#I keep telling myself if I get my settings right and find the proper brush it'll click but unfortunately no such luck | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dreambigdreamz · 11 months ago

Text

On Our Own | Éomer Éadig (part two)

Summary : Lothíriel braves through her wedding ceremony, trying to suppress her fears.

Author's note : I was having a bit of trouble posting this until I realised I had written over the maximum word count for a text block in one paragraph, now it's solved and I'm so heavened that I don't have to chop this up into several little more parts! Hope you enjoy Lothíriel!

Part One if you have not read it.

divider by @saradika-graphics

“I am Lothíriel, daughter of Imrahil. I am not afraid of anything — I have never been afraid of anything. And if I, a princess of Dol Amroth, can be made to suffer through this much humiliation, and still survive the ordeal, so can you.”

None of the ladies spoke a word.

“I am not afraid — I have never been afraid of anything. I know this must be done, and I will see it done. This is my destiny; this is my duty. This is my calling, to serve my father and my family, to change this nation, this world into a better place. And when they call my name, I will always step forward, ready to face anything. And I will face this martyrdom like a proper, dignified Princess.”

A silent sniff escaped the girl, and she saw her own lips quiver in the mirror. She took a deep breath, gathering all her strength to keep her shaking shoulders back. She turned to her silent ladies standing behind.

“And I certainly don't want any complaints from any of you.”

“We did not say anything, my lady.” The calm voice came from the elderly lady whose head was lowered in a small bow. She raised it now for just a few seconds, her dark eyes sweeping over the frame of the younger lady. “It must only be the jitters, princess. Nothing to worry about. You had better get ready. This King obviously does not like waiting.”

A hardly pretty scowl overcame the Princess’s face. She did not like to be reminded of the first meeting she had with her husband-to-be. Only Lady Saelwen alone witnessed what had happened, when the King strode into her tent. And, the Valar knows, nobody would ever understand what Lothíriel was feeling then.

Despite her eagerness to fulfill her duty as best as she could, the process was not without any setbacks. There had been several, in fact. The need for getting hot water to her room being one of the dire requirements. "You're right. Tell them to fetch the bath, please, Lady Saelwen."

The older lady immediately set about ordering the others with their different duties. Lothíriel, watching her lady-in-waiting masterfully distributing orders to everybody, recalled what she had said about her to King Éomer. She couldn't suppress a smile at that: Lady Saelwen was anything but easily agitated. She was highly and miraculously stubborn, and that had been the actual case when she refused to let the King inside the Princess's tent. But Lothíriel knew she had to patch up what she could to gain the King's goodwill. A task she knew she had to carry out enduringly, and one she awfully hated. She never liked having to please others to save face.

Lady Saelwen had always been in charge of everything — except when they had to deal with the fuming King the first evening, and Lothíriel brushed her aside as someone who could not help her any more. Indeed she then knew nobody could; she was on her own.

"It is all right," the Princess now wondered aloud again as she sat down at the vanity desk, staring at her reflection that seemed like a stranger to her. "Father and Mother will pass away one day, though, the Valar be praised, it may not be for many long years. Elphir has his own family to take care of, and Erchirion and Amrothos will in time find their own families, tread their own paths, and live their own lives. Nobody would have been able to remain with me, anyway. The important thing is, I still have me. I will always have me, myself, and that is all that matters." She quickly took a swallow of her trembling voice, blinked away the silver beads of tears forming at the corner of her eyelashes. Yes, she still had Lothíriel even if she felt completely deserted by all others.

In this distant land, so strange, so foreign to her. And so entirely abnormal.

"If only we had a proper bath-house," Lothíriel mourned, "with steam and a tepidarium and a proper clean marble floor! Hot water on tap and somewhere for us to sit and be properly scrubbed. I should not mind anything at all if only there was a proper bath-house."

"Don't fuss," Lady Saelwen cooed. "When you are Queen, you can have a hundred bath-houses built, my sweet."

Lady Saelwen had commanded a great tureen from the flesh kitchen which was usually deployed to scald beast carcasses, had it scoured by three scullions, lined it with linen sheets and filled it to the brim with hot water scattered with rose petals and scented with oil of roses brought from Dol Amroth. She lovingly supervised the washing of Lothíriel's long white limbs, the manicuring of her toes, the filing of her fingernails, the brushing of her teeth, and finally the three-rinse washing of her hair. The lady-in-waiting had insisted that Lothíriel should bathe like a Princess of Dol Amroth though all the cooks in the kitchen have had to stop what they were doing to boil the water.

This was one thing Lothíriel had decided she must learn to endure. The servants of Meduseld had been amazed that she was going to wash on her wedding day and most of them probably thought that she was risking her life in this wintry weather. Lothíriel, brought up in the liveliest court in Middle-earth, Dol Amroth where the bath-houses were the most beautiful suite of rooms in the palace, centres of gossip, laughter, and scented water, was equally amazed to hear that the Rohirrim thought it perfectly adequate to bathe only occasionally during the winter and that the poor people would bathe only two or three times a year. She had seen it as part of her destiny, her duty, to endure as a Maia from Valinor endures the privations of this world. She had come from Swansong by the Sea — the paradise, the heaven — to the ordinary world. She had anticipated some disagreeable changes.

"Everything will be fine. I had to come to Dol Amroth from Minas Tirith to marry your brother. Life adjusts easily to Change as Time passes by. And better, if you can learn to love your husband." That was what her sister-in-law told her.

"Yes, but you had the luck to come to the best of places. I am not as fortunate — I have to leave the best place in Middle-earth to go to who-knows-where buried under the grass." Lothíriel had retorted. As for the part about loving her husband, she had omitted.

But truth be told, her husband-to-be had made a very different first impression. He was so handsome — she did not expect him to be so handsome! He was fair and broad, like a knight in shining armour from one of the old romances. She could imagine him waking all night in a vigil, or singing up to a castle window as was usual for a courtship in Dol Amroth. He had pale, almost silvery skin only roughened by the weather, he had fine golden hair, and yet it looked untidy and unkempt, so was his beard which Lothíriel had disliked in any man except now when it was him. He was much taller than her, and she could just feel herself melting away like butter whenever she dared to look up at his face.

He had a rare smile, one that would come reluctantly and then shine. And he was kind. That was a great thing in a husband. He was kind when he took the glass of wine from her: he saw that she was trembling, and he tried to reassure her. But at times he seemed so distant, and he would even sound angry, though naturally his voice was low and deep and that alone could make her heart skip a beat. But Lothíriel could not make out the character of this foreign King. She wondered what he thought of her — she did so wonder!

Time after time, the incredulous maids of Rohan toiled to the door to receive another ewer of hot water from exhausted page boys and tipped it into the tub to keep the temperature of the bath hot.

"Your parents would be so proud of you," Lady Saelwen said dreamily as they helped the Princess from the bath and patted her all over with scented towels. One maid took her dark mass of hair, squeezed out the water, and gently rubbed it with a cloth of silk soaked in oil to give it shine and lustre. They led her towards the wardrobe and started to dress her in the layer after layer of shifts and gowns. "Pull that lace tighter, girl, so that the skirt lies flat. This is all of Dol Amroth's day as well as yours, Lothíriel. This is your father's victory, and he said that you would marry the King of Rohan, whatever it costs him."

"Hush. You make me sound like a parcel." Truly, that was what she felt like sometimes. As if she had been shipped off because she was unwanted. Of course, Lothíriel understood her father wanted the best for her, and this match was the best for her. But still.

"Of course not! Your father did this all for your sake although, quite frankly, it amazes me how he happened to choose such a person — I mean, he is King and all, but what a coarse and unrefined—"

"Hush!" Lothíriel repeated, now raising her voice slightly, her brows furrowed in distress. "He is kind, almost sweet, if it weren't for that rude incident." She didn't know why, but she found herself wanting to defend this man, the King of Rohan, who would soon be her husband. But she hardly knew him, and was terrified to speak to him when they were face to face. So Lothíriel was often led to her imaginations of what he might really be like. She hoped he was kind like her father had assured her. She didn't know about that, she had yet to learn about him to form her own opinion. And of opinions, there were so many different ones thrown about Éomer that she hardly knew what to make of him.

But that would not even matter once they were married, nothing could be changed even if she found him not at all agreeable. Again, she wished their period of courtship hadn't been only a year of correspondence and a couple of days in person.

"That was most certainly rude of him," Lady Saelwen remarked, sniffing her nose in disdain as she began to rearrange Lothíriel's hair. She did not answer to that anymore, wishing to drop the subject.

There would be no persuading the lady to any other opinion. She did have a right to feel bitter against the King: he had demanded to meet the Princess of Dol Amroth in front of his travelling party, without ceremony, without dignity, like a scramble of peasants. Lothíriel herself had been so embarrassed, horrified, but she gritted her teeth, and stood up her ground like a fighting soldier meeting the battle head-on. But she couldn't smile like her Mother told her to.

There was a knock on the door. One of her maids, Mylaela, rushed inside with her round face flushed. "It is the King. And he says he wishes to see the Princess."

Lothíriel immediately locked eyes with Lady Saelwen, the older woman raising her eyebrow. It seems this was another one of the traditions of Rohan, unlike Dol Amroth where it was absolutely forbidden for the wedding couple to see each other before the ceremony. Of course, in the same case, the bride would have also been secluded from the sight of every other man as well, but Lothíriel was pretty sure all the people in Rohan, all the pigs, geese and, of course, horses must have seen her face already by now.

"I will see him," said she, silencing her lady-in-waiting with a significant look. She put on a cloak, a dark blue one with lighter hue interwoven like ripples of water, and walked slowly and steadily towards the door.

She was, once again, surprised to see just how tall he was, but hid any emotion well behind her mask of serenity. She curtseyed, but did not say anything, waiting for him to start.

"I am sorry for this inconvenience, my lady."

She nodded her head once, not knowing how else to respond. She couldn't possibly pretend to say it was no inconvenience at all, because it really was. Who would want to meet her husband-to-be, hair drenched in water and face so bare?

"But I came to give you these," he held out a red velvet purse, and almost shoving it to her, immediately withdrew his hands to his back after she received it. She took it politely, with an inclination of her head, but she did not open it. She waited for him to say something more, but they stood silently for a while longer until he cleared his throat and continued, "They are the jewellery of the Queens of Rohan, heirlooms of the family, and it would be kind of you to wear them to the wedding ceremony."

Kind? She was going to be, she was already all but, Queen of Rohan — it wouldn't be a matter of kindness, it was duty, appearance, tradition.

"My lord honours me," she said with a small curtsey, and he took it as a sign to leave, and bowed stiffly. She opened the door behind her, and slid in carefully, feeling quite nervous as she always did whenever in his presence.

Her ladies-in-waiting were eager to see what was inside the small purse, and they wasted no time in taking out the contents, displaying them carefully on the desk. There were golden bracelets, and a necklace strewn with little rubies, and brooches. But what stood out particularly was the coronet. It was wreathed like golden flowers, and the light glistened off its surface like golden rays of sunlight. Lothíriel held it up, examining it in detail.

"Then I cannot wear my tiara," said she, with a hint of despair in her voice.

"You need not wear the coronet today. Perhaps later. You can wear your tiara, for the last time. It is the tradition, he will not object, surely," Lady Saelwen suggested.

"For the last time," Lothíriel murmured. She put down the coronet, pushed the jewellery a little bit aside, and took out her tiara. It had two endearingly lovely swans, and Lothíriel loved it dearly. It was like her own personal badge, her worth, her rank as the eldest unmarried lady of the royal house of Dol Amroth. It had been hers since she was 10, when her cousin Ariellë had married.

She put it on now, looked into the mirror with a close look as she never looked before. She searched for the traces of that little girl who had first tried it on secretly, before Ariellë's wedding day, enthusiastically waiting for that day which would make this invaluable treasure all hers, solely hers.

Now, it was time to let it go.

"Well, take one last look, Lothíriel. Nothing's ever permanent, anyways, and you've had your share of joy these years past." She didn't know what was ahead of her now. She couldn't think of it.

"Oh! darling," Lady Saelwen cried, flinging her arms around her. "I tell you, you need not put it away just yet, not today."

"But I will have to do it sooner or later," she replied determinedly, trying to be strong and not weep. And I had better make the King happy, she did not add this silent thought. She truly wanted to see him smile, though she will most probably be too busy looking at the ground to see even if he did. "It must be this way."

Slowly, she put the tiara down, and beckoned them to continue what they were doing. When they had finished, she looked a most stunning picture — her black hair let down in a thick wave down in front of one shoulder, the golden coronet round her smooth forehead, her silver mantle gleaming with a faint glow of blue as she moved, and to perfect it all, a sure, steady smile that could win any heart. She knew this. She knew she must look something beautiful. King Éomer had even said she looked prettier than her portrait! Of course, Lothíriel knew flattery was to be expected from him, he could just have been doing it out of politeness, the way he said it grudgingly.

She had been raised to feel confident in her looks, she had learned to love the way she looked, everybody always said how lovely she looked. And though Lothíriel did not necessarily believe it much herself — it would be wrong and quite vain — she believed it must be a bit true, at least, because others said so. She had long, dark hair that was often compared to the nightsky, and her skin was perfectly unblemished, and she knew she carried herself gracefully enough, thanks to the years of supervision under her Mother, Aunt Ivriniel, and Lady Saelwen.

But what if Éomer's taste wasn't like all the 'others' who praised her beauty?

What if he liked his women lighter-haired?

That would be a misfortune, indeed, since nothing could be done about it. He would just have to put up with it, probably regretting his foreign dark-haired Queen. But that would be really unfortunate, Lothíriel couldn't help despairing over it.

What was it that her Aunt had told her?

"Consider your husband carefully. He will own all your property, your good name will be in his keeping, and the happiness of your life will be decided by him. If you cannot be a loving wife, then be at least a wife of whom he can make no complaint. That is the best advice I can give to you, Lothíriel: be a wife of whom he can make no complaint. You will be his wife, that is to be his servant, his possession. He will be your master. You had better please him."

The words still echoed in her mind like some sort of prophecy. She had put up a smile, thanked her Aunt archly that it gladdened her heart to be reminded of it, while secretly she scorned and said to herself sarcastically, "No wonder she is a spinster!"

But Lothíriel had held that advice close to her heart, subconsciously, trying to be pleasing to this stranger on whose goodwill her fate, the rest of her life, depended.

She wondered whether he would make a complaint against how she looked. She wouldn't be able to help that. She might be sent back, and the business of searching a husband for her would have to be done all over again — except she would then bear the shame of having been rejected by the King of Rohan.

At least she would get to spend a couple more years in Dol Amroth, before being sent away again.

These different thoughts made her eyes leak somehow, and suddenly she was crying full on.

"La! What is the matter, dear?"

A hiccup escaped before Lothíriel took a gulp of air. "I — I don't really know? It's just — it's just happening by itself and I can't stop it? May—maybe it's what you said, the jitters, the wibber-gibbers like Alphie would say — and, oh! my darling boy, I have forgotten my darling boy, how shall I live without him? And Elphir, and Andrídha, and Erchirion, I miss him already — I admit it! I know I swore I won't but I do! And, and I miss Gwyneth, that dairymaid who ruined my blue-ribboned shoes, Cael the stableboy, even though I always made a point to glare at him whenever he winked at me, and, and everybody!" Lady Saelwen was the only one whose face was still calm and composed, others already baffled by this outburst of the Princess. Lady Saelwen did not speak, and she continued to pat Lothíriel's heaving shoulders in a loving embrace, silently. The words now poured out of her mouth, and suddenly there was no stopping anymore. "I think he doesn't like me very much, this King Éomer, he doesn't talk to me, and he is probably disappointed with how I look. What if he sends me back? Or worse, what if I disappoint him even as Queen of Rohan? What if I am terrible at it? What if I bankrupt the country and ruin everything? — I always forget my numbers, you know that."

"Now, now," Lady Saelwen soothed her, gently rubbing her back, "you are getting too carried away. It's just not possible for you to bankrupt an entire country, and you probably won't be burdened with those crazy duties. You'll just have to keep the accounts in order, the household in order, like your dear Mother does. The rest—" At this, Lothíriel let out a wail, for she could not possibly strive to be anywhere near her Mother's efficiency. "Don't distress yourself like this, dear. It will happen by and by, and you won't even notice it — you'll be such a beloved queen. And as for the King not liking you, why, I never heard such an abominable thing! He would say something about it, wouldn't he, if he didn't like you? That is absurd. And anyways, the men of our court can teach him a thing or two, perhaps a black eye if you request, you see if he doesn't like you then. And today, when you go in with your long, dark hair falling over your white gown, looking like Elbereth herself, the Star-queen, you'll see if there's a soul in the whole of this country, wretched enough to not fall in love with you!

"Now, stop this silly nonsense. You are going to look a mess."

"Well," Lothíriel swallowed a hiccup, now feeling foolish when Lady Saelwen pointed out things that way, and wiping her runny nose feeling like a wayward child, "I suppose I am being silly. There's no point in worrying over things that I cannot change. I will do my best, and leave the rest in the hands of the Valar. But, wouldn't it be more natural to look the blushing bride?"

"Yes, but you are going to get a red nose and red eyes, not alluring, red cheeks." She pinched Lothíriel's cheek lovingly, and again they set to work.

When the bells started to toll, Lothíriel stood up from where she sat, ready and secretly nervous, and said,

"Well, ladies, we have got a wedding to attend."

"Only, you're the bride this time," one girl teased boldly.

Lothíriel mustered all her courage, and strength, and smiled graciously and gaily and giggled, "All the more reason for me to look dazzling!" But a sudden gloom seized her heart, remembering that the joys of childhood would be denied to her after this day onward. And she would not be a maiden any more . . . She shook herself out of that train of thoughts.

She found to her pleasant surprise that her brother Amrothos was waiting outside the door.

"Ready?" He asked with a lopsided grin that made her laugh despite her heavy heart.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, amazed.

"Why, to escort you, of course. We can't risk you being attacked by some ambushing savages, can we?"

She gave him a look of caution.

He chose to ignore it, and remarked with a comical look, "You are so beautiful, I fear I may go blind from your dazzling-ness."

"So do you, dear brother," she said generously.

"Ah, but all the rest of us are only stars and stars cannot be as dazzling as the Moon, no matter how bright they shine."

"I thought dazzling was used to describe the Sun?"

"Spare me the poetry lesson for this once, love." He then asked again light-heartedly, "So, is the beautiful bride ready to mesmerise these petty people?"

"I was born ready, brother."

"Oh I don't know about that — you had such a terrible cry when you were born, I wept for days, terrified of your cries. I remember Auntie soothing me, saying you must be very mad about being brought into the world so early."

Lothíriel couldn't help smiling, a little sadly, at the mention of them as children. It didn't seem that long ago, and yet at the same time it felt so very long ago. Amrothos noticed her half-hearted smile, and turned her round to face him fully, and pulled her into a tight embrace.

"You've come so far, Thiri. I still can't believe you survived that terrible drowning when you were four. To think, we could have lost you then! I am glad we did not, sincerely." He placed his hand upon his chest soberly.

"I will survive anything, beloved brother, you need not worry about me," she said coolly, her eyebrow raised.

"Of course, my sweet sister," Amrothos smirked back. "I believe all this is just a piece of cake for you as well?"

A whole bakery, Lothíriel thought, but she answered anyways, "It is."

Amrothos studied her face carefully, saying slowly, "You know we love you."

"I do."

"And this is probably for the best."

"It is."

"Then why looking hang-dog?" He slapped her arm playfully.

She rolled her eyes, scoffing unbelievingly. "Every bride needs to look a bit hang-dog before the wedding."

"Not Andrídha, she did not. She was beaming enough for the both of them."

"That's because she's a fool half-sodden in love." She was pretty sure she failed to keep out the bitterness in her voice.

"And you are not?" Amrothos was looking as if he was trying so hard not to laugh out loud. "Hmm, you probably are not."

She didn't answer, because she didn't know. She was drowning in a sea of worries.

When they reached the door, beyond which was the Hall where all the guests were assembled, a guard bowed at the siblings but told them that the Lady must walk in alone, as was the custom.

"What! This is strange indeed, and if I weren't so nice as I am, I would call this exceedingly stu—"

Lothíriel tugged at her brother's elbow, hissing, "Mind what you say, Amrothos." Already she could feel the terseness of the lords since her arrival, and while Amrothos may not need to care about them, she was to remain here for the rest of her life and she knew she wouldn't survive long if she didn't make herself liked. Another inward sigh. "And really, you couldn't have stuck with me all the way through this marriage anyways, it's all on me." On my own. She tried to smile brightly, and hoped it was convincing enough. "So off you go now, my little star. Go twinkle somewhere else."

"It'll be all right. I know you'll be all right," and with a warm kiss on both cheeks, and one last concerned look, her brother left ahead.

She turned to the guard again, and ordered coolly, "Announce me."

He nodded, knowing this particular about the new Lady, as did many of Rohan by now.

"The Lady Lothíriel, Princess of Dol Amroth, and Queen of Rohan!"

The heavy, wooden doors creaked open. Lothíriel, daughter of Imrahil, armoured only with steely determination, stepped forward, her head held high and her footsteps unfalteringly in-beat.

Only she could hear her heart hammering in her eardrums.

Nobody must ever find a Princess of Dol Amroth falling back for fear.

No one will ever know what it cost her to smile, what it cost her to stand before all these people and not tremble.

She was not yet twenty-two, she was far from her Mother, she was in a strange country, she cannot speak the language, and she knew nobody here. She had no friends but the party of companions and servants that she had brought with her, and they looked to her to protect them. They did not think to help her. They could not help her.

Nobody could help her.

No one would ever know that she had to pretend to ease, pretend to confidence, pretend to grace. Of course she was afraid. But she will never, never show it. And, when they called her name, she would always step forward.

Amidst her own heartbeats, she could faintly hear the whisper of voices around her. She could not understand them, nor did she want to. Her eyes, fixated straightforward, fell onto the tall figure of the King. He stood proud and regal, like a pillar of strength. He wore the great woven cloak of gold and green, with the sigil of the horse, and on his head was the heavy crown wrought majestically in gold and white jewels. His face, Lothíriel stole a quick glance as she reached up to him and he took her hand in his, was solemn, almost even stern she would imagine.

