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phoenixesse · 2 years ago

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Future's Present

I wrote this drabble because I love the champions and their descendants so much, especially Revali and Tulin. I HAD to write something for them, and here it is :) Please enjoy!

Please note that there are totk spoilers for all four of the Regional Phenomena main quest parts.

Despite the insistence of those at Lookout Landing, Link does not decide to travel up north to the freezing Hebra region first. He instead travels east to Kakariko Village, intent on visiting an old friend, reminiscing on a journey long past.

Zora's Domain was naturally the closest from there. The muck had plagued them and their swimming abilities, so when Link arrived to help, he was tasked with seeking out the Zora Prince.

He hadn't been to Zora's Domain in some time. There was really no way to tell how long it had been between when he and Zelda explored the castle, to when he woke up, after all.

When he arrived and washed off the statue in the main area, Mipha did not greet him. Instead, a beautiful new carving of him riding Sidon to Vah Ruta was in its place.

There's a sting of melancholy.

It really shouldn't be there. Link's had his time to grieve, moreso than so many others were given the privilege.

He doesn't think he could ever love Mipha in the way she did him, but at least he could hold onto her kindness like she'd held onto him with her grace.

It's hard to admit he misses her. All of them.

He was told Sidon was located on Ploymus Mountain, stopping the tainted water at the source. When Link arrived, he paused, hand falling from where he'd been holding his weapon.

The Zora had created a beautiful place named 'Mipha Court' in his time away, to honour their fallen princess. Somehow, Link knew she would've adored it.

At the highest point, following the blue stairs with the water that flowed down them, was Mipha's statue. He looks over to the East Reservoir Lake, close to where Ruta used to be.

There's an apology on his lips he can't say. He looks over to Sidon, hyper-focused on his task.

He's glad she's been honoured to the highest degree and loved just as much as when she was alive.

He treks through the Eldin mountains next, embracing the not-so-scalding temperatures this time around. While visiting the back of Death Mountain, he notices the Lizard Lakes, reminding him of memories everyone wants to forget. He looks up higher on Death Mountain, only noticing a shrine waiting for him. He takes in a long breath. It was going to be no easy feat to reclimb all the way up.

It's off-putting to see so many Gorons unravelled by their new food discovery, and even worse when Yunobo is completely unlike himself by seemingly his princess's cause.

Luckily, the mask he's wearing breaks after a brief scuffle, and Yunobo is more than happy to fight.

As they walk through the city on their way to cure whatever had plagued Death Mountain, the Goron Stone Memorial sits repolished, lights glowing in the eyes of each warrior carved. Daruk sits in the middle of them all, continually overlooking Goron City.

"Do you think it looks alright?" Yunobo asks. "I had some help from my guys at YunoboCo, and I think it turned out pretty good!"

Link nods. Protector, indeed.

Daruk was a man of strength and heart. To see him stand as tall as he did on Rudania eases the ache in Link's heart ever-so-slightly.

In the wake of another round of re-exploring Hyrule, Link wonders how easy it will be to travel to someone grounding. Having made up his mind, that's how he ends up all the way across the continent at the Gerudo Hideout's doorstep. His Ascend ability comes into great use, and after explaining his harsh methods, he's redirected to Riju's location.

Her training seems to be having mixed results. She wields lightning as easily as Urbosa once did, but her aim is only truly guided once Link shoots an arrow to the correct destination.

Her pride in her abilities is clear, heralding them with the passion Urbosa once did to protect the people important to her.

The desert is once again shrouded in sand, making many areas unchartable. A certain camel stirs in Link's mind. The tower to see the map (when he could) sat right beside where it used to be. Before his long trek through the Gerudo Desert, he had sat on the steps, looking over it. The dragon that started to reside there made the spot look so small in comparison.

After catching up on the reason for Gerudo Town's vacant state, Link learned of new enemies that came to swarm the Gerudo, and they seemed to have very few vulnerabilities. Riju's power of lightning is useful indeed, being one of the only things able to strike foes down.

When the town is saved, she insists on following an old legend to dispel the sandstorm and kill off the Gibdo, hopefully for good. While preparations are being made, Link departs by her bedroom, happy to see her beloved sand seals upkept.

He passes her diary on the way to the courtyard, eager to hear about the spoils he'd won. However, a few lines catch his attention in passing, and he stops.

Riju speaks of her worries about The Upheaval, which comes from a place of little surprise. Her uneasiness continues into thoughts of Zelda and himself and their disappearance. She talks of the fortifications in place for Gerudo Town and how much she believes she can do against their new enemies. It ends with her speaking and leaving for training, advice Zelda once gave her at the forefront of her mind.

"Oh, Lady Urbosa, if only you were here with us. Watch over us all in these dark times, and keep Zelda and Link safe..."

Link turns away, wandering outside to the courtyard. She's just as quick-witted as he remembers, which comes as no surprise but is a relief nonetheless. She also seems to be the only one to mention Urbosa, her importance still weighing on her mind.

Her fury, her passion; he sees it so clearly in Riju. Urbosa's legacy was well placed in her hands.

If there was only one person to keep the memory of such a woman alive, he's glad it turned out to be her.

The Hebra region is cold, much more than usual. The locals he's come across all tell of a never-ending blizzard, one that has broken the Rito's bridge and put their community into a heavy drought from food and shelter.

From the Lucky Clover Gazzette, Link looks forward to the shrouded village. The Gazette isn't far, luckily. It's crowded and homey, with very few travellers and a story-hungry manager, but he's taken a few jobs from there, and it seems to be an alright place.

He huddles by the fire, waiting for morning. He breathes in the cool air and the smell of smoke. He's finally arrived at where he was supposed to go in the very beginning.

After gliding over the bridge to arrive at Rito Village, Link explores what seems to be the vacant spiralled suburb. Snow piles mound from every surface, and all the rooms are empty.

The shops are still open, run by the children of the village.

"The adults are gone," They say. "They went to find food and shelter. We're okay running everything while they're gone, though!"

Link thought being the sacred knight was a weighted burden at sixteen, but even then, he was chosen for it. There was always no hesitance when the thought occurred that he'd do alright. But these children? Running a whole village on their own? It makes him feel a tinge of guilt for not saving Zelda already, and putting this in their hands. Wasn't this something he was born to do?

He finds Tulin, Teba, and Saki talking on a certain landing covered in snow. It's indistinguishable from every other place in the village at this point.

Tulin must be around twelve years old now, claiming his independence with his promising, above-average skill set. Another kid with the weight of their world on his shoulders.

When he notices Link from afar, his eyes light up with glee and excitement. It makes him wonder why it took so long for him to get here.

Tulin has grown, that much is easy to see. Teba sighs and shakes his head once his son eagerly takes off on his next adventure. He tells Link that he can't leave, his new mantle as chief connected to overseeing the village in its darkest hour.

So Link follows, trekking up another mountain and into the mouth of a large cave.

Tulin's gone far, far ahead, exiting out of the other side and glaring up at some monsters. His tenacity is admirable, but it could be seen as foolhardy. Many of the Rito through the cave praised Tulin for his skill but sighed regardless, his lack of cooperation becoming a further frustrating trait. It's an echo of a person Link once knew, this child training to become a champion but seemingly held back by an inner flaw.

Tulin's excitement is still palpable, even once he tells Link his bow was stolen. With his power to control the winds and Link's skill as a halfway decent archer, Tulin retrieves his bow, happier than ever.

As he inspects said item, his smile fades, and his expression downturns.

"Link? I don't think I should've rushed off like that." He clutches his bow closer. "They all warned me, and I didn't listen. I just thought that because I had some better skills, I wouldn't need anyone else's help. I just didn't want to see them hurt, especially when they're all working so hard for the village."

Link's eyes widen, and he wonders if a certain loner would've said the same thing if he'd been this age.

He places a hand softly on his shoulder, rubbing it in what he hopes is a comforting gesture. Tulin peeks up with broad eyes. He dashes into Link's stomach, wings wrapping around his back.

Link hesitantly places both of his arms around the boy in return.

"You know, I really think I get it now. Teaming up with you was so fun! And it makes things a lot easier too." Tulin pulls back. "I think I'm ready. Let's go to the Sky Islands and save Princess Zelda!"

As they fly over, the catharsis settles, and the blizzard seems a little less harsh.

The Sky Islands in Hebra are a gigantic collection of ships based on an old myth that was very questionably true until now. Sheets of cloth line nearly every one, creating a space to bounce from ship to ship. As they near the eye of the storm, the wind grows harsher, and even the paraglider has trouble flowing through the gusts of wind. Tulin is just as strong here as he is on the ground, the only tell of struggle through his squinted eyes.

Finally, as the storm reached its apex, one last ship stood in the way. As Tulin bursts Link forward, he latches on to the side of the ship, eventually able to pull himself up. With one more bounce, the clouds clear, and finally, finally, the far edges of the horizon sing in prominence.

The two fall, eyes marvelling at the sky between one held breath- one held moment of stasis and the next.

Vah Medoh had been one thing but was so secluded in comparison. Even though Link had travelled through the sky so much already, he understood Rito's love for it only then.

The center of the storm housed the ship of legend in all of its splendour. With five turbines to activate throughout the three floors of the ship, they were going to be there for some time.

But it was eventually done.

Another of Ganondorf's creations, Colgera, waited for them from beneath.

Link and Tulin were blown into the sky as the giant monster attacked.

By utilizing a combination of well-placed arrows, Tulin's gusts, and dodging the spikes and tornados thrown their way, the monster fell in defeat.

Tulin, upon touching the sacred stone, becomes acquainted with the Imprisoning War from his ancestor and told the same as the other sages.

'The Sage of Wind', they'll now call him. A title heavy for a kid, but accepted wholeheartedly of his own volition. Another guardian has been born into Rito Village.

He looks at Link with pride he's only seen very a few times before. He won't let him, or any of the others, down.

Link stumbles by a woman as he makes his way to the top of the village upon their return. She makes passing, polite small talk with him, mentioning Vah Medoh's perch. She says it casually as if it's not a bad thing to remember.

It makes him breathe a sigh of relief as she wanders away.

Teba is overjoyed to see the two of them when they return. As their conversation about the Stormwind Ark dies down, Teba turns to his son, unclasping the bow on his back. Tulin looks around in surprise.

"I did tell you that this bow would be yours someday when you came into being a warrior."

Tulin nods, his wings gently wrapping themselves around the bow. Link sees his eyes travel down the blue ribbon attached, and feels his own breath catch.

"Dad... thank you," Tulin says. "I'll prove that I'm a worthy enough warrior to use it."

A small gust ruffles the trees nearby.

Teba nods, Saki behind him smiling. Tulin finally turns to Link.

"I think I'm going to look into the Stormwind Ark to figure out what

happened to Princess Zelda, so I might be gone for a while. But that doesn't mean I'll be gone forever, so come back soon, okay? I might have new information for you!" Link nods. "And don't feel like you're ever alone. I'm the Sage of Wind now, and my avatar will be supporting you for as long as I can!"

Link blinks, a small smile peeking through. He was going to be undoubtedly an unforgettable ally.

The adrenaline from his final adventure before the last battle finally wears off as everyone departs for the highest point of Rito Village.

There's no one else around, and the snow has finally melted the village's cold exterior and could finally be inhabited again.

Link turns his head to a sign a little ways away, noting that the Rito had polished it from his last visit with a red and white feather-like trim.

It reads: 'Revali's Landing'.

The pattern on the wood from it has not seemed to age. The Rito symbol sits proudly, even still, a shining beacon of hope for those who come across it.

How fitting that a bow passed from a great warrior, to a fighter and chief, and finally to his proven son was received in that very place.

The Rito did not speak of Revali, it seemed. They, like the rest of the world, had moved on in small ways over one-hundred years.

While his name may not have been spoken, it was softly known. From how well-kept the landing was to the passing of a torch. Tulin had the same force of a gale, and the power few Rito could harness would not go to waste in his care.

Even with such sentiment, Link couldn't help but feel a tad sympathetic for Revali. He would've hated not being mentioned more. He would've hated his sympathy. Link could laugh.

He doesn't.

He kneels down and runs a hand over the largest part of the Rito symbol. A sudden thought comes to him, and he sorts through his bag.

The sun starts to set, and pinks and blues flood the horizon most over the Hebra and Tabantha regions. Link leans up against the post of the landing, limbs too tired to find a proper campfire.

He drifts off to sleep, finally a pseudo-peace lightly blanketing his mind.

In the middle of the landing site, three Blue Nightshades lightly ruffle through the wind, steady.

I had forgotten you a lifetime ago, but in this one, I won't allow that memory to be lost.

EXTRA:

Link blinks awake, the full moon high in the sky and darkness shrouding the atmosphere. He stretches, briefly regretting his decision to sleep on the wood.

The flowers he'd placed sit peacefully, untouched. Maybe he'd backtrack a little with the idea now in mind. Maybe put some Swift Violets in the middle of Mipha Court? Or Sundelions in front of the giant Goron Statue? Or even Electric Safflina on Riju's desk?

A pitter-patter of footsteps worms its way around until the source is at his side.

"Sorry, I didn't wake you up, did I?" Tulin asks.

Link shakes his head.

"Phew, that's good. Couldn't sleep?"

Link parses with the thought for a moment. He tilts his head from side to side with a sheepish half-smile.

Tulin smiles, taking a seat next to Link. "Me neither. I mean, I'm so glad to be the Sage of Wind! But... I guess I've never really thought about what that meant. More exciting new adventures for sure!" He looks to the moon. "I know we can protect Hyrule. It's just a matter of time!"

Link nods quickly, smile stretching.

"It's nice to see the sky so clear again. You can actually see the moon!"

Link agrees. He hopes Tulin notices.

They sit in silence for a few more minutes, Tulin's eyes still on the sky.

"I like the flowers, by the way," Tulin says softly. "I'll make sure they won't get hurt while I'm around."

Link nods appreciatively.

"You know, I actually met Master Revali once before. It was a long time ago, and I don't fully remember what happened because I was so young, but I ask Dad about it as often as I can, because he was there too!" Link stares, wide-eyed. "Dad told me I accidentally followed him into a portal back in time, where the calamity was stopped, and no one died!"

Tulin's eyes glow.

"Master Revali saved me that day! He's really just as great as everyone said! And a lot nicer once you get to know him." Tulin chuckles. "I have his bow now. I told him one day I'd be worthy of it! I wish he could've seen me master it!"

Tulin falls back onto a post with a yawn.

"Link, do you think- since you knew- ugh, actually, never mind." He shakes his head.

Link tilts his head to the side in a questioning look. He hopes it's comforting enough for Tulin to keep going and be unashamed of doing so.

"It's kind of a stupid question." He laughs awkwardly. "Like I know dad already is, and I don't have to prove anything to anyone but- do you think that... Master Revali would've been proud of me?"

Link's eyes widen twofold, and for one of the very few times in his life, he acts on an impulsive emotion alone. He reaches behind Tulin, clutching him in his arms. He shakes his head up and down vigorously, unsure if the kid can even feel it.

"You really think so?" Oh no, he sounds a little sad. "Thank you, Link!" Tulin laughs openly instead. "Thank you so much!" He reciprocates the hug, a wide smile pressed into Link's upper shoulder.

When they pull away, the moon has already lowered significantly from the start of their conversation. Tulin yawns again.

"I'm guessing you're going to have to leave tomorrow morning? Lots of stuff to get ready for the final fight, right?"

Link finds himself reluctantly nodding.

"That's okay! I know you and everyone else are going to do awesome, Link!" Tulin yawns a third time. "I'd invite you to where we live for the night, but there's not that much room. Do you mind if I stay out here tonight?"

Link shakes his head.

"Awesome." Tulin leans his own head against Link's shoulder. "Good night, Link. And thanks for everything."

Sleep comes to the pair far easier this time.

At the same time, for the briefest of seconds, the water calms in every lake. The rocks and lava silence their thunder. A faraway bolt of lightning strikes an enemy. A light breeze ruffles through a trio of flowers, the chosen knight, and the Rito's upcoming greatest warrior.

Riju writes another entry into her diary, the next day looking even more promising.

Yunobo says goodnight to every Goron still awake after a hard day at work.

Sidon watches a shooting star fall from afar from the King's throne, attaching every single hope he has onto it.

A blissful peace settles over Hyrule. Even though there are many challenges yet to overcome, for one night, everything seems like it might turn out okay.

#fanfiction #totk spoilers #totk #totk link #tulin #riju #yunobo #sidon #mipha #revali #daruk #urbosa #botw #I may put this up on ao3 if it gets enough love #I like how it turned out!#A large part of this fic is actually based on some of my own gameplay experiences :3 #also Tulin and Revali have such a good dynamic I love them #Thank you aoc for your service #vienna writes

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ginalinettiofficial · 1 year ago

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already posted one fic to ao3 today but might fuck around and post another in another fandom just to keep things spicy

#d speaks #it’s an atla fic that’s literally complete #like i struggled w the ending which is why i put it down when i wrote it in may but it was like. a fairly easy fix actually #and i think im happy with it enough to post it which is fun !!!!#idk might wait until tmw to do so because i don’t feel like tagging and all that rn but #very proud of myself it’s been a productive day in terms of writing #mayhaps tmw if the babies nap at the same time i’ll even get up another chapter of my billy eddie fic #OR finish that one one shot i have 90% done and haven’t touched in two months #i’m working 7-7 tmw i’m probably being ambitious here and really should go to sleep but idk. feelin inspired n shit #also when i post this i will have fics for THREE different fandoms on ao3 which is just so fun!!!! i love that for me!!!!!!#can u believe i didn’t even take my adderall today either?!?!?!?!????????#insane truly #anyways. i need to go to sleep it’s 11p and i need to be up at 5 but idk i’m just. very excited rn!!!

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imwritingthefout · 6 months ago

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after session hangout

basically you fall in love with the dm of your campaign in college: Ford pines, smut ensues

This is crossposted to ao3 so if you wanna go read it there, here’s the link:

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Waking up each day to the same old ceiling was starting to bore you.

Ever since moving out of your parents house for college you felt like a stranger in the dorm you now called ‘home’, and It didn't help that you refused to decorate it.

Getting out of your plain old bed, you stand up and push away the blinds with a tug, the light from the early morning sun blinding you temporarily. You glance down at your clock; 6:30am, thursday. The time isn't the part that excites you though, it's the day. Today is the day you look forward to all week: Dd&md day!

You go to get ready for your morning class, excited for what the future of today may hold. You love dd&md, its been your favourite game since you were a child -even though you had no one to play it with back then, you got creative (no goat was harmed in your past attempts at playing the game).

Your classes went by in a blur. Of course you were taking notes and whatnot, it was important to pay attention! But in secret, you were drawing your character all over the side of your notebook and thinking of strategies on how to defeat the next dungeon your dm set up for you.

And then there was your dm.

One of the many reasons you adored thursdays was because you got to play dd&md of course, but other than that there was another big reason you liked thursdays.

To put it plainly: your dm, Stanford Pines was Hot. like, capital H Hot. you couldn't get over his warm brown eyes that sparkled with passion whenever he detailed the characters he was playing. His hands that moved with his every word, adding to the description of the imaginary world he was building. God you wanted to feel those hands on you. What would they feel like, intertwined with your own, on your hips while he-

You decided to stop that train of thought. As much as you liked him, you also respected him enough to know that he would probably never feel that way towards you, and you shouldn't fantasise about him like that (even though it was hard not to).

And though he was Hot, that wasn't the only reason you liked him. You liked him because he was smart, compassionate, funny and so very cute.

What can you say? You had a thing for nerds.

As your last class of the day finished finished up, you quickly packed up your things and rushed to the old building next to the dorms that housed your favourite room in the whole campus: the old meeting room you guys used to house your dd&md sessions!

The room wasn't glorious, it was just an old meeting room that's been out of use for years. But to you, that room was the home of your imagination. It held a special place in your heart, and you were sure it was the same for the rest of your party.

Speaking of which, you saw Fiddleford approach you down the old hallway, little puffs of dust kicking up with each of his steps. “Hey Fidds! You ready for today’s session?” you yelled to him slightly as he approached. “Ready as I'll ever be! You won't believe what I have planned in order to kick that sorcerer's butt!” he gave your shoulder a weak punch and opened the door with his key.

Usually, the old building was out of commission. But since Fiddleford knew a guy who works as campus security and convinced him to give him the key, you had full access to the building to do whatever you pleased. Of course for you, anything just means playing dd&md, not causing a mess and cleaning up after yourselves as much as possible in order to not inconvenience anyone. You knew that other people your age would throw huge parties and wreck the place, but you weren't that kind of person, really. You just liked having a quiet place to play your games and hang out with your friends. Fiddleford was like that too, that's how he got the key in the first place; because his friend trusted him not to mess up the place.

As you walked inside, you saw the table set out just how you guys left it last week: the long rectangular table set up in the middle of the room, with seven chairs set out all around the table, one for each player and one for your dm. A whiteboard behind the dm’s seat that shows the map of the fantasy world you are currently in the middle of exploring, and cork board on another wall with a bunch of graph paper pinned to it.

You walk around the table, taking your regular seat across from Fiddleford. “So what do you think Ford's planning for this session?” you ask Fidds. This is your usual routine: get to the building early, wait for Fidds and ask him if he has any intel for the session since his roommate is Ford. “like usual, i can’t tell you, it'll ruin the fun!” Fidds exclaimed, although the grin on his face told you he likes this familiar back and forth.

You eased into a casual conversation from there, talking about your days as you waited for everyone else. You liked coming early because then you had more time to talk with Fidds and, of course, with Ford.

You met Fidds on the first day of the semester, when you sat next to each other in the freshman orientation presentation, and hit it off from there. you became friends rather quickly, bonding over the fact that you were both far away from home with no friends in town. You decided to help him move into his dorm after the presentation, and that's when you met Ford.

At first, you were a bit speechless at the guy in front of you. His outfit was the usual scholar's outfit of a white button up shirt with a brown vest on top, but then he was wearing jeans in order to look more ‘casual’ as he put it. His hair was neat and tidy and his glasses framed his face perfectly, at least in your opinion. You introduced yourself awkwardly, and once he introduced himself as Stanford Pines, a parapsychology major with aspirations for 12 phd’s in the next five years, you knew you were in over your head. You can't have a crush on a super-genius! What if he turns out to be an arrogant asshole? But you couldn't help developing feelings for him as you got closer. He wasn't just a super-genius, he was also kind and compassionate, understanding and just a good friend. That's when you decided to just stay friends with Ford, you couldn't afford to lose such a good friend.

Speaking of which, the man himself comes into the room, holding a stack of books detailing the rules and monsters of dd&md, a satin sack full of dice and his dm screen. You can barely see his face behind all of the things he's carrying, and immediately you jump up to help him carry everything. He silently thanks you for the help and starts setting his stuff up while you go back to your seat. “Hey guys, how've you been since last week?” Ford asks you two. “Oh i've been well, you know. Dealing with you every day can be challenging but I manage somehow” Fidds says dramatically and you stifle a giggle. Ford gives Fidds a death glare before turning to you “and how are you?” he asks with a smile that makes your knees weak. “I'm good!” you proclaim a little too loudly and cough to hide your blush “yes i'm good, just the usual classes and such” you say in a normal voice (or at least what you hope is a normal voice, it doesn't help that Fidds looks at you cheekily, already knowing your secret crush on his roomate) “how have you been?” you ask him.

“Just the usual: doing homework, studying and building up today’s session” you catch on to the last part as a potential way to continue the conversation. “Well, what do you have planned for today?”. “Oh come on now, it wouldn't be fun to just spoil the game for you, would it?” he says and points to you to emphasise his point. “You can't even give us an outline? Something?” you pout a little and Ford gives in “fine… I may have something up my sleeve for today, and I can guarantee you won't see it coming this time! That's all I'm going to say for now though” he jabs his finger at you, trying to seem angry that you caught onto his plans last time, but his little smile gives him away.

Soon your other party members start filing in and you all start the session.

It goes as usual, you all mess around for a bit before getting serious. You can confidently say you saw the twist Ford put in this session coming, it was obvious how the wizard was actually a party member’s son, they had so many similarities! After another successful session, everyone leaves for their respective houses, leaving you, Fidds and Ford alone in the room to clean up.

“I can't believe you saw that coming again! I swear you're like a sorcerer in real life” Ford chuckles and Fidds adds “that would also explain how you get here before me every time! I swear I ran to get here today and you still beat me here!” “well what can i say guys? I'm just magical in every way!” you strike a silly but confident pose as Ford and Fidds laugh at your antics. “Oh shoot! I promised my friend i’d go on a blind date today, could you guys lock up this time? Ford you can just give me the keys tomorrow morning if i get lucky” Fidds winks and Ford rolls his eyes “alright, we get it, you can go”. Fidds leaves the keys on the desk and almost sprints out of the room.

You and Ford clean up the mess on the desk in silence before Ford decides to break it “how do you keep predicting my twists anyways? I swear it was supposed to come out of nowhere but you're too smart” you blush a little at the compliment “thank you, i guess i’m just good at guessing twists. But you do make it kind of easy. I mean, a secret relative of someone close? It’s kind of a cliche don't you think?” he pulls at the collar of his button up shirt and you can immediately tell something is wrong.

“Yeah.. I guess it is kind of cliche, but it's what fits the character, don't you think?” he says with a guilty tone. “Ford, what's wrong? I feel like you're hiding something” you get close enough to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder “you can tell me anything, i wont judge” you add, trying to coax him into telling you what's wrong.

“Well… I guess I brought the secret relative from my own life because… well… I have a twin brother….” the sentence doesn’t completely shock you, but it is still somewhat of a surprise “why do you never mention him? Did something happen between you two?” he chuckles a bit before saying “still as perceptive as ever, huh?” you blush a bit as he continues, looking out into the middle distance in thought

“Me and my brother were really close when we were young, we would do everything together. But as time went on, we grew apart. He didn't like the fact that I wanted to go away to a fancy college, especially because he knew he couldn't follow me there. I was working on a machine to impress the college, but on the day of the showing it stopped working. My own brother sabotaged my future. We had a big falling out over it and that’s why I'm here instead….” you empathised with Ford, but you couldn't help but question some things about his story.

“I know it must have been hard to deal with the fact you lost your ticket to the college of your dreams, but do you really believe your brother would sabotage you? If he loves you, wouldn't he want to support you? Maybe it was an accident and he didn't mean to destroy your project?” Ford looks lost in thought again before replying “i… it's foolish but i never thought of it that way…” he looks at you with thankfulness in his eyes and you can't help but smile up at him “you should maybe sort this out with him? Talk to him about what actually happened and if he meant to hurt you?”

“God you're right… Thank you! This changes everything! I'm so glad I could just kiss you!”

….

It takes him a second to realise what he said and blush at the thought of actually kissing you. You just stare at him dumbly for a second until your brain processes what he said.

He wants to kiss you?

Well this took a turn for the better.

“Do you really mean that?” you ask him with hope in your eyes

“Well… yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t i? Look at you” he finds that it's suddenly very important you understand how much he wants to kiss you. “Wow… i- i didn't know you felt the same…” you say softly and look down. He says your name and puts his hand on your cheek and lifts up your face to meet his eyes “i like you. More than as a friend. Would you… let me kiss you?” he looks at you nervously for a moment before you close the gap between you two and kiss him yourself.

The kiss feels electrifying. As your soft lips meet his you put your arms around his neck to pull him closer. You realise he smells exactly how you thought he would; of old books and aftershave. His hands find your waist and rub gentle circles with his thumbs into your skin. You pull away after a little and touch your forehead with his “you have no idea how long i've wanted to do that” you whisper gently.

“Me too” and he goes back to kissing you, this time he takes the lead. You tighten yourself around him until your chests meet, his hands move down to your hips and he pulls you onto his lap in one swoop. You gently bite his lip as he groans into your open lips. He then moves down to kiss from your jaw to your neck, leaving the occasional love bite. You sigh at his bites until he gets to your collarbones. “Do you…. Want to do this?” he breathes the question against your skin, the feeling of him against you makes you shudder. “Yes. im sure”. He straightens up from excitement and goes back to kissing you collarbone, now more eager than ever as his hands travel past the hem of your shirt and up to your bra. Meanwhile your hands go down to feel him underneath you.

“Someone is excited” you smirk as he breaths heavily against you.

“Very” his response falls heavy against you as he unclasps your bra (with only a little bit of a struggle) and his hands move to massage your breasts. You moan as he pinches your nipples in between his fingers. You lower your head to bite at his shoulder to stifle another moan from falling out of your lips- “No” he says and moves his shoulder to get you to stop muffling your sounds. “I want to hear you”. The thought of him wanting to hear you like this makes you blush and sends a bolt of pleasure down your spine. “Y-yes’’

You intend to start massaging him through his pants but he beats you to it, moving his hand down into your pants. You help him take off your pants and underwear (with a lot of struggle because of your position) and he suddenly picks you up and places you on the table. The cold desk underneath you only adds to the pleasure as he caresses your side before moving his hand down to finally touch you.

His hand caresses your folds and feels how wet you are, and you moan from the feeling of his thick fingers on your sensitive skin. “Damn, you feel so good” he whimpers at how you feel before kissing your breasts and plunging his index finger inside you. “A-ah~” you sigh as he moves his hand so his thumb is circling your clit.

He continues pumping his finger inside of you for a second before adding a second one and speeding up the pace. If he continues like this you wont last long. Almost as if he can hear your thoughts, he stops and goes down onto his knees, his face in front of your core. “Can I please taste you?” he asks innocently, as if his request isn't the most dirty thing you've heard him say. Thinking about it makes you even more aroused -if that's even possible at this point- and you hastily agree.

Not even a second after he sees you nod does he jump into your pussy, his tongue plunging into you and licking you from the inside. His nose bumps into your clit as he moves to taste and lick you even more. Your breath hitches and you moan loudly as he begins sucking at your clit, toying and teasing it with his tongue. “Please F-Ford” you manage to say in between moans. He groans against you and the vibrations send a wave of pleasure through you.

He suddenly brings his fingers back into you, curling them just right, hitting that spongy spot inside you that sends you over the edge.

You briefly hear him let out a broken “Fu-uck” as your orgasm ripples through you in waves. Ford helps you ride out your high as he continues fingering you and licking at your clit. You have to push him off of you as it becomes too overstimulating

You try to pull him up to his knees, but he seems embarrassed by something. He looks up at you with his chin and nose glistening from your wetness, a guilty smile on his lips and his glasses fogged up and crooked. You then look down and notice it. A wet spot against his jeans

oh.

He got off on pleasuring you. He turned into a mess from just tasting you, feeling you on his lips and fingers. “That's the hottest thing i've ever seen” you say suddenly and lean down to kiss him passionately. He pulls away “really? You think so?” he looks at you in shock. “Yes! Now let me kiss you” you bring him up and kiss him passionately. He takes the hint, grabs at your hips and grunts. You can feel him already hardening again so you pull at his belt and pull down his pants and underwear. You softly grab him and start moving your hand up and down as he whimpers against your lips. You bring up your hand and spit onto it in order to create less friction when touching him.

“Please Ford- fuck me” you moan into his ear and he leans his head back in pleasure. “But i don't have-” you cut him off “there's some condoms in the front pocket of my bag, please” you emphasise your point by giving his cock another stroke. This seems to fuel him on to run to your bag and get the condom. He opens the packet and rolls it onto his member. He rubs his cock against your folds to collect your juices and as his head rubs against your oversensitive clit you moan. “Please put it inside” you hold onto his shoulders as he follows your request and pushes his tip in slowly.

He slowly pushes himself inside you until he's bottomed out inside you and you both groan. You move your hips experimentally and he whimpers at the feeling of you around him. He slowly starts to pull out and then thrusts back in with a moan of your name. You dig your fingers into the soft skin of his shoulders as he continues thrusting inside of you slowly.

He continues gently until you decide to whisper in his ear something that changes his attitude completely “harder- please~”. He understands the message and suddenly picks you up and flips you around -while still inside of you- and bends you over the table. You moan at the sudden change of positions but you have no time to get used to it as he starts thrusting into you at a killer pace. He moves his hips sharply into you, with an almost mechanical pace as he pushes your chest onto the table with his broad torso. You can't help the sounds you let out each time he hits that deep spot inside of you. He grunts into your ear at each thrust and it makes your eyes water from all the pleasure.

You're suddenly pushed over the edge for the second time when he wraps his hand around your body and starts playing with you clit. You scream his name as you cum around his cock. His pace stutters a bit and he curses in your ear as he cums too for the second time.

He slowly eases you both down with some gentler thrusts and then exits out of you with a sensual pop.

You lay down for a little while with your ass out before you gather some strength to get up. As soon as you do, your legs start to shake and Ford catches you in his arms and chuckles a bit with pride. “So…. did you like that?”

You dead-pan him and say “no. i didn't like that. Of course I liked that you doofus!” he laughs a bit and kisses you again. “I just wanted to make sure!” he says against your lips. You giggle and pull him even closer “well, i enjoyed that a lot” you give him a small peck on the nose and then pull away to put your clothes back on. He disposes of the condom and goes to put on his pants but pauses. “I can't go out with a wet spot on my pants…. What should I do?” he looks terrified at the thought of walking around campus like that.

“Don't worry, i always carry an extra sweatshirt around in case the ac is too much in class” you laugh as he looks at you like you just saved his life “you are an angel!” he comes up to you and kisses you again before going back to putting on his pants. You hand him the sweatshirt and he ties it around his waist in order to hide the evidence of what happened.

