paper and held it out to Tiya. To her credit, she didn't take it. To his, he didn't pull back his hand until Tiya reluctantly took the candy.

The General smiled, and the warmth radiating from him could have been the reason that Tiya relaxed.

The reason the little girl began to blush was definitely due to the wink the General threw her way.

After that, Tiya took off to wherever she was going before, and Y/n turned away, walking back to the kitchen to clean up and finish her remaining chores.

She had thought– hoped– that the General would have left.

But the bastard didn't.

He followed her inside, and as she began picking up the glass pieces, he knelt next to her.

She sighed in frustration and looked up at him, a charming smile on his face.

"Need some help?"

"No." She continued gathering the pieces of broken glass, trying to ignore the walking furnace next to her. Trying not to lean into the warmth he gave off to fend off the cold from the snowy mountain.

"That's unfortunate. I was hoping I could help."

Y/n said nothing, simply continuing her work.

"You know, I wonder why you look so panicked. No one would notice one missing plate."

"They would." She mumbled quietly, trying not to lose her temper. She knew it was irrational to be pissed at someone who had helped her, saved the one thing she loved most. But she was frustrated, not knowing why he did what he did. The broken plate was an added bonus.

She had received extremely little lunch, her father being mad at her. She had hoped she could eat at night, but now even that was going to be taken from her.

"How? How would they know? It's not like–"

She groaned, turning fully to him. "What is your problem? Why are you here? What do you want from me?"

The General held up his hands. "Woah, okay. First off, my problem is that I haven't drunk any liquor in a week. Can you imagine? I've been in a weird mood the whole week. On top of that, Rhysand forbade me from killing Illyrians. Truly a tragedy. For the second question, I'm here to try and help you clean that. And for the third one, I am just trying to talk you." He gave her a grin, and she had to stop herself from embedding the glass shard she held in her hand in his face.

A sting on her finger made her gasp, and she looked down to realise she had been squeezing the sharp object. Blood welled on her finger, and she cursed inwardly.

The General also saw that, and he was immediately reaching out towards her hand. "Here, let me help with that."

But Y/n snatched her hand back, glaring at him. "No. Thank you." She bit out. "Leave."

His brows furrowed, but she pointed towards the door, and he sighed and reluctantly stood. And then, without a word, he left.

•○🌑○•

She had just left her father's office, the beating she was supposed to receive having been cancelled. Her father had decided against punishing her for some reason.

She still couldn't eat though.

She hadn't wanted to go home yet, so she'd decided to take a small walk near to the forest.

After walking for sometime, she had taken a seat against a tree, leaning her head back.

She was hungry, so much so that she was ready to eat rocks.

Snow crunched behind her, and she stiffened.

Turning, she found the the General walking towards her, a pack over his shoulder.

She almost screamed when he sat down next to her.

They sat in silence for some time. But then the General apparently couldn't take it anymore.

He passed her the pack, and she looked up questioningly.

"It's food. Eat up."

She pushed the pack back towards him. "I don't need it."

"Damned Illyrians and their pride." He growled, dropping the pack in her lap and standing. "Better eat it, and get back home before the sun fully sets."

Y/n blinked for a moment, wondering what had gotten into the male in front of her. She didn't think it was that big of an issue to warrant an outburst.

"And what if I don't?"

"You could end up dead. There are creatures lurking in the forest."

"I see no problem with that "

"Then die." He ran a hand through his hair roughly before he took off, and Y/n stared after him.

What the hell?

She never thought someone would be so pissed that she didn't want to eat, but here she was. That was a first.

She glanced down at the pack next to her, then around her to make sure no one was near.

Then she opened the pack and began eating. After all, who was she to turn down food?

She just hoped no one noticed that she wasn't being starved.

•○🌑○•

General Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless

'Mere coincidence?' taglist: @jesssicapaniagua @historygeekqueen @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog

#cassian #cassian x you #cassian x reader #acosf #cassian acotar #cassian acosf #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fandom #acotar fanfic #acotar fluff #acotar series #acotar writing #Valkyrie #illyrian #Illyria #night court #General of night court #lord of bloodshed

226 notes · View notes

emeritusemeritus · 11 months

Text

Just wanna bewitch you in the moonlight. Pt 8.

[Fred Weasley x Reader x George Weasley]

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

Title: Just wanna bewitch you in the moonlight.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader x George Weasley

Timeline: Predominately set between GOF and OOTP (some canon has been altered to fit the story)

Summary: Both twins like Gryffindor!reader. Reader likes both twins. How will she decide who to chose in the end? Amortentia might be able to help, or not.

Warnings: Smut, oral sex, p in v sex, 69’ing, established relationships, threesomes, friends to lovers, all the good stuff. NO Twincest. Mentions of illness, Brief mentions of vomiting. Tiny bit of angst, possessiveness, talk of kids. Mentions of dominant behaviour. Snape has a soft spot for reader. Love potions? But none are actually used. Not beta-read nor spell checked, we die like Sirius ❤️

The Freddie smut train isn’t stopping 🌹

George returned a little while later, taking a suspiciously long time in the shower which you didn't doubt had been organised by Fred.

"Are you both decent?" He asked as he crept in, smiling at seeing that you were both now clothed and sat on the bed laughing.

"Reckon tea will be ready soon," George says, hopping onto the bed, now clean and redressed. He immediately pulls you into his arms, getting the cuddles you'd promised earlier as you absently draw shapes onto the skin of his arm with your finger as you all chat until Molly calls you for tea.

You all sit and chat as you eat, Fred, Harry and Ron all celebrating their win from earlier in the day. Molly has made a heap of mashed potato, steak and onion pies and veg which you excitedly tuck into, knowing how much you'll miss her cooking when the week comes to an end. It was Hermione's last day at the burrow tomorrow before she went home to her parents and so you were all trying to think of something you could do tomorrow, gathering ideas or group activities but not quite deciding anything.

Fred looks increasingly fidgety throughout dinner, which made you glance at him questioningly a few times. It wasn't entirely uncharacteristic for him to be squirmy and hyper but this seemed different, like he couldn't wait to get away from the table. Once the meal had been had, you and both twins make your way up to their bedroom with Fred immediately fluttering round the room grabbing random things and slinging them into a little shopping bag he'd knicked from Molly.

"You'll probably need a sweater princess, want one of mine?" He asks as he delves into the drawers, not waiting for an answer as he pulls out a green knitted jumper with a big 'F' on the front in gold lettering. You gladly accept and look down at what you're wearing, suddenly wondering if they're suitable.

"Fred, do I need to get changed?" You ask, making him pause briefly as he looks at you up and down.

"No princess, though if you want to wear less I'd have no qualms," he smirks before returning to his digging. You roll your eyes and turn your gaze to George who is lay on the bed reading. You slink into bed beside him and without ever taking his gaze off the page, he opens up his arm for you to cuddle into his side.

"Gonna miss you," you whisper in his ear, quiet enough so Fred wouldn't hear. You see him smile and turn to you as his hand creeps down to reach your bum, giving it a little pat.

"You already know I'll miss you," he smiles, pressing a kiss to your head.

"Right! Princess if you would like to follow me," Fred says, standing beside the bed and offering his elbow to you like a man in an old fashioned movie. You giggle and stand to grab his elbow, casting one last glance back at George before you slip out of the door and down the stairs, following Fred until he leads you out of the house.

"Where are we going?" You ask, your arms still gripping his arm as he guides you. He looks over at you with a smirk and winks, not disclosing anything.

You follow the familiar path up to the back field, praying that he wasn't going to make you play quidditch.

When you got to the field, he pulled the bag off his wide shoulders and pulled out a large picnic blanket and laid it on the floor as he knelt down, gesturing for you to take a seat.

"Okay my princess, we have a blanket, some candles, some beer and."

"Where did you get that?" You interject, laughing as he pulls out two bottles of beer from the bag, no doubt stolen from Arthur's stash. He gives you a wicked smile and leans in to pull you into a kiss, both of you giggling as your lips meet. He then lights the candles around you and reaches into the bag to pull out a little box.

"Okay we have Weasley's whizzbangs, whizzfire bangs, whammy rockets and miraculous mystic mayhem makers," Fred smiles as he pulls out a selection of fireworks from the bag, all tried and tested Weasley products they'd been developing.

"Putting on a show for me handsome?" You flirt, looking at the selection of explosives in front of you.

"Sweetheart, I'm constantly putting on a show for you, have been since second year," he admits with a little chuckle, making you laugh.

You actually end up sitting and talking for the majority of the night, reminiscing about previous pranks you'd all pulled and memories together over the years as you sip on stolen beer. You were both lay on the blanket, your head on his chest as you looked up towards the stars, feeling at peace.

"You're so beautiful," Fred says suddenly, making you turn to face him. Instead of a teasing smirk that you'd expected, he actually looks a little bashful with a smile tugging at his lips. You blush at the sudden intimacy and lean up to kiss him. The kiss starts off slowly and playfully but in no time you are beginning to rut against each other, hands wandering and little breathless gasps falling between your lips in between the passionate kisses.

Something changes in you immediately like a switch had been flicked and you needed to feel him on you, in you, however you could get him, surrendering to the intense desire that Fred always seemed to pull from you.

You began tugging at his sweater, needing to get it off his body to feel him. As he sat up slightly, you immediately began attacking his brown, woven belt to get to what you really wanted.

"What's your rush princess? You need me?" He asks, his hand coming up to grab the side of your face, long fingers tangling into your hair as he feverishly kisses you. You nod and a little whimper falls from your throat without realising as you carry on trying to undress him, the lust you felt becoming a burning need.

Fred pulled off his sweater and T-shirt, leaving him in just his trousers which were quickly pulled down as soon as you'd worked his belt.

"A little unfair don't you think sweetheart?" He smirks, pulling your body to his, your hips meeting as you feel the growing bulge in his underwear against your thigh. He immediately pulls off the sweater and top you're wearing, gasping and growling as he realises that you aren't wearing a bra, your naked breasts spilling out. He immediately latches onto your nipple with his mouth, feasting on the feverish skin as his other hand grabs hold of your neglected breast and toys with the nipple. Your hips chase his at the overwhelmingly pleasurable sensation as he sucks and nips at your pebbled nipples.

"Fred," you groan, throwing your head back as he sucks little lovebites into the side of your breast, never neglecting the nipple as his tongue switches back and forth, devouring your aching breasts.