She listened attentively, and repeated the vows in her best manner, but heard little. Her thoughts were busy elsewhere. She only registered dimly the voice of the King beside her, standing close by. In fact, she realised, they were so close she could almost discern the faint smell of musk and ambergris wafting around with the underlying notes of sweat, leather, and horses. She remembered it from the first evening when he barged into her tent.

Other than the thud-thud of her heart, she could not acknowledge his presence beside her. Neither did he seem to.

She knew what she had to do. She had to be a princess of Dol Amroth for Rohan and a queen of Rohan for Dol Amroth. She had to seem at ease where she was not and assume confidence when she was afraid.

Éomer may be her husband, but she could hardly see him, she had no sense of him yet. She had no time to consider him. She was absorbed in being the princess that he had bought, the princess that her father had delivered, the princess that will fulfill the bargain and secure the friendship between Rohan and Dol Amroth.

Every now and again, she glanced very briefly at his face, but he stood as still as a statue to reveal any answers to her incessant, whirling, silent questions of what he was like. He stood so still, she could not even tell whether he was breathing or not. Both his hands held her right hand between them, as if ensuring safety and comfort. But Lothíriel was uneasy, wondering if this was one of Rohan's different traditions as well; in Dol Amroth, the bride only held on to the man's arm.

The only thing that disconcerted her throughout the process happened when it was time for them to exchange the rings.

The ring-bearer was a man whom Lothíriel remembered to be one of Éomer's near-kin, but all these lords and Riders had the same bearded faces, the same fair hair, the same silence. If she hadn't mentally prepared herself for it months before she came to Rohan, Lothíriel was pretty sure she'd have gone insane by this unfamiliarity in the strange, foreign land. She wished she could see somebody from home, somebody who hadn't followed hither — she would even be glad to see Wat the groom who sang bawdy songs with his obnoxious voice.

The rings were brought on a small pillow-cushion while she was meditating these worrisome thoughts. When she saw Éomer taking the smaller one, she dutifully held out her hand for him to put it on her finger.

But he didn't.

Éomer took her hand, and turned it so her palm was held upward, and placed the small golden band on it. Confused, Lothíriel looked up at him, and her cheeks flushed warmly when she saw him smiling gently.

"In Rohan, we exchange the rings and wear it ourselves, my lady."

He explained kindly, but suddenly the former warmth in her cheeks grew hotter and she looked down at her palm, possibly looking furiously crimson.

"Oh," was all that she could say, blinking nervously as she reached for the other one and placed it in his upturned hand. Embarrassed, and wishing the wooden floorboards would open up to swallow her, she hastily put her ring onto her finger. Only after that was she able to recollect herself, braced herself, and looked up with a positively bright smile to say, "I wish I had thought to learn of it beforehand. But no matter. It is done."

He smiled again, and Lothíriel noticed, for the first time, the little crinkles near his eyes when he did so. For some reason, the discovery made her feel somehow light-hearted, and she found that she could return his smile with equal sincerity, without at all feeling the tiresome stretch in her cheeks when she had to remind herself to properly regulate even the degree of her smile. "It is done," he echoed, and in her natural maidenly reserve, she lowered her eyes. She felt him leaning down, felt his rough hand under her chin, felt her head being raised up to look at him. Only, she didn't want to look yet, and closed her eyes tightly. Then she felt his lips on hers, the warm kiss making her head spin around in circles, and she felt his hand brushing against her cheek, all in a daze. She only felt, and knew nothing of what was going on. It was done. When Éomer stepped back, she saw the timid smile on his face, as if he wasn't sure how much he should be smiling as well. When she looked around, she saw the smiling faces stretching from her feet to the doors of the Hall. And when they went down the aisle together, past the rows of benches and guests, to the bright wintry sunlight outside and heard the roar of the crowd for Éomer and his bride, the King and Queen of Rohan, Lothíriel started to realise that she had done her duty finally and completely. She had been promised to Éomer for more than two years, and now, at last, they were married. She had been named Queen of Rohan since she was twenty years old, and now, at last, she had taken her name and taken her place in the world. It had felt impossible until it was finally done. She looked up and smiled, not as shy as one might expect of a blushing bride on her wedding day, but a real confident smile of a queen that promised strength and courage to the people she was now to call hers, her own; and the crowd, delighted with the free wine and ale, with the prettiness of the young princess, with the promise of safety from threats both internal and external that could only come with a settled royal succession, roared their approval. They were husband and wife; but they did not speak more than a few words to each other for the rest of the long day. There was a formal banquet, and though they were seated side by side, there were healths to be drunk and speeches to be attended to and the musicians playing. No one had ever seen so much money flung at a single occasion. It was a greater celebration even than the King's own coronation — it was a redefinition of the Rohan kingly state. Lothíriel was perfectly at ease with everything, having expected this all her life since she learned her duty and destiny as a princess, a woman in a largely male-dominated world, where she could only ever amount to be a bridge to the next generation of great men.

But perhaps it wasn't exactly as she had always thought it should be. Given that she was not marrying a lord or knight of Gondor. The people of Rohan obviously did not like talking much, and after the formal ordeals were done, everybody sat down to eating and drinking by themselves. Truth be told, Lothíriel was looking forward to poems composed for her and recited in her honour, like they did for the brides in Dol Amroth; she would have been disappointed about the lack of attention, if it were not for the dreadful prospect of the night's end looming over her head for almost the entire time. That was the chief occupying thought of her mind, and since nobody paid much heed to her except now and then to drink her health, and the members of her own party being a bit distantly placed, and her own lord husband scarcely turning his head towards her, Lothíriel was left to ponder her own dread and dismay. She was brought back to reality by a voice addressing her from below the board. "It would be a great pleasure for us all if the queen would give us a dance. Or is that not allowed in Dol Amroth either?" The boldness of the question startled her. She noticed that it was one of the highl lords of the King's council, an elderly man who particularly was frosty in his manners to her since her arrival. Lothíriel turned her head to Éomer, and asked cautiously, "Since I am now Queen of Rohan, I must learn your customs. Would a Queen of Rohan get up during her wedding and dance for everyone like she is at a village fair?" She saw that Éomer's face was broody, and uneasy. He shifted in his seat before answering her shortly in that deep, gruff voice of his, "If she would like." This was enough for Lothíriel, who had grown up in the court of Dol Amroth where conspiracies and gossips went around like bees buzzing from flower to flower, and she immediately understood his answer as an hesitant yes. She did not yet know the ongoings of this court and the country, but she knew it was her duty to please the King first and foremost, and she had to learn later on of his affiliations and animosities alike. So, for the present, she decided to oblige the possibly harmless request. She threw a small, demure smile to the other lord, and said, "Then I will dance," and rose from her seat at the high table. She was expecting the King to follow suit, but he did not; she realised they meant dancing as in all by herself, like some performer, and not a proper courtly dance with her new husband. She stood still for a second there, feeling very much embarrassed and whacking her mind wondering what to do next, before she finally added with some recovered grace, "With my ladies."

She beckoned towards where they were grouped nicely, a little apart from the men, called out to them by their names. Four young women, dark-haired girls of youth and beauty, pretending shyness but eager to show themselves off, came forwards. The Princess Consort of Dol Amroth, Lady Anarïen, herself had personally selected the ladies, not very willingly acceding to her lord husband's blunt but well-founded request that all his daughter's companions should be pretty. The party of Dol Amroth could not appear in any less honourable manner or fashionable style — except King Éomer had jeopardized the whole plan by forcing his way rudely into the Princess's tent. But nonetheless, all the girls were good-looking, well-mannered, and perfectly suited to be considered close companions of a royal princess of Dol Amroth, but none of them outshone the Princess, who stood composed and confident and then raised her hands and clapped, to order the musicians to play. The dance was a pavane, a slow ceremonial dance, and Lothíriel moved with her hips swaying and her eyes heavy-lidded, a little smile on her face. She had been well schooled. Any princess would be taught how to dance in the courtly world where dancing, singing, music and poetry mattered more than anything else; but she danced like a young woman who let the music move her naturally. She was doing all her best to prove everybody watching that she would be the greatest ornament to this court where they only discussed war-strategies and the meal-times were, simply, for eating meals and not for civilised conversation. She stopped as the music came to its last note, and swept a curtsey at the King, and came up smiling. "Do I please you?" She demanded, flushed and a little breathless. "Immensely," a faint smile was lingering on his lips as he said so, and Lothíriel found herself smiling back with gratitude at his praise and wonder, wonder at what kind of a man he was. When, later on, she was sitting in front of the mirror in her new room, the Queen's room — which, Lothíriel sniffed inwardly, should have been hers since her arrival — she was still left wondering about the mystery of his smile that had stayed in her mind for the rest of that evening.

Sincerely Snow,

19th April — 8th June 2023

#lord of the rings #lotr movies #eomer x lothiriel #eomer eadig #lothiriel #the lord of the rings #arranged marriage #oneshot #light angst #hope you enjoy #lothiriel being an internal mess #dreambigdreamz

32 notes · View notes

theluckywizard · 1 year ago

Note

hiiiii Lucky what if something Fade heist to rescue Hawke related + "No more dreaming like a girl so in love with the wrong world" and/or "Well, did you miss me?" from the Florence prompts?? 👀 Happy Friday and have fun!!

So this started for @dadrunkwriting Friday two weeks ago and then I got SUPER INVESTED and have been working on it ever since. I've popped an ambient song link in for effect! Illustration by me :)

Summary: The nightmares Rose had of Hawke following Adamant prompted her to develop a recurring dream with Solas, one she's had hundreds of times. It's safe. It's always the same. But something isn't right this time. And the dream will never be the same again. (Flangst, extra angst)

Characters: Rose Trevelyan, Garrett Hawke

WC: (buckle up!) 5075

Rating/CW: Explicit, sex!

Ambient Music - Olafur Arnalds - Dalur (loop it for full effect)

The intense clarity that the Anchor gave my dreams had always been tolerable– at least until Hawke stayed behind in the Fade. I could only live through so many iterations of watching the man I love get impaled and crushed by the Nightmare. So many dreams replaying the moment I left him behind. Listening to Hawke tell me in a dozen different ways that I’d abandoned and betrayed him, that he never actually loved me. Watching him end his own life out of hopelessness. In my grief and desperation I begged Solas to teach me some manner of control.

My subconscious had become unbearable and I needed to master it.

So he and I crafted a dream I could safely retreat to each night, a prison, or fortress of sorts to keep me safe from such intrusions. He’d asked me to choose a familiar place, where each detail was etched deeply into my memory. He had me choose activities to pursue within the safety of the setting, something to pass the time until I returned to consciousness, where my darkest thoughts were under stricter control.

I’ve dreamt of my quarters at home at the estate hundreds of times. It’s my refuge. Jigsaw puzzles and knitting. Playing my lute in my pillows piled high by the window. It gives a sense of peace I could never hope to find in Skyhold, where I’m haunted by ghosts of my decisions and the cost of war. Haunted by memories of Hawke.

The wards Solas taught me to set keep all of that out.

I pick at my lute, singing a tune in Antivan as rain rolls in from the Waking Sea and washes down my window. My voice is always sweet in my dreams, never needing warming up or clearing. My velvet pillows hug me while I lounge back into them. Everything is in its right place.

But there’s something strange across my room.

Something that doesn’t belong.

On the center of my bed is a yellow cactus flower.

My lute slips and clatters in a twang of strings on the floor as I’m assaulted by the memories, how a yellow bloom would grace my cot each evening in the Western Approach. I stand and approach the flower with the caution its alien nature merits.

“Maker’s breath,” I mutter, crawling onto the bed and picking it up. I spin the fragile bloom against my nose, the petals like satin, the fragrance familiar, flooding my chest with warmth. If I’m losing my grip on my recurring dream, at the very least this is a welcome intrusion.

But I check the wards to make sure I’ve activated them properly before slipping into the safety of my dream. The wards are live. I examine the flower, brushing it over my lips, attempting to divine meaning from it. It’s a fond memory of a different time, of a great love I didn’t understand or appreciate. But the warmth gives way to torment, as considering the flower cleaves my heart, the grief falling like a greataxe as I recall how I’d failed to tell him how deeply I’d felt before being scooped around the waist by Alistair and flung back through the rift.

And then I wake myself, because Maker, I can’t do this all over again.

The next night I’m welcomed by a platter of too many cheeses, partially picked over with all together too much fruit for a proper cheese deity. It sits precariously on the edge of my nightstand. And this time I laugh when the tear sneaks out the corner of my eye. No amount of grief could sully the ridiculousness of that memory.

After that it’s a book of Antivan smut on my window seat, The Fires of Satinalia, open to a picture of the Contessa and Signore della Verga canoodling in a dark alley. I’d given it away after we’d collected it from his effects, the thought of looking at it without him there to incite my blushes and horrified snorts unsupportable at the time. It prompts a wistful smile now.

It goes on for weeks, mementos of Hawke tucked around my room. I learn to look for them, like my own mind is pranking me elaborately. A bronze statuette inside my lute case. A purple bathrobe draped over my breakfast chair. A bottle of Garbolg’s Backcountry Reserve and two cobweb covered glasses on my nightstand. A scarlet scarf in rose imprinted damask with a tattered fringe on my dressing table. A wild sketch of quaking undead imprisoned in a livestock wagon on my desk.

I don’t know how or why it’s happening. But the joy it provokes has me awakening with tears in my eyes.

Perhaps I no longer need my prison of a dream.

Tonight when I arrive in my bedroom there’s nothing. I search everywhere for the treat, combing the room in an ever increasing state of agitation. I’ve gone blithely straight to sleep for weeks to see what happy little treasure I’d find next. Disappointment sets in, aching behind my sternum as I sit on the edge of my bed bent over my knees, hugging my head in my arms. The rims of my eyes gather up my tears as I realize how much I’d come to depend upon the trinkets, on the whimsy of my own tenacious subconsciousness to muddle through the day.

Ambient music - Slow Meadow - Hurricane

There’s a sound competing with the insistent drum of the rain on my window, the sound of wooden puzzle pieces clicking into place on the table behind me. I straighten, my breath frozen in my lungs. Peering anxiously over my shoulder I see a giant of a man hunched over my table on an elbow, pushing puzzle pieces around and sorting them, his hair tied up in a familiar, darling little tail like it used to be.

“Hawke?” I inquire, guarded, bracing myself for some horror or other when he responds. He pushes back from the desk to stand, the rolling chair sliding a little farther than he means it to and turns to me. The last time he’d fixed his gaze upon me, he’d held me tightly between him and his shield and fearlessly pronounced his love as the Nightmare drifted closer. He’d instructed me to go– to stop Corypheus. He’d pressed his lips to mine in a final desperate kiss. I consider all the twisted dreams I’d had of his face, this beautiful face and how they had crippled me with sorrow and guilt.

And yet this feels strangely real.

The brightness of his eyes pierce me, his lips turned slightly at one corner in a subdued little smirk, waiting for my reaction.

And as for that, I am tear-streaked astonishment, my eyes hazy and overwhelmed, my mouth agape. Closing the distance between us in a few steps, I pick up his hand with a determined curiosity, assessing the weight of it, the thickness of his palm, the way his fingers are too big to thread completely between mine.

His arming doublet is ragged and frayed over an equally tired linen shirt, and he's got a scruffy beard that looks as though it’s been maintained with a dull dagger. I reach up and feel his lips with my fingers, and they're as soft and full as they ought to be. I trace the lines across his forehead, then his brows and cheekbones. Hawke clutches my face gently, his thumbs brushing over each of my cheeks in that delicate way of his, like I’m a freshly plucked cactus flower he might accidentally crush.

“Well did you miss me?” he asks quietly, his gaze, deep as a summer sky, joined to mine with customary intensity. I collapse against him, shoving my arms under his unfastened doublet to wrap them tightly around him, letting his shirt catch all of my tears as they fall, failing to restrain the jerk of my sobs in my ribs. I feel his lips pressed firmly against the top of my head as he folds me into the thickness of his arms.

It feels too real. I’ve become too adept at this dreaming business.

“Uh– Rose?” he inquires, his voice perturbed. I glance through the glare of my tears to realize that my bedroom is dissolving around us, my carefully constructed dream slipping away under the weight of my own overwhelm. Everything gives way to a hazy amber light that holds us gently, like the golden glow of an emergent sunrise, promising another chance. There’s nothing but us.

I tighten my hold on his middle, afraid that if I let go the dream will collapse completely, leaving me alone to be followed by the unlimited void of his absence. Perhaps I could unburden myself of the feelings I’ve held close for months– the ones I’d barely understood until confronted with the prospect of losing him forever.

“I know it doesn’t matter now,” I start, speaking with my ear pressed against his chest, “but I was a monumental idiot.” I hear a laugh escape through his nose softly above me, lips buried in my hair. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you how deeply I felt. I didn’t know until it was too bloody late.”

“That’s all right,” he says, a surprisingly soft, humorless response, kissing his way to my forehead, his hold tightening.

“It’s not all right,” I argue with more intensity than I mean to. “It’s not. I pushed you away because how much I felt terrified me. And then– and now– you’re gone.”

“I’m right here,” he says firmly, gripping me by the shoulders, bearing down on me with a determined gaze. “I’m here. I’m alive.” I look at him, shaking my head at the tricks my mind is playing on me, wishing that I’d been able to keep a grip on this bloody dream of mine. Wishing Solas was around to help me fix it.

Hawke bends and kisses me forcefully, like he’s out to prove something, a sturdy kiss that I could never doubt. He pulls back and looks at me again as if the gesture should signify something.

But a kiss from Hawke is in keeping with everything else I’d let into my dream lately.

“Do you know how hard it was to break into this blazing cage of yours?” he asks, clearly annoyed with me, his fingers weaving in my hair. “Maker, Rose. I thought you’d know right away.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, stupified by the line of questioning.

“I found a way back to you, just as you asked. I– broke into your dreams to find you. Maker, I’ve wandered into the dreams of so many– but they won’t bloody well listen! And yours is the only one locked down like a proper vault. And you know how awful I am at lockpicking!”

His words force a flinch out of me as I grapple with it.

“You’re my subconscious,” I whisper past him as if I’m alone. He just shakes his head, exasperated. “You’re everything I’ve desperately wished for.” Hawke looks like he’s going to argue more but then holds back.

“Everything?” he asks with a sheepish smile. “I thought you knew better than to say things like that to me, Rose.”

“I’d like nothing more than for you to actually be here.”

“I am here. Rose– the trinkets I’ve been leaving– I was trying to prove to you that someone was tinkering with your blazing dream. That it wasn’t your mind. That it was me. I’m here. I’m alive in the Fade,” he says and then picks up my hand gently, stroking his fingers over the glow at the center of my palm. “And I need this beautiful hand of yours to escape.”

“Hawke–”

“I didn’t think it would be such a blazing chore to convince you.” He pulls a hand from my cheek to run it back into his hair in frustration, scratching his forehead as if to think of a new plan.

“It’s– you?” I ask, doubt still tugging at my mind in every direction.

“Maker, yes. And I’ve been looking forward to this for ages, you goose. Seeing you. Holding you.”

“How?” I ask, but Hawke bends to kiss me again gently, grazing his lips across my face until they catch mine and linger, the question in my mouth evaporating. Basking in the warmth of breath, in the give of each other’s hungry mouths, desire awakens within me, rapidly filling every interstitial space inside of me until it spills forth. We can’t be close enough, not like this.

In the time I’ve gone without him I’ve nearly forgotten the little details: his scent– peppermint salve and leather and sweat– the squash of his embrace, the energy and rhythm of our kiss. Hawke’s gentleness belies his fervor, but I can feel it in the intrepid way his hands tour over the curves of my body. He draws my knee up outside his hip with a hand under my thigh, sliding a leg between mine, his eager length pressed against the heat growing in my core. But there’s nowhere to go– my room has melted away into this lovely, yet shockingly inadequate stew of light and feeling around us.

“Could you perhaps dream us up a bed? A desk? A wheelbarrow?” he asks, beaming, bending to nudge his nose against mine. “Or perhaps that delightful window seat of yours?”

I’ve never lost the dream before though– and I’m not sure I can retrieve it.

“Couldn’t whatever is beneath our feet suffice?” I ask, a little desperate. He looks down at the amber nothingness and chuckles, because gravity is still fixing us to some manner of floor and then regards me like I’m mad or I’m giving up too quickly.

I close my eyes, attempting to journey again and draw the details from memory– the deep bench by my window with dozens of pillows. The velvet cushions. The lambswool blanket I always tuck around me to keep away the familiar creep of cold through the window. The rain streaming down the panes of glass. The evergreen forest emerging from a bank of fog.

Hawke laughs in wonderment as it all materializes before him.

“That’ll do,” he says, lifting me lightly across the partially imagined room to the window seat, a facsimile of the very place I’d first become acquainted with the Champion. Where I’d read the polished, scrappy account of him carving a place for himself and his family out of the unforgiving black cliffs of Kirkwall.

Rapturous, he eases carefully onto the window seat, scooting us over so my knees have somewhere to settle and he kicks his feet up. Astride him, my face is just above level and even beholding him at this distance, I’m still unsure if he’s real or not. The Fade is still a foreign place to me even after two trips. But my desire to make love to him, to tangle up our limbs and breath, to be filled by him is as real as anything, and I push his frayed doublet off his shoulders which he wrestles out of and then tosses into the amber ether.

“Ah, shit. I’m never getting that back, am I?” he says with a cheeky smile, but he’s too preoccupied by me to be bothered. I bend to sweep my open mouth against his, the steel of his erection against me stirring an arousal that aches with over a year of longing. I slide all ten fingers over the fine hairs across the center of his abdomen and then the coarser hairs of his chest under his shirt and he obliges me by stripping it away.

His right side is marred by a ragged scar I’ve never seen and I'm not sure that I would have conjured it up. It hooks around from the back like the rake of a talon, though it’s been long healed and I follow it with an inquisitive fingertip. He slides his hands up under the comfortable nightgown I’m always wearing in my dreams, grazing up the length of my thigh, his thumb finding the inside of it, pressing into it.

“It was a terror. Got me without my armor on. You know how they can be, jumping out of the ground like a bloody nuisance,” he explains, prompting the full weight of the revelation to fall into place like an impossible comfort.

“It’s really you,” I whisper, holding Hawke’s face as the astonishment takes hold.