He then comes up to you and hugs you. “You know i meant what i said, right? About liking you” you blush and then respond “i meant what i said too”

“Then can this not be a one time thing? I want to -if you’d want of course, there's no pressure if you don't want to do anything more than what happened today but-” you cut him off to spare him from rambling even more “i’d like to go on a date with you, Ford. i want to go out with you and be with you” he sighs with relief. “Great! Are you free tomorrow?” you check your calendar “yeah i should be- do you want to meet up?”

“I would love that” he kisses your forehead before picking up your bag and the keys to the room.

You go out but as Ford locks the door, he realises something.

“Why do you have condoms in your bag?”

You immediately flush a deep red as you remember the fact that after first meeting him, your horney brain convinced you to put some condoms in your bag. ‘Just in case something happens’ you thought to yourself

“No reason” you yelp out and pull at his bicep so he continues walking and change the subject.

He chuckles at your antics but goes along with you.

He’ll just have to ask another time.

#gravity falls #stanford pines #stanford pines x reader #ford pines #ford pines x reader #gravity falls fanfiction #college!ford pines #smut #ford pines smut #ford pines fluff

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harmonysanreads · 2 months ago

Text

Chiaroscuro

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Dr Ratio x [ Gender Neutral ] Reader

Synopsis: There is a wilted daffodil resting between the pages of Ratio's memories. Tags: POV Dr. Ratio, Fluff and Humor and Angst, Hurt/Comfort (?), Slow-burn (oh my), Right Person Wrong Time (oh dear), Strangers to Friends, Reader is Older than Ratio, We speak in the Language of Flowers here, Literary References and Allusions, Exploration of Academic Struggles, Jealous!Ratio, Exploration of Grief, Slight Yandere!Dr Ratio, My Interpretations of Ratio's Past and Ideologies (because hyv won't tell me), Brief Aventurine Appearance TW(s): Toxic Relationships, Toxic Family Dynamics, Implications of Physical Abuse (not condoned by Ratio) Author's Note: At long last, my ‘thesis’ on Dr. Ratio is finished :') I've been working on this fic since June 2024 and finally gathered enough willpower to push through the rest of it. I started this fic with the sole goal of torturing Ratio but ended up falling in love with him halfway through this fic- as such the direction may have shifted orz Please forgive any unintentional errors and get cozy <3

「 Word Count : 11k 」「 Artwork Credits 」「 Read On AO3 」

i. Panorama.

They say, the best years of a human's life are spent before boards painted with chalk scribbles and around those of one's ages, filled with careless laughter and weaving hopes for the distant future.

Veritas Ratio has always disagreed with this belief and backed his own with a multitude of reasoning. For one, those so crowned ‘best years’ are not to be wasted through wishing your fantasies would come to fruition on their own. Secondly, his experiences run contrary to the images illustrated by the majority of the population. Which, fall as it might within the grounds of personal grudge, has enough weight to not be disregarded entirely, he'd argue if necessary.

If confronted on his bitter feelings regarding the schooling years of a person's life, there is a possibility that the erudite Doctor will falter and then incoherently mutter something about it not being a downright horrifying experience.

The chances of receiving further clarification from that point decreases significantly and will be entirely dependent on Ratio's mood, which, isn't perceived to be the most agreeable on most days.

In the rare case that luck shines upon the inquirer and Veritas Ratio's stern edges soften with nostalgia, there will be but one name that'll leave his lips in an uncharacteristically somber cadence.

If certain events had transpired differently, the recollections of that day would've been far sweeter than it is now — but still, the parasite known as nostalgia begs to alter his memories. It attempts to soothe the cuts gained from reaching towards aspirations far beyond his capabilities with cursory glances from the sun, and daisy petals hidden in the crevices of dusty tomes.

In the days Veritas Ratio treaded in an environment where nearly everything was twice his height, carrying expectations no one would bother to understand, he'd pledged to himself to not fold before irrational demands just because he wasn't a sight one would normally see in an institution full of burgeoning adults.

He was no stranger to the attention his genius brought, far more so the unwanted part of it.

Which was why he'd stubbornly made his goals clear to his titular peers within the first week of his attendance, much to their bewilderment.

Any suggestions for free ‘assignment completion service’ was shut down curtly and neither did the prodigious new student bother to partake in other youthful activities — but surprisingly, Veritas's distant countenance hadn't succeeded in putting a dent to his overall popularity.

Perhaps that is the reason the requests for private tutoring sessions and borrowing of notes never did cease, because despite his attitude, no one could deny his intelligence. And that, ultimately became his label in that university. Consequently, no one went out of their way to seek him out unless it concerned academics — except one person.

Ratio thinks he might've been witnessing a meteor streak the night sky instead, because relatively speaking, he couldn't trace where you appeared from with just his bare eyes.

(Though now that he thinks again, it might've been because he'd not bothered to look beyond the white board of the lecture halls, haughty as he'd been.)

—And as momentary as said event, you'd stunned him with an inquiry that did not match any of the others that'd preceded your kind.

“Why are you all alone during lunch, little boy? Whoa, you're studying even now?”

He’d barely missed the astonished gleam in your eyes when he parted from marking an important section from his book in a flinch. The unacquainted sight beside his desk had put the functions of his brain at a temporary standstill, before resuming with a barrage of questions as you observed him rather amusedly.

The small smile that appeared on your face next halted any of those inquiries from gaining voice as Veritas's reflexes worked to catch the objects tossed his way.

“Take these for now. Skipping meals isn't good for you, you know? You can't achieve your dreams if you don't take care of your health first.”

Veritas blinked owlishly at the apple and sandwich now resting on his lap, the words of advice you stated in a rather sing-song tone barely registering in his head as he vacillated between demanding your identity and scoffing at your audacity.

Much to his chagrin, you evaded his burning stare and waltzed out of the vacant lecture hall before he could even open his parched mouth, again.

(What he recalls first before this peculiar interaction now is how the usually mundane sunlight had embraced your form that day.)

He only saw more and more of you from then onwards, much to his initial displeasure. For some mysterious reason, you'd made it your hobby to nag at and subtly coddle him in ways that made any other passing student raise eyebrows.

Whether it be dragging him to places and sometimes forcing him to eat lunch or separating him from his beloved books to 'refresh his mind' at some other corner of the campus, you never faltered ; despite all the scowls and passive aggressive quips he sneaked in.

Only after some research did Veritas discover you to be one among the seniors and, he'd admit it somewhat begrudgingly, you were a senior in every sense of the word.

Although, that knowledge did not aid him in answering the most begging question: why were you going out of your way to guide him through the perilous terrains of university? He'd initially suspected you to demand recompense in the same ways the others coveted.

Perhaps you were an expert manipulator, struggling to wrap up your last year in the institute and as a result, decided to prey on the genius through teasing words and coddling.

Ratio was fully prepared to face you when you showed your true face — except, his hypothesis ended in utter failure as that expected unravelling never came.

So, on another of your usual kidnappings meetings under the old oak tree at the far end of the campus, Veritas decided to soothe the scorching paranoia in his head.

“It’s because you remind me of my little siblings! It's been such a long time since I've seen them and I just really miss them, you know?”

He doesn't know. Neither the sentiments that are apparently driving you to take care of him nor whether you're being sincere.

Here's the most annoying thing about you: despite how much of a genius Veritas is crowned to be, he's experienced repeated failures in deducing what lies beneath that benign smile of yours.

At least there are formulas and theories to explain or, get closer to the enigmas of the universe. But whatever and whoever moulded you into your present state had clearly forgotten to leave a loophole behind for curious minds like his to decipher.

“Besides, I understand how you must be feeling in this environment where everyone is half a decade older than you — even though you like to act tough. I know that there's a seed of loneliness that's ready to burst into a giant tree with the right incentive and you're just holding onto the last of your sanity to not let that happen.”

Ratio's fingers halt midway through flipping to a different page of his book. Your observation silences him long enough to make the rustles of leaves permeate the atmosphere, before he forces his brows to furrow and his lips to quirk down.

“It’s rude to make assumptions about someone you barely know.”

The purple head watched as you leaned against the palm of your hand, as though the sneer on his face was nothing worth fretting.

“Aww, did I catch little Veri off guard? No need to be in such denial, I saw you gape like an owl at my words. But owls are my favorite bird, don't worry!” The hostile expression on his face morphs into surprise as you ruffle his hair with your free hand with more enthusiasm than required.

“Rest assured, I'll take care of you for as long as I'm here, little Veri.”

“I’d appreciate it more if you don’t.”

That earned him a laugh and messier hair.

ii. Anamorphosis

Little Veri.

If there was something he despised more than the shrill voices of his classmates, it'd be that nickname. You might've been accurate in your choice of words in a literal sense, but for the first time, honesty had bruised his ego.

The prodigy was not accustomed to being treated his age, he was always commended as ‘mature’ and being ‘beyond his years’. Yet you had never even bothered mentioning this and instead, always poked at the suppressed child that slumbered at the deepest corner of his heart.

What he loathed even more was how every repeat of that ridiculous nickname actually made him feel quote-on-quote ‘little’. No, how you allowed a leeway for that teenage heart to peek through from under a canopy of knowledge and caution.

Intentionally or not, you carved a shelter for that little boy to crawl beneath in moments that no one would care to glance at.

It was a matter of great shame although, while his teachers had handed him the basics to deciphering the laws of the universe, no one had bothered to teach him how to respond to such kindness.

Upon further digging, the genius was surprised to find that your merit resided in the top five of your entire year. While he hadn't taken you for a dimwit (he'd rather eat dirt than utter such sacrilege) his astonishment stemmed from the fact that he'd never seen an academic material accompanying you on campus.

He’d even thought your sole task was to bother him with your half-a-decade years old wisdom upon a particular session of agitation. But after clarity grasped his mind, he realized that his suspicions were simply baseless in an institution as competitive as Veritas Prime.

Instead of journals and papers concerning your major, Veritas often saw you seeking refuge in musings soaked in fantasy and your rationale behind such escapades puzzled the mind of his younger self greatly.

“And then the male lead gave a bouquet of bluebells to the female lead, declaring his feelings! Isn't that so romantic?”

Ratio scrutinized your form hunched over from giddiness derived from materials that appeared alien to his eyes, stacks of textbooks wept at the corner of the table in abandonment.

“Bluebells? I thought people gave roses for matters like this?” sunset orange eyes swept over the incredulity blooming on your visage.

You sighed as though he was the most exasperating person you had the misfortune of dealing with, “It’s because bluebells are the symbol of eternal and undying love. Roses are undoubtedly lovely but as you said, if anyone was to give roses to someone, everyone and their grandmas would have an inkling about what is happening between them! Giving someone a bouquet of bluebells on the other hand, is far more secretive and exciting.”

“I don't really understand but alright.”

Ratio almost drops his pen at the flick to his forehead, “So unromantic! You're never getting a girlfriend if you continue being like this, kid!”

His free hand whips up to shield his skin against further damage, he feels the muscles of his temple twitch in profound irritation. “I don't need—”

“Yes yes, you're too preoccupied with the pursuit of knowledge to bother with fickle things like romance blah blah blah.” Ratio's eye roll almost synchronizes with yours.

Veritas knows and he isn't ashamed to admit that he's not a romantic person. The path he walks on has no necessity for abstruse emotional attachment and sentimentalities.

On the contrary, what he abstained from seemed to be the centrepiece of your interest.

Your eyelashes flutter as you rest your elbows on the table, eyes searching for a trace of your wishes among the litany of bookshelves, “But if anyone was to confess to me, I'd want them to give me a bouquet of bluebells instead of trying to articulate their feelings.”

Ratio raised a brow as your sigh echoed throughout the grand library, “And how, pray tell, would they know of your preference?”

“That’s the thing, little Veri!” you snapped your fingers as though you'd solved the greatest dilemma plaguing mankind, “I wouldn't talk about these fantasies to just anyone. If someone was to give me a bouquet of bluebells, it'd mean that we're close enough to know these secrets and then there'd be a high chance that the feelings are mutual. No awkward moments, we'd know what we are without even speaking!”

The purple head observed as you rambled, the light from the sinking afternoon sun filtered through the stained glass shone on you. A scoff escaped him before he could stomp it down, his arms crossed almost derisively.

“And is that your sole ambition in life?”

“Of course not,” your reply was brisk and simple, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You met Ratio's perplexed gaze with an unusual calm, “If by ambition, you mean what I want to do after all this studying, well — I want to be a teacher.”

Veritas couldn't hold back the surprise from soaking his words this time, “A teacher? Why?”

But you seemed to find great entertainment in his reaction, if your twinkling eyes was anything to go by and the genius isn't even taken aback this time; your sources of amusement would never be the guesswork of anyone.

Your shoulders shifted as you shrugged, “Why not? Teaching is one of the most noble professions out there, but it warrants great caution and wisdom. Hmm, come to think of it— what do you want to be, Veri?”

Ratio nearly flinched as you expertly shifted the attention to him, glossing over it with a fake cough. “I…” his throat constricted as you leaned in ever so slightly, “—don’t know.”

“Whaaaat?” you backed away just as quickly, dragging the syllables of that word to emphasize your disappointment. “Tsk tsk, so you're just studying blindly without any clear goal? That isn't going to get you far, regardless of how intelligent you are.”

He knows that, but what is he supposed to do if his mind blanks when he tries to envision himself in any conventional field? In fact, he considers it as one of the flaws of the educational system. How a student is always urged to find their place in the grand scheme of matters but never guided through them ; or, at least, given clear pointers.

It'd also be careless to label Veritas completely clueless about his situation. What he does cradle, or was compelled to bear was not borne of his personal wishes. But with time, his mind accepted it as his own, though a part of his heart always ached with emptiness.

You cleared your throat upon noticing that a great conflict had rendered the genius speechless, “Well... as for the reason as to why I want to be a teacher, it's because I want to help those students who struggle to find their way in this vast world. Regardless of where they rank in the merit position or what ‘status’ society has assigned them. Granted, this struggle may continue even after someone has graduated and while I may not be able to help every single person, I still want to try my best. After all, that should be the goal of our educational system — in my opinion, at least!”

You chuckled somewhat bashfully afterwards, remnants of it settled on the way your lips curled. There was something so succinct yet undoubtedly natural about that smile, like petrichor and he felt a pang of regret hitting his ribcage for not noticing it before.

Although it might not appeal to some, to many it brought solace even before the sun could sweep aside the canopies of darkened clouds.

Something that's appearance was preceded only by the tears of the skies, it stunned the mind that such beauty could be unearthed from a phenomenon so seemingly insignificant.

And that realization appalled the young scholar.

iii. Tenebrism

Ratio did not comprehend the value of your presence until he was deprived of it.

Due to certain circumstances, the genius had learned to be contingent with the fact that he'd have to navigate the majority of his life all by himself. Of course, ignoring simpletons and self-centered personnel came easy to him as well.

What the scholar wasn't conscious of, or was too prideful to acknowledge was the harrowing vacancy in some obscure corner of his heart that yearned for a deeper connection. It would take little effort for him to rationalize this longing with his age and return his attention to far more pressing concerns.

But it seemed that the more he tried to silence the wails of his feelings, the more cacophonous they became.

You'd spoiled Veritas a good amount, with your willing enthusiasm to tail after him whenever you had the reprieve.

So, when you abruptly stopped your usual pursuit in exchange of accompanying another person whose face he couldn't bother to remember, the young scholar was left to deal with a surge of emotions he had little control over.

Said emotions, were tame enough to be kept under check within the first few weeks as he learnt that the purpose of this sudden acquaintance had been for the completion of a group project.

Where the scholar's composure did start to falter was when you maintained your distance from him even after the fulfilment of said project.

And Ratio despised the sparks of resentment that'd flare up in his chest each time you'd pass him by while chatting so deliriously with that no-name stranger.

He was thrown in a limbo the first time he witnessed someone else in the position that he held and although he stubbornly convinced his mind that it was for the best ; each time the scene would replay in the corridors and crevices of the university, Veritas could see yellow hyacinths bloom in his peripheral.

He's certain now that he must've been losing his mind, or at least was on the verge of (and for such a childish cause at that) because he took shelter in a superstitious practice and ignored as many meals as he could in the futile hope that you'd come back and reprimand him again.

Ratio would have applauded you if he hadn't been so consumed by all those unsavory chemical reactions in his mind.

It didn't help his case that the first time he'd bothered to take in the environment, he was reminded of the fact that, you had others who'd accept you, but he only had you.

His frustration must've reached a new peak, because not even the most persistent of his irritable classmates were brave enough to approach him as he continued to brood hopelessly.

It wouldn't be long until he would gather the motivation to finally propel himself out of that dark space, but the method his younger self employed to do so, embarrasses the present him to no end.

“They did what?”

Veritas needn't open his eyes to picture your visage colored in shock, he opted instead to maintain his somber facade, arms folded, and brows furrowed to complete the act.

“But I never thought them to be that kind of person, quite the opposite, in fact.” followed your reluctant admission.

Ratio outstretched his palm as though enticing you to accept the news, “One can deduce so much about the ocean by gazing at its surface. The facts are before you, with substantial evidence. Whether you believe them or not depends entirely on you. I only thought I should inform you before it reaches the Principal, that is.”

He could envision your eyes oscillating between his firm countenance and the unseen prospects proposed by his words. Discreetly, he peered at your fidgeting and unconsciously held his breath.

He'd done the calculations before approaching you, the worry oozing from your gaze confirms that you've heard word of it from his ‘associates’ already and the fact that you didn't try to defend the person further tells him you've done some digging through the news portals of the university yourself.

Step by step, you've unknowingly assisted in concluding this problem.

The young scholar silences the quivers of his conscience before they can rage and foil all progress. As for this friend of yours, there were embers left behind from misdeeds of long ago. He merely reignited that flame so that those crimes would face proper punishment — although which was not his principal goal. To make sure you don't get caught in the inferno was, or at least, that's what he tells his conscience.

A half-resigned hum from you saves the scholar from spiralling, “I’ll believe you and will avoid them for the time being. Though I have my own theories, you have a point. There is no telling what is beneath a person's exterior.”

Veritas simply nods to that conclusion.

Your eyelashes flutter as you drift into a brief reverie, before fixating on his rigid person. “Ah, but what is going on with you, kiddo? You've been skipping meals again, haven't you?”

The young scholar blinks in stupefaction at the shrunken proximity between you two, the single finger beneath his chin with which you scrutinize his visage nearly burns his skin. He can hardly process what observation you're making through the dizzying fragrance of jasmines.

“I am in perfect health, as you can see—”

“For so long! It's only a matter of when that you'll faint while calculating nonsense.” you sharply interject and withdraw the searing contact. Strangely, Ratio makes no face this time.

“Come to think of it, it's been a while since we've had lunch together. Oh, I have so much to share with you! Let's not waste anymore time, let's go!”

There is good cause for why the wise warn against temptations. Bit by bit, piece by piece, oh so painfully obstinate — you fed him that poison, rendering his sharp mind a mess of inebriating chemical reactions.

You were none the wiser to the impact your fickle gestures made on him and soon, Ratio's biggest weakness, curiosity silenced the prodding of his conscience.

He gained little incentive to step far away from the leering shadows, as the brilliance of the sun made it so his fixation wouldn't stray towards the darkness.

iv. Tachisme

“Suffering is part and parcel of extensive intelligence and a feeling heart. A man who is really great, it seems to me, must suffer considerably here below.”

Your sigh weighs down on the silence of the university's library, a dull thud causing a crack on it as you set down the tome on the dark wooden table.

“I couldn't help but think of you while reading this novel.” bright orange eyes watch the way you cushion your cheek against your knuckles minutely.

“Suffering, misery, sadness, whatever you name it is inconsequential to any human being. But I feel like, those who are labelled as being ‘different’ than the majority experience a certain kind of those challenges. The ones that are weighty on the tongue when they attempt to express it, perhaps inscrutable to even themselves.” Ratio mulls over your musings, briefly closing his eyes.

“Everyone’s experiences are bound to be different.” comes his easy response.

The furrow in your brows suggests the conflict his words stirred instead of assurance, “You take everything so coolly, but I can't help but worry for you. You may be calm and certain about everything now but there's no guarantee you'll always be this way. On top of it all, you reject close relationships, thus narrowing your options to lean on someone should a sizable problem come.”

Ratio catches himself before his eyes can roll sideways, “Surely you didn't drag me out of a lecture just to nag me again?” his subconscious notes the reduced exasperation that prospect stirs within himself.

You often worry for a future that has yet to seize anyone. While the young scholar commends your far-sightedness, he really cannot understand the use of losing one's mind over events that haven't happened yet.

Thinking ahead is helpful, turning that habit into an obsessive frenzy is not.

He observes the way your frown expands, deepens and ultimately loosens up with a sigh. You refrain from broaching the topic further, another quality he appreciates.

Though you don't make an attempt to defend yourself, you refuse to voice out anything else as well, settling your eyes to a distant point in existence.

For once Veritas is ruffled by the silence, so he makes an attempt to change the subject — because counting your eyelashes isn't the most productive thing for a scholar to do.

“It’s not everyday I see you carrying something that doesn't have hearts and glitters on the cover page.” his eyes settle pointedly on the book before you.

You scoff, “One does not survive in Veritas Prime simply from reading light novels.” there's a trace of pride in your admission.

“Oh? So, what does ‘one’ do to maintain their spot in the top five?” Ratio quirks a brow, holding your gaze.

The witty response he anticipates gets replaced by another sigh, puzzling him for an instance, “I’m assuming this is about me never studying within campus. Well, I just like keeping my study space and my socializing space separate. Listening to lectures here and doing the heavy lifting in my room. It's what works for me, in any case.”

There's genuine interest in his next questions, “And what do you do when you get bored while studying? Or when you feel like you can't concentrate anymore?”

You twirl a stray lock of your hair, cheek still resting on your knuckles, “Take a bath to sober myself up, I guess. When your mind is full of garbage, your body will likely not be the cleanest either.”

You shrug, your nonchalant attitude renders his mind to a blank slate. For a while he does nothing but think about your words, though the response he gives matches none of the context.

“I feel like there is so much I don't know about you.”

It's your turn to be surprised, but unfortunately for Ratio, the sight is still too brisk. You break into a fit of laughter, wiggling your brows as though you know something.

“Silly little Veri, let me tell you something. People are like icebergs! We can only see their tips with our bare eyes but to know them in their full capacity, we have to dive down.”

“But the waters are cold.” the young scholar pushes.

Your giggles soften to a smile, “That’s exactly the point.” and you refuse to elaborate further, again.

To reach the heart of the iceberg, one must push through the freezing depths of the ocean. Whether Veritas Ratio has that willpower, is a question left for his future self.

v. Sotto in su

As the days lapsed, more and more memories anchored themselves in Ratio's mind. They brought with them a different seed of emotion, every exchange with his enigmatic senior nurtured and coaxed it to sprout tender leaves.

Before his syllabus could be replaced, the fact had been known to everyone regardless of their relation to the prodigy. If your recurring appearances in Ratio's life and his noticeable tolerance for your presence was anything to go by, it was apparent to anyone with a conscious mind that his opinion of you was at a level above everyone else's.

Exchanges between different years wasn't an uncommon phenomenon, but a friendship with the notoriously detached prodigy was an understandable bewilderment. Though, the students at Veritas Prime quickly learned to use it to their advantage rather than criticizing it — a unanimous realization that Ratio was just a bit more agreeable in your presence.

Not that Ratio was unaware of their schemes, the fact that they construed that he'd tolerate them solely because of your connection further cemented his belief that all these wannabe researchers were still light-years away from the truth they speak to seek.

Albeit, after noticing that he'd been more approachable for students who genuinely wanted to learn rather than to fulfill some pecuniary purpose — he begrudgingly admitted that, there was an influence taking place.

Veritas swiftly ignored the rumors. While not one to waste his time, being with you brought along perspectives that challenged his thinking style. To him, truth has always been beautiful because it will not change, even through the failures in understanding it.

But you're a human being, change is rooted in your constitution.

The cycle of erosion and accretion that makes you you hinders even a brilliant scholar like him in grasping the characteristics of your soul. This form of beauty he was not acquainted with before, admittedly.

Relying too much on either rigidity or malleability will pose problems. It is through the search of a balance can we discover the answers.

It may not be obvious at first glance, but you aspire to guide others through the murky depths of ignorance while pondering this apparent equilibrium — since neither extremes can be eliminated. As strange as that selflessness initially appeared to him, Ratio has developed a sense of respect for your ambitions.

Unfortunately, or fortunately for him, it seemed as though you knew exactly what was transpiring.

In fact, you were conscious of a lot of things ; it's just that you preferred to pretend that you didn't for reasons that he hasn't comprehended yet.

For the longest time he interpreted that thoughtful sparkle in your eyes as just another play of light. Whenever his reactions to your teasing would come off as more animated than last and the flush that he'd try so hard to not let extend to his cheeks do just that — you'd have that nearly imperceptible realization reflected in your eyes. It scratched at the parchedness Ratio hadn't even recognized to be there.

His fear was confirmed to be true one afternoon in a vacant lecture hall, though not through words.

“Is this for me?” sunset orange eyes shone against the shadows that fell on his back.

“Well, do you see anyone else here?” your huff and his eyeroll synchronize.

You patiently held the book covered in elaborate illustrations of flowers for his taking, though what captured the scholar's attention most was the single yellow bloom tied atop with a violet ribbon on the book. He recognized the book to be a copy of the floriography manual he often saw tucked between your collections.

“You’re probably wondering ‘what value will this book bring to you’. Well, as I've said before, studious scholars should never limit their perspectives.” you almost shove the gift into his hands in response to his stunned countenance.

“And,” an accidental brush of your fingers against his hand sends an unwanted shudder through his arteries, “Happy birthday, little Veri.”

You withdraw just as quickly, the hues of the setting sun softening the smile on your face.

Ratio forces himself to look elsewhere, "You're still going to use that ridiculous nickname, huh? What a way to welcome me into adulthood." he mutters, the words leaving a bitter aftertaste that he tries to mask with sarcasm.

He feels your chuckle probing at his heart, taunting the quickened pace in which it revolts against its cage. You shift your gaze to the golden petals resting atop the book, a somber sigh tumbling from your lips.

“— Fair daffodils, we weep to see

You haste away so soon ;

As yet the early-rising sun

Has not yet attained his noon.”

Many see fit to celebrate their first step into adulthood with enthusiastic celebrations, Ratio's eighteenth birthday brought with it a clinging bittersweetness — not that he allowed himself to dwell on it for long, his future plans taking precedence over sentiments.

The lone daffodil had been tucked between a random section of the book you gifted, hidden away from his sight. The border between cowardice and courage was thin, nearly translucent in the manner the result dictated what it would turn out to be.

The journey of uncovering the mysteries of the universe is a similar pursuit. Emerge victorious and you'll be brave, fail and you'll be heralded foolish. Ratio was far from a coward or a foolish man, sometimes not going head-fast into uncertain territories is the mark of intelligence.

He allowed the daffodil to wilt and turned not a page, for he knew in some deep crevice of his subconscious that it'd blight the clarity of his mind with another flood of emotions he did not have the capacity to process.

Luckily, his agony met a premature end as you departed from Veritas Prime by the end of the year with a certificate in hand.

Who knows how many sleepless nights and crushed dreams paved the path for the ink lines on that single piece of parchment. Ratio had been there as the first to congratulate you, it was the least he could do.

He did not proceed farther than that, as you'd made it clear that there would forever be a line he would be unable to trespass.

Ratio was fully aware of the limitations the silly crush that accumulated over the time in your acquaintance brought and he expressed no interest in pushing those boundaries either.

He found solace in the fact that he'd met you at all. He wouldn't say you illuminated his life, for even you always believed it was the individual themselves who possessed that power.

You nudged him towards the path to find his light and that lesson, he wanted to honor all his life.

The memories of your time would stay treasured in his mind and the curve of your smile would be preserved in marble. Without the echo that his ears yearned to capture, he saw fit to isolate his senses from unnecessary stimulation.

Though you'd never grace the corridors of Veritas Prime again, the footprints of your presence etched deep in the genius's memories would never fade.

vi. Trompe l'oeil

His next encounter with you was a tad unexpected, just at the horizon of Ratio putting the full stop to his years at the university.

Veritas’s fingers slackened around the handle of his umbrella, a page or two of the manuscript of his thesis slipping past his grip and drifting along the roaring wind — but his eyes couldn't chase after them. Much too fixated on the way your shoulder bumped with theirs, not at all by accident.

The rain soon cloaked your figures from his spying gaze, the droplets soaking the ends of his clothes failed still to snatch his attention away. In spite of the thunderous cries of the sky, the echo of your laugh was all he could hear.

—

Time never ceased its relentless march; life followed its direction and events moulded more memories.

For the sake of productivity, he had no choice but to push back his curiosity and stay away from your life. His studies and workload helped generously in keeping his mind from wandering to frightful territories at inconvenient instances, though a certain spark nestled deep somewhere in his subconscious.

Before long, his name resounded far beyond the gates of Veritas Prime.

Veritas Ratio, now Dr. Ratio, felt his nerves flare again as he looked at the latest discussions on the university’s online forum, the words “Dr. Ratio Will Surely Snag A Place At The Genius Society, Won’t He?” in bold only tickled his annoyance further.

Ordinarily, he would stay as far away as possible from discussions concerning himself — which was easier said than done.

Aggrandizing anything always leads to disappointment. Ratio's surroundings loved to goad his path, but he knew, such chatter would morph to whispers the moment their expectations were proven false.

Dr. Ratio’s brooding came to a halt at the collision, his reflexes acted and he clasped onto the stranger’s arm before they could fall. He heard leaves crunching under his boots, strangers threw cursory glances at the near-accident.

His lips parted in what a spectator could assume to be the beginning of an apology, but paused upon noticing the words resignation letter on the paper in the stranger's grasp.

Orange eyes flickered, trailing upward, within the fabric of scarlet you burrowed deep in search of comfort from the scare.

You mimicked his earlier attempt, craning your neck for a second to meet his gaze and halting in recognition.

“Veritas… Ratio?”

The addressed scholar blinks, blurting out before he could think, “That’s not what you used to call me.”

There's a scintilla of surprise in your eyes at his unintentional jest, he anticipates a laugh next, but only an awkward quirk of your lips greets him.

Your eyes dart around your environment, before returning to his grasp. Feeling the weight of your stare, he releases his hold with a fake cough.

“I… apologize.” his hand found refuge on the nape of his neck.

“It’s okay, accidents... happen, you know.” you wave him off with your free hand.

A breeze passes through the gap between you two.

It might've just been Ratio’s misjudgement, but he felt as if you were about to run away for a millisecond. Your fingers tightened around the paper in your hold, you gathered yourself with a deep inhale.

“Congratulations on obtaining your fourth doctorate degree! I often discuss your papers in my classes, you are an inspiration to so many people.”

A flicker of sunlight filtered through the leaves above fell and there appeared that smile he knew. Years had gone by, yet the mystery in it remained still out of his reach.

“Thank you,” he tilted his head downward, “I’m glad to hear that you pursued your dream.”

Ratio sneaked a glance, your nod faded into silence. His gaze lingered on your face, the concentrated flush on your right cheek made his brows furrow.

He was no fool to the tension in the air and your unusual fidgety demeanor. He briefly contemplated if he should just depart.

However, he couldn't deny the fact that questions had accumulated throughout the interval of your absence from his life. The differences between the you before him and the you from his memories begged him to probe, to study and learn.

He felt himself drawn to the paper in your hand again, a glint on your ring finger caught his eye. Among the myriad of inquiries battling to escape his lips, the one that’d warred the longest emerged victorious.

“Did they…” he began, uncertain.

“Give you a bouquet of bluebells?”

Your flighty gaze froze to confusion for a moment as you tried to decode his words, Ratio mirrored your gaze as you failed to answer. You quickly blinked away any hints of shock, a forceful bite stopped the trembling of your lips.

(He felt a twist somewhere in his heart.)

“Can we… talk somewhere else?” you suggested. Despite it being the middle of autumn, there's a storm brewing in your eyes.

—

Veritas could see splinters on the cup in his grip, the dark beverage within threatening to spill.

A passing waitress threw the table a concerned glance, but could not find the courage to intervene. The sight of your antsy wringing of hands in his peripheral alerted him to breathe. He loosened his grip on the poor cup of coffee just in time, a burdened exhale following suit.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, “So, what do you intend to do now?”

You fiddled with the band on your ring finger ; within the vacancy of the cafe, to Ratio, it felt as if even such an insignificant gesture gained voice.

The insistence of your silence prompted him to continue, “The culmination of your hard-work, one that stole almost all of your life ; all of those sleepless nights, unsaid sacrifices for the sole wish of helping others — all of it, you're going to let go, just like that? Just because an idiot claims they know better?”

Dr. Ratio could not understand, no matter which angle he looked at it from. The answer to your dilemma was crystal clear to the scholar, he’d be willing to bet it’d be clear to anyone with a functioning brain — and yet, you hesitate.

You continue to shuffle and avert your gaze, sometimes parting your lips to speak but withdrawing the next second.

A person that's found the tunnel’s end should run towards it, but you remain at the precipice of darkness.

“I…” The purple head straightens up at the sound of your voice, it is weak, hopeless ; a complete stranger to who you once were.

You abruptly gather your things, “I’m sorry, please forget I ever said anything —” an innocent glass is knocked off in your haste.