"That's it princess, tell me who makes you feel this good," Fred smirks, pushing your breasts together to pay attention to them both. "Such perfect tits," he mumbles as he dives right back in.

Your hands begin to wander on his body, running down his smooth abdomen until you reach the little fuzz of his happy trail and the waistband of his boxers. You slip your hand into his underwear and immediately reach for his big, swollen length earning a loud growl from Fred as you wrap your hand around him. He breaks apart from your breast just for a second to pull down his underwear, exposing his perfect cock and balls to you, allowing you to toy with him without restriction.

You slowly begin to move your hand on his cock, tugging and gliding gently just how he likes, causing a broken moan of your name to fall from his lips. He bends his neck to reach down and kiss you, slipping his tongue into your mouth as it wrestles with your own, the sensual glide making you squeeze your legs together to relieve some tension. Fred misses nothing and immediately moves his hands to your jeans to tug them off. You reluctantly let go of his length to let him pull off your jeans and panties in one go. He then pulls off his boxers the rest of the way and slings them away, leaving you both completely naked and exposed.

A single moment passes as you look at each other, your eyes wandering all over his perfect body, really trying to commit it to memory as you look at him with sheer adoration.

He leans down and presses a sweet kiss to your lips, smirking against them as his hand begins to trail up your thigh with teasingly delicate touches which only fuel the fire within you further.

His hand meets your wet folds as his fingers slip beneath them, earning a groan from him as he discovers just how wet you are.

"Is all of this for me princess?" He smirks.

You nod, desperately trying to buck your hips so he'll touch you more, chest heaving already at the sensation.

"Have you been thinking about this sweetheart? About how my big cock is going to stretch you out? Filling you up just right."

"Fuck, Fred yes!" You moan as his long, talented fingers slip inside you, curling up to hit that special spot that makes you keen.

"There it is princess, fuck you're so hot, can't wait to get my cock in you," he says as he leans back down, attacking your breasts once again as he works his fingers in and out of you. You immediately reach for his cock and begin pumping him, making deliciously lewd noises fall from his mouth.

"Come here sweetheart," he suddenly says pulling away, gesturing for you to sit up. He moves you and positions you into a similar fashion to what you'd done that afternoon but instead of being on top of him, you are laid on the blanket in opposite directions whilst facing each other.

His cock is right in front of your face, flushed pink and leaking precum already, just begging to be sucked. Fred parts your legs with his big hands and moves to rest his head on your thigh, wrapping the other one over his shoulder as he kisses your pussy lips, teasing you. You buck your hips, trying to get more than just butterfly kisses and he immediately reaches up to spank your ass, causing you to let out a gasping moan.

His hand comes up to spread your little lips and he begins giving little kisses to your sensitive clit, swirling his tongue teasingly around the exposed nub as you gasp.

You can't hold back any longer and grab hold of his cock at the base, squeezing gently before wrapping your lips around his cock, swirling your tongue devilishly around the fat head, licking up all the little beads of precum. Fred immediately moans out your name and begins feasting on your cunt perfectly, both of you trying your hardest to please the other. Your paces are slow and unhurried, trying to tease and please the other to give the most pleasure you can.

You can feel your orgasm building as your hips undulate over his face. He moans, sensing your impending release and strokes your thighs as he begins wildly sucking on your clit, tugging gently and licking over the spot repeatedly as his pace increases, keeping perfect rhythm until you cum.

You have to pull off his cock as a loud moan erupts from you, your body completely at the mercy of his as your climax takes over, the white hot flames burning you from the inside out as you shout if his name.

"Fucking hell princess," he gasps, stroking your thighs as you come down from your high, a blissful smile plastered on your face. "So hot when you cum."

Fred leans up and moves to lie beside you again, smiling and kissing you as he sees your little blissful, fucked out smile and heavy eyelids.

"Want you Freddie, please," you moan, reaching for his cock again.

"One time not enough sweetheart? Or do you need my big cock?"

"Need it Freddie, please," you beg, completely overwhelmed by the emptiness you felt, needing to be filled by him.

"I've got you sweetheart," he cooes, pulling you closer to him so that your bodies are directly facing each other. He kissed you passionately, hands wandering as they slip down to your ass again. He squeezes and massages the skin of your ass before reaching down to grab your leg and hitch it over his hip. You gasp at the sudden feel of his heavy length pressed against your pussy, just begging for entry.

You reach down and hold his cock steady at the base before rolling your hips just right so that he sinks into your wet heat, both of you gasping and moaning in sync as the bliss of him stretching you out.

"Oh princess, so tight for me," he gasps, thrusting deeper inside of you until every inch of him was buried inside, making you breathless. "Oh you feel perfect princess, so fucking good."

He begins to thrust in and out and you have to hold back your loud moans which you're sure could be heard all the way back at Hogwarts.

You begin to roll your hips in time with his thrusts and you both immediately cry out at the sensation as you fuck yourself on his cock. His hands come up to grab at your ass, guiding your movements, helping you to roll your ass back and forth as he fucks you deep.

"Fuck Freddie, so good, you're so deep," you moan out as the angle of his cock presses hard against your g-spot with each harsh thrust.

"Princess, y/n," he moans, "not gonna last, you feel so fucking good."

"Cum Freddie, please, want you to cum inside me!"

He begins brutally thrusting into you, abandoning your hip movements as his hands dig deliciously into the skin as he grips you hard. His groans and moans mix with yours as he sets a brutal pace, fucking into you with abandon as he nears his end. He suddenly grips you bruisingly hard and slams your hips down onto him one last time, holding your body tight to him as he buries himself as deep as he can. His face scrunches up deliciously as he cums, the blistering hot cum shooting deep into you as his hands keep you firmly in place as your walls clench around him, another orgasm surprising you and taking over your senses.

As the climax slowly begins to wear off, Fred's grip loosens and he slowly rubs the skin where his hands have been to soothe it. He looks up at you with a wide smile and leans down to press a sweet and gentle kiss to your lips as your hands run over his chest.

"Didn't even need the fireworks," he quips as he leans his forehead on yours. You laugh, causing your muscles to contract around him where he's still inside you and you hear him let out a little gasp of over sensitivity. He slowly pulls out, limp cock now resting between you in his thigh as you both take a few moments to catch your breath before untangling yourselves .

"You never needed fireworks to get me into bed... or the ground I guess," you laugh, sitting up and reaching for your clothes. He smiles, watching you dress with a tenderness that made butterflies spread within you.

"You know, it would be a shame to waste these," he says, sitting up and fiddling with the magical fireworks.

"Alright big boy, clothes on first though," you laugh, chucking his T-shirt towards him. You were surprisingly warm and so opted not to wear the sweater, staying in a T-shirt and your jeans as Fred quickly dressed and started preparing the whizz bangs.

You couldn't help but watch him as he moved with proficiently, seeing him in his element of causing mischief as he lined up the whizzbangs.

Moments later, the enchanted fireworks erupted in the sky with a resounding bang, illuminating the entire sky with a prism of colour. One of the particular fireworks turned into a dragon midair and began circling around the rest of the explosions in the most spectacular sight you'd ever seen.

You sneaked a look at Fred's face seeing him smiling in utter delight which made you feel so proud of him and George at their incredible inventions, forever thankful that you could always get a firsthand show.

When the ash settled, the familiar scent of gunpowder and settling smoke overwhelmed your senses and took you back to the potions classroom, smelling the Amortentia. The scent was so unmistakable, like the smell of an extinguished candle with a little more dry smokiness and a lingering musky that was entirely Weasley's wizzbangs.

"Y/n?" Fred asks, bringing your attention back to him. You realised that whilst you had been spaced out, he'd tied away the leftovers from the fireworks and was now lay back on his elbows with his long legs crossed at the ankle, watching you. "Where did you go pretty girl?"

"Nowhere important," you smiled, lying down with him as you looked back at the Burrow, seeing a couple of lights still on throughout the house. A sense of dread suddenly overwhelmed you. "No one can see us right?"

He laughed and shook his head, "only window that looks out back here is mine and George's," he explains with a smirk, "think he was watching?"

"Fred!" You laughed, hitting his chest at the thought.

"Think he was taking notes on how to please a woman?" He laughs and you nudge him again, throwing him off balance of his elbows, forcing him down. "You didn't argue it, he really that bad?"

"Merlin no, just didn't think you'd want to know all the details about how your twin brother pleases me and how he likes when I-"

""Alright I get the point," he says quickly, pulling a disgusted face at the idea. You had to chuckle as you settled back onto the blanket, sprawling your legs back as you looked up at the stars.

You sneaked a glance over at Fred who was doing the same as you with his eyes closed as he relaxed and thought back to all the times you'd tried to sneak glances at him over the years without him noticing. It was one of those moments when you realised how incredibly lucky you were to have not only Fred but George too, for however long you could have them.

The whizzbang smoke had brought back memories of the Amortentia incident and had stirred something up inside you which was eating away at your happiness, never truly knowing who it was you desired more.

When you and Fred were alone together, it was easy. You'd liked him for years, daydreamed and fantasised about him every chance you could, even so much as scribbling his initials in little notebooks in your younger years like any good schoolgirl would. You'd fantasised of your life together if he ever reciprocated your feelings, your wedding, your future children, all a distant but hopeful thought. It should be easy really, he liked you back and for that you were eternally grateful.

You'd been best friends for years, even closer than you and George had been and it was constantly exciting and passionate, like everyday was a new relationship but without all the awkwardness of learning about each other. Your mischievous best friend turned boyfriend, the constant prank master and joker, always the ringleader; he kept you on your toes at all times, bringing joy and laughter to your life like no other. Your relationship was filled with teasing and witty banter that you hope never faded and you were almost certain that you loved him, and had for a long time.

But then there was George. A prankster and joker at heart but with a stronger conscience and greater moral compass. He was sensitive and kind, at-least more often than Fred tended to be and he was comforting, above all else. George made you feel secure and loved. He was the personification of that feeling after a long, stressful day when you finally got home and could relax, putting on your cosiest, comfiest clothes and shutting out the world as you sought comfort. You'd never anticipated falling for him so hard and just like his brother, you were near certain that you were falling in love with him, if you weren’t already fully there. How were you ever going to chose between them?

"Your thoughts are loud," Fred says and you can hear the smirk in his voice.

"Sorry," you say, turning your attention back to him, "I think I'm just tired."