He nods and dives in for another kiss, deep and unbridled. His gentle hand continues over the rise of my hip bone and onward until it lingers at the swell of my breast and then the hardened tip, our breath catching simultaneously. He gathers and lifts the sheer gauze of my nightgown up over my head and I lean back so he can exalt my skin, every curve with his mouth, his beard sending chills tickling through me as it grazes across my flesh. He pauses to wrap a lock of hair around his finger and tugs lightly.

“You cut your hair,” he says in a playful callback. I glance down at it, my hair now only reaching just past my breast.

“Only a little. You grew yours out,” I point out.

“No sense cutting it in this cursed place. Easier to tie it back.”

“I always liked it longish,” I tell him, leaning in to delve into his grinning mouth again. We grind this way, his hard into my soft, gasps and moans alternating and crisscrossing as we remember the shape of each other. Separating briefly to rid ourselves of the last remaining barriers between us, we converge again, Hawke sliding into my silken depths like a missing puzzle piece. I wrap my arms around his neck and hold him like this, his breath bathing the skin of my cheek and neck in warmth while he's sheathed to my very limits. I tuck my fingers into his tied up hair to clasp his head against me and whisper ‘I love you’ against his ear. He pulls back with a smile.

“Say it again,” he says, insisting we look at one another. I feel a little timid under such direct scrutiny, but I lift my gaze to oblige him, restraining my smile.

“I love you.”

“From the depths of your soul?”

“Well let’s not be hasty,” I laugh against his mouth. He looks at me from an inch away.

“You’re a horrible wretch.” The banter feels like sparks inside me. “And I love you. From the depths of my soul.” We take a moment to drink each other in, his survival and return relaxing the knot in my heart that’s been there since that unspeakable day. Hawke smirks again, that glimmer of ever brewing mischief gracing his smolder. Maker, how I missed this man.

“Can we get to it?” I ask with a saucy glance.

“Oh, are we not? I have to inform you that you are at least seventy five percent in charge right now, Rose.” I tilt my head to scold him with a nip on his nose and then grip him tightly within me, drawing myself off of him languorously, sinking down again. We fall into a rolling cadence, consecrating my treasured window seat with the force of our yearning.

It feels like another first time, a better one.

He handles my hip on my right and gently works his hand over my breast on the left as our pace gains intensity, rocking and churning in euphoric tandem. I drop my head back so he can press his lips to the underside of my jaw, leaning back to feel his full length pressed against my front, my pleasure gathering like a shimmer at the edges of my vision. Grasping me by the chin, Hawke fixes his eyes to mine, glossy and bright with unspilled tears, raw with emotion. Whatever he’s gone through, he’s been alone in the Fade for months, and if what he says is true, everyone else he’s encountered in dreams has ignored and dismissed him. I cradle his face in my hands to kiss him sweetly, earnestly, hoping the gesture adequately expresses my trust in him.

He clasps me against him, gasping and panting against the line of my shoulder, muttering my name, raking his teeth over my skin. We grow tacky and then slick with emergent sweat as we toil, clinging, claiming one another all over again.

My cries are practically bucked out of me and by his smolder and his breathless smile, I can see he’s waiting for me to trip over the edge of my climax before he allows himself to follow. As I lose control, my thrusts grow longer and sloppier, a tide of pleasure washing me away, overpowering my nerves until I fall limply back. Hawke catches me and pulls me to him, cursing as he shudders into me again and again, his fingers digging deep into my flesh until they suddenly relax and he draws me back into my mountain of pillows, a gorgeous pile of mush beneath me.

“Let’s do that again. Backward and inside out,” he gasps, his glazed eyes smiling ecstatically into mine.

“Backward, inside out and in a wheelbarrow,” I add, covering his face in kisses and then nestling down against him, reminded of the divinity of his cuddle. Soft and satisfied, he slips out of me and I fall to his side to settle into the crook of his arm with my leg draped over him lazily.

“Feels like we’re trapped in a glass of Cabot’s finest,” he says glancing about, then returning his look to me. He presses his lips into a sheepish smile as he stares up into the amber brume above us. “I was a little worried you’d forgotten about me to be honest.” His eyes are gently inquiring, and I catch his meaning.

“I could never.”

“What about–”

“It didn’t take. Not for long.”

“After all my hard work?” he teases me. I glance away, recalling how the Well of Sorrows had been the fracture that ultimately drove Cullen and I apart, how painful it had been in the aftermath desperately trying to retrieve something from the tatters of our relationship. How it’s muddling along as a stiff working relationship, our friendship still drifting somewhere outside our grasp, lingering feelings and history complicating our attempts to reclaim it. Hawke notices the slight withdrawal and presses his lips to my forehead.

“I suppose you read that ridiculous emergency love letter I wrote you.”

“It was ridiculous. And perfect,” I tell him.

“It was slapdash at best.”

“Addie thought it was the most romantic thing she’d ever read.”

“Maker, you let other people read it?”

“Well, you were dead. I didn’t think it mattered!”

“I’ll have my revenge eventually, you monster,” he threatens me with a mischievous look, stroking my shoulder. The letter remains folded around his scrap of scarf in my desk in Skyhold where it sat while the heaviest revelation gnawed at me daily.

“Did you really dream of me all those years ago? Pulling you from the dark?” I ask. Hawke looks down at our laced fingers, shockingly timid again and then back at me.

“I did.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“It would have seemed like an absolute ploy to get you into bed!” he protests. I wobble my head, acknowledging it. “Or worse, shockingly creepy.”

“Fair enough,” I say. “So are you going to tell me about it?” He lets out a long exhale like I’m in for a story and pulls me back on top of his chest again.

“I dreamed that I sat at the bottom of an abyss, hopeless and miserable. And you came down to me, that hair of yours drifting behind you, hand blazing with a green glow I didn’t understand at the time. I felt impossible lightness in that moment. So much that I chased it in all the years that followed.”

“And this is why you have a thing for redheads!?” I poke, tickling his sides in playful shock. He wrestles me under control with a smug look.

“Well I had a thing for you but I didn’t know how to find you except by your bloody hair. Nobody’s hand lit up like this. I didn’t even know you were real really. Imagine my reaction when I heard rumors that a woman stumbled out of the Fade with a hand marked by the Maker. And then again when Varric starts sending me the details.”

“But you didn’t come to Haven.”

“They would have made me Inquisitor! You know this. So I waited. And I had other reasons to come of course, but the burning curiosity I had about you had me rushing to Skyhold.”

“That whole time,” I snort to myself, “you knew something I didn’t.”

“I may have wanted you for years, but it was only in the abstract sense. It felt like a ridiculous fantasy. And then I met you,” he says. I ride his falling chest down as he sighs wistfully.

“Well it certainly explains some of your Maker forsaken brazenness,” I tease him, remembering his dogged and ultimately successful attempts to win my affections. Hawke grins and squishes my cheeks between his hands and draws me down for a smooch.

“You did save me, you know. You prodded me right out of that festering hole I’d been hanging around in for years. Like the dream– better than the dream,” he says. “But now I think it may have been more literal. I think you’re meant to come to the Fade to find me.”

The thought is overwhelming, but I pull myself together. “All right. Tell me how.”

“I will– but there are things I need to tell you first.”

“I have things to tell you too.”

“I know about Corypheus. We can have matching tankards engraved. ‘I killed Corypheus and all I got was this lousy mug.’”

“Do you remember the bargain I made with Flemeth?” I ask him and he perks up, tensing slightly.

“To drink. So… you drank? But what?”

“I drank from the Well of Sorrows. It made me– well I wouldn’t call myself a pawn exactly, but I’m subject to the will of Mythal. Of Flemeth.” “And I thought I got a raw deal with that witch. Maker. She’s– Mythal?” he processes momentarily and then looks at me again. “Are you all right?”

“It was another bargain. I was able to call upon her dragon to fight Corypheus at least. But who knows when she’ll call in more favors.”

“That’s not what I asked– are you all right?”

“Well, I hear a lot of voices now.”

“Rose,” he breathes, worry and sympathy and shock commingled.

“But I don’t understand them, so there’s that at least,” I add. He turns onto his side to face me and holds me tightly against him.

“Maker, what’s becoming of us,” he whispers, the lines in forehead deepening with distress. I burrow up against him, wishing we could simply merge. It would be easier that way.

“What did you want to tell me?”

“Might be easiest to show you,” he says, though he looks strangely anxious, like I might push him away again. Hawke releases my hand and holds it above us, snapping his fingers so that a flame the size of a lit candle manifests above his fingertips.

“Maker, Hawke. You're a mage now?” I ask. He waves it away again. He concentrates on the same hand and incants softly and the blue-green shimmer of a barrier flickers into being around us.

“Being in the raw Fade for a prolonged period has its effects. I learned a fair bit from the spirits in here. And I knew some from my father and Bethany. It’s surprisingly intuitive. At least the basics,” he says. “Not that I didn’t burn myself once or twice. But lucky for me, basic healing spells are easy to learn.” My finger finds the scar from the terror again and he catches my drift. “Yes, I healed that one myself. There’s a reason it’s rather monstrous.”

“Well it’s certainly the most interesting one,” I remark, brushing my fingers over it. I let slip a sigh I’ve been holding since Adamant, reality scratching from the background. “I wish I could just stay here.” Hawke scolds me with a look.

“If you stay here, I’ll be stuck in this odious place forever,” he says. “But I’ll come each night and we’ll make a plan. You’ll have to memorize the pieces and write them down when you wake. And you’ll have to find the others I contact. I’ll go to Bethany next since she’s already at Skyhold. And Varric doesn’t even dream so that will be on you to convince him.”

“Of course.” I press my face against his chest, relaxing into the cushion of his muscles and the safety of our complete intimacy. He’ll return. I lift my face again to confirm it.

“So you’ll be back?”

“If you’ll have me,” he says with a surprising degree of trepidation. I smack his chest and kiss him because it’s absurd. “I mean it Rose. There’s one last thing I have to tell you and you might change your mind.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Every love has its limits,” he says, his eyes lingering on me, the weight of whatever he’s about to tell me bearing down.

“Hawke. You’re making me nervous.”

“I’m nervous,” he says. “I’ve had to– I’ve had to do things. To survive in here. To contact you.”

“Do things?” My insides tense into a knot that claims me whole and then it tightens when he looks away, swallowing.

“Well. I’ve changed,” he says, frowning. I shake my head at his vague explanation. He’d already said he’d become a mage.

“I don’t care. All that matters is that you’re here.”

“It’s not just me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not alone,” he says, and the meaning twists inside me again, prompting me to look. He couldn’t possibly mean–

But when I search his eyes more deeply, beyond the sky blue devotion, I feel it. The gaze of a perfect stranger staring back. The gaze of something that isn’t him.

Hawke is an abomination.

And I wake myself, because Maker, I’m not sure I can do this again.

#hawquisitor #Hawke x Trevelyan #Garrett Hawke #Hawke in Fade #Fade Rescue AU #Rose Trevelyan #Theluckywizard #In the Shattering of Things #Purple Hawke #Blue-Purple Hawke #Warrior Hawke #Dragon Age Fan Fiction #Hawke x Inquisitor #Flangst #They really missed each other

6 notes · View notes

invinciblerodent · 11 months ago

Text

i hate how well this works because i cannot stop thinking about it (or shut up about it)

i keep wondering when she'd tell him, or even... if she would.

she'd definitely know, feel that she should, as soon as possible, but when Astarion comes clean about his own intents, when she could and it would be okay for her to do so, she just... doesn't. And that was the golden opportunity gone, the best chance to start their something real (whatever that is) with a clean slate, and yet, she... couldn't bring herself to do it right then.

the way he was standing there, he already looked like he felt shitty enough (or so she'd rationalize), there was no reason to make it worse by admitting that actually, uh... samesies. Wouldn't you know it, I, too, wanted to hide behind your back. I, too, saw you as little more than a tool (like you've been your whole life), I, too, intended to sic you at my past and hope you like me enough to tear their throats out without asking too many questions. I, too, fell for you completely against my will, and despite my better judgement.

in my little notebook, i have this short scene written out, just for myself. after seeing some people's headcanons about how their character would like... draw him, or commission a portrait to let him see his own face (which are all great!), I just couldn't help but think that Iona would probably just.... try the tadpole. Try the truest method of reflection that she can imagine, and let him see himself reflected in her eyes in the most literal sense of the expression.

Maybe inserting that with some tweaks like one or two nights after his own confession (the guilt probably wouldn't let her keep it hidden much longer), or shortly after meeting Araj would work best. Speaking to Araj would probably make her feel awful enough to want to come clean.

Letting anyone that far into her feelings would of course be an enormous, unprecedented, and terrifying step for her, and a show of trust that she's not sure she's ready for (or she's sure she's not ready for, rather) even as she's proposing it, but at that stage in her character development, I can't.... really imagine another way for it to work. She just has to do it scared.

Early on, it's established that the PC can see a glimpse of their own face through (I think) Lae'zel's mind when they first link up, so I think based on remembering that, Iona would reason that since she can't find the proper words to say it, and since she so desperately wishes he'd just know the truth without her having to actually get the words out, it'd be worth trying to invite him into her mind, and trying to show him all she wishes she could say.

First, it'd be a steady trickle of small, fragmented memories, as if to test if it even works (a glimpse of a white curl, the sound of a charmingly dorky, real, barking laugh that made her heart clench that first time, a general impression of a feeling of closeness around the campfire one evening, a cold brush of fingers down her spine that set her skin on fire), but in the end, she'd specifically focus in on the memory of that hug. On her heart swelling with nervous excitement and terrifying affection, on how safe she had felt holding him (despite herself), and finally, on that crystal clear image of his face in raw, wide-eyed bewilderment as they drew back. She'd want to let him see himself precisely as she does, through her very own eyes.

There's a decent opportunity there, for her to then... try and explain the lick of guilt that sat very obviously at the very core of all the sweet, loving feelings, without leaving any doubt about either the reality of her regret, or the truth of her feelings.

I feel like that'd be very much in character for her. The only place she physically cannot lie is her own mind, so... a liar like her, in her yearning for honest simplicity, would have to force the truth out into the open, and he'd have to follow her to it in order to see it.

oh, I'm about to make Iona so much worse of a person.

because i had a thought. and it being as obvious as it is, i feel kinda weird not havign noticed it before now.

until now, I had her be mostly just... ambivalent about the act 1 seductions. I thought that (despite fully knowing that Astarion is trying to manipulate her, I mean with her 18 CHA, his obviously rote attempts were not that hard to spot) she'd go into it because, well, she's not looking for a Prince Charming, and she could do a lot worse than him for just a couple fun romps with a convenient body. But finally finding the reason for her to counter-manipulate him (that's been tbh staring me in the face) totally changed that whole early dynamic for me.

From the very beginning, as a thematic parallel of sorts, I already had her fleeing from both her ex(?)-husband, and the entire magehunter community in which she had been living. (.... kind of a long story).

I had her preening in finally getting to not just show, but be praised for a part of her that's been itching to come out (her magic), and I had her take back her maiden name without thinking, and reveling in being as close to free as she could be after 35-ish years of playing the part of the obedient, sweet housewife.

I also already had her secretly fearing that one day they'd come after her, but at the same time thinking that Herric, her husband, would rather lie to everyone and say that he had killed her in the skirmish (like he had been meaning to), than admit that a sorcerer not only had been living under his nose and sharing his bed, but had also given him the slip, once found out.

But if I have her thinking "well, only what's SURE is for sure", and starting a relationship for the sake of protection, that's a very nice mirror held up to Astarion's own manipulation.

Then, it works out really nicely how she could quickly evaluate the entire party-situation in her mind, coldly tally up pros and cons for each of her traveling companions, and decide that... well, if it comes to being safe from something like the Emissaries, she needs someone like a lover that's unequivocally by her side. Preferably someone who looks dangerous enough for their very presence to intimidate, and/or someone who's either just passionate enough, or just crooked enough to have no real moral qualms about protentially slaughtering a whole village for her.

Lae'zel was kind of a viable option, but Iona didn't want it to be something that's only physical bliss on the other person's part: she needed them at least a little bit in love with her.

Wyll was the other end of the spectrum there: she could have had him wrapped arnoug her finger (or so she thought), but if things got hairy, she didn't think he'd have ever agreed to taking part in a sorely needed bloodbath. The exact same goes for Gale (honest enough, easy on the eyes, but far too righteous), and Shadowheart, well... she might have been sort of okay with the potential for slaughter, but, to put it simply, she was just not scary enough. A Sharran may be a Sharran, but you just need to look at her for one second to see that she's only about as intimidating as a basket of kittens.

In the end, it came down to a decision between Astarion and Karlach, and while Iona would have felt terrible, just absolutely wretched choosing and using the feelings of someone as kind as Karlach, she couldn't deny that thrusting a tall, musclebound tiefling that's literally on fire between herself and Herric would have been a very powerful deterrent. And Astarion, well, he had both significant advantages of 1.) already trying to seduce her himself (and thus making her feel the least bad, after all, she's just playing along with a game he had started), and 2.) not having that many visible hangups about indiscriminate murder for personal gain.

...... And so what if her heart constricted slightly when he looked up at her through those impossibly long lashes, telling her about his vampirism (score one for the "inherently intimidating" category) and being persecuted and mistrusted because of who he is, which he cannot help no matter what (which, as a sorceress with a past in a magehunter cult -not that he knows-, fucking relatable).

So what if playing pretend and trading flirtatious quips back and forth with a handsome man who seemed to have the decency to at least pretend to like her before inviting her to share his bed was the most fun she had had with someone in literal decades.

So what if they had been spending more time just on their own than with anyone else (being both elves, and having at least four hours each night), and quickly started communicating with their eyes only. (With her honey tongue and his sticky fingers, there's not one pocket or purse that's safe.)

And, honestly, so what if she catches herself trying to make him laugh, and delighting in her surprisingly easy success doing so. So what if her body responds to his with arousal every time she "graciously allows" him to feed. So what if each detail learned about his past makes her feel absolutely rotten, despicable for doing essentially the exact same bloody thing to him as so many before.

Of course, in the end it was him who made the final choice for her, by propositioning her openly (honestly, a frustratingly unsubtle, amateurish move), but... it's not like she hadn't been thinking that it might soon be time. It's not like she wasn't wondering how long she can keep danglig that proverbial carrot in front of his nose without giving a taste of more than her blood. And, well, him being able to tell that his bite gets her strangely hot... is a setback, but hey, they both could (and have) done much worse for much less.

I'm unsure how things progress in act 2 with this in mind, but I'm thinking that she abandons this whole plan-thing for good (and to no little frustration) after she has her little heartbreak over that playful "I love you" at the party. She'd be self-aware enough to realize then that yeah, at that exact point this was no longer about manipulation, OR about just (strangely good, fun) sex (with someone she genuinely does like) for her.

For a little while I think she'd try to kind of distance herself from him (which gives him some opportunity to think "oh shit what'd I do wrong, did she not like it the second time"), right until she'd realize that she fucking misses him in like a day (what the fuck. what. what the fuck. hey, heart, what the fuck.), and that actually, if the choice is between losing whatever this is between them and having a deep rothé shit directly down her throat, she'd be genuinely tempted to choose the rothé.

And when he finally confesses to her that he had been manipulating her for protection, I imagine that there is a part of her that's... almost fighting back an incredulous laugh. Because while she had abandoned that plan long, long ago, it's still very much a... "well, pot, meet kettle" situation.

anyway im sleepy imma go take a nap and not think about this becuase im making myself sad

#squirrel plays bg3 #oc: iona raedir

13 notes · View notes

latte-fairytaekwoon · 3 years ago

Text

Night Drive (Kim Hongjoong and Park Seonghwa) Rated

Pairing: Dilf!/College Professor! Kim Hongjoong × Younger College Student! Reader (Female) × Dilf/College Professor! Park Seonghwa

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Dilf AU.

Summary: Being picked up by her boyfriend for a date, Y/N has no idea about Hongjoong's plans nor about the surprise guest joining them in their little night drive.

Word Count: 6K+

Warnings: Aged up/Older Ateez (but age differences are still within legal boundaries), exhibitionism, voyeurism, breast play, fingering, tiny allusion to infidelity (which I do not condone nor justify), breeding/pregnancy kink, slight creampie kink, katoptronophilia (mirror kink basically), daddy word, degradation, manhandling, unprotected penetrative sex (always use protection), Dom! SeongJoong, Sub! Reader

Taglist: @seacottons @little-precious-baby @yunhofingers @multidreams-and-desires @brie02 @deja-vux @daniblogs164 @couchpotatoaniki @a-soft-hornytiny @yunsangoveryonder @minhyukmyluv @mingismoon @nanamarkie @ateezbabysitters @rainteez02

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Rolling down the darkly tinted window of his midnight black Buick Regal, Hongjoong greeted the young and beautiful student that was standing by the curbside of the entrance to his college dormitories, her face lighting up instantly when she saw him. Wasting no second, she quickly opened the door and fitted her frame inside the passenger seat of the car.

"I was supposed to get the door for you." His lips curled up slightly into a pout.

"I know, but..... I just couldn't wait to see you." Leaning over, she boldly pressed her lips against that of the older male's, a soft and content hum being breathed out by him, soon turning into an annoyed whine when she pulled back too soon for his liking.

"Professor." Her tone changed slightly, a suggestive giggle escaping her lips as she leaned back in, this time the kiss turning more heated with her tongue attempting to slide inside his mouth, which he would have allowed had he not had on the back of his mind the other plans he had for the night.

"Naughty naughty girl, wanting to get frisky not even a minute into our date." He snorted softly as one of his hands came up to lightly pat her cheek with his palm in a chastising manner.

Switching the gear shift to drive, Hongjoong pulled out of the entrance and onto the main road to take both of them to the place he had chosen for their nightly getaway. The girl beside him was clearly anxious and he didn't blame her. It had been a grueling time the past weeks due to the semester being over and everyone, students and teachers were stressing over final exams. Hongjoong's hand still ached somewhat from grading too many papers and reports, his head pulsing endlessly with a killer migraine. But at last, that was all over and he was finally able to take his younger lover out properly, spend time with her after missing her voice, touch, body, and all of her in general. He had the entire evening planned out, unlike anything she would have expected. It was hard for him to suppress the smirk creeping into his features as he thought about how the night would end if his plans succeeded how he wanted them to.

He often took a small glance to see her pretty face looking out the window, tediously watching all the shops and cars they passed on the drive to whatever destination he was taking to her, which he adamantly refused to say, keeping his lips sealed. Every once in a while, he'd notice the way she squirmed in her seat, her fingers occasionally playing around with the hem of the white skirt she decided to wear or her palm straight on rubbing the side of her thigh.