Cold, your hand is chillingly cold as Ratio grabs it, preventing you from running away. The unnatural temperature of it temporarily unsettles the man, but the situation at hand prompts him to push the observation back.

You try to force your wrist out of his grasp, but he presses on, “Can’t you see, that they are ruining you? This is not who you used to be! Your so-called 'fiance' is destroying you, they’ll not stop until you're nothing but a shell of yourself and they can reshape you to their liking!”

“I really have to go —” a vein pops on Ratio’s forehead, the wanton glass hits the floor.

“And why go? To receive another slap from them?” he feels your palm dampen from sweat, pieces of shattered crystal splaying across the tiles.

You look at him in disbelief and he blinks, the sharpness of his words finally cutting him.

The incipiency of an apology gathers at the tip of his tongue, but you halt it from escaping.

“Whatever happens between us, is none of your business, Veritas Ratio.”

If your hand was simply cold, your glare is freezing. It stuns the scholar enough to make his clasp loosen, you quickly snatch your hand away.

You’re two steps in when Veritas rushes to add, unwilling to back down, “But it was still you who reached out to me.”

The scholar hears the pause in your heels, you don't turn to address him and he doesn't move to obstruct your path either.

The bell signals your departure as the waitress from before rushes to clean the broken glass, leaving Ratio alone with his thoughts.

—

Veritas Ratio has had scarce attachments to worry about in his life.

For better or for worse, it appeared as though the direction of his life was steered towards one particular destination, everything else proved to be transient.

While his surroundings eroded and flourished within the touch of mortal delights, he remained but a spectator, destined to observe but never indulge.

Love. A simple word, yet any singular meaning behind which could still not be agreed upon.

He saw it in the way parents cradled their children, in the eyes of a couple that brushed past him in the streets. Flighty like the union between another pair of his former classmates, strengthened like the wrinkly hold of that couple that sold flowers down the street ; its form, just like its definition, is infinite.

The scholar thinks he's felt it somewhere in his past, or at least the vestiges of it — within the glow of a cryptic smile and a mind that did not yield.

Troublesome as it’d been, it did not conquer him. Ultimately, he wielded enough willpower to move on.

Some say, brilliant minds that toil too long in the territories of the unknown, become dense to the simpler aspects of life. Ratio did not see the inconvenience in this notion for a long time, not when it aided him more than burden him.

That is, until the encounter at the cafe.

If nothing else, it was clear to the prodigy that you had changed, for the worst at that.

The 'you' he’d known would know how to pick yourself up, or more accurately, that ‘you’ wouldn't have allowed things to escalate this far at all.

You would've left this rotten excuse of a relationship the first time they raised their voice, you would never concede to that fatal act of disrespect, under no circumstance would you let such an excuse of a human have such control — he… he hoped.

Ratio leaned back in his chair, a frown creeping in to his face.

For all these outrageous claims that he's been making of the you he was familiar with, how much did he actually know?

Is a year’s observation enough to grant him that badge of familiarity?

It is as you said, who is he to judge you at all?

Within the gloom of his study, his eyes unconsciously met with those etched in marble, the curve of a sun-kissed smile. He hand moved on its own, turning the table-lamp towards the sculpture and indeed, the light has always suited you more than him.

His recollections backtrack to the hazy gaze he saw that day, the encumbrance in them hoisting him up to chase after the itch for answers.

An uncounted number of hours passed, only after perusing a decent pile of tomes did it finally click in his head.

Ratio had no excuses or motivation to defend himself, he most certainly handled the situation poorly.

When the average attempts of leaving such relationships is between seven and twelve, it was insensitive of him to confront you like that.

Cognitions clouded in rage, he ignored the questions he should've asked, the sense of security he should've provided — the one you sought from him — and cornered you abruptly.

Foolish foolish foolish — he felt his fingers tug at his hair, breaths stuck in his lungs. Rationale does not always succeed in helping others see reason, how could he be so careless with you, of all people?

He didn't even know what stage of this hell you were at, how many times you’ve attempted to leave and what leverage they have over you.

Well, it would be most accurate to say he didn't know anything at all and yet, he arrogantly told you to 'just leave'.

The purple-head forced himself to breathe, the self-loathing could be shelved for a later day, what's more important now is finding you again.

He stood up from the heap of tomes, only to pause, does he deserve to seek you out again?

He betrayed your trust and you shut him off for good, should he even bother now?

A distant tug held him back.

Much like before, there is that line between you two that he cannot cross, must not cross.

He’s no longer a teenager in documents, but he doubts you see him as anything more than that ‘little Veri’.

—

The echoes of passing vehicles ricocheted around the streets, but Dr. Ratio’s attention stayed transfixed on the ivory petals in front of him.

A week or so had passed, the ruminations of those doubts kept him away from the confrontation and stole his nights.

It would be easy to cure this ailment, finding you would be but a matter of a few swipes. But that uncertainty, the ghost of a past insecurity, clung to his resolve. As such, peace abandoned him for a while.

A zephyr whispered to him, “Asphodels,”

He hummed without much thought, sunset orange eyes tracing the dulcet lines in those blooms.

“ ‘My regrets will follow you to the grave’, it's not everyday you see someone looking at these flowers with such care.”

If anyone looked straight into the scholar’s eyes at that moment, they'd for sure be able to witness the cogs turning in his brain in them.

Ratio finds you startled once he whips to his left, your presence finally registering in his head.

A prayer, a yearning, your name escapes his lips. But any further speech is obstructed from taking shape.

You’re the first to recover, “I apologize for running away like that the other day. It… was cowardly of me to tell you to mind your own business when I was the one who confided in you first.” your head lowers in appeal.

He’s sure of it now, you must be on the quest of giving him a heart-attack, what with these continuous surprises you’re throwing at him.

Well, if not a fatality, they're at least doing a wondrous job in preventing him from processing the fact in its entirety — you're here, you’re here, you're here.

You found him, again. Just like all those years ago in the lecture hall, all those times he was skipping lunch, on his eightieth birthday and that other day ; it was always you finding him.

(Has he ever broken through his pride and cowardice and tried to find you instead?)

The scholar hastens to join you, “No, it was my incompetence in failing to understand your situation that pushed you to leave. I completely failed to provide you with safety when you trusted me. For that, I beg your forgiveness.”

He couldn't see it, but he could picture your disbelief at his behavior. Your fist mirrored his, “No, it was clearly my stupidity—”

“Nonsense!” his exclamation earned him a flinch from you. He subconsciously straightened up to drive his point across, “It was me who —”

In the hurry and flurry of emotions, your head bumped with his, ending his tirade prematurely.

Your eyes settle on him, a car runs past your perplexed figures and then, the streets get cloaked in quietude ; before being filled with your giggle.

Against his control, his lips twitch and laughter bubbles in his chest. He allows them to gain voice and join yours.

You fan your face with your hand as the chuckles skid to an end, Ratio feels his cheeks warmed when he inhales. But none of you bother addressing the previous argument, its result apparent.

You take a deep breath and exhale. The scholar sees sun-glitter in your pupils, “I left them, by the way.”

That sobers him.

“Your…”

“Fiancé, yes. Or well, ex-fiancé now.” as if on cue, Ratio catches your now vacant ring finger.

“They tried to beg me to stay. But to be honest, it was not the first time they appealed to my sympathy.” you find interest in the pavement, searching for the remnants of your memories in their cracks.

“... But I really put my foot down this time. And oh, I didn't quit my job either, in case you were wondering.” you heave, pushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

“And where are you residing now — if you don't mind me asking?”

“I’m temporarily staying at a friend's house. Don't worry, I’m at a safe place.” you reassure, detecting the underlying concern in his inquiry.

Ratio’s shoulders sag as he exhales, the receding adrenaline dulling his worries. Turns out you didn't really need his help, not that he's astonished. It was in your nature to extend help towards others but thinking twice before asking for help.

(Although he's in no position to criticize, he so wished that you’d find it in yourself to rely on him a bit more.)

“If you ever need anything, just give me a call or a text. You still have my number, correct?” he glances down to gauge your expression.

When you nod, he murmurs a faint ‘good’ and silence takes over. He contemplates if he should add anything else, but the serenity in the atmosphere prompts him to push back those concerns.

“Well, goodbye for today?” you suggest, snapping him back to reality.

He raises his hand to do just that, but a different thought alarms him.

“Let me walk you home.” he pushes back the cringe at the excess firmness to his tone, rushing to add, “Please?”

For a blink or two, you looked at him as though you’ve just sighted an alien. He assumes it's the ‘out-of-character’ tendencies he’s been portraying that has you double-check. It seems that he was not the only one comparing the present and the past.

Luck appeared by his side — or perhaps it was just your pity — and you conceded without any complaint, letting him join your steps. The scholar barely hid his glee through his gait.

The planet that housed Veritas Prime would get decorated in the lovely shades of ripened maple leaves around this time. Civilians gathered in groups beneath these scenes, some enjoying a leisurely picnic, others focused on getting their desired pictures.

Ratio noticed your wanton glance at a pair on a picnic mat, his lips tugging down at the tell-tale signs of where your thoughts ran towards.

But before he could do anything, you turned away and picked up your pace ; the pair’s laughter but background noise.

With some haste, he caught up to you. Racking his brain to distract your mind, he found himself empty-handed.

Four doctorates and yet, his mind goes blank when he needs it the most. He couldn't be any more disappointed in himself.

Just as he’s about to start a mental berating though, you side-step a rock and Ratio’s hand bumps with yours, their frigidity alerting him.

He stops in his tracks, and you do too, looking up quizzically at him.

He extends his palm, “Give me your hand,”

Your confusion only increases, “What? Why?”

“It’s too cold. Are you certain you aren't sick?” he thinks back to the encounter he had with you at the cafe, the chill he felt when he grasped your hand. He initially thought it a coincidence, but now, he was really concerned.

“Ahh, this, you see,” you flex your fingers, a feeble attempt at warming them up. “My hands kind of respond to the temperature? Don't ask because I don't know exactly why either, during winter, they're usually cold like this. But in summer, they're very warm.”

Ratio quirks a brow, “Just the fact that it tends to happen doesn't make it any less uncomfortable, does it?”

“No…” you trail off, “But! That's what my fiance— I mean, ex-fiance would always tell me, to just get used to it.”

Your eyes flicker back to Ratio’s, the disbelief in them telling you enough of what you need to know.

The scholar ran a hand through his hair, he shuddered to ponder what other garbage they had fed your brain.

His sigh is carried by a passing breeze, “It’s okay. They aren't here to dictate your life anymore.” he once again offers you his hand, another hope-filled prayer.

You look at his extended palm and back to his patient gaze, your fingers fisting in themselves for a moment before loosening.

He sees the ebb and flow of doubt and hope in their movements, inching closer and closer to his.

He cradles your hand when it reaches him, your fingers slipping easily through the gaps of his. The difference in temperature alerts his reflexes for a second before he calms them down.

He stuffs your intertwined hands in his coat pocket — your gasp fades behind you as he resumes his gait.

Ratio does not dare glance in your direction, but he knows you're watching, scrutinizing him. It reminds him of the look you had at the end of your university days, the memory of the incident that followed makes his throat parched.

Your grip is unusually weak, combined with the knowledge of your situation, the scholar can't stop himself from adding.

“Have you been eating well? Tell me if you haven't, I'll take you to have a proper meal. But don't lie about these matters, you can't achieve your dreams if you don't take care of yourself first.”

You freeze at his words and Ratio makes the mistake of returning your stare.

Seeing no change in his serious expression though, you shake your head with a chuckle, assuring him of your health.

The clicking of both of your shoes against the pavement is the only thing keeping his heart-beat at bay, his attention from focusing too much on the feel of your hand in his and the myriad of chemical reactions flooding his reward system.

When the coldness in your hand has been completely replaced with the warmth from his, you gesture to him that you’ve reached your destination.

He feels an unexpected reluctance in letting you go, something in his gut pushing him to hold on — but he ignores it.

You pause before opening the gates, glancing at him from over your shoulder.

He looks up in time to see your smile, it's not like all those times you’ve smiled before — no, no. This time, lilac petals cling to its corners.

Ratio covered his mouth with his hand, hiding the stupid curve of his lips from anyone's eyes. The lingering warmth from your hand finally allowed his heart to beat with fervor.

He wanted nothing more than to give you a bouquet of bluebells at that moment.

vii. Sfumato

The day Dr. Ratio returned to your side with the pledged bluebells, was beautiful.

The canopy of winter had begun to be swept aside as nascent leaves heralded spring, twitters of birds ornamented the breeze.

When fresh fountain ink meets parchment, it spreads with a thin halo of blue — the sky of that moment brought back this image in his mind. The sun found amusement in steering behind ivory clouds ; a cheeky, one sided game of hide and seek played with light and dark.

The sun made a mistake, a sidestep allowed rays to escape and fall on the lace ribbon of the bouquet.

Sun-glitter followed the lead of Ratio’s arm, over the arch of his wrist, finding their way from beneath the crevices of his fingers — shining, glimmering, as lapis petals caressed the tombstone.

How strange, didn't it usually rain and roar for scenes like these in those light novels of yours?

Veritas could not feel his breaths, it's as if the mechanisms of his respiratory system halted for that matter, he couldn't even feel his eyes flutter.

Idiocy.

He contemplated turning away altogether, what was he even thinking, bringing bluebells to the cemetery like a young lover?

A dead leaf crunched from his retreating step, the note stunning him in place.

Perhaps he should've brought the chopped off, bleeding excuse of a skull of that man — if only, if only if only any being, any listening existence in this wretched world would reassure him that it’d bring you back.

The scholar felt his fingers lax from their cocoon, but he knew, that would be impracticable. If a life for a life resurrected the other, his fingers wouldn't tremble in usurping that leverage and bringing justice to your final moments.

But he knew, oh how the erudite scholar despised knowledge for the first time in his life — that it’d soothe him, but leave a hollow far worse in his heart.

A sigh forced its way past his lips, onerous was its euphony. Windswept locks of violet poked at the way crystalline orange held onto the engraving on the silver stone ; the name, once his boon, now his bane.

Splinters of marble flew, papers, pens, innocent objects were tossed aside like fickle trash. Rouge flecked once pristine alabaster. Midst the carnage, a book fell betwixt Veritas’s path.

A withered daffodil lamented rationality’s fall.

Newspapers and channels boldly flashed the incident for a week — individual apprehended for the charge of murdering their ex-fiancé — before being swallowed by other, more fascinating pieces of events.

Ratio found himself scoffing at their tone, picking apart their every word and spacing, frowning at how quick people's interest moved on.

Indeed, the world waits for none. The ones lingering are always tormented.

With the last person in close association with you behind the bars of the psych ward and your acquaintances grieving, the scholar took it upon himself to deliver your files and belongings to your family.

But that decision turned out to be a lesson, the universe once again pointing out without mercy the mediocrity of his knowledge.

“Does that mean we’ll have to turn to the streets now?” whispered a little too loudly, a little too carelessly, your step-mother to your father.

Ignorance.

Perhaps Ratio’s disbelief had been too loud on his face, for your father shushed her quickly and attempted to smooth over the slip-up with a barely-strung lament.

But the scholar had learned what was to be surmised from this family, all of their next speeches effortlessly ignored by him.

So the reason you ultimately didn't quit your job was for them, Veritas's eyes dimmed. Feelings were never his forte, this messy heap of them he had no clue what to do with.

And the siblings you used to so dearly miss back in your university days? The second-oldest after you put back her headphones after he finished delivering the news and the youngest couldn't even recall your name.

Ratio seldom used the phrase, but it was truly a miracle he left that fetid establishment without causing damage.

He decided against disclosing your remaining belongings to them and instead, gave them away for charity as written in a journal he accidentally stumbled upon while sorting through them.

Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you knew this would happen.

But you refused to confide in anyone, tolerating the farce of a content life.

Ratio could not understand, did not even know where to begin in decoding what was going through your head when you lied to him and what had coerced him into believing it.

Of course you didn't leave them, that would've been too perfect and too merciful an end and clearly, the universe would not allow it. Of course he needed to be shown how much of an idiot he still is, the extent of his wishful thinking.

Ratio concurs he deserves it.

But did you deserve to meet such an end? No, your life shouldn't have been shaped this way to begin with! And yet, it had been.

For long did he stare off into vacant space, casting aside the need for slumber, attempting to answer what was to be done now. The silence beckoned him, that it was nothing.

Perhaps, you were at peace now at last.

Perhaps the craving for this serenity was what had prompted you from not fighting off that axe.

Perhaps, you had closed your eyes without any regrets.

When the haze in his head cleared a bit, he visited your grave again. Dust had gathered on the lifeless petals of the bluebells he’d left, the scholar tenderly rid them from the surface.

He dug a section beside your resting place and planted fresh asphodels. An elderly woman saw the scene in passing but did not comment, pity clung at the edges of her eyes.

Foolishness.

In fear of the tides of time burying the traces of your foot-steps, Ratio chased after them. The places you spoke so fondly of, the flowers and stories you cherished and the students you stood proud beside.

They spoke of your passion, your vision and your resilience to him.

They say, even a lifetime of ‘knowing’ someone is not sufficient in knowing them.

Although he’d known you for a miniscule timeframe, he squandered no effort in trying to understand you. Only at this juncture, did your nature become clear to him. You were an expert in keeping your lips shut, a seasoned performer of half-truths and no stranger to the art of survival.

It was no coy act, you trusted no one with your actual thoughts and motivations — that was the naked truth.

So then, it begs the question, what exactly did you try so hard to eradicate?

Supposing that this universe suffers from a common ailment, and it is so persistent, so adhesive, so elusive that it plagues the dullest to the most brilliant mind — that despite all attempts at curing it, only its surface has been scratched. And this truth had been so frustrating, even you could not stand back.

Ratio tapped his fingers against his desk, what other malady does an educator aspire to cure other than ignorance?

Foolishness? Idiocy? Stupidity? All synonymous, yet capable of clasping and corrupting irrespective of a person’s standing in the path of life.

To rid them, scholars, researchers and teachers attempt to disseminate knowledge with the vow of indiscrimination.

But Dr. Ratio knew, the oasis of knowledge is but a mirage in the desert of ignorance. For the populace to reach that base awareness, to recognize that mirage — that, is what is needed.

The scholar saw the early light of dawn from betwixt the crevices of his window, the hinges groaned as he pushed them open and for the first time — the sun embraced him and the shadows fell behind his form.

But the meteor that briefly illuminated his sky, is gone — as tends to be their destiny. He can do nothing but carry the memories of its glow.

—

Light glinted over the edge of the cone, approaching footsteps reminded the doctor to tuck it away from prying eyes.

Ratio tsk-ed upon feeling the absence of his headpiece, cracks on the alabaster had demanded a remake.

The scholar’s eyes met with the ones cradling the remnants of a bygone sunset, melting into hues of ocean blue.

“Doc! Didn't expect to see you here.” drawled an unfortunately familiar man. Ratio offered a blink in greeting.

“Yes, how astonishing it is to see a member of the Intelligentsia Guild in its corridors.” the doctor muttered plainly, the Stoneheart in the spotlight merely maintained his smile.

Ratio noticed his other hand to be occupied, “And what about you? Busy squandering your time as usual, gambler?”

Contrary to his expectations, the quirk of Aventurine’s lips widened as though he’d struck gold, he smoothed over the lapels of his suit. The erudite scholar subconsciously braced himself for whatever trick was to be brought next.

“Now now, it's not squandering if you're spending it with a dear person.” he winked.

Veritas caught a silhouette peeking from behind the blonde, “Meaning?”

“Ah, how uncourteous of me.” though there's a note of glee in his voice. “Allow me to introduce you to…”

Dr. Ratio observed as a figure emerged from Aventurine’s shadow, the passing question of how he hadn't noticed them sooner was pushed aside as they joined the Stoneheart in the spotlight.

“My dearest, precious jewel or— how did you prefer it again? Hmm I can't seem to remember~” an elbow to his side and huff broke through his theatrics ; the vacant halls gained life through laughter, petrichor bloomed in their notes.

“Just kidding, my bluebell.”

A meteor crossed the orbit of Ratio’s life again.

Thank you so much for reading!

TAGLIST : @abyssmal-skies @danijaci @birdloverr @teabutmakeitazure @cherriiirose @bleh09 @scurfi @justcallmemidnight @mochinon-yah @feral-ish @lavandulawrites @persicipen @stickyspeckledlight

#dr ratio #dr ratio x reader #dr ratio x you #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #yandere dr ratio #yandere dr ratio x reader #yandere hsr #yandere hsr x reader #yandere honkai star rail #yandere honkai star rail x reader #dr ratio fluff #dr ratio angst #right on the one year anniversary of ratio's first in-game appearance bro—

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loganhowlettshousewife · 4 months ago

Note

Okay relating to a recent post, cleaning up Logan after a fight/mission? Maybe you have a kit ready to go when you hear him return, put his favorite pjs on a fluff cycle so they're nice and warm for him. You clean off any blood (maybe a few remaining wounds if it was BAD bad), and wipe down his claws. Maybe shower together, letting you run your fingers through his shampooed hair before getting cozy for the night

I just wanna take care of him

you! you get it!!

comfort

summary: you take care of logan after he comes home from a mission.

cw (treating this like ao3 tags): blood, wound tending, non-sexual intimacy, nudity, not proofread at all, english isn't my first language so beware, reader has hair, i'm pretty sure this is gender neutral but i'm a girl so i may have accidentally added something gendered without realising idk. this is very soft! you can say this is out of character for logan but i believe he's actually a big softie and just wants love!

word count: 1619

logan comes home to you sitting on the couch reading a book. or, well, you’re trying to read, but it’s hard to focus on anything when logan’s out on a mission. you know he can’t die, his regenerative healing factor pretty much guarantees that, and yet there’s still an irrational spark of fear that lives in you, lighting a fire in your heart every time he gets called away by the x-men.

every minute that passes is a dagger, every new star that appears in the sky a reminder of how long he’s been gone. missions for the x-men can be mere hours or last for days, you remind yourself, and time has nothing to do with how dangerous it is.

though logan typically only gets chosen to go on the dangerous missions. he’s not the one they ask to convince new, young mutants to go to the school. he’s too harsh, too jaded.

you immediately drop the book when you hear the sound of the door lightly creaking open. you’re on your feet in an instant, there to catch logan when he falls into your arms, sweaty and bloody and tired - not as much physically, he has insane stamina, but mentally.

“missed you,” he mumbles into your hair, tucking your head under his chin.

“missed you more,” you reply.

you stay like that for a few minutes. you both need the comfort. early on in your relationship, logan would refuse this type of comfort after a mission, claimed he didn’t need it, he’s fought and killed his entire life and never had a sweet thing like you to take care of him when he got back. but you did, you needed to know he was there, with you, a physical presence, proof that nothing terrible had happened to him.

secretly, he revelled in those moments. now, he trusts you enough for those feelings to be spoken out loud, whispered reverently between “i love you”s, declarations of affection and faith. you’re the only one who’s ever been able to get him to open up this way, to verbalise his feelings instead of swallowing them down.

“you’re covered in blood,” you comment, running a hand down his chest.

he shivers, “most of it’s not mine. but they got a few shots in.”

you hum, pulling back to take a better look at him. his shirt is torn in a few places, and in the middle of his chest are multiple neat, round holes in the fabric, small marks showing where bullets pierced his skin. the wound itself has healed, but the blood remains, a visual reminder of the pain your boyfriend was feeling not so long ago.

he may heal quickly, but he still feels pain, feels agony, and your heart shatters at the way others seem to forget that, so quick to put him in the line of fire. he’ll be fine, they say, and while that may be true physically, there’s only so many times a man can play human shield before he breaks.

“let’s get you cleaned up,” you say, the next part of your routine for when he returns from missions.

it’s a dance you’ve almost perfected, the way he wraps his arms around your waist and you have to walk to the bathroom with him clinging to you.

he sits down on the closed toilet seat, closing his eyes and letting you do all the work. his claws come out next, stained with the blood of those he harmed and killed, yet you trace them softly all the same. they protect you - he protects you, really, and so you’ll always be grateful for them, even when logan considers them a curse, a stain upon his existence, turning a man into a monster.

you grab a washcloth and dampen it, wiping meticulously at each sharp blade, from his knuckle to the pointed tip of the adamantium. soon, the washcloth is stained a dirty red, almost brown in its appearance, and the metal gleams brightly under the bathroom lights.

there’s an ease to his posture when he retracts his claws, so slight a difference that no one else would have noticed. he told you once that he can feel the blood remaining on his claws when they pull back into his skin, that it’s an uncomfortable reminder that he’s hurt people, that he’s a killer.

he doesn’t clean them himself, says the reminder is necessary. you disagree, and so you took to wiping them down yourself every time he came home after any sort of fight.

there’s a small spot of blood between each of his knuckles where the claws pierce his skin, the tiniest bit of red that welled up before the cuts could heal themselves and you wipe that away too. then you lean down to press soft kisses to his hands, the part of himself that logan hates most.

he sighs, a shaky exhale leaving him at the sight of you lowering onto your knees to worship him, to prove your adoration.

any other time that would be enough to turn the mood of the evening into something much different, but he isn’t willing to give this up quite yet, this soft intimacy that’s always felt so foreign to him, a type of love he’d convinced himself he would never get to experience.

“i’m gonna go throw our pajamas and a few blankets into the dryer. you can get the shower going in the meantime, ‘kay?” he agrees easily, of course, and you lean up to kiss him, slow and soft.

pulling away is almost physically painful but you manage. you find the fluffy hello kitty pajama pants you originally bought for logan as a joke as well as the matching set you bought yourself and grab the blanket that sits at the foot of your bed, throwing them into the dryer to warm them up.

he sleeps naked most days, a blessing for you, but on his more difficult days he likes to cuddle up to soft, plush fabrics. besides, you like to think that the silly pajama pants bring him comfort, a reminder of your love for him, that you’re thinking about him even at the most inopportune of times.

he’s in the shower when he returns, the water tinged pink as it slides down the hard, muscled planes of his body. you’re quick to undress and join him, stepping under the hot water, feeling it soak into your hair and skin.

“you’re gorgeous,” logan says, grabbing onto your waist with his large hands to pull you to his chest. he brushes your wet hair out of your face. “can’t believe how lucky i am to have you. what did i ever do to deserve you, sweetheart?”

“you don’t have to do anything to deserve me, logan,” you say, “just being you is enough. and really, you do so much for me. every day.”

“loving you is the best thing i ever did,” he admits, “i’m gonna continue to do whatever i need to keep you. wanna be with you until i die.”

you’ve had conversations like these before, usually always in moments of vulnerability, often coming after devastation and horror. he doesn’t say these types of things in the light of day, but he doesn’t take them back later either. they just stay, floating in the air between you.

one day, you think, you’ll be able to have a real conversation about the future with him. it’s a goal to look towards, but he’s not quite there yet, and you’re okay with that. you’re content with what he does tell you, praise that he marks into every inch of your body.

you use your body wash to clean him, knowing he’ll smell faintly of you afterwards, and the possessive part of you is pleased. your hands tangle in his hair, scrubbing the shampoo into his scalp. his head is tilted down so you can have better access.

it gets harder to finish cleaning him as his body leans into yours, two magnets always seeking each other.

you exit the shower before him, allowing him a few more seconds under the water pressure to pull the last remnants of tension from his form. you pat yourself dry and then hurriedly grab the garments you’ve thrown into the dryer, stepping back into the humid bathroom as logan turns off the water.

the adrenaline has made way for bone-deep exhaustion, and so you help logan dry off.

it’s peaceful, quiet, as the two of you finish your nighttime routines. he brushes his teeth and watches you do your skincare routine, unwilling to go into your bedroom if you’re not by his side.

he falls asleep before you, for once. typically, he struggles to fall asleep, worried about the nightmares that plague his slumber and the possibility of harming you while unconscious. it’s nice to see him sleeping peacefully, the stern lines of his face flattening into a soft tranquillity that only you get to see.

you can feel your eyelids growing heavy but you need to watch him just a little longer. so you fight the darkness that wants to pull you under, focusing on the hand you have placed on logan’s chest, the way you can feel the steady rising and falling of his breathing, the way his warm skin feels against the palm of your hand.

“i’ll always come back to you,” he’d told you once when you had expressed the worry that seizes hold of you whenever he’s away for long.

you’re smiling when you fall asleep, those words replaying in your mind. he’s home, with you, and as long as he comes home to you everything will be okay.

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absurdthirst · 4 months ago

Text

Halloween Cowboy {Joel Miller x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: Idiots in love, crushing, putting your foot in your mouth, embarrassment, flirtation, Younger Joel, drinking, vaginal sex, unprotected sex

Comments: Tommy and his girlfriend, your best friend, manage to get you and your sexy neighbor Joel at the same Halloween party.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Joel Miller MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“Cmon man. You gotta come. Lindsey wants to meet you and I can’t keep makin’ up excuses for my big brother not wanting to meet my girl.” Tommy whines while he stands over Joel who is trying to read the plans for the bathroom redo.

“Tommy. I’m tryin’ - Jesus. Is it really that damn important?” He asks his brother after taking his glasses off of his nose.

“Yeah. Sarah is going to sleep over at her friend Tori’s house, right? You’ll be sitting on your own with the curtains closed to ward off trick or treaters while watching Dawn of the Dead for the hundredth time…you ain’t busy.” Tommy calls Joel out who signs and sets his glasses down on the table.

“Fine. Fine. If it’s that damn important I’ll go but, shit. I don’t have a costume.” He confesses and Tommy smirks, “that’s easy. You’re already wearing it.” He eyes the construction belt and hard hat and Joel scoffs but takes a second, “I got a cowboy hat. And boots.” He decides and Tommy snorts, “rodeo Joel is making an appearance. Haven’t seen that since high school when you were trying to impress Katie.” Joel huffs, trying to not snap at his brother at mentioning his ex wife whose parents owned a ranch.

“Sorry.” Tommy murmurs and Joel shrugs, “I’ll be there.” He promises, picking up his glasses again and Tommy grins, not mentioning the best part until he’s about to walk away. “Oh and your pretty neighbor will be there. Lindsey invited her.”

****

“Why do I have to go again?” You whine to Lindsey even as you are mixing together the cream cheese with the salsa to make roll ups. It’s one of your best appetizers to throw together quickly and are always a hit. She snorts and rolls her eyes at you. “You need to get out and socialize. You need to have some fun since you broke up with dickhead.” She had never hidden the fact that she thought your ex wasn’t good enough for you. Only now would you admit that she’s right, but you still huff at her. “What am I supposed to do? Pick up someone from your party and take them home?”

“Or you could use my guest room?” She waggles her eyebrows, “and I do believe the man you’ll be riding in there will be called Joel.” She smirks and you nearly choke, “no. No. I don’t - he doesn’t -” Lindsey giggles, “Tommy said the man watches your every damn move from his porch. Watches your ass when you walk past. Trust me, honey. The man wants you. He’s just got issues from his ex leaving.” She explains, knowing Tommy has briefly told her about what happened with Katie. “You don’t need to be his therapist to get some.” She says and nudges you.

****

Joel huffs as he looks at himself in the mirror. The checkered shirt is buttoned up unlike its usual openness when he has a t-shirt underneath. The large belt buckle his dad got him as a present was dug out from the back of his underwear drawer, and the boots are comfortable, worn in thankfully from regular use. The hat is on the side and he grabs it, putting it on his head to see how it looks. He looks like teenage Joel and that scares him. How eager he was to impress a girl. Too eager in fact that she left the first moment she could, leaving him with a two month old when he was twenty years old. “Shit.” He sighs, rubbing his jaw, knowing he will see you. He knows he’s jaded, he’s a single dad with issues and he knows you’d never want him. He’s too complicated. With a huff, he grabs the lasso he got from Tommy as a joke a few years ago and leaves his house to go to the party.

“I think real cuffs would have been better.” You huff to yourself, hating how the ties on these Wonder Woman wrist cuffs keep coming loose. The party hasn’t even started yet and you want to just go home. Not that Lindsey would let you. “Tie this for me.” You demand, holding your wrist out. “If I’m going to be Wonder Woman, I need to be a put together, sexy version of her.”

Joel isn't early. He doesn't like to be early to parties since he can't disappear into a crowd and leave early. He sighs after he parks his truck down the street, his boots clicking as he walks up the driveway until he is opening the door. The party is already underway and he squeezes past people drinking and making out and talking to try and find Tommy.

“Coming through, coming through!” You yank the platter of appetizers higher, needing to get over to the table and refill them although people won’t seem to get out of your way. The party is bigger than what Lindsey had told you it would be and she’s already glued to Tommy’s side, leaving you to kind of run things. Someone comes up to your right, just out of your vision as you veer off to avoid a couple who are groping each other. “Shit!” You hiss, bumping into someone and having to spin around to keep the tray from hitting the ground and ruining the snacks.

“Woah. Shit.” Joel hisses and barely catches the tray as you spin around and grab the other side. His eyes widen when he sees you, dressed like Wonder Woman with eyes wide and beautiful. “Hey.” He murmurs, keeping his grip on the tray and you offer him a gorgeous smile, “hey neighbor.” Someone knocks into him and he steadies the tray. “Let me help. Tell me where you want this and I’ll make sure no one knocks this over.” He promises, keeping his grip tight.