"Want to go to bed sweetheart?" He asks tenderly, placing his hand on your thigh. You had to admit that going to bed did sound very appealing right now, but you didn't want to cut the cut your little date short.

"Not just yet Freddie," you say, leaning back against him. He hums and extends his arm out to you so that you can lean on it.

"Love when you call me that," he says bashfully, touching the braids on your head as he brushes away the little wisps in your face. You smile up at him and immediately your mind, filled with problems and negative thoughts is calmed and quiet again.

You decide to head in not too long after, throwing everything back into the shopping bag and walked back to the house. You managed to sneak in undetected and immediately head up to the twins' shared bedroom, carefully avoiding the creaking stairs whilst trying not to wake anyone, if they'd been able to sleep through the fireworks at least.

Upon entering the room, you noticed that George had in fact made himself scarce and wouldn't be sleeping here tonight, his pillows gone from the bed. You briefly thought of asking Fred but it was his night with you and you didn't want to bring up any potential conflict. Fred had gone to the toilet and so you took the opportunity to take off your makeup with a wipe and get dressed.

You tossed the jumper in your arms over to the washing hamper and shimmied out of your jeans, replacing them with your sleep shorts. Your T-shirt was switched out to one of Fred's old ones that you kept and you dragged yourself into bed, your tiredness from the night before hitting you like the hogwarts express.

When Fred strolled back into the room, he smiled at seeing you in bed. He tore off his clothes, opting to just sleep in his boxers and climbed into bed behind you. It was strange sleeping without George but you didn't fixate on it, you just hoped that wherever he was, he didn't feel pushed out or alone.

Fred's arm immediately falls over your waist, falling just underneath your breasts as he pulls you tightly to him so that his body is directly connected to your back.

"How do you fit so perfectly in my arms?" He whispers into your ear, musing at the near perfect fit of your body in his. It was true; you suspected that his height versus yours had a lot to do with it but you fit neatly into the plains of his body. Your ass was pressed against his crotch whilst his arm reached perfectly with the curve of your waist, your head slotted right under his head to rest against his chest whilst his arms encased you.

"Maybe you just fit perfectly around me," you smiled into the dark room, feeling him squeeze you tighter at your words.

"Did you have a good time tonight princess?" He asks quietly and you can sense a slight hint of vulnerability in his tone.

"The best Freddie," you answer honestly, "atleast, the fireworks were great." He immediately grabs you and begins tickling your ribs as you fight back, squirming and struggling to hold in your squeals at the horrendous sensation.

"Oh I see how it is, I give you some of my best work and all she remembers is the bloody pyrotechnics," he says dramatically, causing you to roll your eyes.

"It was perfect Fred, every bit," you say quietly, no longer playing around. You twist slightly in his arms to seek out his lips, placing a kiss of sheer gratitude on him.

"This is really nice," Fred says after a few moments of comfortable silence. You hum in agreement, enjoying the peace and the feeling of his arms securely wrapped around you. "One day we'll be able to do this every night," he says, sounding as if he's narrating his thoughts. "When school is over and me and George have opened the shop, you can move in with us and every single night I'll kiss you goodnight and hold you until you fall asleep."

"That sounds perfect," you say with a yawn, feeling as if you could fall asleep within mere seconds.

"And every morning I'll bring you a cup of tea in bed and kiss you before I leave for work," he adds, clearly daydreaming though he sounds increasingly more tired with each word. "You can help me pick out my tie, checking that it matches with my suit. Did I tell you me and George decided we'd wear full suits at the shop? Like real businessmen. Anyway, you'd pick out my tie and straighten it for me before I leave because you know I always leave it wonky."

He tiredly mumbles out more of his dreams and secrets to you in the still, dark room but you don't hear them, having fallen sound asleep, comforted by the sound of his voice as it acts like your own personal lullaby.

#emeritusemeritus #fred weasley #fred weasley x you #harry potter #fred weasley x reader #emeritusemerituswrites #fred weasley imagine #george weasley x you #george weasley #fred weasley masterlist #george weasley x reader x fred weasley #weasley twins x reader #george weasley smut

230 notes · View notes

peachy-posy · 9 months

Text

Ride This Out - Vash x Reader (Chapter 3)

Rating: Explicit - 18+ MINORS DNI

A/N: Last chapter!!! It's literally pretty much all smut lmaoooo Thank you for reading along <3

Chapter Tags: Makeup Sex, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Penis in Vagina Sex, Finger Riding, Mild Breeding Kink, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Denial, Multiple Orgasms, Coming Inside

Word Count: 5.4k

AO3 Chapter 1 Chapter 2

When you wake up, the room is dark. Dim moonlight filters softly into the room, illuminating the small quarters.

You sink further into the warm mass you’re pressed against, trying to align your body to fit more snugly against his sleeping form.

Your lover has one arm snaking around your waist, hand splayed on your hip. Sensing your movements, he begins to stir softly, a quiet groan escaping his lips. His fingers twitch as he wakes, and he tightens his arm around you as he blinks open his turquoise eyes.

He smiles sleepily, free hand coming up to your face, brushing a loose strand of your bangs behind your ear. You smile back, leaning up to give him a sweet kiss. You feel him smile against your lips before drawing back.

“Sleep okay, love?” His voice is charmingly gravelly from just waking up.

A soft snort escapes you as you nod. He still sounds mostly asleep. “Not as good as you, I don’t think,” you joke.

A grin adorns his face as he nods in agreement, drawing you closer to his warm body.

You glance over to the window, a sigh escaping your lips. “We really overslept a bit, huh?”

Vash laughs, shrugging. “Ah, who cares. That was the best sleep I’ve had in a while.”

You lie together comfortably, his fingers running through your hair, scratching your scalp. Despite the peaceful atmosphere of the room, your mind is racing, your earlier conversation situated at the forefront of your thoughts.

“I meant what I said earlier,” you murmur against his chest.

“I know,” he replies quietly.

Biting the inside of your lip, you press forward. “I really am sorry… I never want you to be hurting alone.”

He says nothing for a moment, silence settling into the room like a thin layer of dust. Fear that you’ve somehow said the wrong thing begins forming in your chest, and you swallow thickly in an attempt to soothe it. Just as you’re about to start over explaining yourself, he speaks.

“I can’t believe how lucky I am,” he remarks, a wistful smile on his lips. “I… I don’t deserve someone to share my hurt with.” He pauses, eyes somewhat glazed as he gets lost in his thoughts. “I don’t deserve you.”

Your chest twists painfully, his words causing you to feel ill. You refuse to allow him to keep thinking of himself this way. Hastily pushing yourself into an upright position, you turn to face him. His eyes are wide as you level him with an intense stare.

“I don’t want to hear you say that ever again, Vash! You deserve the world . I’ll try to give that to you for as long as I live.” You pause briefly, trying to shift your tone into something more tender. “I’ve never met anyone as selfless, and kind, and brave, and sma-“ your words die out, interrupted by him surging forward, lips capturing yours in a desperate, passionate kiss.

Initially, the shock of the kiss has you stiff, but you find yourself quickly melting into him.

He pulls back, ending the kiss as quickly as it started. You stare at him, a feeling of breathlessness in your chest.

“I love you. God, I love you so much.” The words fall from his lips so beautifully, and you waste no time in stealing another intense kiss. He reciprocates it immediately, hands raising to cup your jaw.

“I,” you gasp, managing to pull away for a moment before his hands draw you in again roughly. The kiss is wet and rushed, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. You pull back again after a few seconds, lips close enough to still be grazing his, breathing out, “love you.” He surges forward, desperately seeking out your lips as if he needs them to survive.

Without interrupting your kiss, you swing your knee over his hips to straddle him. He leans back in a fluid motion, pulling you with him to the mattress. Using your knees and forearms to support you, you hover over his pelvis and lean over his chest, deepening the kiss. Your bodies rock together sensually as his tongue slips past your lips, drawing a soft moan from your chest.

His hands trail roughly down your body, possessive as he squeezes and claims you. They eventually come to rest on your hips, gripping them as his pelvis bucks slightly against you. The feeling is electrifying, and you grind your clothed sex down on him in response, drawing a groan from him. Heat rushes through your core as you feel his hardened member, aching with want.

Just as you’re about to see if he wants to go further, he draws back, letting his head rest on the mattress, cheeks flushed. The otherwise quiet, dusty bedroom is filled with the sounds of soft panting.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, his eyes hooded with lust. “I’m being selfish… I wasn’t even considering the fact that you got injured today. You’re probably still sore, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

You gaze at him for several long moments, his thoughtfulness making you feel both touched and impatient. “Vash, I’m fine. What I am is extremely pent up, though, so I would really appreciate it if we could take care of that.” He blushes slightly, and you can’t stop the smirk that pulls at your lips. “In fact, I’m hoping I’ll be sore if I play my cards right.”

A giggle falls from your lips as he gapes at you, eyebrows raised in surprise. It’s not long before he too eventually snorts, giving into laughing along with you.

“Unbelievable!” He chides, giving you a playful poke to your side. “I was worried about you, and here you are, only one thing on your mind!”

You blush, grinning down at him. “Well, I’m not alone in thinking about it.” A purposeful shift of your body on his pelvis effectively proves your point, putting pressure on his hardened length. The sensation draws a pleasured groan from him, and your grin widens.

He swallows thickly. “I guess it has been a little while.”

That could be the biggest understatement of the year. Traveling in a group doesn’t exactly allow many opportunities for intimacy. Many nights have been spent under the stars in the desert, unable to do more than share chaste kisses and a sleeping bag.

“All right,” he sighs. “But you’re gonna have to keep it down for once, because these walls are pretty thin,” he warns teasingly.

You regard him with a playfully scandalized expression, mouth open, a smile threatening to betray your rouse. “ For once? You’re so full of it!”

He grins at you, snickering softly and murmuring a not-so-apologetic sounding apology. Cupping the base of your head, he pulls you down for a kiss. You smile against his lips, your fingers hastily working to remove his shirt.

Once it’s been slipped over his head and tossed aside, you sit back up, eyes shamelessly roving over his figure. He is a vision of beauty, his defined muscles lightly flexing as you graze your fingernails across his skin. The soft touch has him gasping, his own hands sliding up and down your sides.

When you two first got together, he was incredibly self conscious about his body. All intimacy involved his shirt remaining on, which was perfectly fine with you. You wanted him to be comfortable and to be able to fully enjoy himself, and were happy to build up his confidence slowly.