"Oh so you are indeed horny my little kitten. Absolutely perfect." Hongjoong thought to himself. It was exactly how he wanted her: wet, horny and desperate by the time they made their first stop.

"Honey, I hope you don't mind, but I have to stop here for a second."

The girl didn't protest, simply nodded and didn't think too much about him pulling up and parking in front a luxurious building. Parking the car, Hongjoong waited patiently until a familiar figure finally came out and made their way over to his car, waving a hand in his direction. Not knowing there already was an occupant in the front seat, the stranger hastily opened the door, taking a step back when he saw who was sitting next to Hongjoong.

"Y/N?" He questioned in shock.

"Professor Park?" She exclaimed just as he, her head whipping over to demand an explanation from Hongjoong as to why one of the other professors from the university was currently there, especially when their relationship was to remain a secret from the school. Hongjoong however kept his grin plastered on, as if nothing was the matter.

"Sorry Hwa, looks like someone already took your seat."

Pointing over at the backseat, his friend let out a soft huff as he began closing the door.

"Wait! Seonghwa, don't close that door yet."

Reaching his hand over, Hongjoong unbuckled Y/N's seatbelt before telling her:

"Honey, go ride in the back with him."

Her eyes bulged out, her mouth muttering softly to him if he was insane, yet Hongjoong was still calm as he reached a hand up and caressed her cheek.

"Trust me baby." He whispered before placing a soft peck on her lips.

Reddening significantly, Y/N got out of the car, thanking the other male when he was kind enough to open the door for her to let her inside first before he himself took his place right next to her. Both of them looked over at each awkwardly, wondering what on earth was Hongjoong thinking. Y/N averted her gaze and stared at the floor mat, desperately hoping that afterwards, the witness to hers and Hongjoong's relationship wouldn't go directly to the school board and cause problems for them. Seonghwa on the other hand had so many questions spiraling in his head, mainly his friend's relationship with the student next to him, and more importantly, why he had kept that secret from him. The car ride now felt even more long and brooding with the tension in the air, the music playing from the stereo not helping at all and just making the environment more unpleasant.

Looking back at them through the rearview mirror, Hongjoong let out a small chuckle.

"I'm sure you're both wondering why I brought you here without telling you the reasons."

Seonghwa and Y/N glanced briefly at one another, the older male shrugging softly, just as lost as she was. Sighing softly, Hongjoong continued.

"Well to start off, I think it's very clear that all those rumors about a teacher and student sleeping together are indeed true my friend."

Seonghwa widened his eyes at Hongjoong, his lips parting as he let out an astonished scoff. Although more than once he heard a few whispers every now and then about his colleague getting too friendly with one of his students, he always believed them to be lies, knowing Hongjoong to be a sensible and well respected professor that would never risk his career over something like that. As if reading his friend's thoughts, Hongjoong piped up once more.

"What can I say? I couldn't resist myself when I saw her, especially when you see what's underneath those clothes of hers."

Peeking his head over, Hongjoong sweetly smiled at the quiet girl.

"Baby, do me a favor and unbutton your blouse for me. Let Seonghwa see those pretty tits of yours."

Y/N was taken aback by his sudden order, her voice getting caught in her throat and stammering out a bit of gibberish as she tried to remind herself to form proper words.

"Hong- Hongjoong!" She whisper yelled at him, embarrassed about being asked to do such a dirty request in front of another teacher. Seonghwa himself shifted uncomfortably in his seat, still saying absolutely nothing as he tried to look somewhere else.

"Oh come on kitten, don't be shy. You have the cutest set of tits a man could see. Besides...." Y/N could clearly see the smug grin on he was donning through the rearview mirror, his eyes also looking at her direction.

"I know very well you want Seonghwa to touch you. I heard you the other day talking with your friends, and if I remember correctly, you said you wouldn't mind having him play with your body and be his little toy."

Y/N lowered her head in shame. She didn't believe Hongjoong would have heard her when she said that. She didn't even dare lift her eyes to the man next to her, afraid of seeing whatever expression he had in his face. She did however, hear him chuckle amusedly, his voice finally being heard.

"Oh my. Hongjoong, is she really that much of a whore that she's fantasizing about fucking other men even when she has you?"

Taking off his seatbelt, Seonghwa scooted over towards her, his face coming so dangerously close she could feel his breath against her ear.

"What darling? Does he not fuck you enough? Is he not treating you properly? Or do you perhaps just want a more......endowed cock?"

Y/N couldn't help but shudder when his hand lifted up to cup her chin, turning her face so he could look her directly in the eye. Seonghwa couldn't deny that her startled look turned him on extremely.

"Now I'm extremely curious to find out just how cute you really are without those clothes on. Is Hongjoong just talking you up or am I really going to have to restrain myself from eating you up if I tear those clothes off one by one?" He hummed softly as he brushed his lips against hers, causing Y/N's breath to hitch slightly.

"Kitten, I believe I gave you an order a few minutes ago and you know I hate repeating myself. Undo your shirt so Seonghwa can look at your chest."

Y/N bit her lip as her hands reached up and began to pop each of the buttons of her grey cardigan. The pair of eyes on her right were burning a hole right through her and it only served to deepen the intense wanting she was feeling in between her legs. After undoing enough buttons to expose her black bra, Y/N pulled the material down enough so her breasts could pop out of them. The soft groan her teacher emitted helped fuel her pride, especially after looking up and seeing him nearly drool at the sight, tongue coming out to moisten his luscious and pink lips.

"Fuck Joong....you weren't kidding when you said she has a pretty rack." His hand clenched and unclenched itself in an effort to meet from reaching out to cup one of her tits in his palm.

Knowing exactly the lustful thoughts running through his friend's mind, Hongjoong was more than willing to grant them without any grudges.

"Now kitten, I want you to be a good girl and let Seonghwa play with you as he wants. Tonight, you're going to be his personal toy and you have to do everything he tells you to do. Am I making myself clear?"

Y/N quickly nodded, too aroused and turned on that she wouldn't have cared if it was Seonghwa touching her and Hongjoong watching or Hongjoong touching her and Seonghwa watching. She just wanted someone to help the emptiness she was feeling.

"You're serious about this Joong? I can really use her as my personal sex toy?" He questioned with a wicked grin, hand coming up to clasp around Y/N's jaw.

"She's all yours Hwa. We have a couple minutes before we reach the hotel that I booked a room in. Think you can get her wet enough by the time we get there?"

Seonghwa let out a hearty laugh at Hongjoong's challenge.

"I'll get her drenched without making her cum, don't worry about it."

Tilting her face towards him, Seonghwa winked at her before crashing his lips onto hers. Just as she suspected, Seonghwa's lips were soft and plump, and they seemed to be avid fans of nibbling playfully against her own lips. The hand that was on her chin swooped itself down and pressed itself against her sternum, fingers delicately caressing the skin around it. Sweeping his hand with feather light strokes, Seonghwa moved his fingers across the top of her breasts and then to the sides, caressing each and every inch of her skin, being careful not to directly touch her nipples. He wanted to tease her, rile her up, have her writhe and whine about the lack of contact on the parts of her body where she most needed him. He was enjoying himself, enjoying as he silently tortured the girl by merely touching the outer parts of her soft mounds. It didn't take long for her to notice this cruel pattern of his, the frustrated groan she poured out as his tongue devoured her mouth being a tell tale sign.

"Such an impatient one." Seonghwa chuckled, dragging his tongue down the side of her neck.

He then surprised her by cupping one of her breasts into his large hand, tenderly massaging the spongy like flesh while his thumb worked to harden the nipple even more. Y/N threw her head back, giving Seonghwa more access to press tiny love bites across her neck and collarbone. His other hand, being bored with nothing to do, came up and proceeded to give the same treatment its twin was receiving, groping it and fondling it until she was releasing the cutest noises to bless his ears.

"If you're already like this with me just touching your breasts, how will you be when I play with that pussy of yours?"

Y/N couldn't help but let an embarrassingly loud moan escape when she heard him say that, her walls tightening and clenching around nothing as she thought about having Park Seonghwa sliding his hand in between her folds. Even Hongjoong was surprised by the effect his friend was having on her, making him slightly jealous and yet not so as he was enjoying glancing over every now and then to watch his beloved girl be used in such a way by another man. He couldn't quite explain why, but offering up his prized possession as nothing more than an object of pleasure to someone else, his closest friend nonetheless, made him get unbelievably hard. If he could, he would have whipped himself out and would have started to beat his meat, but unfortunately he had to pay attention to the road in front of him, going slightly above the speed limit in an effort to reach the hotel as fast as possible, all while occasionally sparing a glance or two through the mirror to look at Y/N's lust filled state of mind.

"Spread your legs for me young lady. Let me see just how wet you are."

Obeying without hesitation, Y/N made sure to pull up her skirt, revealing the skimpy choice of lace underwear she had chosen for the evening. Seonghwa sucked in a deep breath when he saw it.

"Did you come here knowing you were gonna get fucked?"

"More like hoping she would get fucked." Hongjoong spoke up with a lighthearted teasing tone.

Hooking his fingers on the top of her panties, Seonghwa practically ripped the material off her body, sliding it down her legs before bringing it up to his face and inhaling deeply.

"Oh god you smell so delicious." He grunted as his nostrils basked in the scent of her arousal.

"Why don't you keep them as a memoir? Cause after tonight, I'm not letting you touch her again."

Hongjoong's statement made Seonghwa remember that he still had a task at hand. Making sure to tuck her panties inside his pant pocket, Seonghwa turned his attention back to her glistening folds. They were practically inviting him to shove his hand as far as it could possibly reach inside, he was very tempted to even fist her tiny hole right then and there. But he would much rather prefer to work her up even further, tease her until she was begging him to fuck her. When she saw his hands come down, Y/N instinctively parted her knees even further, adjusting herself on the seat so he could reach every part of her exposed womanhood.

"You've trained the slut well Hongjoong." Both the trainer and his trainee lit up at the praise from their guest.

"Yes, my girl is the best." Hongjoong proudly added, as he reached a hand back to squeeze one of Y/N's legs in a loving manner.

Seonghwa's thumbs slid themselves right up to her groin, massaging the tendons at either side of her pussy, only briefly allowing them to brush against her lips. Y/N couldn't help but gasp as he pulled the flesh at either side, stretching out her wet entrance slightly, the cool air from the air conditioning hitting right at her slopping mound. Seonghwa continued this pattern of pressing her swelling lips apart and then rubbing his fingers down the sides, frustrating the recipient as he didn't actually touch the parts where she needed him most. He was toying around with her again, no doubt trying to get her to beg.

"Please daddy-" Being so frustrated by the slow, shallow movements of the fingers that refused to budge and stimulate her clit, Y/N called out for the person in front.

"Babygirl, you're asking the wrong person. I told you that for now you're Seonghwa's little plaything. So if you think I'm going to intervene, you're absolutely wrong." One corner of Hongjoong's lips curled up when they heard her pleading whines, yet he still did nothing.

"Why don't you ask him yourself what you want? No.... beg him. I know for a fact he likes girls who beg."

When she looked up at him with a pout, Seonghwa let out an amused chortle.

"What is it you want darling? Hmm? Tell me." He encouraged her as his fingertips faintly brushed against her clit, causing her legs to tremble and her hole to secrete more juices out her body.

"That... please...touch me there." She groaned as she tried to take hold of Seonghwa's hand and place it right on top of her heat, but he kept it firmly away, lightly laughing at the state she was in.

"Where darling? You're going to have to be specific."

He was making her feel more and more frustrated to the point of losing all timidity and decorum.

"Park Seonghwa fucking pound my pussy with your fingers!"

Hongjoong widened his eyes in amazement at her use of his colleague's name, but he wasn't mad. On the contrary, he wanted to see how her tiny show of disrespect for the older male, who was also her professor, would play out. Seonghwa stayed still momentarily, making Y/N believe that she might have gone too far. Just as she was about to apologize, a half strangled yelp was pulled out of her body when two fingers dove inside her drenched hole with no warning, aggressively starting a pace of deep strokes, burying themselves as far as they could reach. While his 2 longest fingers were busy working her open, his thumb decided to occupy itself by rubbing against her clit, its rhythm matching that of the other members.

"This what you wanted?" Seonghwa asked, lips attaching themselves onto her neck once more.

"Oh God yes! Yes! Fuck! You're gonna make me cum..you're going to.."

Y/N panted loudly, hips practically humping themselves against Seonghwa's hand, trying to reach that peak that was just within her reach. Just as she felt herself about to spill over, Seonghwa stopped all movements inside her pussy and against her clit, hindering her desire to cum.

"No! Please!" She cried out, eyes scrunching with tears as her head dropped back on the head rest of the car. When her own hand tried to reach down to her groin, Seonghwa was quick to catch it, nearly crushing it in his own.

"No darling, we're having none of that. I told you I was going to get you wet without letting you cum. We could have taken this the easy way but you chose to disrespect me and therefore I had to punish you. Now..."

Releasing her hand, he dropped his fingers and stuffed them back inside her pussy, her walls pulsing against them, screaming to be allowed to release into his palms.

"Let's try this again."

Y/N's eyes fluttered closed as she felt the delicious sensation of Seonghwa slipping his fingers in and out of her, this time setting a more slow and sensual pace. Being edged by him for what seemed like hours and having been dangerously close to her high just minutes ago, it didn't take long for Y/N to start producing those endearing moans of hers again, her high building up once again rather fast. She melted into his touch, hips once again grinding up as if they had a mind of their own. Just as her walls clenched up once again, Hongjoong made his presence known.

"We're here."

Letting out a disappointed sigh at being denied her orgasm again, Y/N began to quickly fasten the buttons of her top while Seonghwa helped out by adjusting her skirt and pulling it down to cover up her lower half. Helping her out of the car, Hongjoong gestured for them to follow him as he led them through the reception desk and towards the elevators. As if it was fate, the elevator they got in was completed alone, leaving the three of them inside as it climbed up towards the respective floor they were assigned to. Looking over and seeing was currently distracted by watching the numbers on the screen change, Seonghwa took the opportunity to continue his fun, fingers snaking under her skirt to cup her ass. Being startled by the sudden touch, Y/N let out a soft whimper that was heard by Hongjoong. Looking over, his eyes immediately spotted what was the cause of her reaction.

"Seriously, couldn't even wait til we were behind closed doors?" Hongjoong let out a disappointed click of his tongue.

"Hey, you did say I was free to play with her as I liked. Besides, wanna make sure she stays as wet as possible cause as soon as the door is locked, I'm stuffing her full of cock."

Y/N's thighs squeezed themselves together after hearing him say that, the action not going unnoticed by both men at her sides.

"Just wait a little longer doll and I'll make sure you cum like you want to."

It seemed like forever until the doors finally opened to let them onto their floor. Knowing just how antsy the other two were about fucking each other, Hongjoong went up ahead of them and quickly slid the key in. Opening the door, he let them both inside first, a suspicious smile still on his face that confused his friend.

"You're enjoying this a little too much aren't you?" Seonghwa quirked an eyebrow up at him, his hands making a quick work of his shirt.

"Oh trust me when I say I'll enjoy it even more by the end of it." Hongjoong answered as he took a seat on one of the beds.

"I don't want you complaining later though if your little slut prefers my cock over yours." Seonghwa's little taunt had absolutely no effect on Hongjoong, he knew very well where his sweet heart's love resided with.

Turning around, Seonghwa was surprised yet also not surprised to see Y/N already naked on the bed, her legs spread out and inviting him to take advantage of her. Her facial expression seemed restless, eyes begging him to come over and end her torture already. Coming over to the front and seeing her more clearly, Seonghwa felt his cock twitch when he saw her full nude body, the light in the room letting him fully see all the details he couldn't quite clearly make out back in the car.

"Oh lord, she is absolute stunning Joong." Seonghwa complimented as he finished undressing himself, his cock already leaking at the tip.

"I did tell you once that younger babes were extremely hot and better. Well now you get to fuck my babe." Hongjoong's face proudly donned a satisfied expression at someone else appreciating his girlfriend.

Looking over at the dresser that had complementary goodies left for them, Seonghwa went and grabbed the pack of condoms since he hadn't planned on getting lucky that night.

"Ummm actually Seonghwa, I want you to fuck her raw, and be sure to spill your cum inside her."

His friend wasn't the only one who looked at him as if he was insane, Y/N was shocked by his request.

"N-no Daddy......" Her voice called out.

"Hmm? Why not princess?" Hongjoong smoked at her.

"My birth control ran out 2 weeks ago. If he cums inside me, I could....." She didn't even dare finish that sentence, but she knew they understand what she meant. Hongjoong however continued to look unfazed, in fact, his smile grew wider, almost to the point of being mischievous, which slightly worried her.

"Even better if I ask me princess, you see..... I want you to be bred." His confession both scared and aroused both of the other two participants.

"You've really lost your mind."

Giggling at his friend's words, Hongjoong looked at him with an assuring gaze.

"No I haven't. But trust me Seonghwa, I won't say anything, no one will know. Just do me this favor and fill my baby's pussy up with your cum."

When Seonghwa still hesitated, Hongjoong decided to persuade him even further.

"Look at her and tell me you don't want to stuff her young cunt full of your cum. And if you do knock her up, think of how cute she'll look with a swollen belly, carrying your child."

Unable to resist looking over after Hongjoong painted that image in his head, Seonghwa's gaze dropped towards Y/N's stomach. He unconsciously bit his lip as he thought about how fertile she probably was, and the thought of impregnating her with a baby of his own was driving him wild. Tearing down anymore hesitations he had, Seonghwa went back over to where she was. Y/N gasped when he pulled her towards the edge of the bed, hands keeping her legs open as he rubbed the tip of his cock against her folds.

"You ready to get knocked up with one of my babies?" He chaffed at her, smirking when a loud moan was drawled out by her as she pressed herself against his shaft even more.

"Cause I know I can't wait."

Letting out a piercing grunt when the cock of her professor penetrated deep inside her, Y/N's hands clutched at the sheets underneath her, whimpers already being poured out as Seonghwa's hips snapped roughly against hers. She shut her eyes as she sunk deeper and deeper into a blissful, euphoric haze, feeling nothing but how deep the cock inside her was being driven in, the head brushing against her cervix. That thought alone had her inner flesh pulsing and squeezing against the girthy shady tearing her apart, making her dizzy and blind with nothing but lust. She couldn't even register or hear all the sounds coming out of her own mouth.

"Such a nice and tight pussy. Keep clenching around me like that and it won't take long for me to fill you up with my seed." Seonghwa hissed, a hand dropping to rest on top of her stomach.

Y/N's back arched upwards, mouth fully agape as the most earth shattering wails were produced even heard by the rooms next to theirs.

"You enjoying this darling? Don't worry. You're certainly not the only one."

Clasping his fingers around her jaw, Seonghwa tilted Y/N's face so she could look over at the bed next to where they were. She spasmed violently when she took in the image of Hongjoong, sitting there shirtless, pants and briefs pulled down enough so he'd be able to pump his cock in his hand. When he had undressed, she didn't know, but she couldn't take her eyes off him, watching as he jerked himself off to the scene of his friend fucking her into the bed, the pace of his hand matching the pace set by Seonghwa's thrusts.

"Oh trust me she's enjoying this just fine. She's absolutely loving being treated as nothing more than a fuck toy, being lent to another man as her owner gets off on the sight of her being bred." Hongjoong's words were not helping as she started to tense up, feeling ready to explode and cum all over the thick cock inside of her.

"Please, please Mr. Park..." She muttered out, face turning towards him once again.

"Please what toy? Speak up." He commanded her as he started grinding his hips harder into her, the movements of his pelvis rubbing against her engorged clit and heightening her pleasure.

"Please let me cum. Wanna cum." She begged him, whine after whine being forced out of her each time Seonghwa pushed back into her body.

Feeling merciful, especially after edging her so much in the car, and more so because he felt himself about to shoot his load in her as well, Seonghwa moved his hand that was on her stomach so it could come down and rub aggressively at her clit.

"Go on baby. Cum for me so I can breed you like the little bitch you are."

Y/N toppled over the edge after hearing those dirty words, strangled cries and unintelligible words slipping out of her throat. She couldn't stop shaking underneath the older man that was fucking her, body out of control as it twisted and writhed from the sensuous oblivion she fell into. Desperate gasps scrambled for air as liquid gushed out of her to coat the dick that was still being driven in her.

"Oh fuck fuck! I'm going to cum inside your little hole now."

She barely registered the grunts being said by the person in front of her, her body only feeling and paying attention to the hot fluids being impelled to her womb. Knowing she was full of cum and it was extremely probable she'd be pregnant thrilled and excited her, while simultaneously making her anxious and nervous.

After finally catching his breath, Seonghwa pulled out of her, the cum that was leaking out of her threatening to make him hard again and fuck her once more just to see it all over again.

"Don't get any ideas." The warning voice of his friend brought him back to the reality that the young woman on the bed was only borrowed for the moment, and mostly due to the sick amusement of said friend.

Dressing himself up in his clothes, Seonghwa went over where Hongjoong was.

"Satisfied?"

Hongjoong snorted as he looked down at the tiny splatter of cum that had dripped into the carpet.

"Very much so."

Rolling his eyes, Seonghwa finished putting on the last of his clothes before picking up his phone. Seeing the time, he apologized and told Hongjoong he needed to get home right away.

"I'll take a cab. I'm sure you probably want some more time with her."

Hongjoong blushed a little at his friend's insinuation. Before Seonghwa could walk out the door, Hongjoong called out to him.

"Hey....say hi to your wife and kids for me."

Seonghwa couldn't help the laugh that bursted out his lips.

"I will. See you soon."

Closing the door, Hongjoong was finally left alone with his girl, who was currently sitting up, staring at him intently. Getting up from his seat, he came over to where she was and helped her stand up. Smoothing out some of her disheveled hair, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her lips, his free hand tilting her face up as he pressed his body closer to hers. Pulling away to soon for her liking, Y/N pouted at him as she wrapped her hands around his waist.

"Come on. We gotta get you cleaned up."

Taking her hand, he guided her inside the bathroom, where he sat her against the vanity counter. Noticing that she was still looking at him funny, Hongjoong tilted his head to the side and cupped her cheeks.