“Hey.” You smile breathlessly, a little shocked and release the tray to him because of that. “Um, yeah, uh, right over there.” You point to the table in the corner and try to figure out if you need to hide in embarrassment or get the man a drink for helping you out. He looks fucking delicious and Lindsey’s comments about riding him are fucking perfect considering Joel Miller is out here dressed up like a fucking cowboy. Your panties are going to be ruined tonight, thinking about him.

Joel wrestles with the crowd to set the tray down and he turns to see you’ve followed him. “Who the hell did Tommy and Lindsey invite? The whole damn town?” He almost has to shout to compete with the chatter and the music. “Seems like it. I only made enough food for a small gathering.” You confess and Joel turns to look at the tray, “you did all that?” He asks and you nod, biting your lip. “Goddamn. You’re like Martha Stewart. But hot.” He adds until he flusters and reaches up to adjust his hat. “Uh, I mean, you look good. As Wonder Woman. I had this massive crush on Linda Carter when I was a kid and uh, yeah. You look good.” He repeats, silently cursing himself for being so lame as Sarah would say.

You want to laugh at the way Joel looks ready to punch himself in the face for being stupid, but you like seeing him like this. “Thanks.” You reach out and touch his arm. “You look really hot too. You’re going to be beating them off with a stick dressed like this, Miller.” You predict, knowing you would be the first in line if you had half a chance at him. “We’ll be dreaming of cowboy lullabies tonight.”

Joel blushes, grateful for the cowboy hat to hide it, and he gets a sudden boost of confidence. “Yeah? You think I’d have a chance with someone at the party? Even though I got more baggage than Bush Airport?” He jokes and you scoff, “everyone has baggage.” He nods, staring at you for a moment and he opens his mouth to ask if you want to find somewhere quieter to talk but a hand slaps his shoulder and he turns to see his brother. “You made it! And dressed up!” Tommy exclaims, clearly a little drunk and his arm wrapped around a beautiful woman. “This is Lindsey. Baby, this is the mysterious big brother I’ve been telling you about.” Lindsey grins and holds her hand out, “it’s great to finally meet you, Joel. Tommy can’t shut up about you.” She teases before she says your name, “and she’s always talking about her sexy neighbor. You’re the talk of the town.” Lindsey teases and Joel’s eyes widen slightly as he looks towards you.

“Lindsey.” You groan your friend’s name, face heating up and you want the earth to open and swallow you whole. “I think you might need to drink some water.” You huff, snatching her cup out of her hand and quickly drinking it down yourself. Hoping that Joel doesn’t think that you are some kind of creepy stalker or some shit.

Lindsey’s words make his stomach twist and Tommy smirks at him, knowing about his crush on his neighbor, and he squeezes Lindsey’s hand until she lets go and turns to look at Tommy. “Come on baby. Let’s get you another drink. Enjoy the party. See you in a bit. Mingle.” Tommy urges his older brother who has the habit of hiding in the corner. “Sure.” Joel nods and watches Tommy take Lindsey to the kitchen. “I need a drink.” Joel mutters to himself before he looks at you, “you know where the booze is?”

“Yeah,” Despite being embarrassed, you won’t let him go without a drink. “It’s out here.” You point to the patio door. “We’ve got a small pony keg if you want beer and then there’s tequila.” You huff out a laugh. “That’s what I plan on drinking.” You joke as you open the door. “Listen- uh, about what she said? I just- I don’t want you to think that I’m watching you all the time or something.”

Joel looks at you as he follows you to the drinks table. He was shocked to hear you watch him and you being flustered makes his heart thump. “I’m watching you.” He confesses, “not in a creepy way but - but yeah. I like watching you.” He rubs the back of his neck, suddenly burning up in the flannel shirt.

You freeze for a second as you reach for a cup, relieved and slightly surprised to find out that Tommy and Lindsey were right. Now that you both have admitted embarrassing things, you laugh and shake your head. “I think we are way too sober right now.” You tease and waggle a cup at him. “What’ll you have before we discuss further?”

“Anything with alcohol.” He teases and picks up his own cup, filling it with cheap whiskey and topping it off with some Coke. “Happy Halloween.” He grins and hits your cup with his. “Happy Halloween, neighbor.” You smirk and he takes a sip of his drink, sighing at the sting of the whiskey.

You ask where Sarah is and listen while Joel explains about the sleepover, but you are really admiring the way he fills out that flannel shirt. It’s cut perfectly and makes his broad frame look even broader. You know the man is strong because you’ve seen the tools and materials he has to carry. “So why a cowboy and not a sexy construction worker?” You ask, grinning as the burn of the alcohol starts to fade and the heat runs through your veins.

“That seemed too obvious. Isn’t halloween about pretending to be something you’re not? Tonight, I’m not a single father construction worker. Tonight, I’m a cowboy looking for a hero.” He smirks as he flexes his fingers around the red solo cup.

It takes you a second to realize he’s referring to your wonder woman costume and you grin. “Not all heroes wear capes, Miller.” You remind him playfully and toss back the rest of your drink so you can pour both of you another. “I think you also underestimate how sexy single father construction workers are.” You huff. “But I like the idea of taking a cowboy for a ride.”

Joel can’t believe how smooth he is being when usually he’s fumbling over his words with you. Maybe the costume has helped him regain some confidence after years of focusing on Sarah and not his love life. “Save a horse, ride a construction worker.” He winks and you giggle, making his heart clench. His eyes drag down your body when you turn and bend over to grab another bottle of tequila from under the drinks table and his cock twitches in his jeans.

You open the new bottle and pour you both a large drink. You don’t want to hang out by the booze all night, although it’s been pretty quiet right now. Soon enough there will be people charging out here to refill their own cups. “So are you ready to let your hair down?” You ask.

Joel snorts, “I don’t think I’ve ever done that. Well, not since Sarah was born.” He confesses, glancing around at the sofa and he jerks his chin, “you wanna sit down?” He asks, his back starting to ache from the long work day and he’s anxious to get closer to you.

“Sure.” You point to the back yard. “Want to sit out there, or go upstairs?” You ask. “We can’t sit down in the living room with all those bodies in there.” It’s a subtle way to get him upstairs if you think that this could actually go somewhere, which it is looking like it might.

“Let’s go upstairs. I’m too fucking old for this music.” He confesses with a chuckle and you nod, taking his hand to escort him upstairs. You’ve been to Tommy’s house a few times with Lindsey to get ready for nights out. Joel hopes his hand isn’t sweaty in yours and he lets you guide him away from the crowd to the quiet guest room. The bass from the music thumps below his feet as he sits down on the edge of the bed.

“You know you are a good dad, right?” You ask, wondering if he knows just how sexy him being a very involved dad is to you. “You care about Sarah, you listen to her.” You smirk. “Even if you don’t always know what you are doing.”

He snorts, looking down at the drink in his hand, “I definitely don’t always know what I’m doing. I could handle Barbie dolls and hair bobbles but periods? Boys? It’s a little out of my league.” He admits, turning to look at you as you sit down beside him. You’re so beautiful, so understanding. You deserve way better than someone like him yet here you are. “Thanks for saying that though. She likes you. Loves your style and watching those stupid MTV shows with you.”

“She’s a good kid. Because of you.” You smile softly. “And you didn’t even use her to get laid.” You tease. “Do you know that women love a good dad? Our panties drop quick for a man who loves his children.”

Joel raises his eyebrows, “really?” He asks and you nod, giggling in a way that makes his cock twitch, already half hard in his jeans. You smile and he can’t help but lean in closer to you. “You gonna drop your panties for me, sweetheart?” He asks, his voice dropping lower for you.

“Fuck, that sounded so hot.” You whimper, biting your lip as your eyes slide down to his. You want to kiss him, but you aren’t brave enough yet. “I can’t.” You admit. “I’m not wearing any tonight.” You take his cup and yours and set it down on the nightstand as you talk.

“Shit.” Joel hisses, his eyes widening slightly and he can’t stop himself even if he tried. He surges forward to press his lips to yours. His hat pushed back on his head as he cups your cheek and he pulls back after a second when you don’t respond and he frowns, wondering if he misread this.

You are frozen. Shocked that Joel, your sexy neighbor, is kissing you. When he pulls back, you see him frown, reaching out and cupping his face so you can lean in to kiss him yourself.

He quickly recovers and melts into the kiss, his hand cupping your neck to pull you closer and he gains confidence, sliding his tongue along your lower lip, pushing into your mouth when you grant him access.

Your breath catches and you groan into his mouth. Still in disbelief that Joel is kissing you. Hes a good kisser. His tongue slides along your, tangles with it and encourages you to kiss him back. Your stomach twists in knots and you lean into the kiss more, malting into him.

He loves the way you kiss him back just as eagerly and he slides his hand along your thigh, groaning at the feel of your skin under his palm. You’re so soft and he loves it. He’s imagined it more times than he’d care to admit.

You hadn’t worn any tights with your outfit. Not wanting to feel trapped or have another layer to take off another layer when you’ve been drinking. His hands on your skin feels amazing and you shift, moving to straddle him and you giggle into his mouth.

He groans when you straddle him, his hands immediately finding your ass to squeeze the flesh. So many times he’s imagined your ass when you’ve been outside in your shorts or leggings and now he gets to touch you. “Fuck.” He pants into your mouth, his cock hardening underneath you.

“We will get to that.” You promise, pulling away to press your lips to his jaw. Always wanting to kiss his neck for forever. It’s so kissable. “Imagined it so many times.”

Joel groans, tilting his head, and he slides his hand up to squeeze your breast. “Me too. So many damn times. Imagined you under me, over me. Being inside you. Jerked off enough damn times.” He reveals as you grind down onto him.

You moan softly, imagining him with his cock in his hand, panting your name. “I want to see that sometime.” You admit breathlessly. “Watch you jerk off.”

"Fuck. One day." He promises, grabbing your ass to lift you so he can spin and lay you down on the bed. "Look goddamn sexy in your costume." He groans, caressing your calf. "Tell me what you want, baby." He demands, reaching for the zipper of your boot.

“Want to ride you.” You decide. “Keep your cowboy hat and boots on.” You smirk and wink. “Want to see if you live up to the expectations I’ve built up seeing you wear that costume.”

He smirks, “I hope I can. It’s been a while.” He confesses as he reaches up to start unbuttoning his shirt, exposing his chest to your hungry gaze.

You reach up and caress his chest. “That doesn’t matter.” You promise. “I just want to feel you inside me.” He peels your boots off and reaches for your bottom. “I’m going to strip you down.” He promises and you nod. “Do it.”

He peels the costume from your body, his cock aching in his jeans at each inch that’s exposed to his hungry gaze, and he has to reach down to undo the buckle, opening his pants to allow himself some relief from the hard press of the zipper. “Shit. You’re gorgeous.” He murmurs, caressing your stomach until he’s reaching for the hem of the top, dragging it from your body to expose your tits. “Goddamn beautiful.” He murmurs when he tosses the top aside and dives down to take your nipple into his mouth as he kneels on the bed.

Your cry is loud but you know that no one in the party can hear you. The music is still thumping and you can hear the chattering. Not that you care, all you care about is him. His mouth feels so good on your nipple it hurts, making you whine when he flicks his tongue over it after biting down. “Joel.” You pant, tangling your fingers into his hair.

He loves hearing your moan and he bites down on the bud, lapping at it with his tongue, before he switches to the other one. His thumb and forefinger pinching your hardened nipple that’s slick with his spit.

You’ve never had someone spend so much time on your tits. Not without being inside you. You enjoy the attention, every pull of his mouth and pinch of your nipple makes your cunt throb around nothing and you are positively dripping.

His free hand slides up your inner thigh, caressing the skin there and he slides his touch higher so he can slide his fingers through your folds. “Fuck. You’re so wet.” He murmurs against your breast.

“So turned on.” You confess. You moan his name again when he continues to slowly stroke through your folds, fingers brushing against your clit. “Fuck baby.”

He groans, “me too. So fucking hard right now.” He confesses as he presses his fingers against your clit, wanting to hear you moan for him again.

You groan, reaching down and cupping him through his jeans. “Fuck.” You gasp, knowing that he will stretch you out when you feel how thick he is. “So hard.”

“Shit.” He hisses when you squeeze him and he slides his hand lower so he can push two thick digits into your weeping cunt, wanting to hear you gasp again. “Take me out.” He pleads, kissing your jaw, “need to feel your hand around him.”

You fumble with his zipper blindly, eager to feel the heft in your hand, to feel how soft and hard he is. Joel pulls his hips back to give you more room and you both groan in unison when he comes free from his underwear and lands into your palm.

He groans when you finally grip him in your soft palm, loving the way you squeeze him, and he’s so hard. He’s aching for you and his fingers work in and out of you, desperate to hear you cry out his name.

Your eyes slide closed, twisting your wrist to pump his cock as much as you can while his fingers destroy you. They are just as thick and wonderful as you imagined. Rough, his hands are calloused and imperfect from the manual labor of his job, scrubbing perfectly inside your walls to make you choke out his name every time he curls them deep.

Your choked version of his name has him groaning yours as you try to pump his cock in your soft hand. He twists his wrist, pressing his thumb to your clit to hear the sweet cry of your orgasm. He desperately wants it. His lips find yours again and he slides his tongue into your mouth, wanting to devour you.

Your hips roll up, eager to have him push his fingers deep every time he pulls them back. You feel that lovely tension curling in your stomach and you want more, crave it. He is just as overwhelming as you had imagined. Completely taking control and showing a confidence that is undeniably sexy.

Your walls flutter and clamp down on his fingers, making him grin against your chin, and he desperately wants you to fall apart for him. “Cum for me, baby.” He murmurs, nipping your jaw as he curls his fingers and presses his thumb against your clit.

It takes a few more pumps of his fingers before you are flying. Your walls lock down around his fingers and soak him with a wave of hot liquid juice that just continues to come in wave after wave while he continues to curl his fingers deep. Crying out his name loudly, nearly a sob and you shake under him.

“Holy fuck.” He groans when you grip his fingers in your walls and he loves how hot and wet you get. He can’t wait to feel that around his cock. “That’s it, baby. Such a good girl for me.” He murmurs, kissing along your neck as he works you through it.

You whimper, knowing that he could call you a good girl for the rest of your life and it would still make your stomach curl in pleasure. Your legs feel like jello when he finally pulls his fingers free and kisses your lips. “Fuck, Miller.” You pant. “Get on your back.”

He grunts as he shifts to lay against the pillows, pupils blown wide as he watches you while you shift to your wobbly knees. "So fucking gorgeous." He murmurs, his gaze dropping to your tits and he can't help reaching down to squeeze his hard cock.

You bite your lip when your thighs are straddling him, immediately moving and grinding down on his cock as soon as he moves his hand. Grinning when he moans your name and swivel your hips again. “Put your hat back on, cowboy.” You tease, leaning down and kissing him passionately.

He fumbles blindly to grab his hat from the nightstand and he puts it on while his tongue tangles with yours while you grind down onto him. “Shit. Co-condom?” He rasps, knowing it’s been forever and a day since he’s had sex but he wants you to be comfortable.

“Fuck.” You don’t have one, but you think you will cry if you have to stop right now. “I don’t- I’m clean.” You mumble against his lips, pulling back to look into his eyes. “I’m on birth control.”

“I’m clean and I - I trust you.” He promises, knowing he shouldn’t take the chance after Katie left him high and dry but he’s aching and he knows you wouldn’t lie to him. “Take what you want, baby.” He demands, his hands finding your ass to squeeze before he playfully slaps your cheeks, “ride a cowboy.”

You moan, reaching down and wrapping your fingers around his cock as you lift up to move him into position. “Gonna ride you ‘til you pass out.” You tease, winking at him right before you start to impale yourself on his length with a loud moan.

When you start to sink down onto his cock, he hisses and his fingers dig into your ass, exhaling through his nose to control himself as he watches your facial expressions while he stretches you out. “Feel good?” He smirks, voice heavy with lust as he slides one hand up to squeeze your breast.

“Yes, fuck.” Your eyes close and you clench down around him. “You’re so much thicker than my ex.” You admit breathlessly, not even thinking that he might not want to be reminded that you had just broken up with someone.

He chuckles, pinching your nipple. "Good, gonna make sure you don't remember his fucking name after tonight." He promises and kisses along your jaw, "want you to scream my name only."

“What ex?” You joke, groaning when he nibbles on your ear. “Fuck, Joel.” You sit up, bracing your hands on his chest and look down on him. He looks sexy under you. “You have a great cock.” You praise, starting to bounce on it. “I’m going cum all over it.”

Your words make him twitch inside you and he slaps your tit, wanting you to squeal. You start to rock on top of him and the sight is gorgeous but he reaches for the hat on his head. He takes it off and places it on your head. “Sexy as fuck.” He murmurs, watching you as your tits move.

You giggle as you ride him, leaning over to press against his chest and bounce harder. He feels incredible inside you, his cock punching deep enough to feel like he’s in your throat and you start to rock harder on him. “Fuck, fuck Joel!”

“That’s it, baby. Shit. Take what you want. God, you look so gorgeous ridin’ my cock.” He coos as his dark eyes trail down to watch where his cock disappears inside of you.

He doesn’t have the exaggerated drawl of a cowboy, but that gravely, raspy pitch to his voice makes your cunt clench around him as he praises you. Loving how he seems to be obsessed with you moving on top of him. Those hands caress you from your tits to your thighs.

Your moans make him twitch inside you and he digs his heels into the mattress, unable to stop himself from thrusting up into you with a groan. “You gonna cum for me, baby?” He asks, his hands sliding up to pinch your nipples and twist them slightly.

“Yessssss.” You hiss, clenching down around him and circling your hips. “Your fucking cock is so deep inside me.” You moan. “You’re in my throat. How the fuck did no one want to ride this cock every night?”

Joel doesn’t mention his ex at this moment but he’s been hesitant to get involved with anyone since she left him with a baby and walked out the door. It’s been hard and he’s finally taking time for himself. He’s going to let you take what you want from him. “Wanna see you cum again.” He rasps, groaning when you clench around him, getting closer.

“I will.” You moan, bouncing on his cock faster and gasping out when he pushes against a perfect spot deep inside you. “God I want to cum all over you.”

"Do it." He pleads, his jaw clenched as he tries to focus on not cumming before you. It's been too long since all he had was his hand. He groans and slides his hand between you, finding your clit to rub, needing you to fall apart for him.

That little nudge of his fingers is all you need. Crying out his name so loud it’s almost a scream you shake apart on top of him, clenching down on his cock and creaming all over it as your hips stutter and you collapse against his chest to press your lips to his breathlessly.

He pulls his hand from between you, his arms wrapping around you and he is desperate to cum. He thrusts up into you, hissing at the way you clench around him. So tight he can barely thrust up into you, and he groans as he pushes deep and finally lets go. He paints your walls with his hot cum, a pant of your name escapes his lips as the breath is knocked from him.

You pant as he relaxes underneath you. Both of you are trying to catch your breath. “Wow.” His cowboy hat is pushed back, falling off your back and you start to giggle in pleasure. Amazed at how good that was. “Good ride, cowboy.”

He chuckles, heart pounding in his chest as he caresses your back, “fuck, my fantasies didn’t do you justice. You are incredible.” He murmurs, kissing your shoulder and up your neck.

You hum in agreement. He cock is softening inside you but you don’t even have the strength to move off of him. “Much better than getting drunk downstairs.”

Joel smiles, “absolutely. I, uh, wouldn’t mind doing it again. And again.” He confesses with a softness to his voice as he caresses you. “I’ve wanted you for a while. Do you, maybe, uh, wanna go out sometime?” He asks, wanting you to know this isn’t just a quick fuck at a party.

“Of course I do.” You smirk, pulling back and giving him a small wink. “How else will I be able to ride this construction cowboy anytime I want?” You joke, happy that Lindsey had convinced you to come to this party tonight. This was much better than eating too much candy on your sofa all alone. “Although next time, I want to see that fucking tool belt on your hips. Do you know how sexy that is?”

Joel actually blushes and he shakes his head, "I didn't know. Tool belt...I can make that happen." He promises and leans in to kiss you again. You groan after you pull back, shifting off of him and he reaches down to tuck his soft cock away. "I know I come as a package deal but Sarah loves you. She thinks you are cool as shit. She will be part of the deal if we - you know?" He asks, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I know that.” You promise him. “Never would have thought any different. Sarah is your world. I respect that. She is the first priority in your life, like she should be. I would just like to spend some time with you, and her. I want to see where this could go.” You smile. “It’s not like we live far apart.” You remind him, knowing that it would be a good thing to be so close, unless things don’t work out.

Joel nods, “yeah. Yeah. I just - not everyone wants a single dad.” He admits and you reach out to caress his cheek, “a hot single dad. One I want to fuck.” You giggle and Joel blushes again, “I can definitely arrange that. You want another drink? Some snacks?” He offers, knowing he won’t want to leave the guest room for quite some time. You nod and he shifts off the bed, adjusting his jeans and he puts his shirt back on. He grabs his hat and places it on his head, a wink towards you as he opens the door, “I’ll be right back.” He promises and steps out of the guest room. Making his way downstairs barefoot, he passes couples and friends until he sees Tommy who asks where you are. “She’s upstairs.” Joel confesses, biting his lip, and Tommy smacks him on the shoulder.

“Fucking finally, man. Good for you. You two make a cute couple. Don’t fuck it up.” Tommy raises his eyebrows and Joel nods, “only thing that’s gonna fuck this up is a goddamn zombie apocalypse.” He jokes and Tommy snorts, “you deserve to be happy, man.” Joel thanks him, grabbing the food and drinks to make his way back upstairs. He’s excited for the future. A future with you.

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller tlou #halloween 2024

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my-castles-crumbling · 8 months ago

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Hi, guys! Let's talk about fandom etiquette!

👨‍🏫👨‍🏫👨‍🏫

I know a lot of you are young and perhaps have not been part of fandom spaces since the dawn of time (circa fanfiction.net) so let's talk about some dos and don'ts with fandom, so we can keep this a happy place! Please read this and reblog to get this out to people who genuinely may not know!

📕DON'T: Write reviews of fics on Tumblr, Tiktok, or other social media. Fic writers are creating these things for FREE, and did not ask you to review. This often leads to negative discourse and can even cause fic writers to take down their fics. 📗DO: Leave kudos and ONLY POSITIVE comments. Talk about only positive things on social media. If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all!

Edited to add: YES, EVEN CONSTRUCTIVE CRITISCISM. If the author didn't ask for it, don't give it. Some may appreciate it, but others won't. At the very least, ask permission first.

📕DON'T: Post fic ideas or headcanons on AO3. AO3 is for posting actual fanfiction or fanart and nothing else. (What I mean by this is, I've seen posts on ao3 like "Just posting an idea that someone should write, here it is!" and that's not what ao3 is for). Edited to add: You can also post original works and nonfiction works based on fandom on ao3! 📗DO: Post headcanons and ideas on Tumblr, Tiktok, etc!

Edited to change: Okay, so I feel like there's some arguments over like...what qualifies as metafic versus something that shouldn't be on AO3? So from my understanding (correct me if I'm wrong), people DEFINITELY should not be posting just a title with no work attached, which I have seen a lot lately, nor should they be posting to search for someone else's fic. However, it seems like lists, and similar metafic are okay, as well as original content, and nonfiction.

📕DON'T: Repost entire fanfictions without permission or sell bound fanfiction. Again, this causes writers to take their fics down, and can actually cause issues with fandom because it can cause allegations of copyright infringement. 📗DO: Recommend fics you like to others by talking them up and posting links! Ask permission before you translate!

📕DON'T: Send hate to authors for writing a fic in a way you don't like or not updating enough. Again, authors are doing this for free and sending hate causes serious mental harm to authors because they are people! If you don't like it, don't read it! 📗DO: Send love to authors in forms that they are comfortable with!

📕DON'T: Shame others for their ships/fics/kinks. Fandom is supposed to be a supportive space! Judging people is taking away that safe space! 📗DO: Use the block button! Block or filter out things or people you don't like!

📕DON'T: Use AI to create art or fics. This is detrimental to the creators who work hard to create their work! 📗DO: Try making your own art or fics! Practice makes perfect!

These are just a few of the things that I've seen happening more lately, but keep in mind that if you don't like something, you don't have to interact with it and fanart and fanfiction creators are people who are doing this for free. Please make sure to respect the hard work people put in, or fandom can't exist!

(Feel free to discuss/add things as long as you're being respectful!)

#marauders fandom #harry potter marauders #harry potter fandom #marauders era #fandom etiquette #fandom #fandom things #fandom meta #fandom culture #fandom history #fanfics #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer

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bettystonewell · 25 days ago

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ANOTHER NOTCH ON HIS BELT

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Every little part of him is holding onto every little piece of her, and any other woman he’s been lucky enough to escape his life with. Even if it’s only for the night - or - Dean replaces intimacy with sex. 18+ only

Word Count: 1.2k words

Tags/Warnings: lil’ bit of SMUT, casual sex, Dean needs a hug, light angst

A/N: Summary inspired by the lyrics of the song “Tough” by Lewis Capaldi.—————————————————————Read on AO3 || Masterlist

He loves the sex.

Needs it.

Craves it.

The closeness it gives him. The warmth of someone else surrounding his hardened body. Touching, feeling, writhing below or on top of him. He doesn’t care.

Even with the scrapes and bruises he doesn’t remember which ugly bastard he ganked giving them to him, he’s not ashamed. He just wants to fill up his heart with affection to get him through the next death he knows is inevitable, no matter how hard he tries.

It’s something he can’t escape, except maybe for the night. Tonight, if he’s lucky.

As she pours him another cup, and places the pie he ordered beside his now empty plate, he pretends not to notice. It doesn’t mean he’s not watching. He just continues to hold the conversation with Sam while listening to her greet someone new.

Her voice carries like silk over the chatter of people and the ringing coming from the door. Her hands are clean, her skin soft and inviting as she pulls out her notepad and pen.

He flicks his head up to exchange a glance, and she actually winks at him. “Can I get you anything else?”

“Sammy?” He looks his brother’s way, but brings his gaze back to her the second he’s answered.

“Thanks,” he says and reads the badge pinned to her blouse aloud. “That’s a pretty name.”

The girls in these dives they eat at are always perfect in his eyes. Their lives are just so, even if they don’t see it.

No scars, at least not from weapons. Pliable flesh he can sink his fingers into. Grab, smooth, lick, taste. Sweet perfume that would fill a home he knows has things littered with the apple pie life he once thought he wanted.

He’ll tell no one he still does.

He’ll also never tell Sam that’s the real reason he doesn’t bring them to the motel anymore if he can avoid it. It’s easier to leave them when he wakes up and feels out of place.

She walks away, back to the counter whence she came with hips that sway in time to the tick of the dusty old clock on the wall. Past the other patrons and tables full of more coffee and mediocre food.

Chicken served in nugget form. Sandwiches lathered in sauce. It may be swill and smell closer to ass than edible, but if he plays his cards well, he’ll be devouring something far better tonight.

“Don’t wait up,” he says after downing the scalding liquid in one go. He’s done with waiting. Just needed the last boost of confidence before he goes in for the kill.

He stands up and grabs his phone. Brushes down his jacket, checking there’s nothing on it from the hunt, and looks up to the smile that caught his eye again.

She’s watching him.

“Don’t do the hot coffee thing,” Sammy bitches, as he walks away.

But while Dean ignores him, a split second frown sours his face. He refuses to let his baby brother see the remark stings.

It’s not about dipping his stick in the oil, but he’ll let Sam believe it is. The facade is easier than admitting the truth.

He steps up to the counter, where she’s taking some other chumps order, and raises the cup he never put down to gain her attention. There might be a suave grin thrown her way. Definitely a twinkle in his eye.

“Can I get another, sweetheart? Hot, and…just like you?” There’s a wag of his brow now.

“Sure thing, hun,” she says with a chuckle that makes her even more desirable. She doesn’t know how beautiful she is.

He wants to taste. He wants to touch. He wants her arms wrapped around him while he holds her tight. So he takes the opportunity presented to him. A brush of his fingers on hers when she hands the smooth ceramic back to him. Lingering as he gauges for any reaction. Any hint that she’s interested in being his comfort for the night.

“Thanks,” he says through a grin of goof and charm, and she smiles. Doesn’t even move her hand, and he knows he’s in with a chance.

“Can I get you anything else…?” she asks.

“Dean.” He winks.

“Dean,” she repeats, and he wants to hear it again. Underneath him. On top of him. Legs wrapped ‘round his waist as she chants it into his ear.

He’d settle for it once if it was on her doorstep, following an ‘I had a good time last night,’ and so he’s bolder. His choice of words, just as. “Any chance you’re getting off soon?”

And she chuckles, hearty and soft. Nods her head in consideration, tongue playing with her cheek as she looks him over nice and slow. “You don’t beat around the bush, huh, Dean?”

“Depends on the carpets,” he says.

It’s cheesy and cringe and doesn’t even make much sense, but it works. She’s placing the pot of coffee down, leaning in closer to him, hovering over him a couple of hours later in a room that’s both foreign in foundation and comfort.

Plush bedding that’s clean. No smoke or dust or grime in sight.

A light that never flickers and appliances that don’t buzz.

There’s a thigh on either side of him, bent at the knees just as he wanted. A sheen of sweat between. Her hands, warm and soft, creep over his skin, tracing patterns with tingles that curl his toes and tense the muscles in his shoulders and glutes.

His arms pull her down on him, pushing himself further into her. Giving her more of him, and she moans. He does, too. The squeeze of her walls on the covered tip of his dick is wonderful, but it’s the look in her eyes that does it for him.

There’s a connection, now, even if there might be none come morning. This lust that he can mistake for adoration is what he needs. What he craves.

He’s wanted. She feels. Her body is alive, and she cries his name.

“You like that, baby?” he asks with a snap of his hips, savouring the next sound she makes. If they go another round, he’ll do it again. When he’s alone with just his hand, he’ll chase it with the memory of her trembling lips, thighs and chest.

He’s pulling her tit into his mouth. Wide to capture as much of her smooth skin as he can. He’ll remember the saltiness, too. The way her nipple pebbles as his tongue swipes over and around it. The way her pelvis rocks.

She’s grinding down on him. Her fingers are tugging into his hair, and as her nails scrape down to the nape of his neck, he’s pulling her stomach to his.

He’s grabbing her ass and raising it up. He’s chasing both their highs.

And when it hits, and he feels his balls tighten, and her around him, squeezing him for all he’s worth, he’s burying his nose into the junction between her hairline and ear. Inhaling the soap and shampoo. Her perfume. The sweat on her skin. He’s taking it all in and holding her tight.

In this moment, she’s his.

The closeness she gives him. The warmth of her surrounding his hardened body. Touching, feeling, writhing on top of him.

He craves her.

He needs her.

And he’ll continue to, because it’s not just about sex. He loves the intimacy.

Read on AO3 || Masterlist—————————————————————Thank you so much for reading!

Coming soon! - Must Love Dogs - 24/01

(Dean’s POV - Humour - 900 words)

The Colonel needs to take a leak. Rather than risk the stench of dog piss in their already rank motel room, Dean, begrudgingly, obliges. It’s lucky(?) he does, because Dean will always pick up. —————————————————————TAGLIST- If you’d like to be tagged, lmk.

@globetrotter28 @ambiguous-avery @arcannaa

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fic #spn reader insert #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #spn #x reader #fem reader #reader insert #jensen ackles characters #replacing intimacy with sex #its a lonely life #one shots

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messrmoonyy · 11 months ago

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- The gilded cage

Arthur Morgan x Fem!reader

Request- how about some of the girls going along to the mayors party in Saint Denis. Have you seen the cut content of Molly when she was meant to be at the party? So Dutch takes Molly along, Arthur takes reader? And what if Arthur gets a a little jealous of reader mingling and then they sneak away for some smutty time together…

A/N- this is my first Arthur fic so he may be a lil out of character whilst I get to grips with writing him. I also have not written straight smut in like 2 years. But we vibe. Enjoy

Also shoutout to @devnmon for supporting and enabling my rdr2 brainrot. You’re a real one

Warnings- 18+ | smut: unprotected p in v, semi public sex ( wc - 7.7k )

Masterlist / AO3

Saint Denis was a little too rich for your blood. You’d only ventured into the city a handful of times, but the times you had you’d decided you didn’t really like it. You felt too… common. You never had liked the wealthy, flaunting their security and safety that was wrapped up in dollars and gold.

But. You loved money. God did you love money. And as much as you hated the residents of the city, you sure loved robbing them blind. You always had had a knack for making the rich mysteriously lose their dollars and their watches, it had been the sole reason you’d ended up in Dutch’s gang in the first place.

You’d even tried picking his pockets at first.

But you were on best behaviour tonight. Under Dutch’s orders. And you figured as boring as that sounded, you’d oblige. Simply because the men rarely let the girls get involved with any of the interesting stuff in camp. There was only so much laundry you could do before your brain truly went numb from boredom. Only so much listening to Miss Grimshaw nagging at you to do some work or Micah antagonising someone over something stupid.

So even with Dutch’s strict orders to behave and your dislike of the city, you had jumped at the chance to come along to the party.

“ i can practically smell the money “ you sighed as you took Arthur’s hand to step down from the coach, already hearing the bustle of the party happening somewhere out the back of the mansion in front of you “ you sure I can’t go pickin? Just a lil “ you were half joking, half not. On the times you had wandered into the city, the stuff you’d gathered picking your way around the saloons and back alleys had been a decent haul. The stuff some of these people carried around on the average day was enough to fund the food for the whole of camp for a couple days or more.