He finally showed you his shirtless form after months of gentle reassurances and confidence building, and you traced your fingers delicately over his scars with tears streaming down your cheeks, babbling that you couldn’t understand how so many could hurt him this way.

You’d felt terrible afterwards. He had to comfort you when he was in a very vulnerable state. You apologized profusely, vowing to him that you would take every bad and painful touch his body had ever been scarred with and replace it tenfold with a gentle and loving one.

And you spent as much time as you could fulfilling that promise.

You begin peppering kisses all over him, wanting to claim every inch of his skin with them. Keeping your touch featherlight, you graze every ridge and valley on his abdomen, absolutely relishing the pleasured sounds you’re able to pull from him. Your mouth works its way down his body, taking time to give every scar you can see attention with your lips and mouth. His breath catches when you give a few quick sucks to his nipples, teeth just barely scraping against them.

Your body is situated right atop his still covered cock, the pressure on it constantly fluctuating as you shift and move. The way he sounds as he’s panting and moaning lights a fire in you, smoldering and building with every passing moment. You find yourself struggling to not grind against him to soothe the tingling heat in your core.

You kiss and nip slowly down his stomach, your own body scooting down in between his legs, your head finally reaching his pants. Your eyes flick up at him through your lashes, and the look on his face goes directly to your cunt. He’s already wrecked and you’ve barely touched him—his chest is rising and falling in quick, uneven pants; beads of sweat are accumulating at his hairline, rolling slowly down his face; his cheeks are flushed with arousal.

His cock is painfully hard: you don’t need to remove anything to tell that much. You’re glad he’s wearing a pair of loose, gray sweatpants, because they’re much easier to remove than his normal clothes.

With nimble fingers, you slide his pants and underwear off, tossing them aside haphazardly, eyes trained on his thick length.

You glance at him through your lashes again. “So hard already, baby,” you murmur, lightly gripping his cock and giving it a slow stroke.

He moans deliciously, his head tilting back into the pillows. “You’re gonna kill me, Mayfly,” he mumbles, the back of his hand covering his eyes.

You grin, giving him a firmer stroke. The moan he lets out makes you squeeze your thighs together, seeking any relief for your aching, wet sex.

You go down on him eagerly, taking the tip of his thick cock into your mouth, moaning as you suck and lick the head and slit. A shaky, breathy moan escapes his lips as his hands grasp at the sheets, and you start pumping his shaft with your hands while focusing on the bulbous tip with your mouth and tongue.

You sneak an occasional glance at your lover while you suck him off, unable to keep your eyes off him for long. He has his eyes closed, his brow furrowed, his mouth open as quiet, lewd whimpers and groans spill from his lips. His hips twitch involuntarily as he loses himself in the wet heat of your mouth.

He begins to thrust up into you as his pants and moans become more noticeable, but you hold him down by the hips, removing your hands from his cock, rubbing placating circles against his hip bone. Just as he’s beginning to make noises of protest, you take him completely into your mouth, his tip touching the back of your throat. The strangled cry that leaves his throat spurs you on as you begin bobbing up and down in earnest, sucking and hollowing your cheeks.

He cries out your name, one of his hands covering his mouth to try and stifle his moans. His other hand is gripping the sheets, holding them so tightly his knuckles are white.

“Oh, f-fuck, yes, just like that baby,” he babbles, his words muffled around his hand. He starts jerking his hips into your mouth again, and you let him this time, swallowing around his cock as he fucks your mouth.

You begin to notice his body tense up periodically, and based on the noises of desperation falling from his covered mouth, you know he’s getting close.

Deciding to try and push him over the edge, you take him deeper into your throat, but he cries out once more, gasping, “Baby, baby, wait-wait!” As you register his words, you begin easing up, but he grabs your head urgently and pulls you off his throbbing cock, his hips jerking forward reflexively.

You look up, furrowing your brow, eyes watering and wet lips parted and swollen. He’s sitting up, hunched over, panting and trembling. A bead of sweat rolls down his neck and along his collarbone, and the sight of him this way makes you want to step back in and finish the job.

You scold yourself mentally for being distracted and horny, trying to reign it in to make sure he’s all right.

“Everything okay?” Your voice is slightly hoarse as you rub a hand soothingly along his thigh. You move to sit up on your knees, resting in between his parted legs.

He looks out of it, and it takes a moment for your question to register. With a reassuring nod, he runs a hand through his sweat slicked locks, putting his free hand over yours with a breathless chuckle.

“Yeah, yeah, more than okay—I just don’t wanna cum yet, s’too soon,” he mumbles, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

A delighted grin forms on your lips as you lunge forward and pepper kisses on his nose and cheekbones.

“Aw! Such a thoughtful partner I have!” You praise happily, somewhat teasing.

When he looks at you, his eyes darken, prompting you to swallow thickly as arousal tingles in your core.

A soft huff of laughter escapes him, and he murmurs, “Actually…” Leaning forward, his voice lowers as he speaks into your ear. “I only wanna cum inside you. It’d be such a waste going down your throat.”

You choke on air, anticipation swirling in your gut. You have no idea where that suddenly came from, but it would be a lie if you said it didn’t turn you on. You know your face is bright red, because when he leans back to look at you, he can’t hold back his laughter at your expression. Your face feels even hotter as you look away from him.

“Sorry, sorry… too much?” He finally manages, his hand coming up to brush a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Um… actually…” you bite your lip, eyes trained on anything other than him in the moonlit room, feeling uncharacteristically shy.

He absolutely glows with excitement.

“Mayfly!” He gasps, his tone playfully scandalized. “Did we just find a new kink?”

You hide your flaming cheeks with your hands, fingers spread across your eyes. In your embarrassment, all you can manage is a high pitched, “Mhm!”

He coos playfully, reaching for your wrists. “C’mon, don’t hide. It’s okay! It’s hot!”

Tugging your wrists away from your face, he plants little kisses on your cheekbones, ceasing only when you meet his eyes again.

A pleased grin is plastered on his face as he releases your wrists, drawing a huff of laughter from you. As he reaches forward to pull you in by the base of your neck for a soft kiss, you feel the tension melt from your body.

Feeling reassured that you’ve recovered from your slight embarrassment, his hands drift, grazing down to the hem of your shirt, fingers slipping under the fabric to feel your heated, sweat-slicked skin. Reaching down after him, you lift your shirt off easily, tossing it aside. His hands slide up your body sensually, snaking around your back, seeking out the clasp of your bra. With practiced fingers, the clasp is freed, and you let the garment slide down your arms, flinging it haphazardly.

A moan spills from your lips as his calloused hands cup your breasts, fingers gently pinching your hardened nipples. You feel heady with lust and anticipation, your pussy throbbing.

You rest your forehead against his own, sharing his breaths, relaxing into him as you feel one of his hands ghost down your belly. Your eyelids flutter shut as his hand trails further down, slipping into your pants and underwear, prompting you to part your knees.

Vash’s lips latch onto your neck, sucking and nipping the sensitive flesh as his fingertips reach your soaking folds. A pleased groan rumbles from his chest as he feels your wetness, dipping into your cunt to spread the fluids towards your throbbing clit. A shaky, wanton moan tumbles from your lips, his touch electric on your aching sex.

“You’re so wet,” he murmurs against your neck breathlessly, finger dipping back into your hole.

“Vash, please,” you whine, shifting to get his finger closer to your swollen clit.

“Okay, okay,” he soothes, his finger finally sliding to where you want it. Your body jolts as he starts rubbing small circles into you, his movements somewhat restricted by your pants, but still effective in sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. He curses under his breath as lewd whimpers escape you, pitched and desperate.

Hastily pulling your remaining clothes off, you shudder as he increases the pressure on your clit once he has more room. You’re so wound up you know you won’t last long like this, and he seems to know this too.

The sparking pleasure from his finger eases up gradually, leaving you breathlessly reeling. You feel his finger slide down your folds, dipping slowly into your cunt. You whine as he sinks it into you, resisting the impulse to squeeze your thighs together. The small intrusion of his finger feels like sweet relief, and you find yourself quaking when he’s knuckles deep.

You feel his long finger curl, pressing onto the plush walls of your pussy with a teasingly slow pace. Pleasure jolts in your core and you groan lasciviously, feeling his pulsing finger quicken its pace.

It’s not long before he is relentlessly fingering your g-spot, slipping another finger into your wet hole. You grind your clit into his palm, desperately seeking out friction.

Your body feels like a live wire, core thrumming with pleasure. Your breaths are coming in short pants, and your forehead has dropped down to rest in the crook of your lover’s shoulder, where he’s babbling praises into your ear.

‘So good for me, you’re taking me so well, so tight.’

Your hips start rolling, and you moan Vash’s name with tears in your eyes when his fingers hit just right.

“Right there?” He asks breathlessly.

You nod vigorously, gripping onto his bicep to ground yourself. He watches you with wide eyes, completely transfixed, and makes no move to stop you from taking your pleasure.

You let yourself get lost in the heat that’s buzzing deep inside you, head thrown back and eyes closed, riding your lover’s fingers with pitched moans. With every roll of your hips, Vash’s palm rubs into you, the friction sending jolts of ecstasy through your body.

Vash’s other hand creeps down his own body, and he starts to fuck his fist slowly as he watches you. He stares, entranced as your eyebrows furrow, and can feel your walls begin to tense sporadically on his fingers. He slips a third finger into your heat and you gasp in response, hips stuttering momentarily as you adjust.

The pleasure that has been steadily building is beginning to reach its breaking point. Every brush of his fingers against your g-spot sends you hurdling closer to your climax. As much as you’d like to have that release, you don’t mind to edge yourself a bit, wanting to reciprocate the thoughtfulness your partner showed you.

“Mmm, baby, ‘m close,” you mumble, huffing for breath as sweat rolls down every part of your body, hips steadily rolling to a stop. You lift yourself gingerly, beginning to scoot back to let Vash’s fingers slide out of your throbbing cunt, but cry out in surprise when you feel his hand grasp your hip, pushing you back down on his digits harshly. His fingers push hard against your g-spot, sending delicious sparks of ecstasy through you, teetering dangerously close to the edge once again. You squeeze your thighs together in an attempt to gain some control, trying to breathe through the orgasm that is threatening to overtake you.