"What's wrong babygirl?" He mimicked her tiny pout, a feat he often did that tended to annoy her, making her feel as if she was a little child.

"Funny how you care so much about getting me pregnant, yet you get someone else to do the job for you."

Huffing loudly, she brushed past him to be able to get inside the shower, but she was quickly pulled back by one of his hands that slammed her back against the counter. Looking up, she was expecting to see an angry expression, but instead Hongjoong had a smirk that told her he was up to no good.

"Is that what's bothering you princess? The fact it wasn't me the one breeding you? Oh baby.."

Turning her around abruptly, Y/N gasped when he pried her legs open and pressed her chest against the cold marble counter. When she felt his dick come to live and poke at her ass, she immediately pressed her lower half out towards him, the action making Hongjoong get a smug expression.

"You really are the best girl kitten, offering yourself to me like the little slut you are."

Y/N felt her body getting hot once again when on of Hongjoong's hands caressed in between her thighs, running up dangerously close to her heat until he reached her entrance.

"Ok then kitten. Let's fill you up with my cum now, since you want it so much."

Being stuffed with a cock once more, Y/N clung onto the counter underneath her as Hongjoong was showing no mercy as he rammed into her from behind. He always did enjoy brutally fucking her until she was left sore and limping, something no one would have ever guessed given his stature being more on the shorter side. But he definitely made up for it with his experience in making a woman numb to everything except the feeling of his dick being pounded into their pussies, precisely the feeling Y/N was going through at the moment. Her head rested itself against the counter, unable to bear the overwhelming pleasure the man behind her was putting her through.

"Oh no no kitten. I'm having none of that."

Wrapping his hand around her hair and twisting it to a makeshift ponytail, Hongjoong forced her to look up into the mirror in front of her. The ravenous and almost beast like way his eyes stared at her made her weak, pussy contracting around his length as her legs started to wobble.

"Look at you, I want you to watch as I fuck you full of my cum. Look at how I'm going to knock you up with my kids."

Strangled panting was the only audible sounds Y/N could make out, through the mirror she could see that Hongjoong was falling into the same haze she was in. Releasing her hair, he wrapped his hand around so it could rest on the top of her belly button, gently caressing the soft skin there.

"You're such a good girl for letting me do this. You know I'll take care of you right?" His loving reassurance, followed by the light presses his lips made on the nape of her neck were making her go insane. Her mind was running wild with thoughts of Hongjoong getting her pregnant, such a risky and dangerous situation but she was ready for it.

"Hongjoong fill me up! Fuck a baby into me! I want it, I want your cum!"

Her desperate pleas had an immediate effect as Hongjoong pistoned his cock deeper in her, a few last powerful jolt of hips and he was filling her to the brim, her tight pussy making sure to milk him out of every last drop of cum he had in him. Feeling him spill inside her and seeing him throw his head back in pleasure through the mirror, Y/N followed not long afterwards, shockwaves rippling through her body in another intense orgasm. It was a miracle Hongjoong still had his hands around her hips to keep her from falling down to the ground due to the violent shake of her legs. Even after they had both calmed down, Hongjoong still stayed nestled inside of her, nose brushing against the back of her head, inhaling her scent passionately. He let out a tired hum as he buried his face into her neck.

"I love you so much." He admitted, which made Y/N smile.

"I love you too." She responded, turning her head to press a kiss on his temple.

"And I can't wait to carry your baby."

1K notes · View notes

officialcharactersimp · 3 years ago

Text

Mending & Amends

(Graduation Gift Part 4)

Summary: the fourth installment of my graduation gift series (can be found on my masterlist). This picks up literally seconds after the end of pt 3 with Natasha trying to find ways to make amends and get you to trust her again. No smut, but still not appropriate.

A/N: author’s note WC: 3k (holy heck)

CW: dark fic; mommy!nat; there is no porn, I repeat no porn; but there is mommy milk/breastfeeding; reader is injured; dubcon existence; 18+ only, do you hear me??

While you’re out, Natasha has time to tend to your injuries without you cowering and crying. Without all the guilt.

She picks your limp form up gently and brings you back out to the basement proper and lays you face-down on the bed-crib. She goes to get some medical supplies and cleans you up, then bandages the open bits and rubs some healing salve all over you. With only a few strikes having landed on your core, she’s satisfied with rubbing some of the salve there.

She gets you to drink some water from a bottle in your sleep, your natural instincts she’s been nurturing taking over. She checks your temperature, a solid 99, which isn’t too bad. She wipes the sweat and tear-tracks from your face, then brushes your hair out again. She lays down beside you and drapes an arm over your waist, burying her face into the back of your neck as she tries to think of what she’ll do when you wake up.

An idea forms slowly as she runs her hand along your waist. Yes, that will work. You might not like it at first, but it will work if she bears through it. She’s not sure how much of the fear and pain on your face she can handle, but she needs to.

She moves you off the bed to make it up nice, then sets you down gently, face down. Whenever you’re healed up you’ll be able to lay on your back, but right now that’s not possible. She ties your hands and feet to frame corners with plenty of slack—she wants you to be able to move.

Finally, she reluctantly removes your collar, biting her lip as she does so. It looked so precious on you, a symbol of the progress of your relationship. All gone now, thanks to her paranoia and overreaction. As much as she doesn’t want to remove it, it’s not right to keep it on if it speaks a lie.

Then she waits for you to come to. It shouldn’t be much longer now, maybe another half hour or so. She sits in the rocking chair in the corner, anxiously bouncing her leg. She needs to get herself under control before you wake. She knows her little baby needs for her to be the collected, caring, soothing mommy right now, and that you will for some time.

You mumble a little as you begin to stir, picking your head up a little. She takes a deep breath and smiles before going over and crouching down to look at your face while she gently tucks your hair back.

“Hey baby,” she says softly. “How’s my little sleepyhead feeling?” she asks. You whimper and inch away from her.

“D-don’ touch me,” you stammer.

“It’s okay baby, mommy isn’t gonna hurt you,” she says.

She sits down beside you. “I am so so sorry about what I did earlier. I was scared you were gonna try to leave me and get hurt. It’s a nasty drop from that window. But I didn’t take the time to think past my initial reaction or ask you, and that was wrong. I overreacted out of fear and anger without stopping to think, and I’m so sorry, little one. I never should have done that,” she says, tears brimming in her eyes. You turn your head to look up at her, eyes searching hers for any sign of ingenuity. You find only regret and sadness.

“You mean it?” you ask softly.

“Yes baby,” she says. “And mommy promises never to punish you without talking first or before taking some deep breaths, okay?” she says.

“Pinky promise?” you ask.

“Pinky promise,” she sticks out her pinky to hook with yours. She’s thrilled that you’re already starting to be a bit little again. As you move to interlock with her, you notice the restraints.

“Wait, what?” all traces of your headspace are gone as you jerk up to look around at your tied limbs. “What the hell?”

“Baby, it’s to keep you safe. See? They’re not tight or anything,” she tugs on all the loose rope.

“This is insane! All of this is insane!” you shout at her for the first time in weeks. It breaks her heart even more.

“I told you, mommy’s gonna fix what she did. Mommy’s gonna show you you can trust me again, gonna take care of you, of everything. Make it so this collar means something again,” she taps it on the bedside table, just out of your reach. You bury your face in your pillow and sob.

“It’s gonna be okay, baby. Mommy’s here. Mommy’s gonna make it all better,” she curls up beside you and puts an arm over you again. Despite how upset you are, you lean into it, wanting the physical comfort you associate with her.

“How’s your bottom?” she asks.

“Hurts,” you mumble.

“Do you think some Advil might help?” she asks. You nod and she gets up briefly to go get it. “Here you go, baby,” you tilt your head up and she puts the pills in, then grabs your bottle of water. You roll your eyes but suck on it to get the water to wash the pills down. You nod a thank you.

“Are you hungry?” she asks. You nod. “What do you want? I’ll even go drive through somewhere if that will help,” she says. You think for a moment.

“McDonalds?” you ask hopefully. She nods and smooths your hair back.

“McDonalds will be here soon,” she assures you. “Mommy has to go see a friend, too, so it works out. I’ll be back in half an hour or so, okay?” she says. You nod.

She kisses your head, which you recoil from, and leaves. You’re left alone to lay face-down on the crib-bed, restrained and in pain, until she returns. It’s silent. It’s lonely. You’ve grown used to either having Natasha or the sounds of the TV running since you came down here.

You think back to this morning. Everything was so different. You honestly trusted her this morning, even if it wasn’t the strongest trust. But this afternoon reminded you that she was an unstable, dangerous, paranoid lunatic. And it scared you.

Truth be told, you’ve grown to like being “little,” as Natasha calls it, letting yourself stop thinking too much and trust your mommy—Natasha, you correct yourself—to take care of you. You liked playing with her and cuddling. And when she touched you, it felt so good. So much better than when you had touched yourself. You felt loved and cared for in some twisted way.

But that was all in the past, now. You’d been doing so well, both of you, and now this. How does she expect you to trust her again? You’re not sure. You turn your head and close your eyes.

—

“You’re sure this will work, Wan?” Natasha asks her friend anxiously as she pulls her shirt back on. The red glow around her is fading. Her bra feels painfully tight and she winces.

“I’m positive. It worked for me, and especially given that you told me it’s happened before with those meds. If not tonight, by tomorrow for sure. And here’s these,” she hands Natasha a package. “They’ll be much more comfortable.”

“Thanks, Wanda. I don’t know what I’d do without you, in all honesty,” she says. Wanda smiles and hugs her.

“I could say the same to you,” she smiles. “Go on, get back to your little one,” she shoos her playfully. Natasha waves and leaves, then drives by McDonalds as promised. She’s back in a little over half an hour to see you dozing. It warms her heart to see her precious baby sleeping.

“Come on, little one, mommy brought your food,” she says, shaking you gently. You open your eyes and push yourself up off of the bed some. “Let’s get you comfy,” she helps you find a position that isn’t too uncomfortable for your aching rear, then hands you your food. “What do we say?” she asks.

“Thank you,” you say with a french fry in your mouth. She smiles. The mommy will come back later. She won’t push it for tonight.

“Do you wanna watch some cartoons?” she asks. They always engross you and help you into your littlespace. You nod and she flicks through the TV until she finds one she knows you like.

You both eat in relative silence, watching the TV. At least you’re not trying to cower anymore. That’s good, right? Progress? She hopes so.

“I’m gonna use the potty,” she tells you, then gets up. You don’t notice her bring the package with her as does.

When she returns, you notice something different about her, but you can’t tell what. It’s a small difference, then. Maybe she just fixed her hair. She’s smiling though.

You’re finished with your food soon enough, and the show ends shortly after.

“Let’s get you in the bath now baby, hm?” she suggests. You feel gross anyways, so you nod. She unties you and scoops you up in her arms.

“Let me down!” you squirm.

“Hush now, like mommy told you, I’m gonna take care of everything. Gonna show you you can trust me again,” she says. You squirm all the way to the bathroom anyways. She sets you down on the toilet facing the wall, almost straddling it.

“Huh?” you ask.

“It’s less pressure on your little bottom,” she explains. You nod and use the toilet while she gets the tub ready, but when you go to get some toilet paper, Natasha beats you to it. “I’ve got it, baby,” she says, wiping your tender area gently. You wince and try to get away from her.

“Stop it, I’m not a baby!” you try to grab her hand and move it, but she stays still, unmoving.

“Come on, little one. I know you’re in there. I know you want to let mommy take care of you,” she says. You shake your head. “Baby, this is about me proving to you that you can trust me to take care of you,” her voice is even. “I want you to choose to let me prove it to you. That’s why I haven’t given you any of the medicine I used to. But that doesn’t mean I won’t. I’ll do whatever it takes to get you to believe how much I care about you again,” she says.

“But—“ you don’t know what you were planning on saying. “But I wanna do it myself. I can do it myself,” your voice is quiet as you lose your grip on her wrist, barely audible.

“That’s the thing, precious,” she steps closer to you, finishing her task and then using her other hand to pet your head. “I know you can do it. But you don’t have to. That’s why I’m here,” she says. You groan and lean forward on the toilet tank. “Come on, you’ll feel better when you’re clean,” she picks you up and sets you in the tub, then flushes the toilet.

You sigh and let her bathe you. Your body is too sore from getting dragged and caned to wash yourself that effectively anyways. When she gets to your most sensitive areas though, you squirm away from her and reach for the soap.

“It’s too sore. I wanna wash it myself,” you say quietly.

“I’m gonna be so careful, you won’t even notice,” she gently moved your hand away and got the soap again. Tears brimmed in your eyes and your bottom lip started to form a pout. “No, baby, don’t cry,” she gasps, petting your cheek. “Tell mommy what’s going on,” she says.

“I’m scared,” you say. “I don’t want you to touch it because you hurt me,” you say. Her heart breaks again.

“Okay, sweetie, how about this: we can do it together,” she takes your hand and puts it over hers, then begins to wash you gentler than ever. Your breathing hitches and your heart kicks up, but it’s over before it can go into full-blown panic.

“All done. You did such a good job, little one,” she praises you. “Ready to get out, or do you want to play in the water some?” she asks.

“Ready to get out,” you say. She picks you up out of the bath and dries you off with a soft towel before taking you out to the bed. She pulls on a soft shirt, leaving your bottom half uncovered so as not to irritate it. She changes into the spare pjs she keeps down here and crawls into bed beside you. You don’t welcome or recoil from her touch, which she’ll take as progress.

Her chest is still dully aching, but she knows she’s pushed you far enough for tonight. Maybe tomorrow she’ll be able to coax you into it.

—

When day comes again, Natasha is treating you the way she did when she first brought you down here, only with gentleness and tenderness where there was hardness and strictness before. The lack of the sedative drugs in your system makes it more difficult, but she’s able to maneuver your squirming form through the daily ritual of getting up, using the toilet, getting dressed, brushing your hair and teeth, and finally breakfast. Whenever she can, she has you laying on your stomach on the bed, and this is one thing you don’t protest.

You notice her shifting in discomfort the whole morning though, and despite how much you dislike her at the moment, you hate to see her in pain. You work up the courage to ask after a while of watching cartoons.

“Are you hurt?” you ask.

“I… well, I have a side effect from a treatment I had done that’s causing me discomfort,” she admits.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “That sucks.”

“There’s a way you can help me,” she says, sounding more timid than you’ve heard her maybe ever before.

“What is it?” you ask. To your confusion, she started to unbutton her shirt, and then she unclips her bra, but from the top? What?

“Huh?” you blurt out.

“I’m lactating,” she says simply, squeezing her nipple a little, causing a drop of what can only be breast milk to come of it.

“I—what do you want me to do about it?” you ask, dumbfounded.

“They hurt because they’re too full,” she explains. “And it would be really helpful if you would, well… empty them. I don’t have a breast pump, of course,” she says.

“Wait, like, you want me to—to drink your milk?” you’re turning bright red. Even after everything you’ve done with her, you’re almost unbearably embarrassed.

“Yes, baby, it would really help me, plus I think that you’ll like it. And it could help us…feel closer,” she chooses her words carefully, gauging your reaction.

“It’s kinda weirding me out,” you say honestly.

“Just try it, please, baby? It’ll help me feel so much better. And I promise, if you hate it after a little while then I’ll get a pump,” she crosses her fingers behind her back.

“I… okay,” you say. This whole situation is so absurd you can hardly bother trying to resist it. She smiles and adjusts the both of you to where you can reach her breast.

It’s not like you haven’t had her tits in your mouth before. You’re not sure why you’re so nervous right now. Natasha gently puts a hand on the back of your head and pushes you a little closer. You wrap your mouth around her nipple hesitantly, unsure of what to do.

“It’s like your bottle, sweetheart,” she senses your confusion. You tentatively begin sucking, and you’re surprised by the flow of milk into your mouth. You jerk back, but Natasha keeps your head in place, groaning in relief.

When the initial shock wears off, you realize she was right—you do like it. It’s warm and sweet, and the sucking action soothes you. You relax a little.

“That’s a good baby for mommy,” Natasha says gently, stroking your head with her thumb on the hand supporting you. “Do you like mommy’s milkies?” she asks. You nod, slipping into littlespace quickly as you drink from her. “Is it yummy?” she asks out of her own curiosity. You nod, not wanting to stop to answer. She chuckles. “It’s all yours, little one.”

She moves you to her other breast when you’ve finished, looking down and noticing that her other one is indeed smaller, and it certainly feels better now. You clutch at her gently to get a good angle, and her heart swells. She’s so glad this worked, but then again, Wanda’s advice has yet to fail her, so she shouldn’t be surprised.

When you finish, your eyelids are droopy and you nuzzle into her willingly, a rarity even before she fucked everything up. She pets you gently.

“Sleepy, little one?” she asks you softly. You nod. “Want a nap?” she asks. You nod again. Between your body being exhausted already and the soothing effects of her milk, she’s not surprised you’re already tired even though you’ve only been awake for a few hours. “Let mommy check your bottom, okay?” she turns you on your tummy. You’re healing nicely. “Do you want a blankie? I think it won’t hurt,” she says. You nod and she covers you with a blanket.

“Mommy stay,” you say when she gets up. And how is she supposed to argue with that? The answer is, she isn’t, so after she turns the lights off, he curls up next to you and holds you close.

“Mommy’s here, little one,” she assures you, finding your favorite stuffie and handing it to you. “Mommy will always be here, don’t you worry.”

784 notes · View notes

mieohmy · 4 years ago

Text

𝖢𝗈𝗆𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝟣𝟢𝟣 | 𝖫𝖾𝖾 𝖩𝖾𝗇𝗈

PAIRING: lee jeno x reader

GENRE: angst, fluff, humor, comfort, established relationship au, college au, this rly is just a self indulgent fic kjasdfk

WC: 2.1k

NOTES: slight argument/fighting ?? , cursing

SUMMARY: jeno wants your attention, your comforting presence, your love- he simply wants you.

for the bday boy that i treasure sm! happy birthday to puppy jeno <333

ღ

The phone next to you lies untouched, and practically has been for days- or has it been a week already? I mean, it wasn’t your fault that upcoming finals had been taking you to the depths of hell, and you had no choice but to lock yourself at home to study for a week on end.

Which brings you to day 7? 8? of being holed up in your room all day, memorizing a bazillion tiny printed words and trying to cram as much information as possible in that overworked brain of yours. Getting about 4-5 hours of sleep a day, you couldn’t remember anymore- or even care to remember. Not to mention the added stress that came along with being any normal college student. Wasn’t life just wonderful?

You feel bad for everyone that has tried to contact you over this stressful period in your life (since you completely turned your phone off to eliminate all distractions), but the urge to stop studying completely and just check up on the real world and all its happenings grows stronger. You breathe in -out, constantly chanting ‘self-control’ over and over again in your head. Then your eyes slowly open, and you slap yourself one last time as if to say ‘get it together' before diving back into the books.

Just two more days. Two more days and you can finish and not have to stress about finals until results come out.

At this point, you were surviving off of coffee, tea, random stolen snacks that your boyfriend would bring over from his dorm.

Damn, when’s the last time you had a proper meal? Monday?

And then you frown. What day even is it today? You glance at your calendar and-

Goodness grief, it’s Sunday already.

You almost have a midlife crisis over wasting basically a week doing nothing but sitting at your desk and looking at words, but then again at this point- you’re just over it and want to be done as soon as possible.

But soon, a weird feeling arises after you recall today’s date- like you were forgetting something. You place a hand over your forehead. Was there something important today?

And as if the universe read your mind, the doorbell rings.

A giant wave of confusion washes over you. Was someone supposed to come over today?

-and you just completely wiped it from your mind?

You’re still running through your memories as you walk to the door. No, it's not Chae since she has finals too...

Opening it, you’re not at all expecting who was behind it.

“Jeno-?”

He blinks back at your wide eyes, expression turning concerned, and you rub your temples in exasperation and defeat.

“Oh, did we have a date today or something? I’m so sorry- I totally forgot.”

His eyebrows furrow. “No, I was just supposed to come over to hang out with you....”

“It’s been so long since we last talked, baby. You haven’t responded to any of my texts. What’s going on?” He promptly adds, staring intently at you.

You let out a sigh, and jeno notices your tense shoulders and dark under-eye circles. “I thought you knew. Finals are coming up so I’ve been stuck at home cramming for about a week now actually.”

His frown deepens. “I did know. And still, y/n..” he says in a warning tone.

You know what his voice implies, you’ve heard it plenty of times at this point, but right now you don’t have to energy to listen to his nagging. “ I know, I know. Just- come in, I guess.....”

To be completely honest, you wanted to send jeno back home- there was still a lot more information left to cover and you obviously weren’t in your best condition, but he was the one who actually remembered your ‘date’ and drove to your place, so you would feel even worse making him go all the way back to his dorm.

Jeno easily follows you in, biting the inside of his cheek to hold back any comments while examining your place even though barely anything has changed since he last visited- mostly because there was nothing to change when you were in your room all day.

You walk to the kitchen, getting your boyfriend some water while yawning. Meanwhile, your mind is drifting away, thinking about what topics are left that you have to go over later. “What are we even doing today?”

Jeno plops on your couch, arms behind his head. “I don’t know. A movie?”

You hide your grimace, immediately thinking of how much time would be wasted watching one, or possibly even more if jeno was feeling it. In the one to two hours of a movie, you could be done with chapter two and three-

“Y/n??”

Your head snaps up. “Yes?”

“Are you gonna come over here or just stand there in the kitchen all day?” he teases.

You shake your head to clear the fog and join jeno on the couch. Scrolling through the options, you automatically snuggle up next to him, eyes blearily watching the moving tv screen.

He decides on this one animated film, and you’re too drained to pay attention so you simply nod and let the movie begin. But even though you try your best to focus on the storyline and what’s currently going on, your mind keeps wandering off to other, more boring things- your studies, obviously.

The number of chapters you covered, the slight of chapters you have left, how long you would have to stay up to finish going through your planned amount of information -all the stressful thoughts swirling in your head, and it only exhausts you more.

You let out a sigh, and jeno turns to you. “Are you okay? You’ve been sighing nonstop since we started the movie.”

You clear your throat, biting back a yawn. “Oh- yeah, sorry. I won’t do it anymore.”

Your boyfriend stiffens but doesn’t say anything, attention returning to the flashing screen in front of him.

You did try. You really did. But your eyelids keep drifting shut and your head keeps slowly lolling forward and snapping back up -it’s not until your forehead accidentally knocks against jeno’s chest that he finally speaks up again.