Who knew what kind of goodies they’d have on them in their finery.

“ no miss “ Dutch’s stern voice sounded, but he was sporting a small look of amusement “ keep those talented hands of yours to yourself. This is about business. We steal nothing. That goes for all of you. Steal. Nothing. Unless it’s information “

“ don’t worry. I’ll keep her in check “ Arthur spoke with a small chuckle, placing a hand lightly to your back.

“ this is why we shouldn’t have brought the women. They always cause trouble “ Bill complained, as he stepped out of the second coach with Hosea, making you scowl.

“ I hope you aren’t grouping me into that Mr Williamson “ Molly piped up with a disapproving scowl of her own as she stepped out of the coach, seemingly more mad at Dutch for not helping her out more than at Bill though. Arthur offered her his hand instead, helping her step onto the path without breaking her neck in her extravagant dress.

Always the gentleman.

She looked wonderful and you had begun to wonder if she had owned that dress all along or had gone out and got it special. Maybe Dutch had picked it up for her. It wouldn’t surprise you if she had been lugging it around from place to place, waiting for some perfect moment to pull it out. She always did look more put together than the majority of camp. Though you really didn’t understand how she could walk in the dress she was currently wearing, skirts full and you guessed pretty heavy too.

“ no need to bring you “ Bill continued.

“ I ain’t even causin’ trouble “ you piped in, throwing your own scowl Bills way again “ When did you last contribute to the box anyways huh Bill? I don’t see you doin’ nothin’ but sit around all damn day. No need to bring you I say. Jus’ cause you ain’t got no lady on your arm you’re complainin’ bout me and Molly “

“ what? A lady like you? I should be damn lucky I ain’t “

“ why you- “

“ Bill I suggest you leave it “ Arthur murmured lowly, planting himself between you and Bill before you did in fact cause some trouble. Bill grumbled something, spitting on the floor with a look of disgust and turning away from you.

Dutch sighed heavily, looking increasingly pissed off at the group in front of him and held his arm out to Molly.

“ Miss O’Shea “ It pained you a little to know he was probably only being nice to her tonight for appearances sake. He’d been practically ignoring her recently. And wasn’t doing Molly any good. You hoped a night out of camp would do her well “ now would you all just calm. Down. We, are simple distinguished gentleman, here for business. So start damn acting like it “ you scoffed at that, making a pointed look in Bills direction as you did

“ distinguished my ass “

“ play nice now “ Arthur said quietly, but you heard the smile in his tone as he did. He then offered you his arm as Dutch had done to Molly. But unlike Dutch the act didn’t feel performative, a way to blend in and appear far higher class than they actually were. Arthur actually was a gentleman. For the most part anyways.

“ why thank you mister “ you said in a cheery tone, throwing him a coy smile and slipping your gloved hands into the crook of his elbow.

It did feel a little funny to be walking beside him like that. All dressed up and in clothes that weren’t smeared with gun oil, dust or god knows what else. It made your mind drift a little to what life could’ve been like.

Your group crossed the street, promptly being stopped at the gates

“ gentleman “ the guard greeted, taking the invitation from Dutch’s hands “ the mayor doesn’t allow guns at official functions “ the way he looked at Dutch and the others was almost demeaning. Like he knew you were all riff raff and of course would be the sort to attend such an event armed “ Not after last years incident “ none of the boys seemed particularly thrilled to be handing over their firearms. Arthur in particular sighed heavily beside you as he handed his pistol over.

He didn’t like being unarmed. Especially when he was out with you. You usually also had your gun belt permanently fixed at your waist. But it wasn’t exactly fitting with your current attire.

Though you did note the guards didn’t even spare a glance to you or Molly, which in turn made you all the more smug knowing you had your knife tucked into your boot. Just in case of course.

“ Luca here will take you gentleman to Mr Bronte. I believe he is expecting you “

“ I know you got that knife in yer boot “ Arthur said lowly so that no one else would hear.

“ he ain’t said anythin’ about knifes. Only guns “ Arthur smiled and shook his head slightly, placing his hand over yours for a moment.

“ that’s my girl “

You walked up the neat cobbled path to the mayors house then, unable to do anything but look in awe at the huge house in front of you. You’d thought Shady Belle was something spectacular, had walked around every room imagining what it had looked like in all its glory. Amazed at the vastness of the place and all the rooms it had.

And yet it was nothing compared to this place. This was real money.

“ I look okay? “ you asked, suddenly feeling ever so slightly nervous, smoothing your hand over your skirts. Even in your attempts to look as clean and put together as you did, some part of you felt like everyone would see you were a walking sham.

All in all you knew you probably did look fine. The dress was the most lavish thing you’d ever owned, you didn’t even want to guess how much it had cost Arthur. It was still on the simpler side, skirts not quite as full as Mollys and not as detailed. But it was beautiful. Pale pink and ruffled shoulders and details on your skirts, gloves up to your elbows in a material so soft you’d sighed when you’d first pulled them on.

It all made a nice change from the usual simple clothes you wore, hips weighted by skirts rather than your gun belt. And skirts that didn’t have a million holes darned over.

And Arthur had picked it all out. Had picked it himself especially for you.

It did make you smile to imagine him in the tailors, completely out of his depth when it came to women’s fashion but determined to find you something nice. Your big, tough cowboy staring blankly at fabric swatches and fancy hats.

“ gonna be the prettiest girl here “ you smiled warmly at his words, hand smoothing over your dress again.

He’d turned up that morning into your shared room of shady Belle, finding you hiding away from Miss Grimshaw on the balcony, the dress draped over his arm along with some fancy suit and tie get up for himself. He’d looked almost sheepish as he’d shown you it, promising to go get you something else if you hated it. Which of course you hadn’t.

You’d practically jumped with joy at being able to go out on a job. The boys so rarely let the girls do anything meaningful other than tend to camp. Though this particular outing you knew Dutch had only brought you and Molly along because it would make your group seem a little more agreeable. Something about women making them look a little less intimidating. And of course Dutch and Arthur’s partners were the most obvious of choices.

Much to Mary-Beth and Karen’s dismay. Though they had very quickly changed their mind at the idea of having to hang off Bills arm all night.

It wasn’t exactly the reason you wanted to be brought along. But you took it.

The inside of the mansion was as glorious as the outside, it almost made you angry that people had such wealth. That these people could sleep in a new room each night of the week if they felt like it, when people were starving outside of their gates.

“ Hosea, Bill. Take the ladies out and enjoy the party. We’ll join you after we pay our respects to signor Bronte. Arthur, with me “ Arthur gave a curt nod

“ I won’t be long “ he assured, hand slipping down around your back and leaning down to your ear “ hands to yourself “ you scoffed as he said it, looking up at him as he stepped away from you.

“ I can’t promise “ you caught his smile as he walked over to Dutch and the staff. Disappearing up the stairs.

“ it’s just this way “ one of members of Lemieux’s staff spoke, gesturing the four of you in the direction of some doors leading out into the party.

“ let’s go ladies. You fancy a drink? “ Hosea said cheerfully, following closely behind you and Molly as you headed outside. You were ushered out into gardens, a mass of the rich and wealthy of Saint Denis all crowded around. Drinking and laughing at things you were sure were not as remotely funny as they were making it out to be.

Bill quickly made himself scarce, disappearing into the crowds to do lord knows what, much to your joy.

“ right. Champagne? “ Hosea excused himself to collect some drinks and you stood on the back porch looking down at the groups of people.

So far removed from what you were used to. You wondered how they’d react knowing you and your little group were currently sleeping in a barely standing plantation home, half of you out under the stars. That you were frauds. Not glamorous and wealthy like them.

In your experience the rich liked to pretend the poor didn’t exist. Unless they were hiring them as help.

“ oh I missed this “ Molly said beside you, almost dreamily in tone. And seemingly more to herself than to you. It was quite possibly the happiest you’d seen her look in days.

She fit right in. Her gorgeous dress rivalling that of some of the other woman down in the courtyard, her hair piled up on her head and her fancy jewellery that was actually hers. Not something stolen from an unsuspecting lady in town. This was Molly. Money and wealth. It still baffled you how she had ended up with Dutch, how she could leave that all behind for a life wandering.

“ you go to party’s like this a lot? Before Dutch I mean “ she gave a small shrug, searching in her small purse for a moment before placing a cigarette between her lips. You could imagine an even younger Molly, a bright eyed teenager done up all fancy and weaving her way through a party just like this one.

“ sometimes “ her eyes were scanning the crowds, practically sparkling at being surrounded by the upper class again “ wonder what kind of people are here “ she seemed to be talking more to herself than you again and very promptly dismissed herself, heading down the stairs and gliding between the guests. Like some true social butterfly, decked out in her finest.

Hosea returned with three glasses of champagne and a slightly confused look noticing Molly had vanished.

“ eh more for me “ he said with a smile, handing you your glass before promptly finishing his own and moving onto what would’ve been Mollys “ I’m going to do some snooping. You’ll be alright? “

“ I’ll be jus’ fine Hosea “ you said with a smile and watched him too disappear down into the crowds.

It was interesting to watch them, to see them behave as if this entire event was a normal evenings activity. Maybe for them it was. But it all felt so… false. People who appeared to be friends but didn’t seem to even really like each other, some silent competition between everyone to have the better dress. The better hat. The biggest house.

You’d take your creaky cot under the stars with Arthur any day, would much rather sit around the campfire getting tipsy and singing. Surrounded by real family. Real friends. Relationships built on loyalty and protection. Not on trying to out do each other.

You walked between the small crowds, eavesdropping on conversations in hopes to find something useful. Something to take back to Dutch to prove bringing you along wasn’t a useless endeavour. But it was mostly women discussing their elaborate hats, sharing stories of the terrible jobs their maids did, or complaining about their husbands poker habits. Or gossiping about how they had heard one of their friends was in delicate condition.

You heard mentions of Leviticus Cornwall, but nothing concrete enough to warrant telling anyone about.

You tried hunting down Molly, simply to have a friend to stand beside and not feel so…out of place. But she had vanished into the crowds somewhere. So you planted yourself on the side of an ornate water fountain, simply hoping Arthur would return soon. Maybe he’d dance with you, or take you walking around the vast garden laid out ahead of you.

You two never really got the chance to do things like that. Romantic things. Arthur had his ways, of course. He’d take you out riding or sit with you on his lap by the fire, telling you about whatever interesting thing he’d discovered that day. He’d bring you flowers he’d pick from time to time, find you interesting things when he went wandering, let you read aloud to him with the excuse he wanted you to get better at it. When in reality you had seen him confess to his journal that he simply just liked to listen to your voice.

He was far softer than he appeared. With you anyway. And as much as you didn’t like the kinds of people in attendance, you thought it might be nice to pretend for the night. To be two wealthy young oil tycoons, dancing and drinking champagne together, gushing about your money and your jewels.

You made your way through another flute of champagne before he returned, interrupting your frivolous daydreaming.

“ there she is “ you turned your head with a beaming smile at his voice, relief at a familiar face “ been lookin for ya “ he sat down beside you, looping an arm around your waist “ you behavin’? “

“ course I am. Ain’t took as much as a pearl “ you said quite proudly, though decided not to mention that the temptation had truly been hard to deny. Not only were these people rich, they were getting drunker by the second. They were practically begging to be robbed.

“ good girl “

“ it go okay with ugh.. what’s his name? “ you asked, turning to face him. He looked just as uncomfortable with the entire situation as you did. This wasn’t his scene. It never had been. He’d grown up just as poor as you had.

Arthur robbed the rich, he didn’t fraternise with them.

“ Bronte. Yeah. Fine. Dutch he’s tryna find the mayor or somethin “ he ran a finger between his neck and collar of his shirt, clearly growing uncomfortable with it. It made you laugh a little.

“ you ain’t cut out for the finer life “

“ no. I ain’t “ he was looking around at the guests in a similar way to you. With a mild sense of disgust “ saw some woman back there, hat so big she were topplin over “ you smiled and leant your head against his shoulder, he tucked you in closer to his side and dropped a kiss to the top of your head.

“ was daydreamin whilst you were with Dutch “ you mused.

“ yeah? About what? “

“ playin’ pretend. Bein’ fancy for the night. Y’know dancin’ and pretendin’ we got buckets of money “ the small sigh Arthur let out made you wonder if he thought that was a life you pined for. It wasn’t. Not really. Yeah, you liked money but.. you just wanted to be comfortable. Little ranch or a cabin some place quiet. Not poor. Not rich. Just. Existing happily “ ain’t us though “

“ you and me we… we ain’t like these people. We ain’t ever gonna be like these people “

“ we don’t gotta be. Me, you. Some pokey lil farm someplace out west? Now that’s the dream cowboy “ he chuckled and nodded, dropping another kiss to your head

“ that’s the dream darlin’ “ you both sat quietly for a short while longer, watching the rich get drunker and more foolish. The odd person acknowledged your presence, greeting you as they passed or tipping their hat. But mostly they left you alone. It was at the point that one man drunkenly stumbled into a bush a few feet away that made you speak up again.

“ never thought I’d miss that damn swamp. But lord above… these people “ Arthur scoffed as he too watched the fool try and right himself again, leaves sticking to the pomade in his hair

“ yeah. I think I need a drink “ he patted your side lightly so you’d stop leaning on him and stood up “ champagne? “

“ oh well ain’t you just so kind sir “ you said in your best attempt a dramatic upper class drawl “ and you gonna dance with me after mister? “ you asked with a teasing smile and he rubbed a hand at the back of his neck for a moment looking almost sheepish. But he was smiling, the sweet genuine kind he only really seemed to show around you.

“ sure darlin’. But I’m definitely gonna need that drink for that “ he ventured back into the crowds then and you stayed put, continuing to watch the guests laugh and talk about how incredible their lives were.

“ I don’t recognise you “ an inquisitive voice spoke, tinged with that accent that the wealthy had started latching on to in some attempts to make themselves sound more superior. Smarter. Whatever. You thought it was quite ridiculous. You turned your head to look at the man, seeing if he was in fact talking to you.

“ talkin’ to me mister? “ he was eyeing you up and down like he was somewhat intrigued but amused by you at the same time. A stupid top hat on his head adored with plumes and the chain of a pocket watch hanging from his pocket. It almost made you laugh at how your brain immediately began thinking about how you could steal it and how much it was worth.

“ I am indeed miss “ he stepped closer, puffing on his cigar and not taking his eyes off of you for a second “ I have frequented many of the mayors parties but you… I do not remember you “ a small wave of panic flushed your skin but you remained calm. Not recognising you was far easier to work your way out of than if he had recognised your face.

“ I’m new in town. My… uncle. He’s friends with Mr Bronte “ the man hummed, sitting himself down beside you.

“ so you’re here with your uncle? “ you shifted slightly at his closeness but remembered you needed to keep up appearances so forced a smile onto your face

“ yeah. And my husband. He’s around here someplace “ the man’s eyes immediately darted down to your gloved hands, probably noting the lack of a ring on your finger. You and Arthur weren’t married. But you may as well have been. He often referred to you as his wife, and he as your husband.

He’d ask you one day.

“ a lucky man “ the man said, blowing smoke in your direction and still looking you up and down. You decided at that moment you very much wanted to steal his watch. Dutch be damned. Having to put up with the likes of slimy rich men for more than ten seconds… well you figured that warranted you at least getting something shiny in return.

“ oh well ain’t you just a charmer “ you said with a smile, placing a hand to his arm “ you here with your wife mister? “ the man laughed and shook his head, scooting a little closer to you.

“ I’m more of a… free spirit “ you gave a small laugh, trying not to crinkle your nose at the smoke blowing in your face again.

Arthur often smelt of fresh smoke, both cigarette and fire, and that fresh air smell that clung to your clothes after being out in the open air for hours. And you loved it on him, because it was well… him. The smoke from this man was far from appealing. But that watch…

“ ohh I see. You ain’t one to be tied down huh? “ your fingers inched closer to the man’s pocket, wrapping lightly around the chain.

“ everythin’ okay here? “ Arthur appeared behind you, a glass in each of his hands.

“ ah is this the fine man that brought you along? Well aren’t you lucky sir “ the man spoke and you noted he didn’t even glance in Arthur’s direction as he spoke, you were now looping the chain of his watch around your wrist. Just one small tug…

“ Mr Callahan “ Arthur murmured, handing you a glass and standing behind you with a hand to your shoulder

“ wonderful to meet you sir. Me and your wife were having a delightful conversation weren’t we dear? "The pressure of Arthur’s fingers increased as he spoke the sweet name, though you weren’t entirely sure it wasn’t because he’d noticed the man’s watch was now safely hidden in the fabric of your skirt.

“ oh yes. Wonderful mister “ the watch discreetly made its way into your boot and you were ready to get away

“ where’d you find a beautiful thing like this sir? I may need to frequent the place myself “ he placed a hand onto your arm and finally looked up at Arthur rather than at you. He made your skin crawl. You didn’t hold a single ounce of remorse for the stolen watch

“ oh no where you’d like “ his tone was a little snippy, the kind when someone was starting to piss him off but he was trying to keep his cool. And Arthur kicking off in the middle of the mayors party wasn’t exactly a part of Dutch’s plan.

“ now I am so sorry but i believe my husband did promise me a dance “ you rose to your feet, sipping your champagne before placing the glass down and taking Arthur’s from his hands “ ain’t that right my love? “

“ yeah… need ya to come with me “ he said lowly, offering you his arm. His face had gone slightly dark, not entirely able to read him, you frowned slightly. But let him lead you away from the man, completely bypassing the area with couples twirling to the music.

“ where we goin? “ you asked with a small laugh, latching onto his arm again and having to take quick steps to keep up with his purposeful strides “ Arthur?”

He didn’t answer immediately, simply led you away from the crowds and around the side of the mayor's house.

“ You mad cause I took that watch? Look he deserved it- “

“ ain’t mad “ he mumbled, still leading you along.

“ okay… so we stealin’ somethin’ else? “ you asked with excitement filtering into your words, already trying to figure out what it could be “ need me to act like a maid? I can do that real good y’know. Is it money? Papers? Oh, is it jewellery? Gold? “ Arthur chuckled at your excitement and shook his head, bringing you to a halt between some elaborately trimmed bushes and trees in planters.

“ we ain’t stealin’ a thing “ you pouted with a mild disappointment and he chuckled again, advancing on you and backing you up against the wall behind you “ don’t gimme that look “ he tucked his fingers under your chin, nudging your face upwards to look at him. He was a god few inches taller than you, but he always made you feel ten times smaller when he looked down at you like that.

“ what’s gotten into you? “ you asked with a giggle, hands slipping under his jacket to slide over his waist.

“ just wanted some time alone with you is all “

“ behind some trees? You are a strange man sometimes Arthur Morgan y’know that? “ he gave a heavy sigh and brushed his thumb across your cheek softly, watching you intently. He always looked at you like you like you were the only woman on the planet “ you sure you ain’t mad about the watch? “

“ no. I ain’t mad. Feller flirtin’ with my woman and only loses his watch sounds like a good deal to me “ he grumbled, leaning forward to press a kiss to your lips.

And a light bulb suddenly pinged on in your head.

“ are you jealous? “ you asked, unable to hide your complete utter joy and amusement as the realisation hit you. He grumbled some kind of an answer and tried to kiss you again but you turned your head to the side, so he settled for your neck instead “ why Arthur Morgan. You are jealous “

He didn’t answer you again, simply tilted your head so he could get at your neck more, his other hand splaying over your lower back to tug you close against him. A mischievous streak ran through you and you chewed on your lip for a moment deciding whether or not to push his buttons.

“ he was kinda nice to me y’know. He seemed a nice feller “ Arthur’s teeth grazed your skin at your words and your smile grew bigger “ kept me from bein’ so lonely with you gone “

“ he wanted to do more than keep you company “ your fingers ran through the long strands of his hair, sighing softly as he continued to kiss your neck

“ you think? You gonna keep me company now? “

“ oh I’ll keep you company “ you had said it only really to tease. Thinking that actually, a sordid little moment with your lover behind the bushes would be an incredible improvement on the evening.

But it was hard to simply just kiss Arthur. He had wandering hands, had lips as addictive as whiskey. Even when you assumed he wasn’t particularly trying to work you up, he did. But the way he was tugging at your body to keep you pressed against him, the way his lips were burning a trail along your neck and across your jaw…

“ Arthur… y’know anyone could come round here “

“ stay quiet then and they ain’t gonna be none the wiser “ your skin prickled with heat at his words and your hips involuntarily rolled against him. Maybe it was the thrill. Maybe it was the fact that he was so… needy. Desperate to remind himself that you were his and not some stupid rich man in an equally as stupid hat.

He groaned against your hot skin as you pressed against him, the sound igniting something deep in your bones. Flaring up through your veins and cursing like lava through your veins.

Your hands found themselves back under his jacket, fingers tugging at his shirt to free it from where it has been neatly tucked into his pants. You knew you couldn’t get it off of him but you still wanted to feel.

You hummed softly when your fingertips met his skin, as hot as you knew yours must be. He loved to feel you touch him, loved when dragged your nails across his back, sunk your teeth into his shoulder to quiet your moans when you were dangerously close to other members of camp.

You wished you could do it in that moment. Wished you were back in your room, truly the only good thing to come out of Shady Belle was the fact that you had a room.

But Arthur didn’t seem keen on waiting. Seemingly having some point to prove to himself. And you were more than happy to let him.

His hands drifted down to the floaty material of your skirt, reluctantly pulling himself away from your neck to frown at the material in front of him.

“ why you gotta have so many damn skirts? “ he grumbled, fumbling with the layers of fabric hanging from your waist.

“ you picked the dress “ you reminded him with a smile, chasing after his lips again. Desperate to kiss him properly now that he had stopped his assault on your neck. He kissed you with a energy that demanded your attention, that drew you in and locked you in place. Hot. Wet. Addictive “ least it ain’t as big as Mollys “ you said when you let yourself pull away.

“ yeah well I weren’t plannin’ on keepin’ you in it when we- god damn there’s enough fabric here to dress the entire camp “ you couldn’t help the giggle that fell past your lips, watching him try to figure out how he was going to play out whatever sordid thoughts were running through his head.

Your own mind had quite ungracefully fallen into the gutter itself, realising exactly what Arthur wanted. And your constant desperation for the man in front of you overruling all your concerns at the location.

He seemed to be getting a little agitated with your dress and you held back the urge to giggle at him. Instead opting to try sooth the frown lines worrying at his forehead, reaching forward to palm at him through the material of his pants. In hopes it would be some kind of incentive for him to hurry up as well.

As much as you needed him as badly as you needed air, you were also still aware of exactly where you were. And how long it would take until Dutch came looking.

“ c’mon Arthur “ you whispered, desperation beginning to fill your words “ ‘fore they notice we’re gone “ it had been his idea to take you away, and yet you were seemingly the more desperate of the two of you now. But how could he or anyone else blame you? When he was all gussied up like he was. In truth you liked his normal attire a little more. Liked him a little more… rugged. But lord did he look handsome in his suit, his hair and beard all neat and tidy.

Arthur’s breath audibly caught in his throat from your touch and it seemed to effectively spur him on.

“ yes ma’am “ He spun you around with strong hands to your waist, your own hands bracing yourself against the wall. The next moments were a flurry of his hands hitching your skirts over your hips, grabbing at your undergarments before a strong arm looped around your waist to pull you back against him.

His hand disappeared under your bunched up skirts making you gasp softly as his fingers dipped into the warmth between your thighs.

“ this all for me darlin? “ you could hear the smirk in his words, feel it as he brushed his nose against your cheek. The short stands of his beard tickled at your skin, sending a shiver snaking along your spine.

“ course it is “ the sound of a lady drunkenly laughing a little too close by made you freeze, hand reaching around to grab at Arthur’s arm.

He didn’t seem discouraged by the idea of someone stumbling upon you both, simply moved his hand up to grasp gently at your jaw, turning your face towards his to kiss you. His other hand was still between your thighs, and you sighed softly against his lips as he drew a thick finger between the wetness of your folds “ oh Arthur…“

Your cunt clenched around nothing. As if silently begging for his fingers to just push inside of you, take you in a way you had always found so much more personal than just sitting on his cock. His fingers that held his guns, that he used to beat people to death more times than either of you could care to count. Those same fingers working you open, covered in the slick evidence of your desire for him instead of gun oil. Fingers that cause pain and damage, but also sent you spiralling into mind blowing pits of pleasure.

And paired with the current location? It just felt… dirty. Erotic. You felt no better than a common whore loitering in a saloon for custom. You wanted him so desperately, needed him.

“ Arthur “ you sighed, pushing your self against his hand as he toyed with your swollen clit.

“ tell me what y’need pretty girl “ he said softly, tickling your skin with his beard and dragging his tongue across your neck before sinking his teeth into the flesh, making you whimper.

“ you- Arthur. You. Please “ his hand continued its gentle movements as he worked at your neck. You pushed your hips back against him, grinding against the hardness still trapped by his pants in a way that couldn’t be comfortable. His breath shuddered against your skin as you did, holding you flush against him to let you wiggle your hips in a silent invitation to just take you already.

A smashing glass drew your attention briefly away from him again. And as much as you could let him do that all evening, you were still hyper aware of your surroundings.

You silently wished he’d just waited until you were back at camp, could take his time with you on that shitty little bed in the privacy of your room at Shady Belle.

But there you were. And there were hundreds of others only a few feet away too.

“ stop teasin we ain’t got the time “ at any other time he’d have worked you into a mess with his fingers, even dropped to his knees and disappeared under your skirts, have you coming on his tongue over and over again just because he wanted to. But he hadn’t planned the situation well at all, and you weren’t exactly in the best of locations. If anyone so much as peaked around the corner of the building a little too far you were certain you’d be spotted.

And wouldn’t that be a tale.

“ ain’t you bossy “ you opened your mouth to snip back at him, but your words evaporated into nothing but a soft whimper as Arthur followed your demands, pushing past his desires to take his time with you. Truly it was his own fault that he couldn’t though, as he withdrew his fingers and fumbled with the buttons on his pants.

“ Arthur “ you whimpered softly, breath stuttering at the feel of his swollen tip brushing between the wet folds of your cunt.

“ quiet now darlin’ “ He pushed in slowly, in the way he so often did. Making sure you felt every single devastating inch, your back arching against his chest as your body flushed with warmth. Even after so many times the stretch was still a lot, a deep burning ache that eventually melted away into a blinding hot pleasure that burnt its way through your veins.

He pressed on until he was flush against you, the material of his opened pants scratching against your soft skin as he held you there a moment. He exhaled slowly, his breath warm against your skin.

It was never fucking with Arthur. Not very often anyways. It was love making. Soft. And slow. And a brutal pace that made sure you remembered he’d been there the next morning, but oh so drawn out. He was gentle. Tender. It had always shocked you how violent he could be and yet become so careful and soft with you. And even there, concealed by a few perfectly trimmed bushes and planters, he was taking his time. Reminding you that you were his. And maybe reminding himself of the fact too.

Reminding himself that maybe there were men only a few feet away that wanted you. That would pay for the pleasure of your company. But only Arthur could have it, that he was the only one you would ever offer it too.

That this deep rooted instinct to protect what was his wasn’t entirely necessary but god was it wanted. That his desire made your blood boil with lust, skin burn under his touch.

“ That’s my girl “ he whispered, tone low and steady as he set himself into a bruising pace, still tightly holding onto you as he did. His face had fallen to your neck again, lips latching onto every inch of exposed skin they could.

You were certain you were going to walk back into the party looking like you’d taken a dip with some leeches.

You tried your best to be quiet, teeth sinking into your bottom lip in some hopes that mixed with the sounds of the party happening only a few feet away you wouldn’t be heard. But it was so hard to be silent when he was fucking you like that. So determined, so strong, pulling out almost completely before pushing back in hard.

Your hand was still gripping at his arm, blunt fingernails digging at his skin through his jacket. His pace increased a little, settling into a steady rhythm that carved a devastating stretch inside of you.

“ y’know I think that feller- that feller back there. He wanted you like this “ you couldn’t help the smile that pulled its way onto your face, still flushing with joy at his jealousy. You knew Arthur desired you carnally. Always had done and always would. But a reminder like the present one was always nice.

“ y’think so? “

“ I know “ he grumbled, his pace increasing a little more, clearly attempting to take out his frustrations with the handsy man. But also maybe simply trying to assure himself in the process too.

Arthur didn’t like to admit it but he was a little self conscious. You’d heard him talk down to himself in the mirror countless times, had seen the way he spoke about himself when you peaked over his shoulder at his journal. Had an almost crippling fear of abandonment that sometimes he did need to be reminded that you wanted him.

“ poor feller “ you said with a small sigh before pushing lightly at Arthur’s arm so he’d let you go. You winced slightly as he pulled out, immediately missing the heavy feel of him there, and spun around tugging him back towards you by the lapels of his jacket “ ain’t got nothin on you “ you hitched your skirts up in your arm and wrapped your spare hand around the now slick length of his cock making him stutter a breath.

His face was flushed, bottom lip shiny from kissing you. You wanted to absolutely devour him, strip him of his fancy clothes and remind him just how much you wanted every part of him.

The look in his eyes was almost primal. Desire and lust burning so brightly it made your chest ache, to feel so wanted. To feel so desired.

To have a man so usually controlled and put together, be reduced to not being able to even wait until you got home. That he had to have you there. Right there in that moment. He couldn’t wait.

You needed him to pull you apart. To worship every inch of you in the way he so often did.

But the side of the mayor's house was truly not the place for such a thing.

“ no one could make me feel the way you do “ you whispered, stroking him softly in your hand as you tried to stoke the fire under his ego. Make him realise he truly had no reason to be jealous “ and him back there? He thought he could huh? Poor feller “

“ poor feller “ he echoed, sliding a hand over your leg and hitching it over his hip, sliding back into you with a welcome ease that made your head fall back against the wall.

“ Thinks he could fuck me better than this? Man must be damn crazy “ you said with a smile, breathless as he fucked into you. You were practically dripping around him, the lewd sounds between you enough to make your skin flush.

“ you’re mine darlin “ you nodded immediately. Not a single doubt in your mind on the matter. You were his. And he yours. That was how it would always be “ all mine, you hear? “

“ all yours Arthur. Ain’t no man in this whole damn country could replace you”

He moved with more determination, thrusting into you harder in a way you knew was going to bruise your back from rubbing against the wall. His all too familiar deep, hard pace. You pulled him down by the back of his neck, muffling your whimpers with his mouth cautious again that you were getting a little reckless.

“ that good? Makin me feel so good darlin’ such a good girl “ the entire thing felt almost animalistic. Desires so strong they couldn’t be withheld. Dirty. Filthy. Perfect.

“ God Arthur “ the look on his face alone made you clench around him, never wanting him to leave, needing to feel the heavy bruising sensation as he split you apart for the rest of your life. He hitched your leg higher, hitting some new devastating part inside of you that made you see stars. Eyes rolling to the back of your head and unable to contain the sounds escaping your throat any longer.

“ There she is, jus’ like that darlin I got ya” his grip on your leg grew restless, fingers dancing over your skin and trying to pull you as close to him as he could get you. He always wanted you close. Always wanted to feel your skin against his own. A moment later his thrusts became sloppier and you knew he wasn’t far off. Though quite frankly neither were you “ so pretty for me like this ain’t ya? My girl “ his words only pulled you closer to the edge, knot twisting tighter.

“ Arthur I- “

“ I know. I know darlin, can feel it “ he almost cooed, lifting a hand to cup your face gently “ that’s it look right at me. That’s a girl right at me “ with his gaze so intense you couldn’t hold it any longer, biting down on your lip as you attempted to conceal your sounds of ecstasy as you came over his cock.

He was barely a second behind you, a stuttered groan of a sound leaving him as he dropped his forehead against yours, painting your slick walls with rope after rope of come as you clenched around him. Holding him in place so that not a single drop of him would go to waste. It was a risky business letting him finish inside of you, truly it was. But in your sex drunk haze you didn’t care, couldn’t give a damn because it simply felt too good to give up.

He nudged his nose against yours, brushing his lips against your own and kissed you softly. So tender and gentle, his hand carefully lowering your leg back down, slipping his softening length out of you making you wince. He kissed the crinkles it caused to show at the corners of your eyes, whispering a gentle sorry. He soothed his hands over your waist with a care very few men had for women those days.

“ my girl “ he murmured, littering kisses across your cheeks and nose.

When he pulled back you couldn’t help but smile. The dopey, soft kind. He was looking far less put together than he had done when you’d arrived, the pomade in his hair no longer serving its purpose after your fingers had gotten to it. He’d broken a sweat too, his forehead shiny. His skin flushed.

The smugness was overwhelming though, could see it in his eyes. In the small smirk pulling at his lips. He seemed incredibly proud of himself.

“ you are somethin’ else “ he mumbled as he finished readjusting his clothes, reaching forward to slip the ruffled strap of your dress back up your shoulder from where it had slipped. Pressing a kiss to the skin there for good measure.

“ I ain’t the jealous one “ you teased as you combed your fingers through his hair in some attempt to tidy it.