You open your eyes to ask Vash what he’s doing, but the words die on your tongue when you see him. He’s watching you, completely captivated, panting and sweating, cock strained and hard. He has an intense look on his face.

“Who said you should stop?” His voice is low, and you swallow thickly. His fingers twitch in you, and you squirm slightly, swallowing a whimper. “I want to feel you come on my fingers.”

Before you have a chance to mumble out a reply, he curls his digits inside you, and you cry out in bliss. He fingers you roughly, sparks of hot pleasure shooting into your belly. You’re worked back to the edge swiftly, gasping desperately, walls tensing on his long fingers. He leans forward slightly, face close to your ear.

“C’mon Mayfly,” he breathes, giving you a wet kiss right under your jaw. You feel him suck and nip at your sensitive skin, shuddering from all of the sensations assaulting you. He shifts up, lips right on your ear. Fingers relentless inside of you, you feel tears prick at your eyes. He brings his palm closer to your heat, grinding it against your clit. “Come for me, you’re so close.”

That’s all you can take: you throw your arms around his neck, holding on for dear life as you are thrown over the edge with a strangled cry. Your orgasm is one of the most intense you’ve ever had, the unshed tears from earlier spilling over your lashes as your body goes rigid. He continues to fuck you through it, praising you as he feels your walls clamp down, fluttering sporadically, fluids gushing around his fingers. Your body is wracked by aftershocks of pleasure, and you gasp against him each time. Eventually, the waves begin to fizzle, and you slump against him as stray tears roll down your cheeks.

“Good girl,” he whispers, kissing the side of your head.

You whimper as he withdraws his slicked fingers, arms still wrapped around his neck to anchor yourself from the intense pleasure you’re still coming down from.

Despite the mind blowing orgasm he just gave you, that tingling, hot sensation of unadulterated want can still be felt in your core, and you know you could do another round.

His hand strokes up and down your spine, his touch brimming with love and care. A few moments pass before either of you speak again, allowing you to collect yourself.

“Can you keep going?” He asks softly, kissing that same spot on your head. Even though he hasn’t cum, there’s no pressure in his question. There never has been and there never will be. He only wants to continue if you do.

You smile weakly, lifting your head to meet his eyes. “‘Course I can. What do you take me for?”

He chuckles softly, gently wiping the remnants of a tear off your cheek. “You’re insatiable.”

You blush, but laugh along with him, giving him a small, affectionate kiss on the nose. “Hey, I tried to stop. I think you’re just into it.”

He grins, and your heart skips a beat. “Guilty as charged.”

After giving you another few moments to recover, Vash guides you gently back onto his hips, laying down with his back on the mattress. You straddle him, and he places his large hands on your hips. You smile warmly, taking in his visage laying under you.

“You’re stunning,” you whisper, lovingly stroking his forearms at your sides.

He blushes, and your smile brightens. “I could say the same thing. I’ve got a pretty good view from here,” he replies, his thumbs stroking the plush flesh around your hips.

Lifting yourself onto your knees, Vash reaches down to guide himself into your sensitive heat.

It’s been a while for you both, so the stretch to accommodate his member straddles pleasure and pain. You balance yourself using his chest, slowly lowering yourself onto him. You’re half tempted to just throw caution to the wind and bottom out now, despite being oversensitive.

“Don’t - ah - don’t rush, Mayfly,” he chides, sensing your impatience.

“‘s taking too long,” you mumble back, closing your eyes as you concentrate. His grip tightens on your hips to control your descent, his breathing quick.

When you finally bottom out, you both let out a deep exhale, taking a moment to get adjusted. You feel so full, the burn from stretching not quite gone, but dissipating steadily.

After remaining seated for a few moments, you try an experimental roll of your hips, deciding both the sensitivity and stretch is bearable. Vash sucks in a sharp breath, and you take it as a cue to keep going.

You start at a steady, but slow pace, mostly grinding at this point. It’s not long, though, before you raise yourself up and sink back down, a breathy moan of Vash’s name on your tongue. Setting a languid pace, you bite your lip as he moans wantonly. His thick cock twitches inside you as you ride him, your walls clenching on him sporadically.

“Oh, god you’re tight. Fuck.”

Soon, the slow pace isn’t enough, and you begin bouncing on his hips, his cock spearing deep into you, sparks of pleasure shooting into your core. His hands grip your inner thighs, thumbs resting in the divet connecting your pelvis to your thighs, head tilting back into the pillows, eyes closed. His swollen lips part as soft groans and pants of your name spill from them.

“Like that, god yes,” he mutters, his hips starting to thrust in tune with your movements.

You throw your head back as his thrusts become more forceful, less controlled. You feel so deliciously full, the burn from the stretch completely gone. His grip on your thighs tightens, and he starts pulling you down harder, driving a pleasured cry from your mouth. Your eyes flit down to where you’re joined, watching as he snaps his hips upwards, his muscles flexing as he moves.

You are taken by surprise when Vash’s grip on your thighs moves abruptly to your waist, and he rolls you over, switching positions. Now looming over top of you, he thrusts his cock into you at a punishing pace. You gasp, the pleasure building in your core dizzying. He lifts your legs over his shoulders, your body folding as he fucks into you. The new angle has you seeing stars, each thrust hammering your g-spot and causing a wet squelching noise.

In an unfortunately timed moment of self-awareness breaking through your haze of lust, you realize just how loud you two have been this whole time: the lewd slapping of your sweat soaked bodies, the old bed creaking and scraping the floor, the wooden headboard hitting the wall repeatedly, the breathy ’ ah’ that spills from your lips with every thrust, the heavy panting and groaning from your lover. Your face turns beet red, but you can’t stop the keening noise you make at a particularly deep thrust.

“Oh my god,” you groan, mortified that half the inn probably knows what you’re doing.

“What’s wrong?” Vash manages, unrelenting in his pace.

“We, ah, I just realized, mm…” your words fail you for a moment, toes curling as he bends you further, trying to get closer to hear you better. “We’ve been so, ngh, loud,” you finally get out, face turning impossibly redder.

The smug look that overtakes his features makes you wish you’d kept your mouth shut.

“I warned you earlier,” he pants, but seems all too pleased about the noise. Biting your hand, you attempt to stifle the noises you’re making, though you know it’s far too late to care. He gets a mischievous kind of look in his eye, and before you know it, his hand snakes down between your rocking bodies, fingers deftly brushing against your oversensitive clit.

All hopes in preserving your dignity are out the window.

A cry of his name pours from your lips, lost in the intense sensations overtaking your body. Your walls clench down on him, causing him to groan loudly, hips stuttering for a moment.

“C-close, close, mmm! ” you babble desperately, gasping, feeling the pleasure in your core winding up tighter with every toe curling slap of his hips.

“M-me too, Mayfly,” he pants, his pistoning hips becoming more erratic. He increases the pressure on your clit, tightening the coil in your core.

His ministrations bring you to your climax, a strangled moan tearing from your throat, your whole body going taut as you peak. The aftershocks of pleasure follow, hitting you in waves, your tightening, fluttering walls sending Vash closer to the edge. You feel his thrusts stutter.

“In, cum inside, please,” you beg, voice pitched and desperate as you toss your head to the side.

He curses under his breath at your erotic display, sweat dripping down his body. He manages one final thrust, pushing his cock in as deep as he can with a stuttered groan as his seed spills into you. The warm feeling of it filling you up extends your orgasm slightly, your cunt milking his throbbing member as much as possible. Vash grinds his hips into you, chasing the last waves of his pleasure as the remainder of his seed spills into you.

The blonde collapses onto the mattress after letting your legs fall from his shoulders, trying to land mostly to your side.

You’re a mess of heaving, tangled limbs on a bed. Both of you pant heavily, sweat drenching your bodies, his softening cock still inside you as your combined fluids start trickling from your puffy, sensitive hole.

After several moments spent catching your breath, you curl into him, wrapping a leg around his own. You hear him huff a bit of laughter, pulling you closely against him. He presses a kiss into your hair, and you gently trace patterns with your fingernails on his back.

You break the comfortable silence.

“I think… that may have been the best sex we’ve ever had.”

He snorts, his hand coming up to scratch your scalp softly. “I think you’re right. Not sure why though.”

“We were extremely pent up,” you point out. He hums in agreement. “And I’ve heard makeup sex is better than regular sex.”

Your statement takes him by surprise, a snicker finally escaping him following a beat of silence. You grin against his chest, pressing a kiss to the sweat-covered skin in front of you.

“Are you saying we should argue more and have sex less?” He asks, teasing.

“Hey, if it works, it works.”

He chuckles, pulling you in for a sweet kiss. You sigh into it, feeling your body melt.

“I love you,” you murmur softly against his lips.

“I love you too, Mayfly,” he replies, giving you another soft kiss for good measure.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The following morning, you and Vash walk alongside Wolfwood to a nearby restaurant, seeking out some breakfast before getting on the road.

You had been worried sick that everyone would shoot dirty looks at you and your partner following your late-night activities; Wolfwood especially, since you’ll be stuck with him and his teasing long-term. It seems as if you’re in the clear, though, because you haven’t heard a word all morning.

After sitting at a small table at the restaurant, Vash takes your hand, holding it softly. You shoot him a quick, tender gaze before Wolfwood clears his throat.

“Y’know guys, I’m just so glad you were able to make up. You had me worried.”

“Oh yeah, I meant to thank you!” Vash exclaims suddenly, glad to have remembered. “Thank you for being there for her yesterday. We really owe you,” he finishes, his voice earnest. You smile pleasantly, taking a sip of water.

Wolfwood waves him off. “Think nothing of it, friend. Always glad to help.”

A beat of silence follows, and he adds nonchalantly, “Y’know, I should be thanking you.”

You and Vash exchanged puzzled glances, before he asks, “What for?”

Wolfwood shrugs, plucking a crumpled cigarette from his pocket, lighting it swiftly. “It was just so thoughtful to loudly make sure everyone at the inn knew you guys made up. You two are just constantly thinking of others.”

#trigun #vash #vash the stampede x reader #vash the stampede #vash x reader #trigun 98 #trigun stampede #vash x you #peachy writes!#fanfic #goodnight posting this makes me sooo nervous #first smut jitters? is that a thing? lmfao

150 notes · View notes

a-killer-obsession · 25 days

Text

Wavelengths [Killer x Reader, Heat x Reader]

🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

A search for a rumored Vegapunk weapon leads the Kid Pirates to an unexpected new crewmate, with a bloodlust that rivals their own and an incredible power.