“Y/n. You need to take a break and get some sleep. Now.” His tone is sharp and commanding.

You snap your eyes back open, vision blurry. “No- it’s fine. I’m good, let’s keep watching.”

The immediate switch in the air is scary, jeno swiftly reaching for the remote and pausing the movie to look at you dead straight in the eyes before setting it back down with a loud, clattering noise. “You need to rest. I can tell from how tired you look, and I know you’ve been studying for so long, so why is it that hard to just relax for a little?”

You groan, distress breaking through. “I can’t, okay? You already understand how stressful school is and how important my upcoming tests are. I know you’re just trying to be kind and thoughtful but-“

“But what?” He cuts you off, the frustration he’s been hiding for a while finally revealing itself. “Taking a rest from burning your brain out isn’t going to kill you, y/n.”

Your hands at your side clench and unclench, a wave of emotions overcoming you. “I know that. But I can’t afford to have a break now.” Everything suddenly feels overwhelming, and your voice comes out strained and uncontrolled.

“I’m almost there, jeno. It’s so close, and if I stop now, I’ll feel like a failure.”

He laughs a short and echoing bark. “How do you think I feel? I was trying to brush everything aside and act like it was all fine, but it’s certainly not when you’re like this.”

You falter.

Jeno gets up, making direct eye contact with you even though his body is trembling and his voice is shaky.

“I spent the past week just lying in bed and worrying about you- if you were eating okay and getting enough sleep. I was constantly texting you reminders to take care of yourself, only to find out from your friend that you turned your phone completely off. Do you know how shitty of a person I was feeling? I didn’t want to be a distraction to you because I know how much you care about your grades, but it’s killing me, y/n. I want to be there for you, but instead, I end up feeling like the worst boyfriend in the world.”

He shudders before continuing,

“And then I come here, brushing off all my worries since I was super excited to finally be with you after so long, and then I have to see you in such a bad condition. Barely taking care of yourself, barely even surviving on your own just so you can pass your exams that I know you’ll already do well on no matter what. As your boyfriend who wants to help and be here for you, do you know how much my heart hurts?”

He finishes, but not before wiping away the frustrated tears that appeared in his angry rant.

It takes one beat -two beats, before you immediately spring up, rushing towards jeno and throwing your arms around him.

He accepts it, burying his face into your shoulder and wrapping his arms tightly around your waist.

The guilt courses through your body, and you understand. The consequences of your actions hit you, hard, and you know you deserve it all. Jeno just wants to know that you’re here. You’re here with him.

“I’m really sorry,” you murmur into his hair, “I’m really, really sorry, jeno.”

You hate the fact that you can still feel the slight wetness of his tears soaking through your-technically his- shirt. You pull back, looking straight into his eyes to make sure he knows you’re being genuine.

“I promise to pay more attention to myself, and I promise I won’t ever let it happen again. I won’t shut you out anymore... and you can come over to take care of me whenever you want, okay?”

Jeno slowly nods, and you softly wipe away the corners of his red eyes of any wetness.

He pulls you closer to him again, inhaling your scent one more time, and you finally let yourself go.

After about a minute of just enjoying each other’s warm embrace - one that you feel like you haven’t felt in so long- you allow yourself to smile and pull back just enough to place a kiss on his cheek.

“Was my baby just lonely and missed me too much?” you sing in a soft voice. He lets out a disgruntled noise in response, shaking his head against your body.

But you both know what the answer is.

“C’mon, let’s go to bed.” You tug his arm easily to your room, putting off your studies, at least for today.

“You’re really gonna take a break this time?” Jeno asks, eyeing you carefully.

You grin. “Yes? Besides, I know you’re always down for cuddles.”

You drag him to the bed, taking his arms and wrapping them around your body as exhaustion quickly fills you.

You fight yourself to stay awake as long as you can to enjoy jeno’s presence, but he notices and hugs you even closer if possible, whispering softly, “Go to sleep, baby. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

And before you finally drift off, you sleepily murmur, “I love you, jeno. Like, a lot.”

Even after you fall asleep in his embrace, he stares down at you, softly kissing your forehead.

I love you too.

bonus bc i adore jeno too much :

“Jeno- for the last time, you’re not a bad boyfriend.”

“I know.... but-“

You shut him up with a quick kiss.

“You’re the sweetest.”

Another kiss.

“Funniest.”

Peck.

“Handsomest.”

His ever so growing smile freezes. Jeno looks at you, a surprisingly solemn look on his face.

You raise an eyebrow, confused.

“......even more than Nam joo hyuk?”

Ah. He had to go for the favorite actor.

You swallow, battling an intense internal war before begrudgingly nodding. “Okayyy...fine. You are.”

He crosses his arms. “I’m what?”

You roll your eyes, whining. “I already said it!”

Jeno shakes his head firmly. “Say the whole thing.”

You take a deep breath in, internally apologizing to your beloved actor. “......you, lee -verymuchanannoyingbaby- jeno, are more handsome than Nam joo hyuk.” Your sentence is finished swiftly in one breath, words slurring together. It actually pains you to say that. But it’s good enough for your boyfriend.

Jeno delights in the squeal you let out when he picks you up in his arms to spin you around.

“Fuck yeah- take that, nam joo hyuk!”

ღ

a/n: anyways im going to go hide away and cry over jeno now ^^

#cznnet #kpopscape #nct #nct dream #jeno #nct jeno #jeno x reader #lee jeno x reader #jeno scenarios #jeno imagines #nct dream x reader #nct dream smut #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #nct dream fluff #lee jeno imagines #jeno fluff

443 notes · View notes

flareish · 3 years ago

Text

Anxiety

kuroo x reader

summary: you hide your anxiety from basically everyone including your boyfriend, until he finds out for himself

genre: hurt/comfort

warnings: Emetophobia Warning! description of nausea/vomit, anxiety, bit of angst but ends in fluff

word count: 2.0k

a/n: I tried to make this as close to my anxiety since I hadn’t known anyone with my kind of anxiety(symptom wise) until I was seventeen, which was a good ways into when I realized I had anxiety. So here is some nausea anxiety representation!

masterlist

You tap your fingers in a mindless rhythm. Alternating the fingers and repeating them back and forth, trying to make it a game, a challenge. You did this over and over again to distract yourself from that all too familiar sinking feeling. That feeling like your stomach has managed to twist and knot itself a million times. Each bump of the bus made acid crawl up your throat. You crunched a mint in your mouth hoping the peppermint would soothe some of the nausea. It didn’t, but the thought was there. You just will yourself not to throw up on the bus, anything but that. The thought in itself makes you even more nervous, and in turn even sicker.

You don’t even know why you are anxious. Today is Kuroo’s big game, but it isn’t yours. You’ve been to a hundred of his games before but never before did you feel like this. Normally you get cute little butterflies, not an angry swarm of bees. The worst part is, there is Kuroo sat next to you happy as can be, completely oblivious. He keeps trying to drag you into conversations but you fear if you open your mouth for too long, all that will come up is vomit. So you keep your mouth firmly closed only smiling tightly or shaking your head at his prompts.

It's not exactly his fault though. He doesn’t actually know you have anxiety. It’s not something you really like to talk about. You are all for promoting the acceptance of mental health but you just find every time you tell someone the dynamic changes. Either they flat out don’t believe you since you “don’t seem like the type with anxiety”. Well duh, I don’t have social anxiety, I have situational anxiety. Like here in this situation. That or they suddenly treat me like I am incapable of handling myself. That whenever a slightly stressful event comes up, I am going to melt into a puddle of pure anxiety. Sorry but I’ve made it this far, I may have to throw up a few times on the way but I am still making it.

So you just haven’t told Kuroo. You're just nervous that it will change the dynamic. You also don’t want to steal his spotlight. Today is supposed to be all about him. It's his big game. To suddenly speak up and tell him that his game is giving you anxiety would be selfish. So like you always have, you put a brave face on and face it head-on.

“Hey, are you okay?” Kuroo asks you, now facing you, “You look a little pale.”

“Hmm?,” You also turn to look at him, “Oh I am just a bit tired that’s all. I will be fine in an hour or so.” You hope at least. He nods relieved it's not something worse.

You finally pull into the stadium and everyone is pushing their way off the bus. Luckily Kuroo is right by you to make sure you don't get accidentally pushed down the bus stairs and trampled. The team makes it’s to the bulletin board where they are given their matchups. Nekoma is paired with a pretty hard team. Suddenly, out of nowhere, you dry heave. You knew at the point you were going to throw up and within the next few minutes.

“Hey I think I left something in the bus I’ll be right back.” You say to Kuroo before dashing off. He goes to reply but you are already gone.

You make it around the back of the building before you throw up. At this point you’re kinda out of it, your mind is occupied on emptying your already empty stomach. Then you feel someone pull your hair back and gently rub your back. You don’t even have to look up to know it’s Kuroo. When you finish he hands you his water bottle. You waterfall it and rinse your mouth out of that acidic taste.

“What’s going on are you okay?” Kuroo asks full of concern. You hesitate for a moment, thinking of telling the truth. Then you remember this is supposed to be his day.

“Sorry I must have caught a stomach bug.” He doesn’t completely buy it so you quickly add to it.

“I didn't feel great on the bus but I just thought it was because I was tired.” You feel bad lying, “I also don’t want to distract you before your game.” At that Kuroo quickly pulls you into a hug, “Your not a distraction, I just want to make sure you’re okay.” Your cheek is pressed against his chest and your hands grip the front of his shirt.

“We should probably head back.” You mumble.

“Yeah.” He leans down to kiss you but you duck away. He looks incredibly offended and hurt at this.

“Dude I just threw up I don’t know if you want to do that.”

“…Point.”

The two of you head back inside to the team, you feeling much better after throwing up. Before you know it, the competition has begun and Nekoma has won. You run down and celebrate with the team and it’s a happy day.

On the bus ride home Kuroo has a strange energy about him. Not like he’s mad more just like he’s just realized something. You nudge him and smile hoping to break him out of his little funk. He immediately smiles back and goes back to celebrating with the team. His reaction was almost like putting a mask on. You watch him for a moment before slipping into a conversation of your own.

When you make it back to school you go your separate ways. Him going to shower, and you to get home before it gets too late. A big hug before pushing away. You still refusing to kiss him after throwing up earlier in the day.

You are laying on your bed, exhausted. Anxiety really takes a toll on your energy. Your thoughts are broken when your phone chimes with a text. Leaning over to grab your phone off your bedside table you see it is from Kuroo.

“Can you come over? I want to talk.”

No cute pet names. No slowly easing into it. Actually using proper grammar. Nothing in that message was a good sign. Just “I want to talk” was enough to make the acid begin to crawl again. You knew it had to be about today. Especially after you saw him zoning out on the bus. It had to be your anxiety episode. You knew he wouldn’t be happy you lied but going to this extent. Like he just found out you have anxiety and this is what he hits you with? The world’s most nerve-wracking text message. The only worse place than this would be “we need to talk”. That’s when you have really screwed up. So maybe you’ve only minorly screwed up since he said want not need. Does that mean you have the choice to say no? That was kind of tempting but you knew you would be tossing and turning all night thinking about what might be wrong.

“Okay.” You reply to the text. Short and sweet. Putting on some shoes and grabbing a hoodie, you quietly slip out of your house. Kuroo’s house wasn’t too far but it was far enough. Enough to continue to stir in your intrusive and unstoppable thoughts. You eventually make it to his house and head in going straight for his room. Before you reach the door you hesitate and gather yourself. Preparing for whatever was about to come.

When you go in you find Kuroo sat on the floor of his bedroom, back pressed against the bed. He jerkily looks up and you and gives you a tight smile. None of this is giving good signs. Something is very heavy on his mind. You sit down across from him, your back against the wall your feet almost touching.

“So what was it you wanting to talk about.” You break the silence. He doesn’t respond for a moment. Just as you are about to try again he speaks up.

“Do you still love me?” Your face drops into confusion.

“Why wouldn’t I love you anymore?” You ask, suddenly realizing this wasn’t the conversation you were prepping yourself for.

“You’ve been distant lately. You don’t tell me things like when you don’t feel good. I thought about it when I got home and I was wondering if you weren’t actually sick but just making the excuse because you got caught.” He’s very serious at the moment and his words hold a cold edge.

“What do you mean get caught?” You match his tone. You weren’t planning on fighting but something about how he said it just set something off in you.

“You didn’t want to be there. Ever since this morning you were quiet and reserved. Even after the game, you wouldn’t even kiss me-”

“Yeah, cause I threw up! And how could I be faking it when I literally threw up.” You snap.

“You’ve been like this before though! Like last year’s big tournament you would barely talk to me.”

“That’s not true!” Although it kind of was just not the reason he thought.

“Oh yeah? What about at training camp you wouldn’t talk to me then either, you didn’t even eat with us you just sat on your own.” He threw back.

“Yeah, cause I have anxiety!” The words left your mouth before you knew it. Kuroo looked taken back.

“What?” His brow furrows, “Since when?” He’s not sure what to believe. You’re not surprised since you have worked very hard to hide it from everyone, accidentally sabotaging your own relationship without even knowing it.

“Since forever. I just never told anyone.” You quietly say, ducking your head down.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You didn’t even need to look up to see the hurt on his face, it was apparent in his voice. You start playing with your finger, tapping them in rhythms.

“I wanted to,” You mumble, “But whenever I do stuff changes and I didn’t want anything to change.” He shifts forward and you think he’s going to leave. Instead, he grabs your hands, stopping the pattern you had going. You look up.

“Did you think I would judge you?” He was staring straight into you, willing the truth to come out.

“Whenever I tell people they either don’t believe me and brush it off or treat me like I’m incapable of handling any amount of stress. I’ve never seen anyone react any differently so I was scared you would fall into one of those reactions and I didn’t know how I could handle that. I didn’t want my anxiety to be the thing to tear us apart. But I guess it still was.” By the end of your speech, your gaze has returned back to the floor, unable to hold eye contact for that long with him staring at you so strongly. You hear him sigh then you are pulled forward and into his arms.

“I want to be your pillar of support. I want to be that third reaction that is one of acceptance, one that doesn’t drive you crazy.” He strokes your hair soothingly, his words making you tear up, “When you are ready I want you to tell me everything. From when you first noticed it, to where it is now, to how you deal with it, everything.” By now you are fully crying, absolutely collapsed into his chest. “I love you so much.” It gets muffled in his shirt but he hears it.

“I know, and I love you.”

It would take some time for Kuroo to get used to this change but slowly but surely he will be different from the rest and he will support you no matter what. Although he also respects your strength and knows you can handle your anxiety on your own, he is always there when you need it. He becomes the third unexpected and unheard-of reaction; acceptance.

#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #nekoma #kuroo #kuroo fluff #kuroo tetsuro imagine #kuroo tetsuro oneshot #kuroo scenarios #kuroo hurt/comfort #kuroo x reader #hq kuroo

342 notes · View notes

ladydimitrescuspet · 3 years ago

Text

Tonight's Theme: Being Selfish

AO3 Link! argument fic but it's not my brand so it's a bad argument fic so I am not the least bit happy with how this turned out. and I cannot tell if I've contradicted myself in this story with what I said so I apologise profusely if I did. I also apologise for any grammatical errors. regardless, please enjoy and tell me what you think if you'd like!

***

The minute you stepped into Alcina’s study, the atmosphere changed. She knew why you were there and let out sharp exhale before lighting a cigarette.

Alcina took a drag, blowing the smoke out before she looked at you. “My answer still hasn’t changed, draga mea.”

You frowned as you walked over to her. “Why not?” You asked.

“Because it is far too dangerous for you to do.” Alcina replied.

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Why do you even get to make the decision? It’s my body, it should be my choice.” You argued.

“Darling, if I let you make any and every decision you wanted to then you wouldn’t be standing here right now.” Alcina said. She had a point. You’d made a pretty reckless decision a few months ago and it’s made her even more protective of you.

“Look, it’s sweet that you’re trying to protect me, Alci, but I really am capable of making my own decisions, reckless or not.” You replied.

Alcina sighed. “Little one, I really don’t have the time to go over this right now. I am swamped with business.” Alcina said as she replaced her quellazaire with her pen.

“That’s always your excuse, that you’re too busy for me.” You were tired of her constantly brushing you off.

“I am never too busy for you. I simply don’t wish to have this argument with you, Y/N.” Alcina responded, rubbing at her temples. “The risks of taking the cadou are high, as I’ve told you. We’ve no idea what it can and will do to you and I’d rather not take the chance to find out.”

“But Mother Mirana clearly stated that it’s the only way she’ll bless our relationship and let us marry.” You replied.

Alcina laughed dryly. “Is that what this is about? You want to seek Miranda’s approval of our relationship?” Alcina asked. “You silly little mouse, Miranda doesn’t care about our relationship. She doesn’t care about you, nor me, nor my daughters, or any of the other Lords. No, Miranda only cares about obtaining a proper vessel for her darling daughter, Eva. I stopped seeking her approval on matters a long time ago so I suggest you quit while you’re ahead.”

Your frown deepened at her words. “That’s not what I meant, Al.”

“Then what did you mean, dear one? Hmm?” Alcina asked. “Is that not what you were implying? That you wish to get that thing put into your body so you can marry me? Do you not care about your own well being, that you’d just do without thinking?” Alcina abandoned her pen once again, but this time to pick up her glass of wine. "If you did, you wouldn’t keep hounding me about it. PPlus, your intent for the cadou is purely selfish, and that’s not a good look for anybody.”

You snatched the glass out of her hand before she could take a sip, the look of shock on her face making you regret the decision a bit. After all, the wine did help her calm down so you sat it down on the desk. “I don’t understand.” You said softly. “It may be a selfish reason, but you said I was your one true, the love of your life. And I can’t be that without the cadou, without the ability to be immortal like you and the girls. You say you love me, but you won’t let me do the one thing that’ll keep us together forever. And I don’t understand.” Your voice cracked as your eyes filled with tears.

“Oh, yes, please cry me a river. I know it’s a harsh reality, but I am doing this for your own safety, Y/N.” Alcina replied. “And frankly, I don’t care how my decision makes you feel, the answer is no and that is final. Am I understood?” Alcina asked.

You nodded your head and sniffled. “But I love you and if you loved and cared about me like you always say then you’d let me take it.”

“You say you understand my words, yet you still stand here defying my answer, trying to guilt trip me into changing it.” Alcina stood from her desk and headed towards the door. “Listen to me carefully, you ungrateful little mouse. You can go to Miranda and ask for that damned parasite of hers, but if anything goes wrong, do not come crawling back to me. You can beg, you can cry, you can scream into you’re blue in your little face, you will be dead to me and my daughters, and you will not be welcomed into my home. The decision is yours to make as you wished for it to be and what you do now regarding the cadou is none of my concern.” Alcina said rather calmly albeit the scowl on her face before leaving you alone in her study.

You broke down as soon as she left. Alcina had very good reasons as to why she didn’t want you to take the cadou, why she was being so hostile. But still, her words hurt you. It made her love for you seem inferior, but you refused to believe that that was the case. Alcina said she was doing this for your own safety and you were just going to have to trust her on this.

As you gathered yourself together, you left Alcina’s study. She’d given you an ultimatum, the decision should’ve been easy. You’d simply just have to forget about the cadou and live your life with Alcina until your dying day. Then she’d find someone else to replace you in heart, you grimaced at the thought, blocking it from your mind as you wiped at your eyes.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” A voice asked you. Daniela’s, you assumed.

You shook your head. “I’m fine.” You replied, your voice sounding a little scratchy.

“You don’t sound fine. And Mother looked awfully upset a few moments ago.” Daniela said.

You sighed. “We had a disagreement about something, no big deal.” You shrugged your shoulders as you continued walking down the hall.

“About the cadou, right?” You stopped and turned to look at her. “Mother may have been muttering about it to herself when I saw her.” She admitted. “Bela and Cassandra went to go and try to comfort her so I thought I’d wait for you.”

You gave her a small smile. “That’s sweet of you, thank you. And yes, it was about the cadou.” You replied. “It was a stupid thing to bring up again. I just, I fear for the day that I can no longer be with any of you, that’s all.3”

“Mother fears for it too, if it’s any consolation.” Daniela said. “She cares for you, Y/N, she really does. It’s been so long since Mother’s had someone around that she truly loves and she doesn’t want anything to happen to you.”

“I understand that, Dani, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world if I took the cadou.” You replied.

“But if Mother lost you, it’d be the end of hers.” Daniela said. “I think Mother is saying no because she doesn’t want to risk losing it before she has to. She’d rather you spent your days with her until you’re old than to lose you before your lives together really started. Mother’s not the one to really wear her heart on her sleeve, but she intends to do well by you, Y/N. Even if it seems a bit selfish.”

You nodded your head. “Being selfish seems to be the theme for tonight.” You murmured to yourself. “Listen, Dani, it’s not that I don’t want to just spend my days with her until I grow old. I want to be with her forever, and I can’t risk losing her just like she can’t risk losing me. Will you take me to her?” You asked.

Daniela nodded her head, leading you to where her Mother was. “Just promise you won’t leave us, no matter what. You’re one of the nicest people here and I’ve grown rather fond of you.”

“I can’t make any promises, Dani, but I’ll try.” You replied. You let out a small exhale before knocking on the door.

Bela opened the door, a little surprised to see you. “Now’s not the best time, Y/N.”

“Please, I just... I need to talk to her for a moment.” You replied.

“Don’t you think you’ve done enough talking with Mother for one evening?” Cassandra sneered at you.

Daniela pushed Cassandra out of the way. “Leave it alone, Cass. It’s not really any of your business what goes on between Mother and Y/N in private. Let them talk to her. Now.” Daniela said as she grabbed your hand, guiding you into the room. “Mother, Y/N has something they’d like to talk to you about.”

Alcina hummed before waving her hand in the air signalling for her daughters to leave the both of you. Daniela gave your shoulder an encouraging squeeze, Bela gave you a sympathetic smile, and Cassandra growled at you. You’re pretty sure Cassandra threatened you under her breath, but you could catch the small snarl she let out when Daniela hit her shoulder.

Alcina waited until the door was closed before addressing. “Come to provoke me even further, Y/N?” Alcina asked.

You’d taken a moment to notice the broken vanity in the corner of the room. Shaking your head, you walked to stand in front of her. “No. I came to... I came to apologise, Alci.” You replied.