“ ain’t jealous. No idea what you talkin about girl “ he said with a small clear of his throat in some attempt to hide the obvious lie, you simply smiled again and pressed a kiss to his cheek

“ mhm sure “

There was something about having to go back out into the party with the light ache between your legs, with the evidence of Arthur’s jealousy slowly dripping down your thighs. And Arthur seemed to think so too

“ now. I believe you wanted to dance? “

#Amy in the kindest possible way. keep scrolling #I know I’m posting late but I want i didn’t wanna wait until tomorrow sooo #ANYWAYS. FIRST ARTHUR UPLOAD WHOO #crippling fear or writing for a new character and fandom starts now!#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #Arthur Morgan smut #x you #Dutch van der linde #van der linde gang

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lo1k-diamonds · 4 months ago

Text

Be as it must 💜 Part 3

“Is there more to learn about you, Jungkook?”

PAIRING: Alpha!Jungkook x Omega(f)reader

SUMMARY: You try to resist the CEO's charms, but it's hard... At least until the other shoe drops.

WORD COUNT: 8.9 k

GENRE: ABO, strangers to lovers, fated lovers, smut

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: tension and teasing, and angst

A.N. A huge thank you to @moonleeai for the beta read💜 This was never supposed to be so long, but I'm a fan of making the reader fall in love too... Before the bomb drops 💣 Enjoy 😉

You thought getting kidnapped would be the most bizarre experience you had ever been through, but it seemed like CEO Jeon Jungkook had other thoughts.

If it wasn’t weird that you entered his gigantic Seoul building while unconscious and tied up, it had to be that you exited escorted by the man himself, right into a car that you had only ever seen on television. You shrunk into the back seat, not only feeling weird with the surrounding spacious, immaculate leather, but with the fact that beyond the smoked glass, the CEO was telling something to the driver before he got inside the car.

You refused to look back to confirm whether the CEO had stayed put, watching you go; instead, you closed your eyes and heaved a deep sigh. It was outlandish that you wanted to turn around and see him there, as if you needed reassurance, when in truth, he was part of the problem.

You thought the weirdness would end there, which led you to look outside the window and see the tall buildings reflecting the city lights as the car moved. He was your boss, after all. If anything, he did need you to deal with the American consortium negotiations. And you trusted his word; he said you could leave once it was all said and done, so you weren’t a prisoner.

But you did not expect what he had planned for you.

“CEO Jeon has asked me to convey to you that he means to assure your comfort,” the man, Seung Ji-Young, said after introducing himself as the CEO’s driver and assistant, looking at you through the rearview mirror. You raised an eyebrow. “Given the circumstances, he has made arrangements to have a series of boutiques welcome you so you may relax and feel right at home.”

Your forehead creased as you took a glance at the time displayed on the dashboard, “At this hour?”

“Of course.”

You blinked, glancing again — 20:25. You shook your head, “Why would I need clothes? Unless—” You leaned forward, “What happened to my luggage?”

“We have it, rest assured.”

You couldn’t stop frowning at the weirdness of it all, “Right.”

“If there is somewhere else you’d like to go to relax, like a spa, it is not a problem. I’ve been instructed to drive you wherever you’d like.”

Your lips became an uneasy line, “No, I’m fine.”

The man nodded as he drove with a serious demeanor, “Then may I suggest a Michelin star—”

“No,” you interrupted swiftly, afraid that his offers would never stop. “Just— Just take me home— I mean, where I’m supposed to sleep.”

“Certainly.”

You groaned mutely and rubbed your eyes; now, even you were talking weirdly. But could anyone blame you after everything that had happened?

You stayed quiet as the car drove smoothly through narrower and narrower streets. Despite trusting what the CEO had said, you couldn’t help the uneasiness twisting your guts.

Finally, the car entered an underground garage and you were able to breathe. Mr Seung circled the car to get your small luggage from the back, including your handbag, and you bowed in relief, finding in it all your very important documents and belongings. It certainly comforted you enough to follow Mr Seung across the parking lot and into the elevator with a renewed sureness that you were not a prisoner.

“Would you like to go straight to your suite or take a look at the amenities first?”

His voice was as gentle as ever, and you tried to offer him a small smile, “Straight to bed would be best.” He pressed the keypad to select the 48th floor, and you frowned again, “Shouldn’t I check in first?”

“You mean with the concierge? No, he’s aware of your presence and available 24 hours in case you need anything.”

Your mouth opened, but you quickly closed it; maybe the CEO owned an apartment. That would justify why you weren’t at a hotel right now. You honestly didn’t care as long as you could put that day behind you.

The final straw took form in the quiet, gentle explanation of Mr Seung, “The amenities at your disposal include the residence lounge, gym, movie theater, swimming pool and spa. The latter includes a sauna, whirlpool, jet bath, and steam room at any hour, while the massages and skin and body treatments are available during the day. Of course, given the circumstances, a call can be made to arrange any treatment of your preference within the hour. Anything from a massage to a mud bath can be arranged; please don’t hesitate.”

You nodded respectfully while you screamed in your head — why was this happening? You just wanted your head to hit the pillows. The exhaustion taking over your mind was rendering you out of order, yet that ahjussi was so nice. Why was it all so hard?

“Ah, here we are,” he said as the elevator came to a stop gently with a sweet voice announcing the floor over the speakers.

You exited the elevator first, though you waited for Mr Seung to indicate to you which of the two doors was intended for you and to type the code in.

Once the door opened, you entered and braced yourself with eyes so wide they were twice the size. The stairs to your left indicated you were in a duplex penthouse, but it was the open concept of the space that floored you. Oak herringbone floors expanded into a panoramic view through floor-to-ceiling windows from one side of the building to the other. The soft touches of the white furniture and long couch in the living room extended into the dining room with a long glass table with an exorbitant vase of flowers that brought a heart stopping pop of color.

You blinked, befuddled, at the luxury surrounding you, and Mr Seung passed by you to indicate the next room, “There is the kitchen, should you need to arrange something, and a private terrace for your enjoyment as well.”

You glanced over the natural stone tops in shades of pure white matching the cabinets and circled the island to check what he was talking about. The view continued on that side of the building, leaving you speechless. From that high, the world looked small. It was as if that place was out of touch with reality.

“But perhaps you’d like to see the guest suite,” he smiled, and you just nodded.

You followed him back towards the staircase, ready to pick up your luggage, when he waved at a paper on the foyer table.

“CEO Jeon wanted you to know the password so you can make use of the apartment as you please. He’s also asked me to inform you that everything is at your disposal, including all snacks and beverages.”

You blinked, trying to keep up through the stupor, “How did he have time to fill up the pantry?”

You were wondering more to yourself, but Mr Seung chuckled, “We do it for him, of course. He particularly likes shrimp crackers, but I’m sure he won’t mind if you take some.”

You could only frown as though the information was odd. Mr Seung grabbed your luggage and started his way up the stairs, and you finally managed to say, “He lives here?”

“Of course, he owns the building.”

He didn’t stop, thus missing the way your grimace spelled a What?! with furrowed eyebrows, wide eyes and parted lips. You looked around you once more, taking in the crazy luxury surrounding you before hurrying up the stairs. You thought he had booked a hotel room for you, at most owned an empty apartment, and that was already in the realm of stupidly crazy rich. But what did he mean, the CEO lived here? Here, as in the building? Or here, as in—

Your breath caught as you reached the upper floor. The wall that faced the floor-to-ceiling window was entirely covered by a dark blue tapestry with glistening silver stars surrounding a central half-moon serving as the base of a vibrant orange tiger lily, shining brighter than any celestial bodies around it. You swallowed hard and looked at the master room across from where Mr Seung had disappeared with your luggage. Someone lived there, and you didn’t need more than the half-moon and dark blue colors to remember the Jeon Family emblem. Still, if that wasn’t enough, his scent reaching your nose told you everything you needed to know.

“Here you have it, the guest suite.”

Mr Seung was smiling as he opened the door to a walk-in closet, a small office, and then, across the room, to the ensuite bathroom. Meanwhile, a view as breathtaking as downstairs greeted you, and you continued to be flabbergasted.

“I thought he meant a hotel…” you whispered.

“CEO Jeon wanted to make sure of your comfort personally.”

You glanced at the man, and it was only because he seemed dead serious, almost concerned, that you didn’t throw your hands to the ceiling. Who cared about what the CEO wanted?! You were tired! And overwhelmed! And done with everything being blown out of proportion!

“But, of course, if you are dissatisfied, I can arrange for a five-star—”

“No, no, please,” you found yourself raising a hand and closing your eyes, begging him to stop. “I’ll stay, this is fine. No, perfect. It’s perfect, I’m perfectly happy.”

Mr Seung’s eyes instantly softened, as though you being pleased comforted him deeply. “I’m glad to hear it. I’m usually available to drive CEO Jeon at 6 AM, but should you require me to be available earlier, I’d be happy to assist you.”

You stared at the man, speechless. How was he so kind and sweet, and where did he come from?

“No, I— I can get to the office by mys—” You bit your tongue, then raked your hair back. What was the point, really? “I normally go to the office around eight thirty, so please don’t hurry because of me. I need to sleep. Badly.”

You huffed the last words, but Mr Seung stiffened as though he had been stung, “Of course, I won’t hold you any longer. Have a good night.”

He bowed deeply, making you rush to do the same before he left quietly. Your fingers gripped your hair roots as you looked around you — what the fuck? The incredible cityscape view, the suite that was probably your apartment size, the room across from yours where CEO Jeon slept… Everything was just surreal.

You woke up the next morning with a renewed vitality. Not because that was the best bed you had ever slept in, the biggest shower you had ever used, or the most delicious breakfast you had ever had, but because you had processed things. CEO Jeon Jungkook was an alpha of the Jeon Family who, through medieval means, had committed a crime based solely on your blood. Your rare designation did not excuse it, and as such, he was trying his best to accommodate you to prevent you from causing a scene, suing, exposing, or all of the above. There was a potential additional agenda that involved the traditional matching of an omega to an alpha, but you were in the XXI century. Alphas didn’t have to be with omegas, rare as they were, and you would not be coerced into engaging in such ancient customs. CEO Jeon would respect your wishes, and you believed his word.

He had even entered and left his own apartment without a word or a sound. You had slept like a rock — perhaps surprisingly, you felt safe there — but you had expected to see him at breakfast, at least. In the end, the only proof you had of his fleeting presence was the closed bedroom door and dirty coffee mug at the head of the dining table. You almost felt bad for potentially making him uncomfortable, but then remembered this was all his fault. Plus, he probably made Mr Seung drive him at 6 AM, which was also barbaric.

It brought a smile to your face to see Mr Seung’s happiness when you told him how you had rested well. You believed his care ran deeper than any CEO Jeon’s order, though you couldn’t help wondering if it was because he knew of your designation.

Fortunately, at the office, such things didn’t matter. As soon as you said your name to one of the secretaries on the last floor, she instantly provided you with your own office and badge, explaining how everything worked. You were used to sharing an office, but you had decided not to complain. Live and let live. If the CEO wanted to overbear you with such things, you’d accept them quietly. You just needed to do your job and leave.

Your laptop remained your own, so entering the workflow was seamless. You were pleased to find all the information about the rescheduled meetings, and emails about other projects you were working on. You even made sure to check in and reassure Yoon Minsik, your mentor, before attending the first in-person meeting with the legal team of that office.

Although you had only met most of them online, it was a cordial and nice moment before starting what you hoped would be a fruitful meeting. But then CEO Jeon arrived.

Before, you were just a member of the team, participating in meetings you’d otherwise attend online. After he entered the room, however, you were an omega in the presence of an alpha who easily disrupted the flow of the conversation.

You didn’t believe he did it on purpose, in his defense. You could smell humans amongst the team, and even they were affected by the CEO’s presence. What you’d like to say is that you, contrary to them, were not impacted in any way, but that was not the case.

You had to clear your voice as you spoke and actively force yourself to pretend he wasn’t there. Inwardly, you kept reassuring yourself that it was just that department meeting to coordinate ongoing projects. He wasn’t usually there, but maybe he had made an exception this time.

Only CEO Jeon was present in every meeting.

It was exhausting to focus on each different project and give your best while trying to ignore him. Not that he spoke a lot, but when he did, it threw your attention completely off. He looked so fine. That black designer suit framed his large shoulders deliciously, making every move as evident as possible. Making you imagine what it would be like to be caged in by said arms, embracing you as if—

“Hey!”

You blinked and looked away as everyone got up from their chairs. You should have noticed the meeting ended and that the CEO had been forced to leave, called by that woman, his secretary — Sunhwa.

You faced one of your colleagues, who was smiling expectantly, “Should we have lunch together?”

It was easy to accede and join her and the team, but your thoughts remained on Sunhwa. She wasn’t present in the meetings, but you had noticed her easily because every single time you had to move between meeting rooms — and the CEO did the same — she showed up to talk to him, pass him a file, or just accompany him. To the point you wondered if he needed a bodyguard and heard whispers of other people potentially commenting the same. You couldn’t help feeling bad for her; you couldn’t decide if she was jealous of you, with all the stink eyes she threw your way at every chance, or overzealous.

Regardless, you thought it didn’t matter because, in the afternoon, things would be different. Those meetings would be all about the American consortium negotiations, both internal and external, and you ran those without the presence of the CEO.

You had to huff quietly as he pulled the chair next to you, oddly sharing with you the head of that meeting room table. Except for a glance and polite smile, you didn’t give him any more of your attention. It was unsettling enough if your boss would accompany you to every meeting as if to assess your worth, but the fact that he was so close, with big brown eyes trained on you while his scent made your head spin… It made it a thousand times harder.

Still, you braved through the meeting, expecting things to go well because that was your element. What you didn’t count on were his interruptions.

“I’m certain we don’t need to renegotiate the time window; they will surely accept it.”

“Have we established concrete rules for the use of prototypes?”

“What about intellectual rights? As the manufacturer, shouldn’t we obtain the rights to all procedures that we optimize during development?”

Your expression softened, “According to agreement stipulations, by signing, we commit to safely keep their intellectual property, which includes all manufacturing processes. If these are optimized, they will be added to the patent. We will, of course, negotiate appropriate compensation should that happen, including access to prototypes and benefits should the production cost or time be reduced.”

The room was quiet after you spoke, but you had forgotten about them. Instead, your eyes were fixed on the CEO’s. Very round and very big, almost sparkling at you, entirely taken by what you had said. His gaze was curious, intense and interested, so you couldn’t be mad about his disruptions.

Still, you sighed. He was distracting.

“Let’s proceed to the financial section,” you asked, waving at the appropriate head of the department to speak up.

The CEO tapped his tablet to jump to the appropriate page of the document, clearing his throat, and you subtly leaned to whisper into his ear, “Focus.”

Your eyes met when you pulled back, and it was like the record changed. If his questions seemed chaotic and somewhat disconnected before, now they were spot on. From one meeting to the other, including with the American company representatives, every comment was precise, demonstrating flawlessly why the Jeon conglomerate was unavoidable in the South Korean industry.

You were secretly impressed, though you expected nothing less. Perhaps the way you had managed to work together so seamlessly in front of the American company representatives was surprising, but you imagined that a pro like him could make it work with anyone. He wasn’t nicknamed good at everything for nothing.

You assumed he was pleased, too, when the video call ended, and he leaned back into his chair, laughing quietly. His glee made you smile as you gathered your things and closed your laptop, observing everyone else in the room calling it a day while you wondered if Mr Seung would take you home. It was silly of you, but with everything that happened, you didn’t even memorize the address—

“That was so smooth. I think we floored them,” he grinned, getting up to his feet as though he was even more energized than before.

You chuckled and nodded, putting your laptop in your bag. Maybe that was so, but you were ready to go home.

“Have dinner with me.”

You stopped shy of closing the bag and looked at him instantly, batting your eyelashes with all your befuddlement.

“We have to celebrate,” he continued, and his grin reemerged as though he couldn’t contain it.

“They haven’t signed it yet,” you were quiet, instinctively reasoning with him despite not even being able to fully think right now.

He chuckled, “But they will, no doubt. I’m sure we will have a response by tomorrow and a verbal agreement shortly after.”

You nodded and looked down, unable to stop the way your body reacted. He was taller than you, broad, all-encompassing, and smelled strong, sweet...dizzying. There were two sides to that moment: who he was — so destabilizing, you thought there was no avoiding it — and what he was saying — so professional, when you wanted to forget all about it.

Fortunately, in your hazed mind, the latter won. “We’ll wrap up sooner, and I’ll get to return to Busan faster, then.”

Your entranced eyes captured the way his jaw hardened easily. His eyes sparked differently, with a look to them that caused a tingle to go down your spine, but he nodded, “Indeed. So dinner tonight.”

His tone implied you were just giving him more reasons to insist, and the corners of your lips twitched mischievously. Maybe you were; it was hard to resist.

“CEO Jeon?”

You stiffened like you had just been caught stealing candy and didn’t bother to look. You forced the zipper closed and grabbed your bag, purposefully pushing what Sunhwa was telling the CEO to fade with the background noise. Whatever it was, maybe it was a good thing — you needed distance to think, too.

You bowed to both on your way out and didn’t mean to spare a glance, but his voice beckoned you to look back, “Mr Seung is in the parking lot, please go with him.”

You nodded, meaning to appease the worry in his voice and eyes, and melted when you succeeded. His features instantly returned to a confident, dazzling smile before turning to Sunhwa about whatever work-related issue she was referring to, and you had to swallow. You shouldn’t be so attuned to how he felt; it didn’t make any sense. Still, as you made your way to his apartment with his driver, all you could think was that you never officially accepted his invitation.

Jungkook nodded after Mr Seung confirmed that he had dropped you off safely at the apartment, where you had stayed for the last three hours. You hadn’t requested to go anywhere in particular, and arrangements had been made for dinner, so he could relax.

He sighed as he closed his eyes and let the purr of the car lull him. He knew it would be an interesting day, but not even his wildest dreams could have prepared him for it.

First, arriving home the night before to the faint trace of your sweet jasmine scent absolutely threw him off. The whole night he had to keep himself in check; no, he couldn’t follow your delicate perfume to your bed, touch you, or claim you. You probably didn’t trust him after the way you ended up there, and he wasn’t a creep. He could reign in his primal urge and leave the decision up to you. He could show you that being next to him was fate, as intrinsically inescapable as the Earth and Moon orbiting each other. You’d realize that soon enough and ask him to touch you instead.

He could barely sleep, so his second move was to leave the apartment as soon as humanly possible. He needed to review everything about the projects you were working on, plus get his work out of the way so he could attend every meeting of yours and watch you in your element.

Jungkook was frankly impressed; you were like a fish in water, navigating every topic and hurdle effortlessly. He wasn’t sure you noticed how everyone quieted down to listen to you and obliged and interacted every time you requested it, but it was a wonder to see. If he hadn’t smelled your designation, he would have wondered what kind of woman conducted such ease and readiness.

Unfortunately, you were also incredibly distracting. Not only was he probably not of use to you in your work, but he was also falling behind in the slightest with his duties. Sunhwa kept reminding him, of course, and he appreciated it, but he couldn’t bring himself to worry about anything else.

Which made him wonder if you’d be a liability and not an asset if you stayed. However, that was a fleeting thought because as soon as it emerged, it evaporated when you whispered into his ear, “Focus.”

The whiff of your scent hit him so hard he had to close his eyes so no one would see them rolling back. Then he faced you, and your gaze did something to him. It was strong and encouraging, and he was set. Suddenly, he could focus. His mind was clear and everything just worked.

It was incredible, inebriating; better than hitting the jackpot, it was like you were his focus token that increased his abilities by two hundred percent. So inviting you to dinner was as easy as breathing. You mentioning Busan again almost ruined his mood, but then you obliged with big, starry eyes when he asked you to drive with Mr Seung in the exact spot he was in now, going home to you, and he couldn’t help the widest grin. He hadn’t lost you, not yet.

He knew it was late, and he wouldn’t dream of keeping you starving while waiting for him. Your shoes and handbag were by the entrance, so he knew you were inside. There was noise from the kitchen, though that couldn’t be you, so he jumped on the couch and heaved a deep breath, closing his eyes. He loved the sweet scent that lingered around the house because of you; it instantly relaxed him but also gave him a push. Maybe he should check on you—

He heard steps down the stairs at the same time his personal chef exited the kitchen to inform him dinner was ready and on the table.

“Would you like me to stay and serve?”

Jungkook dismissed the chef swiftly and quietly, acknowledging their head bow just in time to turn to you. His hand was on the noose of his tie, instantly loosening it as his mouth watered. He was starving, but it wasn’t food on his mind as he ate up the view.

You were wearing something quite professional — black dress pants with a silk blouse that was a hint of blue. He would have thought you too formal if it weren’t for your bare feet stepping quietly on the wood floor, along with your still-humid hair falling in waves over your shoulders and chest. But like this, he could only smile at you entering the living room and imagine you jumping into his arms to welcome him home after a long day. Then, what you wore wouldn’t matter, not because he’d be free to undress you, but because with your touch, everything would feel whole.

You bowed politely to the chef, watching them go, and it gave Jungkook a moment of clarity: what he felt was beyond simple interest. It wasn’t fascination or attraction, it was everything combined. He didn’t think it was possible; a skeptical part of him still insisted it wasn’t.

But then you opened your mouth and changed the very axis upon which his world spun. “Good evening.”

He could only smirk; the simplest words could escape your lips, and he’d drink them like they were gospel, “Good evening.”

Your astute eyes observed him, and it was like lying down at the beach under the warm sunlight, “Was there a problem at the office?”

He tilted his head, “I needed to finish up some things. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

Your lips twitched as you nodded, “It’s not a problem. In fact, I realized I never accepted your invitation, so I wasn’t sure if it still stood.”

He smirked, “It does, and it looks like you accepted.”

His arms stretched over the back of the couch, and you had to consciously keep your feet from taking you to him. It wasn’t an invitation, no matter how inviting it seemed.

“I thought it was wise to be ready,” you informed, taking a few steps to the side, unable to stay still.

“To have dinner with me?”

“To celebrate,” you corrected, trying to resist his smirk by keeping your expression as neutral as possible.

“By yourself?”

His eyebrow quirked, daring, and you finally smiled, “I was told there is a residence lounge. Thought I could get a drink there, and who knows who could join me.”

You shrugged nonchalantly, and he laughed openly, “You’re right.” He got up, loosening his tie completely and throwing it on the couch. It was enough to tense your back, dissipating your smile as you observed him taking off his suit coat and leaving it next to the tie. “I should have started by offering a drink. Is wine okay?”

Blood spread to your cheeks, but he didn’t notice as he turned around to enter the dining room. It gave you a moment to breathe. “If it’s red. Otherwise, I’m afraid I’ll have to leave.”

His laughter was music to your ears as you followed him, only to confirm that the person leaving was wearing a white chef coat for good reason. The glass dining table was set for two, at the head and the place to its right, and in between, an assortment of dishes released a delicious warm scent. From meat to shrimp, noodles to rice, boiled, fermented or fried, it seemed the chef had decided to leave you with a big variety just so you could have anything you possibly wanted.

Your eyes turned to him, his back facing you as he got a red wine bottle from the wine cooler. “This is incredible,” you voiced, unafraid of sounding too easily impressed. That table with the panoramic view and the incredible lighting showing his gleeful smile would easily shake anyone.

“I’m happy you like it.”

“Do you always have dinner like this?”

He placed the bottle on the table, twisting the corkscrew to get it open, “No, not at all. I asked for something special tonight.”

You heard the pop of the cork coming off, but that wasn’t why your heart skipped a beat. He reached for a wine glass on the table, poured a line of wine, then swirled it and took a soft sniff, smiling ecstatically after.

He raised the glass to you, and you stepped forward to accept it, entranced. You took a whiff, too, and the sweet, dark fruit aromas made your eyelashes flutter. You detected the blackberries and plums, and surely a trace of cloves.

Your reaction was enough for him to nod and pour a glass for himself. His shifting attention allowed you to swallow and ask, “Was this what you had in mind?”

He smirked, then turned to you, and your heart flipped again. He had shortened the distance between you and cupped your hand around the glass to tilt it forward towards his chest. The wine glugs, filling your glass, were but an afterthought as you looked at him, his eyes so close you could see stars.

“Absolutely,” he said quietly, yet you heard him so clearly. His expression was likely as serious as yours, mirroring the same tension as he took the bottle away. “This was exactly what I had in mind.”

The sound of the bottle being placed on the table didn’t rattle you; nothing was louder than your racing heart. His hand left yours, and although you could see the reluctance, you bit your inner lip to stay quiet. Being that close didn’t mean just having your breath stolen by his sparkly eyes or unique beauty marks; it also meant seeing how red his eyes were.

“I see… but if you're too tired, we can take a rain check.”

You were certain your worry was easily heard in your voice, yet he shook his head with a returning wide smile and raised his glass between you, “Not a chance.”

Your lips twitched, but you nodded and raised your glass to clink his, bringing it to your lips as he did the same. The velvety taste matched its aroma perfectly, but you weren’t paying attention. His eyes were locked with yours as though that tension was unbreakable, and you realized you didn’t know what you were celebrating. He didn’t specify the toast, and somehow, you knew work had stayed in the office tonight.

When you put the glass down, you weren’t sure you were dizzy with the alcohol or the moment, but your cheeks were hot. You ignored it, just to keep staring into the stars in his eyes, when a stomach growl cut the silence.

You looked down at his stomach, covered by a black button shirt, then up, “Woah, that was powerful.”

He smirked and rubbed the back of his head, “Sorry, I’m starving. Let’s dig in.” He waved at you to sit by his side, “Please, go ahead. Take anything you’d like.”

He held back, even as you took your time to observe the table and take your pick. He adjusted himself on the chair, but it was surprisingly easy to let you start first. It was just right.

“I wanted to have samgyeopsal,” he confessed, smiling sheepishly. “But we’d have to go to a real barbecue for that and—”

Your eyes widened with a spark, a small gasp jerking your shoulders as you reached for a bowl, “Not a problem.”

He raised an eyebrow at your sudden interest, then chuckled, “Do you like japchae that much?”

“My absolute favorite,” you nodded, filling your plate with utmost focus.

“Alright, I’ll make it for you a lot.”

You had started eating but stopped stuffing your face with the delicious noodles, raising your eyebrows at him instead while he served himself. “You can cook?”

He chuckled, “I love cooking. I’d be showing off my skills right now, but I’m more interested in talking to you.” The butterflies in your stomach twirled around as you stared up at him. He only chuckled, “But now I know. Let’s see, what else? What about makguksu? I have an awesome recipe as well.”

It was easy to eat while you discussed food, especially if it was a chance to quiz him and confirm he knew what he was talking about. He did, and you overlooked his initial promise to cook for you in exchange for a normal, healthy culinary debate.

But neither of you wanted to eat or talk about food all night. He ate a lot, you noticed, and by the end, every dish was done. The red bottle was empty too, so it was the perfect moment to get up.

“I’ll grab another one,” he said, waving at the couch while he headed to the wine cooler. It could have been your chance to say goodnight, but you didn’t want to. “Why do you only drink red?” He asked loudly, and you turned to look over your shoulder at him. “Can't it be Lambrusco?”

You chuckled and sat on the couch, “Lambrusco is a red, and it's delicious. Bring it on!”

The sound of the bottle being dragged out of the cooler, placed on the glass dining table, and popped open made your skin tingle pleasurably. It could be his proximity messing with your nerves, or the alcohol. A cautious part of you thought it was best to call it a night, but the bottle was already open, and he was already extending a new glass to you.

You clinked glasses in silence again once he sat down, and this time, you didn’t bother wondering about the occasion.

“Why not white?”

He mused after the sweetness made him click his tongue, and you sighed with a second sip, “Too acidic for me.”

“Noted,” he nodded, his features serious. “I'll get rid of all whites to make space for more Lambrusco.”

You laughed, “Why would you refine your stock based on my taste?”

He laughed with you, then bit his lip. You smiled as you took another sip, and you looked so happy, simply enjoying yourself, that his priorities shifted. “I like learning more about you.”

“You do?”

You sounded surprised, but he didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“Well, I haven't learned as much about you,” you scrunched your nose, choosing to take things lightly, and he chuckled.

“I'm sure you already know a lot.”

You tried not to scoff, “I don’t. You think because you’re the CEO, I would know your taste in wine?” Your tone only made him laugh more, leaning back into a pillow that had his abandoned suit coat before he faced you again. “Do you even like reds?”

“Oh yeah, but I prefer beer. Oh, and whiskey.”

“So we know our next drink…”

You hid behind the glass and he smirked, “Good idea. I'll make my specialty cocktail. Only close friends know about it, so know you'll taste something exclusive.”

“Really? I’m flattered; who knew I’d get to know the CEO so well.”

The corner of your mouth raised with mischief as you emptied your glass, and instantly, he was refilling it with a slightly raised eyebrow, “You can call me Jungkook.”

His dark eyes, as he instructed you, released a current down your spine that spread warmth in every direction. There was no way that calling your boss by his first name was a good idea, but you had stopped playing it safe a few glasses ago.

“Is there more to learn about you, Jungkook?” His name on your tongue drew his eyes to your mouth, conveniently about to take another sip. You reveled in the sweetness and tension of that moment, hopefully as much as him. “Something no one else knows.”

His teeth bit into his lower lip to stop a grin, and he nodded, “Certainly.” He placed the glass down on the coffee table and you swallowed. “There’s a lot to find out.”

He unfastened his cuff links, casually folding and pulling the sleeves of his black button shirt to his elbow, and you gasped.

You leaned forward with your free hand, “You have a sleeve?”

He grinned slyly, extending his right arm for you to touch more easily, “I do.”

He was quiet while you explored every tattoo line, from the clock to the letters, stopping to wonder at the tiger lily in bright tones of orange. “Incredible,” you muttered, dragging your finger easily. You were so focused that you missed the goosebumps forming under your touch. He let you turn his arm and even pull the sleeve a bit further up, where you noticed more lines and figures ready to show. You were so insistent you pouted when the fabric got so tight around his bicep it refused to rake further up to his shoulder.

His chuckle drew your attention, “I can take it off if you’d like to see the rest.”

Your hands withdrew instantly, fingers rubbing on each other needily. Your eyes caught the absence of any other article of clothing underneath his shirt, and you swallowed down your heated longing. “No, I— Of course not.”

You didn’t bother saying it was inappropriate; you fell back on your side of the couch. Your throat seemed to have blocked, so you cleared it. There was a line you shouldn’t cross, but you also didn’t want to stop whatever you two were doing.

“I don’t have tattoos,” you started, pulling your blouse sleeve. “But I do have this birthmark.”

His eyes followed your fingers, then he grabbed your arm delicately to trace it with his fingers. Your forearm erupted in goosebumps, electrified by his caress, attention, and warmth. It was almost overwhelming, and you had to swallow thickly to keep silent.

“It looks like a butterfly,” he mused, concentrating, and you nodded.

“My mother calls me that.”

He whispered something under his breath, then shifted in his seat, “Look.”

He brought his forearm next to yours, and you realized what he meant: your birthmark was parallel to his tiger lily. Superposed, your butterfly would find its home in him. It made you shudder from head to toe.

“What ties you to Busan?” His question broke the spell despite his caresses to your arm. You frowned, trying to catch his line of thought. “Friends? Family?”

The Lambrusco swirled a little inside his glass, revealing a short tremble, and your eyes stayed low on his lily, “My mother, mostly. She doesn’t live in Busan, but in a village not too far away.”

Your apprehension was palpable, so you weren’t surprised when he brushed the back of his fingers in a feather-like touch on your forearm, “I understand if it’s too personal, you don’t have to tell me anything that will make you uncomfortable.”

Whether because of his soft touch or warm eyes, you instantly shook your head, “Not uncomfortable, just… I don’t really talk about her. Or my family. She doesn’t like it and—”

Your brow furrowed, and he was ready to reassure you, but you decided to say it.

“And nobody would understand, but maybe you would,” you pushed out, looking into his eyes. Your mom would chastise you for this decision, but it was yours nonetheless. You just felt so alone in all this. “Our family made sacrifices to be eradicated from the registry, and for generations, we’ve been hiding so we wouldn’t be detected.”

He nodded gravely, lowering his eyes to his fingers still touching your milky skin.

“You’re probably the last person I should tell this to,” you chuckled. “But even though times should be different, I was never certain where to draw the line between potential paranoia and it just being like she described. Unfortunately, recent events have made me conclude she was not wrong in wanting us to be cautious.”

“Wait, there’s—” He pressed his lips before he sorted his words, looking at you intently, “There’s something to be said about your mother’s fears and the outdated methods the Family uses to search for omegas. They should know it’s criminal, but it’s how my grandfather found my grandmother, so I suppose that’s why they insist on it.”

“He kidnapped her too?”

“No—” He almost choked. “Hunters found her and brought her to him. They were mates and inseparable.”

“You met her?”

Your tone was almost anxious, and he smiled with a nod, “The only omega I’ve ever met other than you.” His expression showed fondness, “Grandpa was crazy about her and everyone loved her. She had this… aura to her. I was instantly calm. I was… a bit of a reckless and loud kid, but she never got angry at me. She would just put me on her lap and ask me what happened, and soon after, she was tickling me while I told her all about my adventures.”

You leaned on your side into the couch back, “Adventures, huh?”

It wasn’t hard to imagine, especially when he smirked mischievously, “My knees wouldn't have gotten bruised if I hadn't chased a pirate up a tree.”

“A pirate?”

Your eyebrows jumped, and you both laughed quietly. You were glad to be at ease, folding a leg under you.

“What an exciting childhood you had.”

“What about yours?”

You pursed your lips, “It was just me and my mother. My dad died in a car accident when I was a kid, and my grandma had dementia and died not too long after.”