CW: Please check AO3 for all current warnings, but general warning for smut, slow burn, serious gore, and really dark themes. AFAB reader, she/her pronouns.

Masterlist || AO3 || Chapter 1

Chapter 27 - The Future King of Spaghetti

Some familiar faces join the crew.

WC: ~4k

Taglist: @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @iggy5055

The sunlight was a little blinding as you stepped out if the clinic and into the street. It was just past midday, and your tummy was growling. No surprise, since you were eating for two now, and lunch was overdue. You licked your lips as you thought about what you wanted to eat, getting whiffs of bread and meat in the air. You tugged at Killer's arm like a needy child. “Hungryyy,” you pleaded, batting your eyes at him. Not having your mask had some advantages.

“What do you wanna eat, mama?” Killer snorted, taking your hand and leading you down the street where the scent of food was stronger, the street opening out to a square that was dotted with various cafes and bistros.

“Mmm…” you brought a finger to your pursed lips and thought about it. You were craving something saucy, tomatoes, oregano, and definitely meat. “Spaghetti!”

Killer's shoulders shimmied with a silent laugh. “That's my baby in there all right,” he stopped in front of you to press a loving hand to your tummy. You rested your hands over his, smiling fondly up at him. “Alright then lil guy, let's get you some spaghetti before mum has no choice but to go feral and start ripping out throats for sustenance”

“Gross,” you giggled as he bonked you gently with his mask, taking your hand again and leading you to a nearby bistro that had a chalkboard outside with neatly written cursive and a cute drawing of spaghetti and meatballs flying off a plate. A cute waitress with a black apron rushed over to greet you as you took your seats at a window table, Killer holding out your chair for you and pushing it in once you were sitting. The waitress began to hand you both menus and Killer waved a hand to stop her.

“We already know what we want,” he told her, and she smiled and pulled out her notebook from her apron pocket. “Two plates of spaghetti and meatballs, and a couple of glasses of juice please. Orange, if you have it. And a straw, please”

“Right away sir,” the waitress smiled, entirely unphased by Killer's mask or gruff appearance. A lot of the islands the log pose took you to were frequented by pirates, and they all relied on towns like this to resupply. The towns themselves often got a good portion of their trade from pirates, so it was a symbiotic relationship. Many towns were wary of pirates, but didn't do anything to fight them as long as the pirates behaved themselves. Nobody at the clinic had seemed phased either, they were probably more than used to getting patients with illnesses that were more than what a ship doctor could handle, considering how many ship doctors were just men with rudimentary first aid training.

You watched out the window as a mother passed by with a small girl holding her hand, another small baby asleep in swaddling wrap on her front. The father had been buying flowers at a small nearby stall while she was distracted, and ran up beside her to gift them. She smiled and smelled the beautiful bouquet, and leaned in to kiss him. He gave his older child her own smaller bouquet, and she squealed and danced around them all before letting her father pick her up as they continued on their way. Killer watched them too, turning back to you with an excited fondness.

“Jesus fucking christ Killer,” your hand fell to your tummy as you turned back to him, “we're having a fucking baby”

“We are,” he smiled under his mask and reached over the table to take your hand. “I'm gonna take such good care of both of you”

“I know you are,” you squeezed his hand and smiled lovingly at him, “what is Kid gonna say though? Fuck what if he tries to kick me off the ship”

“Don't worry about him,” he withdrew his hand as the waitress dropped off the orange juices, feeding the straw in his drink through his mask and taking a long sip. “You're not going anywhere, I'll make sure of it”

“How are we gonna have a baby on a ship?” You hummed, running your finger around the rim of your own glass, “we probably should have thought this through better. I can hide them, visually and audibly, during battles at sea, but what if something happens to us? And where are we gonna keep them? There's not exactly room for a nursery on the ship, we could convert my room but it's so far away from yours, I'd never stop worrying”

“There's a storage room on the other side of my wall, adjacent to the bathroom,” he assured, “it's not usually accessible since you get to it through the navigation room, but we can knock out some wall to add a door on our side and convert it to a nursery. It's mostly just old maps from Paradise in there, we can move them elsewhere”

“Okay,” you puffed out a sigh of relief at the good plan, “that sounds okay”

“It's gonna be fine Yin, don't stress yourself out,” he took your fidgeting hand from your drink and squeezed it again, “stress is bad for the baby. Just have faith that I'll take care of everything”

“Okay Kil,” you breathed, “I trust you”

“That's it mama,” he stroked the back of your hand with his thumb, “just breathe, it's all gonna work out”

“Heh… mama,” you giggled.

“Is that okay?” Killer asked shyly. The nickname had just sort of naturally fallen into place since leaving the clinic.

“Yeah, I like it,” you smiled, the grin turning mischievous, “should I start calling you daddy?”

“Maybe after lunch,” he purred, letting your hand go so the waitress could place down your plates of food, kindly pretending she hadn't just heard that exchange.

“Will that be everything for now?” She asked sweetly.

“Yes, thank you,” Killer replied, and she gave a curt little nod and left to serve another table.

You picked up your fork and twirled your pasta, greedily digging in as your stomach gave another growl. You calmed your feverish devouring after a few bites and looked up to see Killer slurping his spaghetti through the holes of his mask. You openly snorted, it'd never not be funny watching him do that.

“Funny, am I?” He toyed, slurping more spaghetti.

“Yes, actually,” you laughed, “you're fucking ridiculous”

“I'm gonna tell everyone you're scared of needles,” he teased.

“No!” You gasped, “please don't!” He snorted in smug satisfaction, he'd won this round.

“Let's avoid the others for a few days,” Killer suggested, “just spend some time alone together, just the two of us, before it becomes three. I told Kid that's what we were doing anyway, he's not expecting to see us for a few nights. Then we can figure shit out better before we talk to him”

“Sounds like a plan,” you agreed, before performing your best impression of Killer slurping spaghetti. Sauce flicked over your face and you yelped as some got in your eye. Killer laughed, properly audibly laughed, and you felt like your heart might explode as you gave him your brightest smile and laughed with him, which must have looked insane considering the spaghetti sauce on your face.

“Was that supposed to be me?” He laughed, the unique sound slowly fading as it returned to his usual suppressed silence.

“Yeah,” you replied defeated, wiping the sauce off your eyelid, “but it would have been ten times funnier if I had my mask, and there wasn't sauce in my eye.” The waitress quietly passed the table, giving you a wink as she dropped off a large pile of napkins, and you fell into a new fit of laughter. “Our kid is going to be a fucking menance,” you laughed, “the two of us getting together might be a detriment to this planet. And to all the spaghetti on it”

“Here's to the future king or queen of spaghetti,” Killer snorted, raising his glass in a mock toast before slurping down the rest of his juice.

The next three days were bliss, spent in solitude with your lover, talking fondly of your future child and doing all the things normal couples would do between stints of rolling in the sheets. You bumped into the others occasionally, which wasn't a surprise given you were staying at the same inn and the town wasn't that big. You kept your secret for now though, Killer felt it was important that Kid be the first to hear. You had met up with Mohawk to receive some of the advice the doctor had given him to pass along, but for the most part you and Killer just did your own thing, just enjoying your time together.

You found out that Killer had long thought about being a father, but given his mental walls and his lifestyle, it was a dream he never thought was achievable, and he'd given up on it long ago. You didn't have much of an opinion either way, it wasn't something you'd ever given much thought to before finding out you were pregnant, but you were happy to help him with his dream. Killer was such a selfless man, always putting others before himself, making Kid's dream his priority and throwing away his own. You were happy to help him have this one thing, and you swore you'd never seen him smile so much. He splayed his hand out over your abdomen whenever he got the chance, and you'd caught him one morning laying with his head near your belly, whispering to the baby. You almost cried at how sweet it was. Lies, you did cry, in fact you were a blubbering mess, fucking hormones.

The two of you had even snuck into a baby wares shop, careful to check that none of the crew saw you enter or leave, and had fun looking at all the different things and talking about how you wanted to raise your baby. Breastfed or formula fed, sleeping arrangements, attachment style, how old they would be before you started teaching them to fight, his surname name or yours. Totally normal parent things. Though you absolutely refused to name your child Baby Massacre Soldier, what kind of surname was that? Val would do just fine thank you. Not to mention it was all you had of your mother, you wanted to pass it to your child. Killer had no qualms with that, his name was more of a epithet anyway, and he thought it was nice that you wanted to honour your mother.

Whenever you got too tired to walk, you'd both retreat back to the inn, pouring over pregnancy books - which was mostly Killer reading them out loud and you following with your eyes. Not only were you learning about your baby and what to expect, but also getting a bonus reading lesson. The doctor had prescribed you a variety of prenatal vitamins as well as anti nausea medication for your morning sickness, and you were taking them diligently. You hadn't thrown up again since you started taking them, and your sore throat was incredibly thankful for it.

Eventually though, all good things must come to an end, and very much against your will Killer dragged you along to the bar the others had been frequenting to meet up with them the night before you were due to set sail. You entered hand in hand with Killer, and Heat immediately called out to you, excited to spend time with you after having only seen you in passing for the last five days.

“Aye aye, there's the fucking lovebirds,” Kid roared as you slipped in to the booth, Killer pulling you into his lap so none of the other men at the bar would get any funny ideas. It was a large booth, and along with the usual commanders were a handful of colourful looking people you'd never met before, a ginger girl with a large hat currently perched on Kid's lap. “About fucking time you got here, I wanna introduce you to our new friends”

“New recruits?” Killer asked, taking the beer Heat slid in front of him and chucking a straw in it. He slid you a beer as well, but you told him you weren't feeling well and he shrugged and pulled it back to himself.

“Aye, we were already down a few men before Yin's little incident,” Kid replied, he was clearly already a little inebriated by the slow way he spoke, “and with another five down the drain we had to replace them or we'd be down too many next time we hit a fight. This here is Bubblegum, Pomp, the twins - Mosh and Boogie, Hip, Dive, and this girlie right here is Quincy” he gave a squeeze to the girl on his lap and she shrieked playfully.

“More girls?” Killer raised a brow under his mask.