Alcina raised her eyebrow, placing her wine glass on the table next to her. “Apologise for what, Y/N?”

“For being selfish.” You said softly. “Not that you aren’t being entirely selfish yourself, but I wanted to apologise for how I reacted. I did mean what I said, I want to be with you until the end of time, Alcina. It hurts me to think that one day I won’t have all of this, that I won’t have you just because I’m not immortal like you and I could die at the drop of a hat.”

Alcina raised her hand to your cheek, cupping it. “You will never have to worry about dying at the drop of a hat nor will you ever not have me. I am yours, as you are mine, draga mea.” Alcina replied. “You must understand that I simply won’t permit you to have the cadou at this time. It’s not safe after what happened with that wretched man-thing, iubirea mea. That’s why I said no.”

You looked at her in confusion. “It’s not safe?” You asked.

“No, my love. After what happened, Miranda’s had a bit of a set back with the parasite and it’s not... she can’t control it like she used to be able to. Her experiments have been complete failures, though she is finding success with it every once in a while. Once it is more stable then we will revisit the topic, but as of right now, I can’t let you take it.”

You hand came to rest on the one Alcina had over your cheek, squeezing it lightly. “I understand, Alci.” You said softly. “Thank you for talking to me. I know you tried to get me to understand back in the study, but I was so clouded by sheer will to spend eternity with you that I just didn’t properly understand what you were trying to tell me.”

“I’m glad you understand now, dear. I should’ve told you sooner about the instability of the parasite at the moment, I’m sorry.” Alcina apologised. “It was, like you said, a bit selfish on my behalf to keep such a thing away from you.”

You shook your head. “No need to apologise, Al, it’s fine. Besides, if you weren’t selfish, you would’ve given me to the girls to be a midnight snack a long time ago.” You said before pressing a kiss to the palm of her hand. “Are we okay?”

“Yes, draga mea, we’re fine.” Alcina replied before glancing at the time. “It is getting close to the midnight hour; may I indulge in the idea of you being a midnight snack?” Alcina asked with a smirk on her face.

You laughed as she pulled you onto her lap. “You’re incorrigible, Al.” You rolled your eyes before pulling her mouth down to yours.

Selfish or not, it was your personal goal to spend the rest of your life with Alcina, and you'd wait for however long it takes for Miranda to get the parasite under her control again, but for right now you'd be content with being a midnight snack for her until the time came for you to cross that bridge.

#lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x reader #resident evil #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #added tags #lady dimitrescu's daughters #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu

148 notes · View notes

alyss01 · 3 years ago

Text

Studying for finals headcanons:

Corpse x GN!reader, Sykkuno x GN!reader, Toast x GN!reader

Word count: 1.5K

Requested: no

Synopsis: How Toast, Sykkuno and Corpse would be with a S/O studying for finals. Headcannons and fluff.

Warnings: none

A/n: Do I have more than enough requests? Yup! Should I probably work on those? Most likely. Basically wrote this during / after the most intense two to three weeks of studying I’ve experienced in at least a year. I needed some comfort so i provided myself with it, hope it can do the same for others even though most people have most likely already finished all their exams, tests, finals and all that already. Enjoy! (This was also mostly written at like 2AM the day of my last final, but it is proofread)

Masterlist

Corpse:

Let's be honest, he would have no idea what exactly it is you're studying

He knows some basics that are common sense and bits and pieces that he's collected while you were rambling about the topics to him

Generally though, he has no clue what's going on and certainly will not be able to help you do the actual studying

However if it helps for you to explain the topics to him instead of reading the books for a hundred times with seemingly no pay off, he'll gladly listen

Allows you to rant of about the intricate details as he fakes an understanding and nods his head along

Don't get him wrong, he loves to hear you talk and is genuinely interested in what you're saying, but you might as well be speaking a different language cause he cannot understand a singular word that passes your lips

If you're a night owl, that's great! He'll love to bring you midnight study snacks and bring a glass of water every so often

He definitely stays up with you and likes to just hang around the room where you study in the background and vibe to some music

Every so often he will walk up to you for head pats

The screen in front of you shone brightly, lighting up the room. The only thing telling you the time and date was your laptop. With the curtains permanently shut and having lost any sense of time you did possess over the past days, you wouldn't have a single clue how much time had passed otherwise.

Music comes through your headphones in attempt to keep you focussed on the matter at hand, a word document that is much longer than you would've liked containing all the summaries you had made over the past days.

The music however also deafened you from the sound of the door opening and closing, as Corpse stepped into your room with a white plastic bag containing some snacks and a cup of your favorite drink in his other hand.

As he set the objects on the desk beside you, you realized he had come in and pulled one side of your headset off your ear.

Corpse's arms wrap around you from behind, his chin resting on your head as you nuzzle yourself closer in his embrace. His eyes lazily trail over the text on the screen for a moment before they narrow and turn away.

Tilting your head back, you look at him from underneath, chuckling as you catch his confused look at the screen.

"when did you have this exam again?" The question escapes his lips almost with a hint of pity within.

Sykkuno:

Honestly I think it really depends on what you're studying if he will understand it or not

No matter what it is however, he is proud

When he has a chance in any conversation he'll casually bring you up and proudly explain what kind of complicated things you have been studying and how smart you are

He is so encouraging, no matter if he quite understand what it is you study or not

He probably would leave you interrupted while studying, but if you come out of your room to seek his attention out first he'll be so happy

If something bothers you or frustrates you about the material he's waiting with open arms to take your mind off it

If you're studying for long times he'll come to crave some affection so he'll either be glued to your side when you do finish or he will come and seek you out first

Will provide you with snacks, your favorite food, smoothies, coffee, tea, whatever you prefer while studying, he'll get it for you

Will want to spent time together once the stressful period is over, catching up to affection he may have missed during it

I think he'd definitely keep quite a careful watch over you in terms of rest

He will drag you off to bed at 2AM if you're still studying demanding you get some proper rest

"you know staying up this late is bad for your health, right?" The worry was evident in his voice as he leant against your desk as he stood beside you. His back was turned to the furniture and his eyes were glued to your tired face.

"it'll be worth it once summer vacation hits." You shoot Sykkuno a tired smile, making him turn his head to where your mug dutifully stood, as it had been for the past three days, half filled with your favorite study drink which had turned room temperature by now.

He raised his eyebrow in question, watching as you turn back to the screen that lights up your face with white light, the page's reflection in your eyes, "rest is important if you want to do well on the exam."

"so is knowledge and caffeine," though your words may be harsh, the tone with which they leave your lips easily tell him it was a joke, "besides, I'll just need to finish this last part."

His hand finds your hair, and you lean into his warm touch as you shut your eyes for a moment, taking in the moment. A small smile formed on his lips at the sight, his fingers threading through your hair.

"promise this is the last part?" He speaks up as you open your eyes once more, looking up at him as you give him a small smile.

The bags under your eyes paired with the exhausted look on your face had noy been as clear in the past days as they were currently. He admired you for your willpower to study these amounts, but you worried him sometimes with your behavior.

Your voice pulled him back to the small smile that played on your lips, "I promise."

Toast:

He's knowledgeable, not on all topics and subjects, but he's definitely knowledgeable

Start ranting to him about topics and he'll genuinely become interested and follow along, asking some questions here and there

If you ever need to write some sort of paper or essay, he'll gladly read it over for you for any mistakes or things to change

He won't admit it, but if you start explaining some of the things you're studying to him, he'll love it

Especially if it's something you're passionate about, he'd love to watch you explain stuff to him

The way your eyes shimmer, and how excited you look to talk to him about it all, he loves it

Forehead kisses while studying and will order food for you and bring drinks

Probably won't hang around too much in the room you're studying in to give you privacy and peace, but will come in and ruffle your hair before placing his lips on your head momentarily and wish you luck when he passes your door

In these moments often likes to sneak a peek at your papers or computer screen, just to see a glimpse of the topic you're working on

He doesn't mind if you stay up longer than him to study but will definitely drag you to bed for rest when he's decided you didn't give yourself enough rest

"I'm ordering take out, what do you want for dinner?" Toast is quick to poke his head around the corner of your door, phone in hand as he walks in and leans against the doorframe.

Pulling your headset off, you rotate your chair to the side, facing him as you question where he is planning to order.

He walks over to your desk to hand you his phone so you can scroll through the online menu, his hand quick to brush your hair back. Instead of pulling his hand away, he lets it stay in your hair, brushing through it a few times with his fingers.

While you were invested with the online menu, his eyes scan the screen, where you were working on the introduction to a paper.

He recognized the material, the day before you had trailed off on a small explanation that ended up much longer than intended when he asked what you were currently working on.

When you finish looking through the menu and having filled in your order, you catch his gaze glued to your screen.

Before he leaves your room he gives you some slight advice, offering to replace some words with others before wishing you good luck and leaving your room for the time being. At least until the food arrives.

297 notes · View notes

watchyourbluesturngolden · 3 years ago

Text

all this time

omg so i have not written in forever but then the bestie @goldensonlyangel did a writing challenge (CONGRATS ON 800!!!!!!!!!) and i got inspired so here we are :) I know it's not super long but i like how it turned out!!!

as always, if you don't like the dress i linked, just imagine something else! that's just the visual I had in mind :)

warnings: none

word count: 1.8k

"Macy, I don't have anything to wear," you sighed, holding the phone between your ear and shoulder as you poured a bowl of cereal. "You can borrow one of mine! Or i will literally buy you one. I'll do whatever it takes, you have to come!" "Why?" You whined. "I always feel so awkward. You know I love you, but everyone couples off and it's just weird." "But Harry's going to be there," she crooned, and you had never been more grateful that she couldn't see your face. Your face that was currently flaming hot at just the mention of him.

"I don't care," you lied. "He clearly doesn't like me, so I don't even want to try anymore." "You're wrong," she insisted. "We can all tell he has the biggest crush on you." "I don't think so," you said, even though your heart was fluttering at the idea. "Okay, I'll come. But you have to go shopping with me." "Of course!" She exclaimed. "Can we go right now?" "Give me an hour, and then I'll come pick you up."

-----

"How about this?" Macy asked, holding up the shortest dress you had ever seen. "That's basically just a shirt," you rolled your eyes. "Harry would love it," she grinned. "Harry won't care, because he doesn't like me," you said, trying to keep your voice level. You told yourself a long time ago that there was no point in getting your hopes up about him. You could never have him, so why hurt your own feelings? She shook her head, but seemed to get the hint that she should drop it for now. She pulled another dress off the rack, this time one that was much more your style. Your eyes lit up at her selection. "I like that one," you nodded. "I think it would look really good."

-----

"You look amazing!" She beamed, pulling you out of the changing room to stand in front of the full length mirrors. You couldn't help the smile that grew on your lips as you examined yourself in the mirror. "I do," you agreed. "Harry- I mean, everyone's going to love it," she said, blushing slightly at her slip up. You had to give her credit: she didn't give up easily.

-----

"You're here!!!" Macy screamed, rushing to the door and pulling you into a hug. "Of course I'm here!" you said, trying to match her energy. It wasn't an easy task; she had clearly had quite a few drinks tonight. She pulled away, holding you at arm's length to inspect your dress. "And you look amazing," she grinned. "Who helped you pick out that dress???" You smiled, shaking your head lightly. "I need a drink," you said, pulling back a bit more. "Of course!" she chirped. "Everything's set up in the kitchen. If you need anything else just find me!" Then she was off, pushing through the small crowd of people and right into the middle of the living room turned dance floor. You made your way to the kitchen, deciding you were much too sober to join her. You pushed open the door, hoping you would maybe see Bella, or Charlie, or any of the other girls you hadn't had the chance to catch up with lately. Instead, you ran directly into a broad chest belonging to none other than Harry, the man you'd had an unrequited crush on for years. "Oh- I'm so sorry!" you rushed out, grasping at the front of his shirt to steady yourself. He gasped slightly, reflexively gripping onto your arms to keep you from toppling over. "You alright?" he asked with a small smile. "I'm fine," you said, keeping your eyes on his chest as your face heated up to an almost painful degree. "Sure?" He asked one more time, ducking his head to meet your eyes. "I'm good," you said with a nervous laugh. "You can, um-" you glanced down to where his hands were still on your arms. "Oh!" He exclaimed, eyes going wide as he realized he was still holding onto you. "Sorry," he said, a faint blush tingeing his cheeks as he stepped back. "No, it's okay," you said quickly, not wanting him to feel bad. "I'm just- I'm gonna get a drink." He laughed, running a ringed hand through his hair. "Good idea. I think I need one too." He moved to stand next to you as you browsed the large selection of alcohol on Macy's table. "I think she might have a problem," you joked. "We might need to stage an intervention," he nodded very seriously before his face broke into a smile. "But," you said, reaching for a bottle of tequila, "She keeps us stocked for parties, so I can't bring myself to care too much." "Agreed," he grinned, reaching for the vodka. There were a few moments of silence as the two of you poured your drinks, and then Harry spoke again. "You look lovely tonight." His voice was soft, and he sounded almost nervous. "Thank you," you smiled. "I'll be honest, I didn't really want to come. Macy said I had to." "For once, I'm glad she's so pushy," he laughed lightly. "If she wasn't, I wouldn't have gotten to see you." Your heart sped up at his words, and it took you a second to fully process what he had just said. "I'm glad too," you said softly. "Why, um..." He cleared his throat before speaking again. "Why didn't you want to come?" "It's always just a little weird, you know?" you said, keeping your eyes on the drink in your hand. "Everyone pairs off by the end of the night and I kind of feel like a... seventeenth wheel." "I know what you mean," he nodded. "Like, I'm happy all our friends have found love, or whatever, but I also hate them juuuust a little bit." He pinched his fingers close together, squinting at you through the tiny gap. "Just this much." "Well, I'm glad it's only that much," you laughed. "But wait, since when are you not part of a couple? I thought you were with Ellie?" "No, we were never really together," he said, looking down at his drink as you had earlier. "I mean, I liked her, but apparently she didn't feel the same. She went off with Paul." "Oh," you said quietly, not sure how to respond to that. "Paul. What a skank." "Such a skank," he agreed, breaking into a laugh again. The warm feeling in your chest was probably partly from the alcohol, but you knew it was mostly Harry. Seeing him so happy, being the one who made him laugh... there was no better feeling. The two of you lapsed into a comfortable silence again,

sipping on your drinks every so often. By the time you finished, the music from the other room had quieted considerably. It was now a slow song, and you had no doubt that when you left the safety of the kitchen, you would find couples wrapped up in each other, too in love to care about anyone else. Just the idea of it was enough to kill your slight buzz, and you sighed involuntarily. Harry didn't appear to notice. He seemed to be deep in his own head, thinking about something. Before you got the courage to ask him what was on his mind, he stood up straighter and cleared his throat. "Y/N... can I have this dance?" He held out one hand to you, the other sweeping behind his back in a formal gesture. You giggled at his attempt to act prim and proper, when you both knew that was the furthest thing from his real personality. "I would be delighted," you said, copying his tone as you put your hand in his. He led you out of the kitchen and onto the makeshift dance floor. Just as you had imagined, most of your friends were with their significant others, swaying slowly to the soft music. Harry pulled you close, resting his free hand on your waist, his fingertips brushing the skin of your back. You shivered at the feeling, reaching your other hand up to rest on his shoulder. "You know... I had a dream about you last night," he said, continuing to sway the two of you in a slow circle. "Oh yeah? What about?" He hesitated for a minute, looking into your eyes. "It was just like this," he said quietly. "Only better." "How was it better?" Your voice was quiet, almost a whisper. "Because you were mine," he breathed. "I finally got my head out of my ass and asked you to be mine." You could barely breathe at this point. Your heart was pounding out of your chest, and you were sure harry could feel it from where his hand rested on your side. He didn't say anything though, he just keep his eyes on yours. "You want... you want me to be yours?" You asked, voice shaking slightly. "Would you?" He seemed just as nervous as you were. "I- yeah," you nodded, still staring at him. "I would." He breathed a sigh of relief. "I really like you," he admitted. "I have for a long time." "You have?" you asked in disbelief. "I've liked you for a long time." "Really?" He seemed just as surprised as you were. "We're really stupid, aren't we?" You laughed, dropping your head against his chest as you nodded. "We are." You felt him inhale deeply, and then his fingers were brushing your jaw, tilting your face back up to look at him. "Can I kiss you?" he asked softly, gaze flitting down to your lips before he met your eyes again. "Yes, you can," you said breathlessly. "Please?" He smiled, leaning closer and pressing his lips against your cheek. You nearly melted at the contact, brain short circuiting at the realization that Harry, the man you had loved for so long, felt the same way about you, and was standing here in your arms, about to kiss you. His lips lingered against your skin for a few seconds before he pulled away slightly. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this," he sighed, giving you no more time to think about it before his lips were on yours. Your eyes slipped closed as his hand moved to your back, pulling you closer to him. He was gentle, his lips moving softly against yours as you pressed your fingers into his shoulder. He pulled back after a few seconds, resting his forehead against yours with a breathless laugh. "Can't believe i waited so long to do that," he sighed. "Neither can I," you said softly, turning your head slightly to kiss his cheek. "I'm glad you finally went for it." "Me too."

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x reader fanfiction #harry styles/reader fanfiction #harrystylesxyou #harry styles x you fanfiction #harrystylesxreader #harry styles/reader #harry styles/you #harry styles x you #harry fanfiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles/you fanfiction #goldens800fics

104 notes · View notes

writerofthecourt · 3 years ago

Text

reciprocal

pairing: sakusa kiyoomi x reader

summary: for the past few days, the injuries on sakusa’s body couldn’t just be attributed to his soulmate’s clumsiness anymore. it was up to him to figure out the truth of the matter

warning: some references to bullying, some blood and injury

a/n: if this story seems familiar to anyone, it’s because i had a quotev account back in the day that used this same premise with different haikyuu character

Bruises and scrapes were a common sight that littered Sakusa’s body. With a soulmate such as yourself, it was no surprise to anyone that Itachiyama’s ace was usually painted black and blue from his injuries.

Soulmate bonds were both a blessing and a curse. To be so intimately connected to someone to the point of sharing and manifesting their pain was the tragic beauty of having a soulmate. Some people found this to be romantic, while others found it to be a liability. For Sakusa, it was more of a nuisance than anything, considering your unique ability to be so undeniably clumsy.

For the past few days, the injuries on Sakusa’s body were becoming much more frequent and annoying, especially since they were starting to become a hindrance during volleyball practice. When he had asked you about this issue, you had just smiled and pretended to be clueless. His worrying only lessened once you had repeatedly assured him that you were fine and sent him off to practice with a peck on the cheek.

Of course, everything would have been fine if it wasn’t for the pain now igniting from his right shoulder. The pain was so great that Sakusa felt his knees hit the floor, his hand clutching the spot where the pain was radiating from. Practice immediately halted as his teammates gathered around in worry.

Komori was the first one to reach him as he kneeled next to the ace. “Are you all right, Sakusa?”

“I’m fine,” Sakusa managed to say, though that was a complete lie. His shoulder felt like it had been set ablaze, and the wince on his face wasn’t convincing anyone.

“Maybe you should sit out for the rest of practice, Sakusa,” Iizuna calmly suggested.

“I said I’m fine. Let’s just get back to practice.”

Reaching out for Komori’s hand, Sakusa hoisted himself back to his feet and returned to his place on the court. Soon enough, everyone else began to follow his lead.

“I wonder what that was all about,” Sakusa heard his captain mumble.

“[Y/N]-chan probably fell or something,” Komori tried to rationalize before noticing the confused look on Iizuna’s face. “Oh, [Y/N]-chan is Sakusa’s soulmate, and she’s super clumsy. Don’t worry, this is normal for them…I think.”

“If you say so…but make sure Sakusa checks up on his soulmate. Just in case.”

Sakusa couldn’t help but scoff as he tuned out the rest of Komori and Iizuna’s conversation. He didn’t need to be told to check up on you, he was already planning to have a ‘little’ talk with you sometime tomorrow, and he was expecting answers.

Returning his attention back to practice, Sakusa tried to focus on his spikes and not the wave of concern that washed over him when his mind drifted off to the thought of you.

At the beginning of lunch the very next day, Sakusa promptly left his seat and made his way down the hall to your classroom. Loudly sliding the door open, a few students jumped in surprise and fear as Sakusa glared into the room, searching for his target. Spotting you at your desk, he quickly marched in and took a hold of your wrist, dragging you away to a remote corner of the hallway.

“Kiyoomi, you’re hurting me!” you said as he trapped you against the wall. Realizing that the pain was beginning to manifest on his own wrist, Sakusa immediately let go of your arm, but his glare stayed ever present.

“What happened?” he demanded more than asked.

“I-I don’t know what you mean.”

Not wanting to play this game, Sakusa brought up his hands and started to undo the first few buttons of your uniform top without a single word.

“Kiyoomi!” you whispered indignantly as your face began to heat up in embarrassment.

Ignoring your protests, Sakusa pulled the sleeve of your shirt down to reveal your right shoulder. His eyes widened in shock before anger overtook his pretty features. Your skin, once beautiful and perfect, was now decorated with a dark purple bruise. He had seen the same discolouration on his own shoulder earlier that morning when he was getting dressed, but he didn’t want to believe it.

He raised a hand to gently brush his fingers against the injury, but he immediately retreated once he saw your face contort in slight pain.

“I guess there was really no point in trying to hide it, huh?” he heard you say.

“What happened?” Sakusa repeated in a lighter tone this time, now looking at you with gentle concern.

Sakusa saw something spiral within your eyes before you diverted your gaze, suddenly finding the floor to be much more interesting. He lowered his hand and laced his fingers with yours. If not for the current situation, he would have mused about how perfectly your hand seemed to fit in his.

“[Y/N], tell me what happened.”

“I-I bumped my shoulder against a shelf while cleaning up my room yesterday,” you mumbled as you started to play with your sleeves, a habit of yours whenever you lied.

“You don’t get a bruise this big just by bumping into something,” he reasoned with a frown.

“It just happened, okay?” you snapped quickly.

“I don’t see why you just won’t tell me!” Sakusa retorted angrily, now matching your tone. “You’re supposed to-”

“Kiyoomi!” you shouted, and Sakusa felt himself slightly taken aback with shock. “Just trust me, okay? I can handle this myself. I don’t want to keep relying on you for everything, so just trust me!”