His eyes softened, “That must have been hard.”

“It was the most on my mom.”

“How old were you?”

“Thirteen.”

“It must have affected you,” his voice quieted, and you noticed his thumb never stopped brushing your pulse point, soothing you for a while now.

“I grew up fast,” you shrugged, casually letting his touch continue. “It was hard because my mother was paranoid about us being caught, but I was raised around humans, unsure if her stories were true and if I should really just… stay hidden in that village or do something with myself.” He nodded, and you admitted, “That’s why hearing from others that my fate isn’t to be used as a tool, abused, or anything like that is…”

“No,” he pressed his thumb to your wrist, and it seemed to you it was to placate his own anxiety this time. “I promise you, that is not— I would never do that.”

His voice was firm, but something in your eyes must have given you away. You didn’t want to believe he was lying, but it wasn’t in his best interest to tell you the truth.

“My grandma always said a mate’s love was the foundation of our family and that I shouldn’t give up, even if my father never found her.” His eyes lowered once more to your arm before he faced you, “I grew up with them, seeing what a mate’s bond looks like. I would never hurt an omega, even if she wasn’t my mate.”

“But there are those who would.”

“Maybe once upon a time, but I swear things are different now. It was their mistreatment that led to their extinction. Well, alleged,” he corrected, eying you meaningfully. “The Families had to turn to betas, which was seen mostly as a catastrophe a couple of generations back.”

“Why?”

“It affected the strength of their blood, lines started dying and alpha numbers dwindled too. The egoistical views and attitudes of a few generations almost cost us everything.”

“So shouldn’t the way omegas were treated be the real catastrophe?”

Your tone was rough around the edges, but his eyes remained soft, “Worse than a catastrophe, an atrocity. It hurt so many for so many generations.”

His tone was apologetic as he looked at you, but it didn’t soothe you. Not even his touch on your wrist did. “If you recognize the problem, then you should be the first one to set an example. You acknowledge it was an atrocity, but you still send hunters to kidnap omegas instead of searching for yourself.”

“What do you mean?”

He actually looked lost, so you clarified, “If you don’t want to give up like your grandmother suggested, then maybe you should go down to Busan and search for yourself. Meet people.”

His eyebrows jumped, then he shook his head with an embarrassed smile, “I… never considered it.”

“Imagine if you had.”

Your chest warmed with his gaze on yours. You didn’t know why you were admonishing him for not visiting sooner, borderline implying you would have met differently, just like his grandmother had hoped. The past couldn’t be changed, and nothing would happen regardless.

You cleared your throat, “Anyway, it's annoying that your secretary keeps calling me fake.”

He huffed, letting his head fall on the back of the couch as though it tired him too.

“I never wanted to be recognized or seen as just my designation, but it is who I am, so she's pissing me off.”

You sneered at the ridiculousness of the situation, and he nodded, “It's because she never met anyone like you… I don't think she's able to really smell it. She's not as sensitive as us. But you don't have to worry about her. I'll handle things with her.”

You took the glass to your mouth, musing over it quietly. “Well, she works for you… and I won't stay long anyway.”

He was drinking when you spoke, his jaw becoming the slightest bit sharper under the light. His thumb still rubbed your pulse point soothingly.

“Actually… I have a question if you don’t mind.”

You pressed your lips sheepishly, and he almost choked in his hurry to nod.

“What do I smell like?” Your eyebrows framed your curious, big eyes, and his lips parted in wonder. “I've asked my mom, but she only tells me I'm sweet. I've never met anyone else I could ask.”

He blinked away his shock, straightening instantly to lean in a bit closer to you. Not that he needed to; effectively, he could pinpoint every trace and note of your unique aroma. But when you let your head fall back the slightest to expose your neck, he couldn’t be stopped. It was the sweetest invitation, baring your neck to him so he could take you in up close and personal.

He almost growled, something so deep inside him stirring he had to grip the glass and keep himself from grabbing your wrist or pressing his face into the crook of your neck. He was certain you’d taste and feel as endlessly delicate as your scent, but he knew the limits. Even if he thought of you as his, it had to come from you. If anything came out of getting to know you, it was that waiting was the only option he had if he ever wanted to welcome his mate by his side.

So he groaned silently and pulled back; he might not have met you in the right circumstances, but he wasn’t about to fuck this up.

“She’s right, you smell sweet,” he rasped, looking into your beautiful eyes again, so close he could see the black dots hiding among the lights. “Like jasmines — sweet, deep, and fond. And me?” He saw you swallow, but he couldn’t resist, “What do I smell like?”

“I’m sure you know,” you tried, though you didn’t move.

He shook his head, “What do I smell like to you?”

You looked down at his neck with a hint of uneasiness, but his soothing touch calmed you enough to go forward. You leaned into the crook of his neck, so close you felt his body warmth emanating. One deep breath, though, and you almost whimpered. Your free hand gripped his arm as your whole body warmed and thrummed with the heady scent.

“Strong,” you whispered, noticing a moment later his neck was covered in goosebumps. “Earthy.” You couldn’t resist nuzzling his skin the slightest, raising it up his neck until you met his jaw. “Spicy, something so alluring I just…”

You nuzzled his cheek and he turned to face you, with lips so close to yours, his warm breath lulled your eyes closed. You were certain his lips would touch yours, releasing all that tension into a burst that would raze your senses.

But the sounds of a keypad being pressed made you instinctively pull back, and you were happy you did because in mere seconds it was as though the rug was being pulled from under your feet.

The front door burst open, and you jumped to your feet, frightened. Jungkook stood up, too, trying to regain the touch that had been severed in the motion, but it was too late. You both had to face the woman storming inside the apartment, with eyes so wide, and nostrils so wide in fury, it confused you more than anything.

“What the hell?!”

Sunhwa’s outrage wasn’t missed on you, but all you could do was frown, stupefied.

“What are you doing?” Jungkook’s tone was cold, and you weren’t certain if that was the right reaction. Shouldn’t he be pissed that his secretary just stormed into his apartment late at night?

“What am I doing? What are you doing?!”

His eyes hardened as though her question didn’t merit a reply, and she threw the folders in her hand on the coffee table.

“I wanted to update you on the ASICS deal and thought you probably wouldn’t have eaten yet, so I called Chef Jae, and they told me they had prepared the special dinner you asked for!”

You glanced at him, even more confused than before, and his reply came quiet, “You should know better than to just barge in here.”

“You weren’t picking up the phone!”

Her screeches were starting to give you a headache, “Alright, listen. It’s past eleven in the evening, surely there’s nothing that can justify causing a scene like this.”

Her laugh was a shriek, “You have some gall to tell me I can’t cause a scene, huh?! First, you try to seduce him by falsely claiming to be an omega—”

“I am!”

“— and now you’ve invited yourself into his apartment! Do you really have no shame? I won’t stand for this!”

Your eyebrows jumped in pure disbelief, “And who are you to care what an adult man does in his apartment?”

She stomped her foot, fuming as she glared, “I’m his fiancé!”

Your stomach dropped, spreading such coldness through your guts, you froze.

In years of law, despite dealing with senseless clients at times, you had never lost your composure or words, but today was the day. Her words, that scene, and the deceit underlying that whole night gutted you, so you were speechless.

“You don't know what you're saying.”

His tone was firm, but one glance told you he was seething. Your first instinct was to resent him; he should be apologizing, not angry that his fiancé ruined the ruse.

Sunhwa crossed her arms with a laugh, “Oh, so I'm suddenly not?”

“We have a contract.”

“Precisely!”

Her clapback was triumphant, and you stiffened even further.

“This is not what you think,” he said, having turned to you.

You looked at him slowly, but Sunhwa was already stepping closer between you, “This is exactly what you think! He's promised to me! How dare you come in here and try to seduce him with your false claims and—!”

“Enough!”

His roar effectively silenced her, making even the glass in your hand reverberate. It forced you to look away and realize you had no business standing there.

You put the glass on the coffee table, “I see you have things to discuss, so I'll leave you to it.”

You ignored the smothering silence surrounding you and headed up the stairs.

That silence was dearly missed when the last concrete thing you heard was Sunhwa freaking out, “She's sleeping here?!”

You closed the bedroom door and weighed your options, but then ended up locking the door and hiding with your face into your pillow. You had drunk too much, and it was too late to wander off in the middle of Seoul. For now, you’d just have to stay.

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mechazushi · 3 months ago

Text

⬆ A Live recreation of me scrolling down and slowly realizing what exactly I'm seeing right now.

But seriously, If you think a writer making something for your art is the highest honor, then it's the same for writers (if not more so) because-

HOLY FUCKIN' SHIT, MA HEART ✨💝🫶🥺🥰😍🔥💕💖🥹🌈🌌🏩🥇🎆🎇

I don't think I'm ever going to have another moment where I get to feel a dawning realization that I'm seeing what I wrote displayed on someone else's ART?!?!??!? Like, just, bvfjkbvfhebjveqIWROTETHATANDTHERESARTWITHIT!!!!!!!!!!!!FUCKANDITSREALLYGOODARTTOOOOO!!!!!!!!

I'm sorry, but Hoshina's Glare at the guards- I can't 😭🤣

As for the formatting, I personally have no problems with it, but there are a couple things that I've noticed as far as webcomics are set up. One: they try to be more show than tell or if they're lore dumping they frame it as a scene as the main character's thoughts on the subject matter after someone else drops a trigger word for the subject. Then they typically break everything up into two to three sentence word balloons dispersed between relevant art pieces that accentuate what's being said. That way, the art takes over and acts as what would have been my overly descriptive and flowery writing, thus leading to the need for less words. Two, If this was the beginning of a comic, then the second page would have to be refitted to act as the first, then I would have to find a way to trail the sentence structure to meld into what the characters are doing currently. (Again, this is just stuff I've noticed from reading way too many Historical inspiration drama webtoons. I have no certified knowledge as to how to actually frame a comic, so please take all this information with a large lump of salt. 😙)

This is just, I'm sorry- I can't even right now, it's just *sobs* it's so beautiful.

BY THE WAY- Now that chapter 117 came out (yes it still hasn't left my mind) Does anything about that chapter feels familiar to you? Like, I don't know, KAFKA ABSORBING A MILLION SOULS AFTER FIGHTING KAIJU NUMBER 9!?!?!? THE MORIWYVERN AND THE KAIJU INSIDE KAFKA FEEL WAY TOO SIMILAR TO ME AND IT'S KINDA SCARING ME!!?!?!? DID I ACCIDENTALLY PREDICT KAFKA'S FATE IN A ONE-OFF KN8 FANTASY AU FIC?!??!?!!?!

*licks tablet* I love this thing. :D

Since I've been struggling with colours, I started to try some stuff like webcomics/manga and it was very addicting and satisfying :)

I already see so much progress and change between page 1 and 3, and that I really haven't settled on a certain style yet haha

The skript's not mine, it's @mechazushi's wonderful contribution to our Kaiju Fantasy AU, we've been working on the past few months..

I sorta neglected the Ref sheets project, but I still can't bring my mind to move on from this story. It lives in my head rentfree <3

YOU CAN READ ALL OF IT HERE ON TUMBLR

I wouldn't have come up with a good skript/story myself, since words are sorta my weak spot, so I hope it's okay for you, that I'm taking your idea and literally your words xD..

I feel like the sentence's length is not exactly fit for manga, - naturally, since it is originally a fanfic.. therefore I altered a few things, but I feel like it would've needed some more adjustment.. I dunno..

#Funny you should mention Ao3 #I have been considering moving my short stories over there and shoving them into a comp.#I hadn't before because i felt they were to short to be put over there #but I mean... It's not like theres a minimum word count that has to be achieved before I can post something #and if I did do that then I can have a better understanding of how many I did make 'cuz they're starting to get buried under everything.#and bonus: I get to receive more comments (maybe)#in other words #that dawning realization felt soooooo guuuuuuudd #I'm glad I was alone at the time because that scream would have blown out an eardrum worse than Kafka's scream at the end of the story #Huh Huh? *Wink Wink Nudge Nudge*#If you did feel insane enough to make a second page...#may I politely request either the “Kafka Has a Break Down” scene or the “Dragon Kn.9 Eats a Wyvern In The Throne Room."#I just wanna see Kafka crying in Hoshina's lap or Reno barely keeping himself from throwing up.#Ariaka looks beautiful btw #I kinda pictured the castle walls acting more like the Great Wall of China but walled off city works too and is probably more accurate.#I just love how they're all lined up at the end there.#Like they're some superhero trio about to whoop some ass.#absolutely not what's going to happen.#I hope I get to see Harulegolas at some point But I can understand not hopping back on to the ref sheets project so soon after this.#As I'm writing this I can't stop scrolling back up just to LOOK at this again #aaaaaaahhhhhh #ITSSOOOGOOD!!!!!#the urge to write more kn8 short stories is coming back #I'M SUPPOSED TO BE WORKING ON A DIFFERENT FANDOM RN #WHY? WHY ARE YOU SUCKING ME BACK IN ALREADY KN8

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wearysparrows · 1 month ago

Text

(Never) Let Go of Me

ao3/masterlist

Part 1 / Part 2 (here)

Summary: Memories of that summer when you silently asked Sylus to take your life.

CW: no use of 'Y/N', AFAB reader implied but no pronouns are used, reader is MC, suicidal thoughts, eating disorders mentioned, minor hallucinations, mentions of self harm, references to depression, guns, Hurt/Comfort, hurt no comfort, angst, not beta read 5.4k

A/N: Please read the tags, as this work contains content that may be distressing or triggering to some readers.

Could you miss something that you’d never had? Sylus was never yours in the first place. His body, lying still in its expanse beside you. But you missed him. It was your shame to harbor these tender feelings. You watched the sleeping flutter of his eyelids. How rare was it to see him sleep?

No, I don’t want to embarrass you with the thought of myself.

Neither of you had ever left. Above all, there was nothing. From each of you. How you had grown to love the space where there was nothing at all! Even in your dreams, he walked hand in hand with someone else who was not you, and he was happy. You reached out to touch him as he slept. The open junction of his fore and upper arm, the place for insertion of a needle. You put a single finger there, on the soft skin. You weren’t sure if the pulse you felt was yours or his. You couldn’t draw anything from him, nor take away. And so nothing in you had anywhere to go. There was the earliest sound of a bird outside. Too early, just before the heralding of the sunrise. He looked at you now, eyes opening like fresh wounds.

“Listening to the birdsong?”

A voice, warm and roughed with his sleep.

“Yeah.”

The two of you walked in that wheatfield. Above you, the horrible emptiness of an expansive blue sky. The sun beat down on the back of your neck, and you felt it pulse with the heat. His hand wasn’t in yours, but it was around your waist, which was close enough. You were sweating underneath your clothes where he touched you, and you hoped he couldn’t feel it. He was white against the stalks, and they seemed to reach for him in the wind. He was looking down at you, stopping in his movements.

“You’re burning me with your eyes.”

Teasing you. He was smiling.

“Me, and not the sun?”

You didn’t know why he insisted on coming with you in the daytime, even when the sun hurt his eyes so. Nevermind that he forwent the time he had to sleep entirely to be here. The summer wind tousled the sterling of his hair. He pushed it back into place.

“Mm. What’s the difference?”

This plot of land belonged to Sylus. It was somewhere on the outskirts of Linkon city – you never could quite get a handle on the location, because the roll of the drive always put you almost to sleep. If you stepped through the swathe of trees, still bitten with the fresh green of summer, you’d reach a large lake. Sylus came here to fish sometimes, but he hadn’t brought the pole on this occasion. You had mentioned wanting to get away from the city – both Linkon and the N109 – and he had offered this solution. Sylus always had a solution.

The lake opened a great blue maw of lapis before you, and the highness of the midday sun cascaded shining reflections of its light off of the surface. It was virtually untouched by man – well, all save for Sylus. But you could hardly lump him in with other men. He stood silently next to you, looking out over the water with his hands free by his sides. Coming here allowed you to see another side to Sylus that you were certain had only been revealed to your eyes. Or at least, you hoped. He had on a white button up, the first few buttons of which were undone, revealing the kiss the sun had given him that summer. He had a silver chain around his neck – a humble gift from you, courtesy of your Hunter’s salary. It wasn’t anything expensive, and it certainly paled in comparison to the other things he owned. Still, he wore it so frequently that he had worn out the clasp and had to replace it with a sturdier one. He wore a pair of blue jeans, which hugged him in all the right places, and a pair of tailored leather boots. He almost could have passed for a cowboy, if cowboys came from other worlds.

There was sweat gathering underneath your breast, running down your ribcage, soaking your clothes. This summer had been unreasonably hot, the sun punishing with its heat. The calmness of the water was calling to you. Your clothes stuck to you, feeling like they were trying to become one with your skin. Not wanting to merge with them, you began to peel off your shirt and shorts. While you had the former over your head, covering your eyes, Sylus spoke.

“What are you up to?”

He sounded pleased. Soft, like the wind could carry away his voice if it had chosen to. Sylus had seen you like this many times before. Though you harbored a sense of embarrassment in your nakedness around him still, you knew it didn’t matter to him.

“Getting in the water. It’s hot.”

You waded in, taking in the sight before you. The sun drove its horses over the open span of the prairie, casting it in a bright golden haze. You were up to your ankles in the cool water, the pebbles underneath pressing against the soles of your feet. They were smooth and round, not painful to the touch. You turned at the sound of a shuffling of fabrics. Sylus was unbuttoning his shirt with practiced ease. He tossed it aside carelessly on the bank. His pants and shoes came similarly. The sound of the zipper seemed strangely loud, out here in the wilderness. He was left only in his boxers. You had seen him this naked before – but it was never something that you quite got used to. You knew that he must have felt your eyes on him, but he never showed any signs of being bothered, nor did he mention it. The powerful animal of his body rippled towards you with singular purpose. Just underneath the lowered waistband of his boxers, you could see his tanline. The skin underneath was pale. As he walked towards you, you walked backwards into the water, silently beckoning him to follow. He obliged, his lips parting into a curious smile. You stopped when the chill of the water had reached your clavicle. Your heart fluttered with a soft quickness in the water.

The water parted for Sylus’s body as he approached you, sending ripples outward away from him. He came closer, closer, until you were nearly chest to chest. You desperately wanted to feel the contrast of the heat of his body under the water. He would have to reach for you first. The sun had turned his pupils into pinpoints in a crimson sea as he looked down at you. You pushed a gentle wave towards him with your palm.

“I thought you didn’t like the water.”

Sylus’s hand found your upper arm under the water in response, and traveled up until it was on your shoulder. The flat of his thumb stroked your collarbone. The wet traces it left felt cool against the open air.

“You’re in the water.”

His palm touched the side of your neck, fingers brushing your nape. The blunt of his nails scratched your scalp, there. You showed him your empty palms under the clear water.

“I don’t have a sword to offer you, or anything like that. I don’t have anything to give.”

Sylus laughed, a sound that was like the fire of light over the prairie. He closed the last distance between you, and his lips were suddenly speaking against the skin of your neck, his fingers maneuvering your head to the side to expose more of it to his mouth. It wasn’t a kiss at all – more like a touch, so chaste it burned. His other hand snaked around your waist, pressing your abdomen to his under the water. You could feel all of him against you. Somewhere in the distance, a whippoorwill called.

“Do you think I can only take? Haven’t I always given you everything you’ve wanted?”

A wry expression that he couldn’t see faced the sky on your face. The only thing you truly wanted was the one thing he couldn’t give. Everything else could have returned to ash, could he have given it. You had begun to understand that shame and passion were the same creature wearing different faces. To love was to be humiliated. To roll over and show your soft belly. Everything else he consumed, and there was not the blue of the water nor that of the sky. There was only a red sea left behind.

Your feet ached underneath you, keeping you steady on the treadmill. They no longer pounded the machine as they once had – you had learned to make your steps light, your breathing quiet. Even after a day like today, which had required you to push your body to its utmost limit to dispose of wanderers, you did not forgo the gym. You could exert control in this way. When nothing else could be tightly in your grip, your body could be controlled. Movements that punished kept your mind at bay. Without the pain, without the control, the thoughts would return. You had developed minute control over each muscle – knew how to isolate it, how to activate it independently over the others. You knew each connection point, each tendon. Your body was the most familiar stranger to you, collared with a choke chain.

Sylus had recommended this gym to you. It was always strangely empty, which suited you just fine. The gym itself was of an unusual sort – it looked to you more like something that should have existed in the N109 zone than Linkon City. Its internals were all deep shades of blacks, the space wide and dark. You never wanted for amenities. Some of the machinery you lacked names for – and you avoided using them. They appeared just a touch too close to torture tools for your liking. The woman at the front desk, a svelte, mink like creature with a pointed face, had developed a silent camaraderie with you. She greeted you by name when you came, and offered you the occasional compliment on your physique. You had forgotten to get her name – and it was long past too late to ask, now.

In your periphery, you saw your phone’s screen light up in your hand, and slowed your pace to a walk on the treadmill to check it. Even after all this time, seeing his name still gave you the same fluttering of wings in your stomach. The numbers on the treadmill let you know that you had been running on and off for around two hours. They blurred in your vision, and you stopped trying to focus on them.

Sy:

Your heart rate has been fast for a while now. Still working out?

7:27 PM

A text that from anyone else would have been disturbing in its implications – but from Sylus, it merely made your insides twist with delight. He was checking in on your wellbeing. You had long known he had kept tabs on your vitals, likely through your hunter’s watch, which hardly ever left your wrist. Of course, you had similar tabs on him. Sylus had purposefully chained himself to you with that necklace he wore – it had a GPS tag in it. You never doubted where he was – though you tried not to check too often. You frequently failed in that regard, though. You walked on as you typed out your reply.

Me:

Yeah. I’m almost done tho. What’s up?

7:28 PM

Sy:

Im coming to pick you up. Don’t argue

7:28 PM

The prospect of seeing him made your heart rate speed up all over again. It quickened even more when you remembered he could see its pace.

Me:

I’m drenched and smell bad. You don’t want to see me lol I’ll get your car dirty

7:29 PM

Sy:

You’re arguing. Im on my way

7:29 PM

This threw a wrench in your plans. A beautiful, towering wrench of a man. You wanted to scowl at your phone, to be annoyed with his persistence – but your chest glowed with warmth at his insistence, instead. Although Sylus maintained a severe boundary of friendship with you, you knew you must have monopolized most (if not all) of his free time. Your heart, ever possessive, purred with pleasure. You quelled the feeling to focus on the task at hand. Sylus had seen you sweaty before – covered in dirt, blood, all manner of other horrible things. He had held your hair for you while you had emptied your guts onto bloodied grounds, dry heaving until nothing but stomach acid remained. Still, you wanted to avoid it if it was possible. You were usually adverse to using public facilities to shower after working out, but it would have to do just this once. You pulled the clutch of the treadmill, killing its internal workings, and gathered your belongings, making your way to the showers.

Fortunately for you, this gym boasted high quality amenities. Clean towels, a working hair dryer – even the shampoo and conditioner seemed of higher quality than what you kept at home. You squinted at the labeless bottles, examining them. You didn’t know much about this place, other than that Sylus had adamantly insisted on paying for your membership, despite your protests. Another recurring payment of yours that was on his card. It had very nearly caused an argument between the two of you. He had insisted that if you were going to punish yourself in the gym, you should at least use his gym. This had disarmed you, for it felt like he was exerting some sort of claim on you, in his own roundabout way. He frequented the gym with you, when he had the time. Getting to watch him lift weights was its own kind of pleasure. Sparring with him was a ritual that allowed you to touch him in a way you couldn’t allow yourself otherwise.

Even the showers here were black, wide, ominous and empty. They were tiled from floor to ceiling with sleek obsidian, and the showerheads were of the waterfall type. You scrubbed yourself furiously in the heat of the water, trying to speed the process along as quickly as possible. You hadn’t the foggiest as to where exactly Sylus was coming from, but you didn’t want to keep him waiting.

You inspected your face in the mirror, flushed from the heat of your shower. A face looked back at you with a crease in its brow. You picked up the blow dryer, clicking it on. It pushed hot air through your hair, and threatened to make you sweat all over again. You raked your fingers through it, a makeshift brush. Thankfully, you had brought a clean pair of street clothes along with you. Your years as a hunter had drilled a sense of preparedness in you, even when completing the most mundane of tasks. You changed swiftly in the locker room, with only the sound of the overheads to keep you company. Yours was the only combination lock that had a permanent place here, hanging there by its lonesome. You no longer bothered to bring it home with you – no one had ever tampered with it. You took one last glance at yourself in the full body mirror of the locker room, adjusting your clothes. It didn’t matter, you knew. Sylus didn’t care what you looked like, for better or worse. You cast your eyes from the image, and made your way from the gym. The woman at the front desk gave you a friendly wave on your way out, which you returned.

Outside, you stood under the eaves, waiting for the appearance of Sylus’s vehicle. The last vestiges of the sun were disappearing behind the towering buildings of Linkon City. You weren’t waiting for long, however, as Sylus pulled up nearly as soon as you stepped outside. Whether it was fortuitous or a plan on his part, you could never be quite sure. He was always punctual with you. Endlessly reliable. He honked the horn, as if you wouldn’t recognize the body of his black sports car from miles away. You jogged towards him, unable to stop the laugh that forced its way out of your chest. For someone who lived so deeply in the shadows, he loved to make his presence known to you.

You slipped wordlessly into the familiar passenger seat, and were met with Sylus’s raise of an eyebrow. He had a habit of always raising his left one – the same side as his dominant hand. You weren’t sure he was even capable of raising the other side. You denied the compulsion to ask him to try.

“I seem to recall a promise that someone would get my car dirty. But you’re looking suspiciously clean.”

Sylus’s voice, no matter how familiar it became, was always like stepping into hot, dark waters. You nudged him with your elbow over the console.

“You want me to dirty up your nice ass car?”

He grinned in response to your question, revealing to you the canines that you had imagined sinking into the flesh of your neck so many times. He nudged you back, elbowing you for room on the console.

“Sure, it might be fun.”

You prepared to ask him what exactly would be fun about getting his car dirty, but Sylus leaned in, reaching over you to buckle you in. His hands drifted over the belt as he pulled, just shy of touching your breast and stomach. As he lifted himself away, you pushed at his shoulder gently.

“I’m not a kid, Sy. I can get my own seatbelt.”

“I know. But you’re still my…”

He trailed off, sitting back in the driver's seat. His left hand had a confident grip on the steering wheel, his right on the gear shift. He kicked the car into gear, and led it onto the road to your apartment. It was a short drive.

“My responsibility.”

What you had done to earn the title of responsibility, you were unsure. It sounded uncomfortably close to burden. You felt yourself shrink into your seat. Your hands hung onto your knees, holding them together in front of you. There was something nauseating about the awareness of being a chosen burden. You had long since accepted the place Sylus had chosen in your life as your closest friend, but it was ever a struggle to accept the place he chose for you. He discarded anyone else who came even remotely close to earning a similar title without a second thought.

My responsibility.

“Do you think you owe me or something? Because–”

Sylus cut you off.

“No. I’m here right now of my own free will. Do you think I’d do anything I didn’t want to do? Surely you know my intentions by now.”

There was a sort of boyish impetuousness hidden just underneath his usual tone. Being a chosen burden was better than being one that was forced upon him. He needed something to care for, maybe. That something just so happened to be you. You were the wrong person for him, at the right time. Still, you clung to his choice, claws deep in his skin. Kitten, he had dubbed you. Something that purred in his presence, that swiped at him and drew his blood. You stole a glance at him. His hard lines and dark colors. You saw the way the last of the daylight made him squint his eyes as he looked out the windshield, the dark sweep of his eyelashes trying to keep the offending stabs of sun out. His eyes, devoid of melanin to protect him from the sun. His hair always shone a little whiter in its light. You wondered what sort of childhood must have formed the man sitting beside you. One full of suffering and strife – of that much you were certain. An image of a young boy with pale hair, his right eye sliced open with a scalpel held by hands so much larger than his own appeared in your mind's eye. You heard the squelch of the implantation, saw the struggle of his too-thin body against metallic restraints. There was no anesthesia. Only pain.

Sylus avoided the subject, often giving vague and cryptic answers when you had tried to pry in the past. You didn’t press him anymore. There were things you couldn’t tell him, either. How you wanted more from him. More than the chaste touch of a friend. You wanted the consumption of a lover, for him to take you in his mouth and sink his teeth in. To not let go. The only thing that bit you was guilt at your heels. Being slowly devoured alive was a small price to pay to keep him in your life. A selfish price.

Sylus stopped the car at a red light. He titled his head towards you, eyes sliding in your direction. His hand drifted to your knee, displacing your own from it, and gave it a playful squeeze.

“What are you thinking about?”

His thumb idly stroked the bony junction just below your outer kneecap. Even in the summer heat, his skin still burned your own with its touch. Shameful heat boiled in your stomach. You brushed your index finger over the bony protrusion at the outside of his wrist, and watched as his arm raised gooseflesh in response to your touch. Sylus exhaled through his nose. You liked the sound of his breathing. It was somehow tinged with his voice – you could have recognized the sound of his breath anywhere. Occasionally, you considered telling him the whole truth of your musings on him, but the thought of Sylus’s disgust towards you stopped you. You felt your mouth fill with excess saliva. The desire to shower again came over you, as if he could sense how dirtied you were by your own thoughts of him. You told him half of the truth, instead.

“What you were like as a kid.”

Sylus was quiet for a time, driving the car onward through the green light. His hand didn’t leave its place – but the forward movement of the car made it drift down onto your thigh from your knee. Seemingly unbothered by its new position, he didn’t adjust his grip. His disregard for the implications of his touch were a continual reminder of his lack of romantic feelings for you. You stared at the place where he touched you, his large hand enveloping the taut flesh of your thigh. There wasn’t anyone else who touched you like this. Even by accident. And there probably never would be.

“If you’re thinking of feeling sorry for me – don’t. Everything that happened led me here. Exactly where I want to be.”

You didn’t bother to formulate a response, feeling the finality of his statement hang heavily in the air between you. The rest of the drive was comfortably silent, the only sound the soft classical music Sylus had playing from the radio. It rose and fell in stabs, sometimes sounding triumphant, at others despondent. He tapped his fingers on the wheel, keeping time.

Sylus pulled the car into its familiar spot at your apartment complex. It was here so often that this spot remained empty even when it was bereft of his bike or one of his many cars – like it was waiting to be filled with him. Once, Sylus had gone radio silent for a week. No texts, no calls. You found yourself sitting in the empty parking space. Strange looks from passers-by had rolled off of you, meaningless in his absence. Everything was. Sylus had found you there soon after, and crushed you up into his arms so hard you thought you might snap in half. You would have accepted it gladly.

He exited the car, and came around to open the door for you on the passenger side. He never let you get out on your own, and today was no exception. When you stepped out, you were standing nearly flush with his broad chest. He ran a hand through your hair, still just slightly damp from your hurry to get clean before you saw him. You spoke to his chest rather than his face.

“Are you spending the night?”

You fiddled with two of his belt loops, hooking them in your index fingers, tugging him towards you. Sylus took a little step, though he could hardly get any closer without pushing you up against the car. You leaned against the vehicle, and he leaned into you.

“If you’ll have me, of course.”

His hands enveloped your forearms. Not stopping you. Just holding you, letting you play with his clothes. His thumbs rubbed the aching muscles in your wrists.

“Do you even have to ask, anymore?”

Slipping out from his grip, you walked towards the direction of your apartment door, knowing he would follow. His response came from behind you.

“I’ll always ask, sweetheart.”

This was how you ended up in your bed with Sylus, laying across the expanse of his body. The closeness of the flesh was always a sharp contrast to the distance of your feelings from his. He was idly stroking his fingertips up and down your spine, head propped up on one of the plushies he had won you at the arcade, a makeshift pillow. By now, the room was completely dark. Sylus, ever the nocturnal animal, seemed to have no trouble seeing in the lightless space. You wanted to relax, to sink into the beckoning peace of his heartbeat, but something held you back from fully letting go. You needed things that were cold and hard to keep you from losing yourself to his entirety.

Without the pain, without the control, the thoughts would return. Rumination spirals. Thoughts that plagued you when your body was unoccupied, when your hands weren’t around your gun, when your feet didn’t pound the earth. Had you really unplugged that heating element? What if you had forgotten, and the apartment had burned down in your absence? Was that ingredient label really correct? What if they were lying about the contents? Was there something inside of your body now that you hadn’t properly vetted? Had something dirty touched you, making you need to shower again and again and again? Shadows flitted in the corners of your vision, escaping just when you tried to look. You continued to try to follow them with your eyes, unsuccessfully. Sylus had been quiet. You heard his head turn against the fabric of the plushie. The backs of his fingers brushed your cheek.

“What are you looking at?”

You shook your head, knowing he could feel the movement from where you laid on his chest.

“Nothing.”

Sylus hummed, sounding unconvinced by your lie. A big, warm palm came up to cover your eyelids. Suddenly, you were cast into red darkness under his touch. You could smell your hand soap on his palm, for it nearly eclipsed your face in its entirety for its size. His voice lowered to a whisper.

“Don’t look. Just focus on me.”