“Aye,” Kid smirked, “first one proved a success, and after the shit the henchmen pulled I thought it was time we made some changes. Too much testosterone on the ship, it's about time they learned chicks can be just as tough, help em pull their heads out of their asses”

You were impressed, you didn't think Kid would ever bring more girls on board, but he'd clearly taken the incident to heart and you were happy to see he'd taken time to consider what went wrong and make changes to remedy it. You were excited to make some female friends, you hadn't had any since Egghead Island, if we weren't counting Delilah. Fuck Delilah.

The new crewmates were definitely a colourful bunch, and their hair and outfits made you sure immediately that they would fit right in with the rest of the crew.

Bubblegum was a tall, thin man, with blue hair that stuck out either side of a spiked helmet, dark lipstick and a heavy coat of red eyeshadow all around his eyes. From what you could see as he sat at the booth, he wore a dark tank top and a necklace made of thick red beads, as well as tan leather gloves.

Pomp was a short, stout man who you could barely see past the table. He was blond, with a spiky beret patterned in grey camo, with a belt that ran crossbody over his bare chest and spiky armbands that matched the band of his beret. His eyes were surrounded in dark green eyeshadow, making him look like a panda in the dim bar lighting.

The twins, Mosh and Boogie, had a similar style to each other. Mosh had bright pink hair, styled mostly slicked down and covering his left eye, with a thick ponytail behind him, while Boogie's was teal and mostly stuck up, save for the fringe that covered his right eye. They both had heavy, black, under eye liner and lipstick, reminding you of Kid's makeup. They both wore very punkish jackets and graphic tees, but what set them apart most was their size. Mosh was maybe the biggest man you had ever seen, as tall as Wire, but where Wire was mostly slim, Mosh was broad, making him an absolute beast of a man. Boogie was also broad, and while he looked close to Heat's height while sitting, you'd later learn he had quite short legs, making him closer to Killer's height.

Hip was a tan woman with blonde hair styled in a short bob. She looked like she could be Killer's sister, though her eyes were brown instead of his icy blue. She looked the least like she would fit in with pirates, with plain clothes that looked more like a civilian's, but her mean resting bitch face told you she would be a strong addition to the team.

Dive was a tiny thing, her bright green pigtails making her look like a child, had it not been for the short dress and fishnets with heels you saw her wearing whenever she got up. She wore a set of yellow rimmed goggles on her head, much like Kid, though hers had round frames, and when she gave a toothy smile you saw her teeth were all sharpened to points. Something told you those were her preferred weapon, and it made you smile, given your own preference for using your teeth. She was going to be a firecracker, you could feel it.

Last but not least was Quincy; a tall, beautiful girl, with puffy ginger hair that stuck out in two large buns either side of her face, under her giant, crown-like hat. She seemed to have a permanent smile on her scarlet painted lips and seemed like a beam of sunshine, not at all what you would expect of a pirate set to join a notoriously blood thirsty and violent crew. She wore an expensive looking criss-cross patterned jacket over a pretty pink dress, and whenever Kid jostled her you could see the large red ribbon that adorned her waist. She looked more like a princess than a pirate, and the way she was entertaining Kid made you wonder if she was just aiming to be Queen of the Pirates. She was the only one of the group you had some doubts about.

“Thank god, I was over the sausage fest,” you jested, giving the new girls friendly smiles. Hip gave you an almost playful sneer, and something told you you were gonna be good friends with her.

Mohawk appeared silently beside you, wordlessly putting a plain soda in front of you, which you accepted gratefully. You always seemed to be thirsty these days, no doubt due to the fact that you had to piss every five minutes. It was hard to believe it was only going to get worse as you got bigger.

“Anyway, welcome to the crew, I'm Yin, by the way, since our captain didn't bother to introduce me,” you gave Kid a scowl, “looking forward to seeing you all tied to the mast for the week”

The new guys all looked confused and Kid scowled. “Actually, they'll be skipping that, since we're low on men,” he avoided eye contact as you sent him a deadly glare.

“Excuse the fuck outta you,” you growled, “how come I had to do it? You know full well I'm worth fifty men, this is bullshit”

“Yeah well, I'm the captain so you can untwist your panties about it,” he waved his hand dismissively, “if I say they're skipping it then they're skipping it. Have a cry about it for all I care.”

You crossed your arms and gave him a cold stare. To be fair, the other commanders weren't impressed either, but there was no arguing with Kid. Everyone had the suspicion though that he was skipping it for the specific purpose of sparing Quincy, without singling her out.

“Anyway,” Kid continued, “Yin here is a commander, so treat her with the appropriate respect. She'll be in charge of all of the women on board, so go to her if you need help with your girly shit, the rest of us don't want to hear about it”

You were a little surprised to be given control over your own section of the crew, even if it was just a few ladies, but perhaps there was room for expansion in the future. Kid must have been impressed with your display of power, and this was also no doubt part of his subtle apology about what happened.

“Where will they be staying then?” You asked, taking a mouthful of your drink and eyeing your new charges, “you can't expect them to stay with the men, they fucking stink. The marines had us sharing unisex bathrooms which was fine but the men's quarters were always disgusting, even the marines aren't cruel enough to force women to sleep in the same stink.”

“It's already being taken care of,” Kid explained, “the materials to split the henchmen's quarters have already been loaded onto the ship, but it'll take a few days for them to install it and knock down some wall for a new door. We've set up a curtain in the meantime. They'll share the bathroom, they can either set a schedule with the men or get their tits out, I don't give a shit, as long as they don't bring any fucking babies on the ship. I'm making birth control mandatory for all sexually active women on the ship, including you. No exceptions.”

Killer stiffened behind you and you nervously chugged the rest of your drink, almost choking on it in the process. Mohawk's knee started to bounce nervously. Kid quirked an eyebrow at the sudden anxious display from the three of you. You and Mohawk had a tendency to be skittish, but he could read Killer like a book at this point, and grumbled to himself. Killer had no doubt he'd be getting pulled aside before the end of the night, as Kid squinted suspiciously at the three of you and took a slow drink from his tankard.

“Right, yup, of course,” you finally stuttered, “uh, and the girly shit, yup, on it,” you gave him a very nervous thumbs up which did nothing to shake his suspicious gaze. Hip smiled into her drink, knowing full well, between your reaction and the rejection of Heat's beer offer, what was happening. She was a quiet girl by nature, but extremely observant, and therein lay her strength.

“Where are we standing on the log pose?” Killer quickly changed the subject, reassuringly rubbing the outsides of your thighs with his thumbs.

“It's due to reset in the morning,” Double answered, “the ship is already loaded so we're planning to set out by ten, tide should be good around then, winds are supposed to be in our favour as well”

“Okay great,” Killer replied, “any word on where we're due to head next?”

“Locals say it'll be a uninhabited autumn island,” Double explained, “supposed to be about a week's sailing from here, weather dependant”

“Any trouble due on the way?” Heat interjected.

“Marines are apparently very active in the area,” Wire added his own intel, “we'll be skirting pretty close to a base”

“If we come across any marine ships we can take their eternal pose and hit the base,” Kid added, “otherwise we won't bother trying to find it.”

“Oh! How's my mask?” You suddenly remembered. You'd gotten kind of used to being without it but talk of fighting had spurred the memory.

“Glasswork came out fine, they said I can pick it up tomorrow,” Kid told you, much to your relief, “gimme like an hour after we set sail and I'll have it installed for you. The rest of the headset is fixed but we might have to do some fine tuning”

“Thanks Kid,” you replied with a little yawn.

You could feel your eyelids drooping as the other commanders continued to discuss the possibility of taking down the marine base, with the occasional interjection from one of the newbies with info only locals like them would have. You turned in Killer's lap so you were sideways, drapped across his legs and nestling in to him. One of his arms wrapped around your waist to hold you securely against him, while the other rested a hand on your thigh, stroking it lazily. You quickly fell asleep, exhausted from all the walking you'd done with Killer today on top of the pregnancy. At some point he carried you back to your shared room at the inn, removing your shoes and tucking you in for the night.

[NEXT CHAPTER]

A/N: ayeoh welcome to some of the missing crewmates. I excluded a lot of the known members of the Kid Pirates for thematic reasons, it was important the crew be only men for a lot of the story, and I didn't want to add the recognizable men without the women. This felt like a good time to add some ladies in though, so I just picked some of my favs to add back in so I don't get overwhelmed with too many new characters. Also headcannoning that Mosh and Boogie are twins, in reality we don't know much about most of the crew, we don't even know what sort of weapon Quincy has though I do have a fun idea for her. Also I know some people think Dive is a kid but she literally has heels and fishnets in a manga panel, that ain't no kid. She's just a small, feral lady lmao

#one piece fanfiction #one piece smut #killer one piece #killer x reader #massacre soldier killer #heat one piece #heat x reader #kid pirates

29 notes · View notes

tinyidle · 10 months

Note

ok ok but hear me out: reader riding minnie's boobs while making out with miyeon whos seating in minnie's face

hear me out (1)

𝓟𝓵𝓪𝔂𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 - CMY × YN × KMN

WARNING: smut, lots of kissing, lots of cum, facesitting/riding, riding in general, fingering, slight begging, mention of aftercare, dom!miyeon, sub!minnie, plaything!minnie, switchsub!reader, fem reader, all fiction ofc

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤᘡ ۫ 𖨂 𓈒 🦑 ۟ ៹ 𓂂

the night was dimly lit by the shade lamp on the nearby nightstand, but none of you needed it to be honest. all that you were focused on was kissing your older girlfriend passionately as she was fucking herself on your lesser older girlfriend's lips.

miyeon pulled away to lightly taunt her victim from below. "you like having your mouth used by my slutty pussy, hmm nicha?" all minnie could do was moan directly into miyeon's cunt, causing the older to shiver. "fuck. keep fucking me like that and ill cum all over your chin."

you, missing her mouth and wanting her to shut up, pulled miyeon's chin towards you again and kissed her feverishly, hands groping her exposed breasts as she moved her hips up and down on the younger's tongue. once minnie used her hands to grasp onto the oldest's ass and push her harder onto her mouth to suck on, miyeon came with a high pitched gasp and smile as she broke her makeout session with you.

the woman gyrated her hips on minnie's lips a few more times before she got off of her, turning around and leaning down to give her a 'thank you' kiss while also tasting herself.