“…Fine,” Sakusa conceded after a moment of silence.

Feeling agitated and defeated, Sakusa backed away from the wall before letting out a frustrated sigh. As he began to walk away, he suddenly felt something knock itself into his back. Your arms locked around his stomach as you leaned your head against his back.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “Thank you for trusting me, Kiyoomi.”

Turning around to give you a proper hug, Sakusa securely wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his chin on top of your head, not at all minding the possible germs that came from this interaction. You were always worth it.

“You really are a lot of trouble, you know that?” Sakusa sighed while rubbing circles on the small of your back.

“I love you too,” you giggled.

Using the tip of your toes to reach him, you pulled down Sakusa’s mask and gave your soulmate a quick farewell kiss. After fixing his mask and your shirt, you sent Sakusa a small smile and wave before walking off to class. On the way back to his own classroom, Sakusa couldn’t help but wonder if he had made the right decision.

“No,” Sakusa tried to convince himself. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

Sakusa hated days when you had cleaning duties. It meant that you couldn’t walk with him to practice. His schedule was always busy, so Sakusa tried to spend as much time with you as possible, even if it was something as simple as holding your hand while walking to volleyball practice.

“And then he said, ‘What will you have after 500 years?’ And Mark was like—you aren’t even listening to me, are you?” Komori asked with an exasperated sigh, finally noticing that Sakusa’s attention was elsewhere.

“I can’t find my math notebook,” Sakusa replied plainly, still focused on rifling through his bag.

Komori paused for a moment before snapping his fingers in realization. “Didn’t you lend it to [Y/N]-chan at lunch today?”

Sakusa’s eyes lifted from his bag when he realized he had lent you his notebook. It wasn’t in his character to let anyone borrow his belongings, so whenever he did lend you something, it usually escaped his memory.

Sakusa muttered a low curse. “I’ll be back in five minutes.”

Komori only grinned in amusement before walking off to the gym on his own. “All right, I’ll see you soon.”

Nodding his head, Sakusa turned back towards the school. If he had to guess, you would have to be done cleaning up the classroom by now, meaning that he’d have to hurry if he wanted to catch you in time.

Hurrying down the halls and up the stairs, Sakusa soon found himself turning the corner that led towards the second year classrooms. Although there was no one in sight, Sakusa picked up on the quiet murmur of some voices, along with girls’ laughter. He thought nothing of it until a large crash captured his attention, and everything turned dead silent. At that moment, Sakusa felt the air being knocked out of his lungs as pain jolted throughout his body, and he almost staggered off his feet to the ground.

That could only mean one thing.

Running to the classroom, Sakusa saw a sight that had his blood boiling like never before, and he felt his mind go numb. He didn’t even notice how his nails were slightly drawing blood, as he only felt rage at that moment.

You were lying on the floor, blood pouring from the cut on your head that you had probably received from being pushed against the desks. Three girls surrounded your unconscious body, looking around frantically and panicking at the turn of events.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Sakusa managed to shout out.

“S-Sakusa-san!” one of the girls jumped. “W-we were just playing around, honestly! We never meant for this to happen!”

“I’m not in the mood for your excuses,” he said before his expression turned dark. “Leave, now.”

In an instance, the girls were gone, shivering in fright as they ran off. Sakusa felt himself calm down a bit after releasing a shaky breath, but he soon felt his rage reignite when he saw that the wound on your head was still bleeding profusely.

Kneeling next to your body, Sakusa hoisted you up and began his trip to the nurse’s office. In the middle of his maneuvering, you had quietly woken up and reached for his forehead where blood was spilling from the same wound.

“Kiyoomi, you’re bleeding…”

“And why do you think that is?!” Sakusa snapped at the mention of your matching wounds.

Ignoring his comment, you chose to ask where you were going.

“The nurse’s office to fix your idiotic mistake,” he replied harshly.

After arriving at the office, the nurse gave you and Sakusa a questioning look, but she said nothing as she swiftly wrapped and bandaged your injuries. She soon left for a faculty meeting, leaving you at the mercy of a very angry soulmate.

You sat against the headboard of the office’s medical bed, while Sakusa stood across from you with his arms crossed and a glare on his face. His mask was no longer present, having been abandoned, as it had been contaminated by the blood of his injury.

“So,” you began. “Lovely weather we’re having…”

“That’s not funny, [Y/N]. Now, start explaining.”

“All right, all right,” you sighed. “I guess it started a few days ago. At first, they were small favours, like buying them a few drinks. Then the favours became more demanding…I tried to tell them today that I wasn’t going to be their little servant anymore, but you know how that turned out…”

“So the bruise…?” Sakusa asked inquisitively.

“Yes, it was them,” you answered quietly.

You said nothing as Sakusa continued to frown before he eventually asked, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because,” you started. “I knew that you would worry. You’re already so busy with school and volleyball, I didn’t want to add to your list of worries…”

“…You really are an idiot,” Sakusa mumbled before running a hand through his hair. He soon moved to sit next to you on the bed and took a hold of your hands in his. “I’m only going to say this once, so you better listen carefully. We’re soulmates for a reason. We’re supposed to be there for each other. Whenever you have a problem, we’re supposed to solve it together.

“I know that I don’t always act like it, but I care about you, a lot. So just like how I can trust you, you need to know that it’s all right to trust me. You can always depend on me to be there for you.”

When he was done with his rant, Sakusa felt his cheeks lightly flush red as he saw your blank expression. He hoped that he didn’t say too much.

“All right, Kiyoomi,” you finally said, a smile beginning to appear on your face. “No more secrets.”

Smirking in approval, Sakusa leaned in and lifted a hand to tilt your pretty face so that you were staring directly into his eyes. His voice was low and seductive as his thumb lightly brushed against the corner of your mouth.

“Good. Because the next time you keep a secret from me, I’m going to have to punish you.”

#sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu reader insert #soulmate au #think sakusa think

174 notes · View notes

youvebeenlivingfictional · 3 years ago

Text

The Depths

Part Eight of Take Your Time

Two Days | Masterlist | Guilt

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Reader x Ellaria Sand Rating: M (this may go up—if it does, I will give everyone fair warning before there is any explicit content) Notes: I hope y’all had a good week! 🧡

Warnings: Cursing; angst; yearning

Summary: There are moments, small, infrequent moments, when a flicker of guilt passes between Oberyn and Ellaria.

The first day underwater is terrifying.

You’re queasy; you can’t keep anything but tea down. It’s not sea sickness, it’s nerves.

The boats are all in order, your team is set for the dive. Everyone is buzzing with excitement as they look over the plans that you’ve set out for them for the day. The first couple of days will be used for observation, planning, and photography. The water is cool; the visibility is better than anticipated. When you surface, you have fewer bubbles of fear, and more bubbles of nerves. A lot of the structures that you can identify as part of the Old Palace been very badly corroded; some have become artificial reefs for marine life, and you already know that you can’t disturb them, lest it harm the ecosystem that’s taken form. There were a few things glinting at the sea floor, a few materials that you believe are copper, but couldn’t get a good enough look at at the time—your tank had been low on oxygen, and the team in the boat had been urging you to surface for the last hour.

You tug your gear off, sucking in a breath of fresh air and raking a hand over your face. Your team is chattering around you, delighted, volleying species spotted, structures noticed. You cast your eyes back toward the water. The artificial reefs, what they were covering...Well, you’ll have to review the pictures, but you’re certain, based on what you’ve seen in drawings, that those were key components to the upper portions of the burial chambers. If you’re right, then there will be no touching them—the Dornish ecological society won’t allow it. “...Boss?” You turn your head back to your team. Someone’s said something to you and you’ve missed it. You push a smile onto your face. “Sorry guys, what’s up?” -- Oberyn and Ellaria see very little of their archaeologist in the week following. It’s not that they don’t try—they certainly do. They drop in on her classes, leave notes with invitations for dinner or drinks the desk in her office. They even take The Red Viper near the area of the dive once. They see her pulling on her gear just before she drops off of the boat and into the water. Oberyn watches her during one of her lectures. Where she’s had an ease, a joy to talking about these topics before, the archaeologist is now distracted and almost rigid in her teaching. He’s seen the papers, he knows that the early findings underwater haven’t been nearly as promising as she’d hoped. It’s beginning to wear on her, the threat of failure. And there are moments, small, infrequent moments, when a flicker of guilt passes between Oberyn and Ellaria. They know what else lays at Blackmont Cove—they know what she’s looking for, and they know that she won’t find it in the depths. But they’ve kept their anonymity for so long—they’ve managed to stay afloat by being careful. Doran and the Sand Snakes went out of their way to destroy so many depictions of them, save for the ones that remain in Blackmont Cove. If they’re found...Well, it’s not worth thinking about what may happen.

They get the notes that they leave for her back—slipped under their doors or pinned to the bulletin boards outside of their offices. They bear responses like Sorry, the dig is too busy, or, Some other time. This happens for weeks. They can’t even catch the archaeologist after her classes—she steams out of there, and they know she’s headed for the dive. Ellaria inspects the latest note that she left for the archaeologist—another invitation to the open-air market. This one just has a hurried scribble that reads Can’t. She glances up as Oberyn comes into the office, sees the slight calculation and subsequent concern in his expression. “You look troubled, my love,” He says. Ellaria holds the note out for him, and he takes it, looking over the response. She sees his brow furrow just a touch. “A disappointment, but not a surprise,” He passes the note back to her. “I suppose,” She concedes, looking down at the note again. Oberyn rests his hands on Ellaria’s hips as he considers her expression. “...What is it?” He presses. She takes in a deep breath, her eyes flitting around the office. “It’s just...Quite rare that we meet someone that understands so much about...The lives that we knew. It was refreshing.” Oberyn hums, urging her on, and Ellaria meets his gaze, “I let myself get my hopes up, and now it feels...Foolish.” Oberyn smooths his thumbs in soft circles along her sides. “It’s not foolish to want someone, or to appreciate their prowess.” “Yes. You spent many hours appreciating her prowess.” Oberyn chuckles, raising his hand and cupping Ellaria’s cheek, “Be serious a moment.” Her mirth drops away as quickly as it arose, and she lowers her eyes to his chest. “Well,” She says, “Whatever happens, I enjoyed our time together.” Oberyn nods, tipping his head up and brushing a kiss to her forehead, then her lips. “Giving up so easily? Now who is being timid?” He teases. “There is a difference between being timid and taking the proper caution. I attended her class this morning—I’ve never seen anyone so tired.”

-- The Dornish Ecological society is staunch in their insistence that you leave the artificial reefs alone, as you knew that they would. You’re on the phone with them when you hear a knock on your office door. You glance up and spot Oberyn there. Something in your gut clenches—something nervous and twisty. You hold your hand up and point to the phone.

Oberyn nods.

And you figure he’ll leave, but instead he steps further inside and shuts the door behind himself. You narrow your eyes a little bit, lowering your eyes back to the files in front of you and refocusing on the conversation.

“Right…” You answer into the phone, “No, I understand that that species has become a vital part of the Harbor—...I understand, I’m not proposing that we—” It hurts you to press on, “I’m no longer proposing that we raise and restore those structures.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Oberyn still in his looking at your shelves; you see him tip his head back toward you, clearly listening in on your conversation. You clear your throat before you go on:

“But I would like to get a better look at a few of the objects along the sea floor in the area. I think they may’ve been uncovered by the most recent tide…Yes, I had a hydrographic survey done. The area I’m proposing to excavate along the floor is minimal in regards to the entire site, but I'd like to retrieve them before the next tide…I could run the survey down to you now...Yes. Thank you,” You hurry to hang up before you bend over your desk, hurriedly gathering your materials. You glance up as you feel Oberyn turn to face you fully.

“Is there something I could help you with? I’m sort of in a hurry.”

“I can see that,” Oberyn nods, “...The structure you won’t be raising, is that—”

“Yes,” Your answer is hurried and clipped. It’s not your ego that tells you that Oberyn has been keeping up with the dig—it’s how well you’ve come to know him, his fascination and love of Dorne’s history. That brings back that twisting feeling, and take in a deep breath, trying to rid yourself of it You stack the folders and files that you need and grab your bag, shifting it onto your shoulder.

“I gotta go,” You skim around the desk, “So—Sorry that you’ve wasted your time coming over here—”

“It wasn’t a waste—”

“Feel free to stay and to—to browse whatever books you like—”

Oheryn catches hold of your hand, stilling you, and you turn to look up at him, brow furrowed. He’s watching you with something that you can’t quite place—it seems too near concern, too close to something warmer, and you don’t want to read too far into that. “Take a moment for yourself,” He urges you, “Not now, but...Slow down, sweet—when you have time.” Maybe he doesn’t mean for the advice to irritate you; maybe it’s not just the urging, maybe it’s the softness of his expression—maybe you feel that the man has no right to look at you softly, with a concern that should be pointed at someone like Ellaria. You shake his grip off and reel away, slipping out of your office and into the hall. It isn’t fair—what does a man like Oberyn Martell know about time?

Tag list: @massivecolorspygiant ; @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo ; @recklessworry ; @paintballkid711 ; @peoniarose ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @missredherring ; @writeforfandoms ; @grogusmum ; @phoenixhalliwell ; @donnaa ; @natandtasha ; @quietpainter ; @acrossthestars ; @elen-aranel ; @letsfly-andbe-free ; @wonderlandgabby ; @amneris21 ; @you-didnt-see-that-cuming ; @blueeyesatnight ; @ayamenimthiriel ; @librariantothejedi ; @revolution-starter ; @softdindjxrin ; @whovianayesha ; @youngkenobilove ; @emotionalsupportdaydreams

#oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x reader x ellaria sand #oberyn martell/reader/ellaria sand #oberyn martell x you #oberyn martell x you x ellaria sand #Oberyn Martell/You #Oberyn Martell/You/Ellaria Sand #Ellaria Sand x Reader #Ellaria Sand x You #Ellaria Sand/Reader #Ellaria Sand/You #Take Your Time #The Depths

116 notes · View notes

loving-all-for-loki · 3 years ago

Note

Your writing is so wonderful! Could I maybe request something comforting? I’m currently recovering from a surgery to repair my foot with bone anchors and I’ll be bed ridden for 6 weeks. Maybe something with Loki being very supportive and caring for the reader 24/7, moving into her room etc. and the team are just surprised at how helpful he’s being to her. 🤗.

A/N: I’m sorry if I posted this at a weird time, but I have the next chapter to my series Voiceless Love coming out and I wanted to give this fic some time to be seen before that got posted. It’s also a little short, but I felt like this was perfect as a short and sweet fic, instead of a 2k+ story, haha. Also, I know it isn’t 100% exactly what you wanted, but I get stuck with one idea and run with it, oops. I hope you are getting better with your foot. That stinks so much and I’ve been there with my own ankle injuries. If you have any requests for some fics while you recover, send them my way! I always need some inspo and if I can give you some entertainment during your recovery, that would be great. Now, read this, get some sleep, and drink some water. I hope you heal nicely <3

Lucky

Loki x reader

Word count: 1533

Warnings: Pure fluff, just fluff, fluffiness, maybe a bit of sexualizing Loki (I couldn’t help myself)

Seeing your friends carrying big heavy boxes for you swells your heart. It’s also hilarious to see Thor actually struggling to carry something. Tony finds it amusing too given that he’s not doing any of the work but it’s sipping mimosas next to you. Thor grumbles about getting all the heavy boxes, but you also know Sam and Bucky purposely avoid the big ones.

If someone were to tell you ten years ago that you’d be saved from getting tortured by Hydra and become an Avenger, you’d tell them they’re delusional, but this is your life. Even after years of torture and pain, you considered yourself lucky. You could have been the new Soldat, ruined over and over again to be a war machine, but now you’re a trained assassin like Bucky and Nat with a broken leg.

You lean yourself against a wall in your room with your crutches beside you (along with Tony, of course, that lazy bum). Steve, Bucky, and Thor are carrying in boxes while Sam, Nat, and Peter help unpack some things. Today is the day you officially move into the tower with the rest of your teammates and due to your current disability, the other avengers offered to help you. Another reason why you consider yourself lucky.

Peter is by far the most adorable on the team. He’s fully unpacking for you, even arranging the frames on your shelves and the organizers on your desk. He at point made your bed when Steve brought in your blankets and sheets. Bucky has been super sweet, too, giving you funny looks every time he passes by and asking where the best spot for the box he is carrying to go.

But the one “avenger” you didn’t expect to be as helpful as he is, is Loki. The others told him to move out of the way, not wanting his condescending attitude to ruin the fun day, but Loki started to carry boxes in as well. The first time, the avengers were stunned by him, but then they were gracious because he used his magic to transport them, making the job go by quicker. Loki just stands at the bottom of the truck outside and wipes his hand over each cardboard box, sending it to your room.

You really are lucky.

Two days pass by and you decide to ignore your laziness and finally unpack the rest of your boxes. You attempt to push some photo boxes on the top of your shelves, but you find yourself stretching so hard to reach the top. Your foot injury really is stupid and you just want to be able to normal walk, or jump, or even go on your tip toes.

Then you hear a sly chuckle coming from behind you. You let out a frustrated sign knowing exactly who it is.

“Loki, if you’re going to stand there and laugh at me, could you least help me and laugh at me?”

“Of course, darling.” He jokes.

He comes up behind you and takes the box from your struggling fingertips and carefully paces it on top of the shelf.

“Is there anything else you helpless being needs help with?”

“I could use help with hanging my window curtains.”

You point to the box in the corner with your large sheer curtains folded in them. He chuckles and goes over the box, carefully picking them up and hanging them on the frame. You can’t help but notice his figure as he hangs them. He is a marvelous being and who are you to deny your eyes of such a sight?

The sight in front of you proved that you are lucky

Tony gathers the group for a game night and it results in everyone becoming drunk and children. At some point, it becomes a truth or drink game night and everyone has their poison. You have your legs laid over Loki’s lap, who was really hard to convince to join the game, and a bottle of Smirnoff Ice in your hand, only because Tony didn’t have anything else. Loki’s slowly running his fingers over your legs, but higher than your cast.

“Okay, Steve,” Natasha coos, “your turn. Have you ever done drugs?”

“I did marijuana in high school once.”

The whole team gasps and whistles at his answer.

“Captain ain’t so wholesome, now, is he?” Sam cackles.

“I remember that night,” Bucky laughs, “You were so high.”

Steve chuckles and nods his head before looking to see you cuddled up next to Loki and gets a wicked idea.

“Loki, you’ve been quiet. Your turn.”

“Please no, I’m beyond your little games.”

“Aw come on, brother! One question won’t hurt you,” Thor laughs.

“Who in this room would ever kiss?”

Tony whistles and takes a sip of his drink as everyone else laughs. You can feel the ice giant get slightly warm out of embarrassment. His face is flushed with a rose pink color as you get nervous, lightly chuckling to himself.

“I uh…”

“Answer it. Answer it. Answer it.” Sam chants.

Everyone chuckles at the clear uncomfortableness of the god, not seeing him like this often.

“Y/N.” He whispers, almost too quiet for you to even hear.

“Louder, brother. I couldn’t hear you,” Thor says innocently.

“Y/N.”

You smile up at Loki in shock. He won’t look down to meet your eyes but stares straight out the window past Tony. The entire team cheers and chuckles.

“Oh, we’re never letting that one down.”

“How lucky am I?” You laugh.

You attempt to cook yourself some lunch but your stupid cast is getting in the way of moving around. It’s getting tiring to pick up your crutches every time you need a tool two feet away from you. Letting out a frustrated sigh, you hit the edge of the counter with the spatula in your hand.

“What is wrong, dearest?”

You turn your head to see Loki standing behind you with a concerned look on his face, this time not here to make fun of you.

“I’m tired of my stupid foot getting in the way of doing normal activities.”

“Darling, sit down. I’ll make lunch for you.”

“Loki, you really-”

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to.”

Loki picks you up and sets you down on the couch while also handing you the remote. He goes to the kitchen and attempts to resume your lunch.

“Sweetest, what are you cooking?”

You laugh really hard at his confusion.

“Fajitas.”

“What are those?”

“See Loki, it’s fine! You really don’t have to.”

“And I’m not going to. I’ll make Stark do it.”

Loki orders JARVIS to get Tony and finish making lunch for you. You laugh and shake your head at Loki as he sits down beside you on the couch. He starts to run his fingers through your hair but keeps getting caught in the tangles.

“Why is your hair like this?”

“It’s hard to do anything while standing up. I can barely brush my teeth without falling over.”

“Well, it looks like I’ll do that for you, too.”

“Loki, I swear if you-”

“No point in arguing. I’m going to assist you.”

You rolls your eyes at the cocky god as he smiles at you. Nuzzling your head into his neck, Loki holds you tightly in an embrace. Tony comes in to see you two cuddling and shakes his head.

“You are so lucky we love you.”

You wake up the next day to see Loki sleeping beside you on your bed. You try to remember anything that happened last night, but you were so tired, nothing comes to mind. If you didn’t have a broken foot, you would be concerned about waking up next to a god, but you also know he wouldn’t have done anything with your injury. He’s too kind (much to some disbelief).

“Good morning, darling.”

Loki leans over to you and kisses you on the forehead. He wasn’t as asleep as you thought he was, but you’re not complaining. Waking up beside this adonis isn’t the worst way to spend a morning.

“Good morning.”

“I don’t care what you say,” Loki smiles, brushing a piece of your hair behind your ear, “you’re staying in bed and I’m waiting on you.”

“That’s very sweet. Thank you.”

“I’m glad someone learned something last night.”

“Actually, I don’t remember a lot from last night. I was tired.”

“We bickered about me waiting on you, hand and foot.”

“Hmm, that sounds about right.”

“So, today I’m treating you like a proper princess.”

“Does that mean we’re together?”

Loki looks at you confused, but his face lights up when he realizes what you’re implying.

“I suppose so. In that case, my princess, I will wait on you.”

You watched as the god all day served you lunch and dinner. He brushed your hair and teeth. Helped you change clothes. Played your music to cheer you up. Even carried you to the bathroom when you had to go.

Thinking about all the things your friends have done for you and all of the things that Loki, your prince, has done, all you can say is how lucky you are.

#loki fluff #loki fanfic #loki fan fiction #loki laufeyson #loki #loki x reader #loki x reader fluff #loki oneshot #marvel x reader #anonrequest #lovingallforloki

121 notes · View notes