"now my turn," you smirked, raising your leg over minnie's naked frame and lowering yourself on her chest. her nipples were fully erect and felt wonderful on your clit, only encouraging you to move your hips along each breast until you got tired of one and moved to the other.

meanwhile, miyeon found your mouth and continued the hot makeout session you had earlier. without warning, minnie yelped and let out a whine when she felt soft, manicured fingers rubbing her clit to alleviate some of the ache she was feeling from not being touched. "yes, yes myeonnie, just like that!" she begged, encouraging miyeon to give her what she so desperately deserves. the older took it up a notch by running her fingers down to inside her pooling center, fingering minnie hard and fast. "oh- my, a-ah!"

miyeon smiled as she saw minnie's whole body tremble under her fingertips, and began using her thumb to rub against the clit at the same time as her index finger was sliding in and out of minnie's cunt. meanwhile you broke the kiss between you and miyeon, panting hard as your orgasm was drawing near.

the oldest was enjoying seeing her girlfriends fall apart for her. "that's it," she egged minnie on. "be good a good plaything and cum on my fingers, and make our beautiful girl cum from your tits."

minnie didn't have to do anything, as miyeon's words proved to be too much for you, causing you to cum on the thai's now soiled chest. this, plus her girlfriend fucking her sweet spot well with only her fingers, triggered minnie to cum as well. miyeon smiled once again, seeing you spent on top of minnie as both you and the older panted from what happened.

the oldest slowly pulled her fingers out of minnie's center, guiding them to her awaiting lips to vehemently taste her taller girlfriend's essence. she gave you and her one last 'thank you' pecks before heading to the bathroom to clean all three of you up.

#hear me out #gidle smut #mimin smut #miyeon smut #minnie smut

105 notes · View notes

lackablazeical · 6 months

Text

💙🥀Leonardo Hamato🥀💙

Specific Trigger Warnings -

Stalking, harassment, manipulation, physical/mental/emotional abuse of a partner, objectification of others, threats/acts of violence, yandere-like actions and behavior, violation of consent/boundaries (specifically to actions such as hugging, kissing, snuggling, grabbing, etc.), child neglect

Specific boundaries w/ this character -

Do not glorify/romantize/endorse Leo's actions ("I wish someone cared about me this much" etc etc.)

Do not ship Leo with anyone. At all.

Do not treat Leo as 'fixable' or anything of the like, or imply that he could/should be 'forgiven'.

Do not imply romantic/sexual intention when Leo is touching someone. He just likes physical touch, that is all.

General info -

Leo's birthday is October 27th. He is a Scorpio ♏️

Leo's main love language is physical touch, but he can give love through all five.

Leo is a sex-repulsed Panromantic Vincian man. He can feel romantic attraction but only feels any type of deeper attraction/connection with non-women.

Leo has combined-type ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder).

Leo has ASPD (Antisocial Personality Disorder).

Personality traits -

Leo is loyal, protective, obsessive, slow-to-anger, charismatic, controlling, manipulative, forgetful, strategic, and vengeful.

Leo doesn't get angry easily. He may get annoyed, but genuine anger is rare and hard to bring out. Often, it's a build-up of small things that makes him lash out, usually violently.

Leo is extremely loyal to those he loves. He will absolutely kill and die for his family, and for Usagi. Family is the most important thing to him, and he will choose them over anything else.

Leo, as a strategist, rarely ever does things without a plan in place. While his actions may seem impulsive or non-sensical, they are often to drive people apart, cause fear/pain, etc. Leo is extremely smart, and knows how to twist situations into his favor.

Leo is a control freak. He can't stand not being in control, and will do whatever it takes to maintain the power he does have. If that means violence, then that means violence.

Leo will spiral and be sent into complete delusion and panic if he's left without affectionate physical contact for too long. He needs it to feel grounded, and he will force the contact if he must to stay sane.

Important details -

His insomnia -

Leo has extremely intense insomnia. This is a result of an error when he was mutated. Originally, Draxum intended for all the brothers to require less sleep, so they could spend more time fighting wars and such. Instead, Leo got an overdose of that specific chemical, resulting in the state we see today, whereas his brothers got off with no ill effects.

He is physically unable to sleep for around a month, but Leo is able to force himself to stay awake for just under around 3-4 months before his body begins to shut down. Leo can't control this, and he is likely to pass out mid-conversation or while doing something because of this.

This insomnia has extreme physical effects on Leo. It results in glassy vision, sluggish movement/behavior, extremely bad memory issues, delusions, inability to concentrate for very long, and carelessness. Leo also has a lower natural heart rate because of this, and his eyes strain more easily. He also has extremely shakey hands, which mostly present themselves when he is typing/drawing/writing.

Leo's siblings don't care for Leo's behavior after being rested, so they often make attempts to keep him awake/wake him up faster. Without intervention, Leo can sleep for days. With intervention, he may get 6-8 hours max.

After being freshly rested -

After Leo has recently gotten sleep, he is noticeably more helpful, respectful, withdrawn, and thoughtful. He is more likely to notice smaller details, remember things better, etc. He is also nicer, and will better listen to things like 'no'.

This state lasts around 1-3 weeks, depending on how much sleep he got previously. He may revert back to his regular behavior faster if exposed to a catalyst (someone made him angry, he gets a look/smell/taste of blood, etc.)

His relationship with Big Mama -

Leo hates Big Mama. He distrusts her and her motives, and hates how she treats Splinter, Mikey, and Donnie. Game recognizes Game, Manipulative recognizes Manipulative.

Leo keeps BM alive exclusively for Splinter and Mikey. He is willing to kill her the second either of them gives him the word.

Leo will be courteous to her if he has to be. He will accept her gifts and call her Mother, but he makes his absolute distain of her very clear. He refuses to be alone with her and will silence anyone trying to tell her personal facts about him violently.

BM was the one who gifted Leo his sword as a sort of peace offering. It didn't work, but he took it anyway. Now, he never goes anywhere without it.

Leo is very strict about BM not knowing about Usagi. He regularly threatens his and Usagi's brothers to stay quiet about Usagi, and makes it clear that it is their necks on the line if he finds out they told her. BM would use Usagi as a pawn to get Leo to listen to her, and Leo refuses to give up his control.

BM is aware of some of the other Miyamotos (specifically Kenichi, Ishida, and Riko) but does not know about Usagi specifically. She just knows that they have more siblings. She also does not know that Leo has a connection with Usagi.

Leo and BM are actually quite similar, with their controlling and manipulative natures. Never tell Leo that, though. Unless you want your head cut off.

His stalking -

Leo began stalking around 10 years old. Most of his targets would only be interests between 1-3 months, before Leo got bored/they died/etc.

Leo has had 36 victims, including Usagi.

Leo does not have a preference when he stalks. Age, gender, species, etc has no effect on who he fixates on. Though he is likely to be more violent/intense towards male/masc people if they are his current focus.

Leo typically treats any death similar to a breakup. He'll cry, stew in his feelings, etc. It annoys the hell out of his entire family. Leo often gets over it quickly.

Leo fixated on Usagi differently because he was introduced to Usagi differently. Leo actually saved him from being mugged, which is the first time Leo had ever felt like an actual hero. This sent him into a complete spiral of obsession, and now Leo only and will only ever have eyes for Usagi.

His dynamic with Usagi -

Leo is an abuser. He is Usagi's abuser. He manipulates him, physically/mentally/emotionally harms him, etc.

Leo does not insult, slap, punch, or put down Usagi. Leo is very verbally affectionate to Usagi, which is one of the reasons people do not pick up on what is really happening.

Leo will bite, shove, pin, yank, choke, throw, or restrain Usagi. He is very controlling of Usagi's movement.

Leo does not explicitly put Usagi down, but will make Usagi feel powerless, dependent, etc. As example, Leo would NEVER say "You're nothing without me", but he WOULD say "where would you be without me?"

Usagi barters time and affection with Leo to get Leo to let him do what he wants. Leo often only properly upholds these deals around half the time. This could be holding hands for 10 minutes so that Usagi can go to the store with his brothers, etc etc. Leo is very much giving "changed the terms at the last moment" vibes.

Leo would become a husk of a person if he lost Usagi. He would slaughter anyone in his way if they tried to take Usagi (except his brothers, ofc.) Everyone is very aware of the fact Leo would act out violently if Usagi tried to leave him.

This is not to say Leo will always pick Usagi. If it is a life-or-death, no other option situation, Leo will pick his family over Usagi instantly, no hesitation, nothing. He will mourn afterward, though.

Leo's favoritism -

If Leo loves someone, in his mind, they can do no wrong. He will make excuses, ignore facts, and twist the narrative to remove blame from that person. He may also find a scapegoat to blame the behavior on instead.

If two people Leo loves are fighting, he doesn't pick sides. He will completely ignore the problem and say that it doesn't matter.

Leo is very much of the opinion that 'its in the past, so it doesn't matter.' So what people say, actions they take, past trauma, etc. Doesn't matter to him. This could be contributed to his memory problems as well.

After a fight, Leo will comfort the one that he thinks is more upset, aka more 'in need of support.' Typically, this will be Usagi.

Leo's power level -

Leo is the most dangerous of his brothers, WITH his sword. He could easily take any of his brothers down with it.

Without his sword, Leo is the weakest of his brothers. Leo is not good at hand-to-hand combat, and his fighting style completely relies on his sword and portals.

Fun facts -

Leo's favorite food is candied strawberries. He loves anything sweet or fruity.

Leo loves play wrestling and will often get very invested in any fights he gets in with his brothers or Usagi.

Leo has an extremely good pain tolerance. He would be able to walk on a broken leg and barely even register it.

Leo is a mystic prodigy, and his teleporting ability is entirely self-taught. It is much more sporadic and 'glitchy' than Rise, but Leo is still able to get things where they need to go. Leo's swords can split, and be either 1 or 2 weapons. 1 sword can create solid, doorway-like portals. 2 swords mean Leo can teleport between them, if he throws or embeds them in something.

Leo loves pop music, as well as 60s-90s Spanish music. He has an antique radio that he loves to listen to. Leo will also listen to rap/dubstep/hip-hop for Mikey and Don.

Leo loves rom-coms, and that is where Leo gets most of his ideas of love/romance from. He does not watch good rom-coms.

Leo babies his brothers quite a lot, but it is out of genuine care and adoration.

Tags that include Leo -

#addams! Leo, #addams! Leosagi, #addams! Hamatos, #addams! Disaster twins

#addams! tmnt au #addams! leo #addams! leosagi #addams! hamatos #addams! disaster twins

58 notes · View notes