You knew you could trust Sylus’s senses more than your own. In that regard, he was something like a walking pillar of truth when you were unsure of reality. He never begrudged you for sometimes being unable to tell the difference between dream and the waking world, for being suspicious of your own mind, suspicious of others. Suspicious of inanimate objects, of anything that existed in your vicinity, of anything that entered your body. He chased the shades away with his gentle touch. Stripped of your sight, you did as he commanded. His warmth sank into you in all the places your skin connected. There was the sound of his breath, coming deep and easy through his nose. The rise and fall of his chest. His scent, a linger of vetiver and a hint of his cigarettes. Between all of these sensations was something else; the swell of love for him was like a return to the womb, cast into the warm wet of the darkness, his footsteps, his heartbeat, becoming as a child, these things are all you hear. His sensations were your reality, even without the need for a resonance.

“Better?”

His voice, a deep and familiar anchor. You nodded against his palm. Your lips brushed his skin with the movement, a pale imitation of a kiss. A thought occurred to you, then. If he moved his hand down just a little further, it could wrap silently around your neck, and quietly squeeze your life away. It would be easy for him – as easy as taking a breath. Sylus was so strong. You had seen him take the lives of men twice your size without even using his evol, the breath of life snuffed out of them. You curled your fingertips around his hand, and guided it to the soft flesh of your neck, so it wrapped around there. He turned to you on the bed, supporting himself on his other elbow. Though you weren’t looking at him, you could hear the undercurrent of confusion in his voice.

“Kitten?”

Just for a moment, you felt an increased pressure from him, the twitch of his fingers against your skin, against the place where he could crush your windpipe, cut off the flow of blood to your brain, send you into an endless sleep, let you pass away from this world by his hand. You pressed down on it, encouraging him to squeeze, to let you go, to finally free you from this. You couldn’t do it on your own – but if it was him, it was easy. You wanted it from him. You swallowed under his palm, feeling yourself sink into acceptance. This could be your final sprint, because if you finally stopped running, his absence would come to meet you with open arms.

But no such mercy was to be at his hands, because you were being lifted, then, your eyes snapping open, lifted not by his arms but by his evol. Sylus was sitting up in bed, and his evol deposited you in his lap, straddling his strong legs. And then your gun was inexplicably in your hands, and you couldn’t drop it – it was chained there with the black and red mist, the barrel pressing against Sylus’s chest, your finger on the trigger against your will. You struggled against the iron grip of the ephemeral spirit that chained you to no avail. His eyes were narrowed at you in the dark, slits the color of violence.

“Sylus,” you choked out, wanting to say stop, what are you doing, stop, I can’t do this again, please, please, please, please, but nothing came. The back of your tongue felt swollen with the asphyxiation of fear, the replaying of events you so hated, of your greatest terror. Your body shuddered with the rapid coursing of adrenaline.

His free hand stroked the barrel of the gun, pressing it harder into his chest. He tilted his head to the side, voice a thoughtful whisper.

“This is my hand around your neck. Can you do it?”

You shook your head fervently, bile rising in your throat. You didn’t have Sylus’s death in you for a second time. Once was already too many times. The trembling of your hand was making your finger click against the trigger. You heard the sound, and fought the jagged heaving of your chest, breaths coming uneven and hot. Again, you shook your head. Each movement took more and more effort, for you were outside of yourself, no longer your body, merely the embodiment of fear.

And suddenly the mist was gone, the gun cast aside, landing with a heavy thud onto the carpet of your bedroom. You slumped forward into Sylus’s chest, and he caught you in his arms, wrapping them around you in a grip that crushed. Your mind was exhausted, emptied of everything but him. Your body was limp, supported only by his boundless strength. Loss, in a sense, filled everything, and nothing filled everything. Only the beating desperations of your intertwined lives remained, thumping with the red of a base existence.

“Your death would mean mine. You won’t leave me. Not this time.”

tags: @xxfaithlynxx @cutestnursingstudent @crowskitten22

#love and deepspace #sylus x reader #sylus x you #lads x reader #lads sylus #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x mc #l&ds sylus #lnds sylus #sylus love and deepspace #idk about this one lol

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souliebird · 8 months ago

Text

[[and then I met you || ch. 23]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

chapter masterlist

Words: 3.2k

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Matt’s eyes flutter shut as you smooth your thumbs over his forehead. The urge to press forward into your touch is nearly overwhelming, but he controls himself. Your fingers run down his temple and to the apples of his cheeks, oh so gently rubbing sunblock into his skin. He doesn’t remember the last time he used the product, but his sweet Minnie demanded he wear it, and who is he to deny his daughter on her birthday?

You are in complete Mom mode - focused on making sure all his exposed skin is covered - so you don’t realize how intimate you are being with him. He wants so badly to reach out and touch you back - to hold your waist and rub your arms and feel you against him. It is far from the first time he’s felt this and mentally repeating the Lord’s Prayer helps him keep his thoughts from straying.

Especially when your fingers dance down to his neck.

He may or may not have fantasies about you pressing your hand into his windpipe while riding him. He may or may not have finally given into his mother’s pressures about talking to the new priest because he was beginning to feel guilty about how often he may or may not have touched himself to those fantasies.

Matt wants so badly to show you how much he loves you, but you aren’t ready for it yet, and he understands. You’ve accepted him for who he is and what he does. You want to know more and aren’t accusatory when you ask questions. You’ve been snatched up into his whirlwind of a life and are adjusting in a way he didn’t think was possible, but you are still adjusting and he’s not going to push more onto you.

You’ve been slow to accept physical gestures and as much as it pains him, he’s happy to go at your pace. He cherishes each moment you let him hold you and his heart soars when you are the one to initiate it. You don’t flinch or pull back when he rests a hand on your hip or back. Slow and steady wins the race and if you want to stroll, he’ll stroll right along with you.

“All done,” you say, breaking him from his thoughts as you step away. “We shouldn’t be out here long enough that we will need to reapply.”

“Thank you,” he replies. He puts his glasses back on and he follows your movements as you put the sunscreen back in your purse. “Do you need help with anything?”

The second phase of Minnie’s Birthday Bash Weekend - after her princess breakfast and makeover - is the Park Party. Multiple blankets have been laid out for everyone to sit on and the wagon is filled to the brim with supplies - there’s a drink cooler, a snack cooler, a series of toys Minnie insisted they add so no one gets bored, and tucked in the corner, unopened presents they picked up from Sister Maggie. Foggy showed up early so he could enjoy the walk to the park with the birthday girl and Karen and Frank should be arriving soon.

Matt knows you are going to fuss over the details and try to play Good Host, and he wants you to relax and have a good time instead.

But sometimes, he thinks fussing is your idea of fun. You make a shooing motion at him and there is a bit of a laugh in your voice when you tell him, “Go play with your daughter.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

Foggy and Minnie are on the sidewalk, setting up her newest toy. Fog got Mouse some sort of pogo stick for toddlers and from her excited explanation to him, it is pink and princess themed. Matt has no idea how a pogo stick for toddlers could possibly work - Minnie can barely balance on one leg - but you seemed to have no issue with the device, so he chalks it up to having missed something in the explanation that would be obvious to a sighted person.

“Okay, squirt. Go ahead and step on,” Foggy tells Minnie. Matt can sense some sort of small platform that his little one steps onto, then she is being handed something that reminds him of a bike handle. “Okay. Try jumping.”

Mouse jumps straight up, and to his surprise, the little platform bounces when it hits the ground again, sending her back up about half an inch. That seems like more than enough height for her, as she lets out an absolutely delighted scream and quickly starts to repeat the motion.

She bounces four times before she loses her balance and falls off the platform, but Matt doesn’t even get the chance to step forward to help her. She’s right back on and jumping in place - beaming ear to ear.

“Look at you go!” Foggy cooes and Matt can’t help but grin. “You are a little hopping machine!”

“Hop! Hop! Hop!” Mouse cheers as she does just that. “Hop! Hop! Hop!”

“Hop! Hop! Hop!” Both he and Fog echo, and they are on the same wavelength, because they both mimic her by bouncing on the balls of their feet.

Matt can sense you aiming your phone at Mouse, most likely taking a picture or filming them, so he quickly prompts her, hoping for a cute moment. “Sweetie, what do you say to Foggy?”

“Thank you, Froggy, you are the bestest!”

“You are very welcome, birthday girl!” Fog, of course, quickly turns to Matt to jokingly rub in, “Hear that, Murdock? I’m the bestest.”

Minnie stumbles again and Matt realizes she will not need help unless she trips and falls to the ground. She’s back to bouncing within a second and defending his honor.

“You’re the bestest, but Daddy’s Super Bestest and Mommy is Super-Duper Bestest.”

Foggy must pull a face, because both you and Minnie laugh before he gives in, “Okay, I will allow this because it is your birthday. But no take backsies. I’m the bestest.”

“No take backsies!” Mouse quickly parrots before turning her attention back to her toy. She dissolves into giggles as she jumps up and down and he can only imagine how big her smile must be.

He takes a moment to focus in on one of the gifts he got her. He didn’t get called Bestest for it, but Matt hopes it will be something she grows to cherish. He spent a pretty penny to get it custom made as he was incredibly particular about the quality, but it was more than worth it - a gold heart necklace with ‘I love you’ in Braille on one side, and on the other, the date he found out she existed.

He knows she can’t always wear it - it is a choking hazard until she’s older - but right now it is bumping against her manubrium and he can’t help but smile and reach to fiddle with the bracelet hanging on his wrist.

It has become almost like a rosary to him. When he’s thinking, he finds himself pulling the beads up to go around his hand and he will thumb at them, tracing over the hearts his sweet Minnie gave him. The only time he doesn’t wear it is when he’s out on Patrol - and that is only because he’s scared he’ll end up breaking it. Otherwise, he has it on - asleep, in the shower, in court - Matt proudly wears his friendship bracelet.

Of course, no one is none the wiser to his private moment. Foggy continues to encourage Mouse to bounce and enjoy her gift. Matt is pretty sure this is one of the toys she is going to run into the ground because she uses it so much.

“Hey, Fog, where did you get this thing?”

“Online,” his friend quickly replies. “I’ll send you the link. One of the Littles got one for their birthday and loved it, so I went with a peer-reviewed product instead of trying my luck on something unknown.”

“I didn’t even know this existed,” you say from your spot on the blankets. “This is amazing.”

“Thank you,” Foggy says with an uptick in his voice, indicating he is smiling. “But I’ll warn you, some of them come with a squeaker in them. I hunted for the one without one. I wanted to take pity on the bat-ears.”

Matt throws back his head as he laughs and concedes, “Okay, maybe you are the Bestest.”

“I knew it!”

“Froggy is the bestest! Froggy is the bestest! Froggy is the bestest!” Minnie starts to chant as she plays. Foggy joins her and Matt claps along for a moment.

You laugh at them, and it is one of the most beautiful sounds he’s ever heard - it is you actually being truly happy.

The joy is cut short, and it morphs into panic when Minnie very suddenly drops her pogo stick and takes off running towards the other side of the park. Her movements are so quick and erratic that Matt doesn’t react right away, having not anticipated them. You scramble up to chase her just as he begins to move to do the same.

“Minnie! Come back here!” You shout as you hurry after your daughter.

Matt opens up his senses, needing to know what has Minnie so excited that it overrode her being the shy little angel he’s used to. He zeroes in on it instantly.

Karen, Frank, and Frank’s dog Max have just arrived, parking on the street outside the green space. Minnie is making a beeline right towards them, but luckily, her little legs are no match for Matt and he scoops her up before she can get too far from their picnic. She instantly begins to struggle against him, flailing and kicking and trying her best to fight his hold, but he turns her around and forces her onto his hip.

“Minnie, you cannot run off!” he chastises as you catch up to them. “You know better than that. You know you need to stay with us.”

“It’s Mister Frank and he has a doggie!” She tries to explain, clearly excited and overly enthusiastic, but Matt won’t be swayed. “I gotta go say hi to him! And asks if I can play with his doggie! I’ve never played with a doggie! I wanna play with the doggie!”

“It’s dangerous to just run off. You have to ask Mommy or me first.” Matt tells her. He’s trying to remain calm, but the fear from her just running away is still in his system. He knows he can’t yell or scold her - it’s her special day and she just got too excited, but he needs her to know that isn’t okay.

Luckily, you seem to know how to handle this.

“No running off,” you emphasize, putting your hand on her back and almost crowding her into Matt, which he is more than okay with. “Part of being a Big Girl is knowing the rules. If you can’t follow the rules, what happens?”

Minnie deflates against him, all her jubilation evaporating, and guilt pools in his chest as his precious little baby mumbles out, “We go home.”

“That’s right.”

“I don’t wanna go home. I wanna play with Froggy more and Mister Frank and his doggie.”

You reach up to push some of her hair out of her face and gently comfort her, “we’re not going to go home. But you gotta be good, okay? Mister Frank and Karen are coming to us. You don’t have to run to them, okay?”

“Okay.”

It seems like Minnie will not bolt if Matt sets her down, so he takes that chance. She fusses with smoothing out her princess dress for a moment and patting it free of any dust before looking up at you, “When he gets close can I go say hi? Please? Please? Please?”

She asks so sweetly it is a miracle you don’t cave immediately. You put your hands on your hips as you pretend to think over your answer. After a few moments, you reply, “When he gets as close to us as we are to Froggy, you can go say hi.”

Minnie whips around to judge the distance - she had only gotten about thirty or forty feet before Matt caught her - before turning back. She literally bounces from foot to foot as she waits for Frank and Karen to get close enough that she can run to them and that helps to dissipate the lingering guilt he has. He defaults to you to give the ‘okay’ signal, and when you do, Minnie takes off again at a speed he didn’t think toddlers could achieve.

“Mister Frank! Mister Frank! It’s my birthday!” she yells as she streaks towards him.

Matt isn’t exactly keen on Minnie’s excitement for Frank, but he accepts the man is entering his circle more now that he and Karen are in a relationship. When they aren’t butting heads about the morality of killing, he thinks he and Frank get along well enough. They take jabs at each other and even if it can be scathing, neither of them takes it personally. Danger follows Frank and Matt is acutely aware of that, but he also has some je ne sai quoi with kids and Minnie is not immune to it.

You and Matt follow after your daughter while Frank passes off Max’s leash to Karen so he can catch the toddler rocket coming right at him. The Devil in Matt’s chest growls with jealousy and possessiveness when Frank picks Mouse up to hold her without any shyness from his little one and she’s tossed slightly up into the air.

“It’s your birthday? Well, it’s a good thing we got all those presents in the truck, then, ain’t it, Karen?”

“I wonder who they could be for,” Karen teases and Minnie turns into a giggling mess, hiding her hands in her face.

“Are they for me?” She asks, so sweet and genuine and not at all greedy. Matt’s heart glows with how pure his daughter is, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever get over it.

“It is your birthday,” Frank tells her and that just makes her more delighted.

“I’m getting so many presents! Mommy gave me presents and Daddy gave me presents and Froggy gave me presents and Froggy’s Mommy gave me presents AND…and Daddy’s Mommy gave me presents. That’s like…” She pauses and lifts up her hands in front of her face and Matt thinks she must be trying to count. Finally, she decides on a number, “That’s like twelve presents!”

She certainly received more than twelve presents from you alone - there were so many components to her new kitchen set - but he knows everyone understands what she means. Minnie is being absolutely spoiled for her birthday.

“That is a lot of presents!” Karen cooes, “You aren’t tired from opening them all?”

“Not uh! I’m a Big Girl!”

“We can have a second round of opening presents after the park,” you inform Minnie and even without his enhanced hearing, he can tell you are smiling - you sound so happy. “We can have cake at home, and you can show everyone what you got.”

“That sounds like a good plan to me,” Frank says, bouncing Mouse in his arms a little. “What do you say, Princess?”

She nods eagerly, “A good plan!”

You all begin to walk back towards the picnic - and Foggy, who has relocated the pogo stick to the blankets - and Minnie gets to the next order of business.

“Can I pet your doggie?”

Max seems to know he’s being talked about, as he starts making little noises and adding a wiggle to his walk. Matt has met the dog a few times now and even he admits the animal is a sweet one, especially for an ex-fighting dog. He knows that Frank didn’t keep Max initially, but when he resettled in New York a few months ago, the dog also reappeared. Matt doesn’t question it - he thinks caring for the dog is good for Frank and Karen absolutely adores him.

“Do you know how to pet a dog?” Frank asks, amusement clear in his voice.

Minnie shakes her head, but as always, has a solution, “No, but I can learns! Mommy says…Mommy says when we don’t know something, we can learn it by askings! I can asks my tablet!” She pauses, then dramatically slaps her hands to her cheeks. “I don’t have my tablet, its at home.”

They all laugh at her antics and as they approach their picnic, Frank sets Minnie down, “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I can teach you. And I can show you how to play fetch, too.”

Karen goes to hug Foggy a hello, while you and she start to strike up a conversation catching up. Matt decides to allow you the time to have an adult moment, and he keeps his attention on Minnie, Frank, and Max.

“Before you can pet him, you need to introduce yourself,” Frank starts, moving to sit down on the blankets as he does. Minnie plops down beside him and Matt takes a seat beside her. “You need to hold out your hand so he can sniff it. He can’t talk, so he gets to know you through smell.”

He demonstrates by holding out his hand to Max. The dog snuffles at it, then begins to lick at Frank, his tail starting to wag. Matt can practically feel Minnie analyzing what is happening, then after a moment, she sticks her little hand out towards Max. The dog clearly gets excited by this and turns his big head towards his daughter. He could so very easily bite off her whole arm - Minnie is small for her age and Max is a big dog - but instead he oh so gently presses his nose to her skin before giving it a tiny lick.

“He likes me!” Minnie says in a whisper-gasp and Matt tries his best to not laugh.

“He does, he wants to be your friend,” Frank tells her.

“I wanna be his friend, too!” She declares before mimicking Max by leaning in and sniffing at him loudly. He can’t hold back his amusement when she sticks out her tongue with a, “He’s stinky!”

“He’s a dog, all dogs stink,” Frank laughs, “but he’s still a good dog.”

“How do I pets him?” Mouse asks, obviously so very excited and wanting to learn how to pet Max correctly.

Matt leans back and observes as Frank gently guides his daughter’s hands, showing her where to pet the sweet dog. He hopes this doesn’t lead to her wanting her own puppy - though she will probably spend a fair amount of time pretending Scooby is a real dog instead of her companion in trouble.

Matt has never wanted a dog before - mostly because it has always been pitched as a guide dog and he doesn’t need one - but he wonders if his mind would change if you wanted a dog. He knows it isn’t possible in your current apartment, but what if you moved to somewhere bigger? Where Minnie could have her own bedroom and maybe you could have your own yard.

Where, maybe, he could move in with you, and you could be a proper, traditional family. He could be with you - provide for you like he should have always been doing. He could sleep in your bed at night and tell you he loves you in the morning. Where he could tuck Minnie in before he goes on Patrol and he could learn all her Quiet Games.

Where he could protect his family.

Where he could have something he’s always wanted.

Where maybe, just maybe, Matt Murdock could finally have a home.

a/n:

Every one say Happy Birthday to the Birthday girl!

part one of the birthday weekend. Sorry it is a little short We have another birthday day chapter after this then Minnie gets her Zoo Trip!

tags:

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife

@petrovafire39 @ghostindeath

@allllium @waywardcrow @thatkindofgurl

@anehkael @akilatwt @lostinthefantasies @reluctanthalfwayoptimism @ethereal-blaze

@nennia-2000 @seasonofthenerd @abucketofweird @mattmurdockstateofmind @imagineswritersblog @hazelhavoc @smile-child-13 @allst4rsfall @hashcakes @kezibear @mapleaye @sammanna @gamingfeline @moon-glades @nightwitherspring @phoenix666stuff @dare-devil

@ladyoflynx @hobiebrowns-wife @sarcasm-n-insomnia @lillycore

@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt

@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374

@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen @lunaticgurly @nikitawolfxo @shireentapestry @snakevyro @yondiii @echos-muses @honeybug-victoria @the-bisaster @ristare

@mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @yes-im-your-mom @hunnybelha @actorinfluence @capbrie @prowlingforfood @jupitervenusearthmars

Specialagentjackbauer @yarrystyleeza @ofmusesandsecrets

@mayp11-blog @danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt @nommingonfood @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @dil3mma @allllium

two-unbeatable-beaters @kiwwia-wiwwia @1988-fiend @xblueriddlex @loves0phelia @ninacotte @lovelyygirl8 @littlenosoul @ednaaa-04 @ astridstark13

@lovingkryptonitehideout @moongirlgodness @soocore @bluestuesday

@starry-night-20 @rebeccapineapple @writtenbyred @cherrypie5 @capswife @silvercharacterchaos @resting-confused-face

#soulie writes #fanfiction #daredevil #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader #and then i met you #birthday chapter!!!

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aw1tht33tha · 11 months ago

Text

Feeling feral enough, darling?

Astarion gets turned into a delicious whimpering puddle (and a bit of a feral animal) with the powerful magic of sensual femdom, pegging and lots of love. Just the way this man deserves.

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Pairing: Spawn Astarion/F!Reader

Rating: E

Word Count: 5.1k

Tags/Warnings: 18+, BDSM, femdom, power play, bondage, dirty talk, teasing, edging, cunnilingus, blowjob, pegging, rough PinV sex, body worship, sensory deprivation (sight/touch), praise kink, sensitive elf ears, orgasm denial, biting, scratching, blood drinking, high heels, fetish, fluff and sass, two horny sadistic assholes in love, established relationship, more or less cannon compliant, cat in the end

Read on AO3 or indulge right here:

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Astarion’s mind is spinning these instructions on repeat as he opens the front door and enters your deceivingly quiet home:

Take a bath.

Enter the bedroom naked.

Kneel next to the bed.

Put a blindfold on.

Wait.

Surrendering control wasn’t novel for a vampire spawn. However, giving it up fully and willingly for shared pleasure with his lover felt deeply alluring, but a little intimidating still. Astarion is too used to lavishing others with attention and keeping his grip tight on the reins out of necessity, rather than his own desire. But it should be different now. The newfound safety of your relationship gifted him a chance to learn letting go and truly enjoying himself for the first time in what seemed like a fucking eternity.

He feels slightly anxious as he undresses and discards clothes on the floor, crimson eyes locked on a steamy bath with bubbles, prepared lovingly in time for his arrival.

It’s been almost a year since both Cazador and Netherbrain fell to their deaths. The bond you’ve built together since then felt stronger than ever. No masters to serve, just following your own hearts. And yet, worries that pain and disgust may flood back from the depths of his past again gnaw at the back of his mind. He wants this to be perfect. To take a leap of faith and feel good and present, blissed out with you tonight. Free of his demons. For good.

“This is what I want, isn’t it?”

Take a bath.

He takes a deep breath and shuts his eyes for a few seconds trying to settle his nerves, then steps into the bathtub to clean off blood, sweat and dirt of his last bounty kill. Warm water embraced his cool body and relaxed sore muscles almost instantly, freeing his mind to reminisce about more pleasant things from the recent past.

Being an adventurous “hero” proved to be a surprisingly fun and profitable pastime, quite deliciously filling too if you happen to be a vampire. “Turns out nobody really cares about the murder… as long as you murder the right people.” Astarion recalls his joke at a party with your group of weirdo friends and it turns the corners of his lips up a little.

He starts making quick and thorough work of getting himself clean with fragrant soap, shampoo and conditioner. Pleasant as it is to soak and indulge in a self-care routine, it seemed just a bit cruel to make you wait for this perfect body for too long.

A few minutes pass and Astarion is out of the tub and sufficiently dried off - damp silver locks falling charmingly out of order and white towel wrapped scandalously low around his hips. He grabs the bathroom door handle confident enough to proceed with the next step.

Enter the bedroom naked.

“Right, naked” – he freezes. With one swift motion towel flies off his lean body to join the pile of its cotton siblings stacked in the corner. He crosses a dark corridor, anticipation starting to build up in his chest. Your shared bedroom reveals itself in all its intimate glory and comfort.

Closed heavy blinds, fresh dark silken sheets on a spacious bed, fluffed pillows arranged in an unusually orderly manner and almost ridiculous amounts of candles bathing the room in gentle warmth, pleasant scents, and dancing lights. So very you and him. The top of the bedside table appears busier than most days, displaying a carefully lined up selection of sex toys and ropes. All quite familiar to Astarion, yet he doesn’t know when and how exactly any of those are going to be used tonight and it is positively intriguing.

The only sound in the room is produced by candle wicks softly crackling in the background. Astarion takes a moment to sink in the atmosphere and looks around.

Kneel next to the bed.

His gaze stops at a big red pillow invitingly laying in the middle of the room close to the bed. A simple black blindfold is resting on top. He circles around and slowly lowers himself down on his knees. No one is commanding a vampire to do so except his own little voice. He yearns for your presence already and picks up a blindfold.

“Curious how we got here,” Astarion thinks as he gently runs his fingers along the soft black fabric, grateful for all the time you’ve spent together up until this moment. How it literally turned his undead life around and made him experience everything he thought was impossible or unreachable. Everything he thought wasn’t meant for him – freedom, salvation, friendship and… love.

Especially love. Somehow, he found himself not only caring deeply for you, but slowly nurturing some love and acceptance for himself. A truly unexpected turn of events.

Put a blindfold on.

The blindfold slides over his beautiful eyes and Astarion finds himself depraved from one of the prime senses to rely on. An exciting image of you invades his mind and he starts wondering if you are going to wear anything at all tonight.

His brain naturally shifts focus to what he can hear, touch, taste, and smell instead.

Your voice. What are you going to ask of him tonight? Will you let him make you scream his name?

Your skin. So soft and warm, he craves to glide his fingers all over your body right this instant.

Your scent. That unique blend of indescribable “you” with a hint of perfume or whatever fragrant skin care you just couldn’t stop stealing from his shelf like the adorable fetishist you are.

Your blood. That sweet life essence you are kind enough to share, keeping him hopelessly addicted from the first bite.

And wait.

Wait for your arrival and then dive into the unknown. Well, not that unknown since you both discussed your desires a few days prior, leaving just a touch of mystery on the details. “Gale of Waterdeep” was chosen to serve as your shared safe word, cause who else possessed an ability to kill the mood faster than a walking encyclopaedia?

This is, without a doubt, the sweetest torture for Astarion so far in the night. Just kneeling still and ready, wondering which of the obscene scenarios generated by his mind in your absence was going to become a reality. He did exactly what you asked him to do already, and he couldn’t wait for more.

It isn’t too long before his head instinctively turns towards the sound of steps approaching the room. A measured, confident pace accentuated by an unmistakable clack of heels meeting wooden boards sends a little shiver up his spine.

Finally.

You open the door without haste and your eyes are met with probably the best sight you could ever imagine:

A devastatingly beautiful elf is kneeling at your mercy, exposed and blindfolded, his perfect marble skin bathed in candlelight. Soft silver locks allowed to arrange themselves with less restraint than usual. His cock is hard for you already, twitching and leaking precum as you take your time to shut the door and take a few steps closer. His chest is heaving in anticipation, those beautiful tender lips parted slightly, both arms digging through his own thighs not daring to touch himself where he is dying to be touched right now.

Astarion looks properly riled up by his own imagination already. Letting him marinate and fight against his own impulsive nature worked even better than you anticipated. You shake off a strong temptation to sabotage the whole scene and dive down to devour him right where he is. It would be a crime to end the session so soon and you find the strength in yourself to stick to your plan of taking him completely apart piece by piece.

“Hello, my sweet,” your flirty voice is barely above a breathy whisper, and he can tell you are saying it through a wide smile without even needing to see your face.

A raspy “I missed you so much,” is all Astarion can manage to reply as his nose catches intoxicating mix of pulsing blood in your veins, arousal building up between your thighs, and surely his own perfume you’ve stolen again as you position your hips mere inches away from his gorgeous face.

“Did you? How about a proper greeting, then?”

You gently raise his chin with a curled index finger and run your thumb across soft parted lips making him gasp and desperately lean into your touch. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice his own fingers lightly grazing the pillow, crawling their way towards your feet in the darkness.

“No touching until I say so.” Your warning makes him slightly raise his hands in defeat and put them back on his thighs. He manages to behave while your thumb invades his mouth to meet with a hungry vampire tongue, even when your other hand caresses his neck and jawline in admiration. It’s the feather light tracing of his pointy ear from earlobe to the tip that makes Astarion shudder and send his seeking arms forward again.

No, he won’t be able to keep his hands away from you or himself at this rate, so you stop and take a step back as soon as his fingers make contact with the tips of your shoes. Astarion lets out a soft disappointed moan, his body leaning forward craving any attention you would graciously descend upon him.

“Please, I’m burning to touch you, my love.” He is on the steady path of falling apart already.

Delightful.

“You’ll have your chance if you’re patient enough. Wrists together behind your back.”

He reluctantly obliges your command. You reappear behind him with a short red rope to lean down and restrain him with a simple double column tie. That should take care of his mischievous rogue hands for now and you circle around to face him again.

“Now, where were we?”

Before Astarion has a chance to come back with anything at all, your right foot lightly grazes against his left knee and you drag the blunt nose of your pump up his leg, ghosting over the aching length of his cock almost as if by accident. His abdominal muscles clench and he lets out a shaky sigh, baring his fangs. Observing this man’s reactions to teasing is quickly becoming your new favourite form of entertainment. You rest your foot on his upper thigh applying just enough pressure to make the heel sting slightly, keeping him sitting low.

“You may worship whatever you can reach with your lips.”

He eagerly leans forward, and his mouth starts travelling up your inner thigh kissing, licking, nibbling on your smooth skin like a starved man. Payback time, darling, Astarion thinks reaching that place where your leg connects to pelvis and caressing you agonisingly slow with his firm tongue, so close to your sex you almost wobble. You run your fingers through his white curls gripping firmly to find stability.

Astarion quickly realises you are not wearing any panties, so he keeps on leaving tender kisses and passionate licks all around your folds and clit, never giving you more than his hot breath over the very centre. He knows exactly how to drive you dripping wet and desperate, pussy clenching over nothing. Difference is, he is not really in control this time, so you intend to serve him a reminder and tilt his head back, pulling hard on silver locks.

“I think you’re missing a spot,” you manage in between intensified breaths.

“Sorry, darling. If only I could see what I was doing,” he sounds almost convincingly apologetic, but a tiny smug smile gives him away. Astarion knows exactly what he’s doing to you. He won’t be getting away with anything easy tonight, though… despite his impressive arsenal of ways to melt your body and mind into a whimpering puddle.

“Don’t worry, I’ll guide you.” You cup his perfect face gently before adding, “stick your tongue out for me, gorgeous.”

Your confident yet warm tone makes him obey before even thinking. This feels refreshingly fun and liberating - not having to think much and simply relying on you to lead this dance to ecstasy however you desire.

You bring his face closer and roll your hips forward forcing his tongue to part the folds and finally get to the most sensitive parts of your sex. A much anticipated sensation hits you almost like a jolt of electricity and you have to dig your fingers in his neck and shoulders to keep your balance.

“Now, be a good boy and make me come.” You push the words out quickly before starting to lose yourself on Astarion’s skilled tongue. He is lapping your cunt devotedly, flexing muscles against the restrains, moaning softly. No toying around, witty remarks or aiding with fingers, just completely lost in eating you out with passion.

It doesn’t take much time for him at all to tighten up the coil of pleasure in your lower belly and for you to release it, holding on to him firmly as your legs dangerously give in to the weakness. Gods below, these damn heels don’t help either and you barely manage to ride out your orgasm not collapsing down.

You take a few moments to unwrap your arms from Astarion and steady your breath a little. “You did so well, my love… giving me exactly… what I asked for.”

As a reward, you take off the blindfold and carelessly toss it on the floor, the elf below you then greedily drags his gaze up your body. You are wearing nothing but high heels and one of his slutty black shirts you shamelessly snatched from his wardrobe earlier. Unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, fabric loosely dripping down your back and ass, it’s not really covering anything in front. His burning eyes meet yours. “Anything for you, beautiful.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Stand up.”

You take a small step back and let him rise on his feet. Usually, Astarion would tower over you being a few inches taller, but the heels keep you almost the same height letting your eyes level with his. He finds himself enjoying this new perspective.

You let your nails and fingertips gently explore under his jaw, down his neck and over the clavicles. Then you close the gap between your lips inviting Astarion for a heated kiss, tasting your own deliciousness still lingering on his tongue. With his arms still tied he can’t do anything but struggle against the rope and desperately try to melt his whole naked body against yours seeking familiar warmth or any form of friction you would allow.

You decide to give in to this sweetness and lower your hands to pull your lover closer by the waist. Astarion uses this opportunity to push into the kiss even more and grind himself against you, leaving trails of sticky precum all over your belly. It’s too easy to get drunk on his eagerness and you have to peel yourself away before you’re too far gone. There is much more to do after all.

“A good little vampling like you deserves a treat, you know?” You whisper in his ear mischievously as you nudge him to take a few steps back towards the bed.

He sits down watching your every move through a haze of lust. You circle the edge of the bed and sit behind, brushing your lips against his ear as you half-whisper a new command. “I need you to get on bed fully and lay down on your back for me. Can I trust you to behave well and not touch anything you shouldn’t?”

“I’ll be good, I promise,” you hear sincerity in his reply, and set his arms free for now. Astarion wastes no time doing what he was asked to. You ditch your shoes and crawl on top of him straddling his waist. He tentatively lifts his forearms from the sheets anticipating you to restrain him again.

“Well, look who’s finally playing along,” you smile, playfully drawing random patterns on his chest with your fingertips. “Being tied up growing on you?”

“It’s you. Surrendering to you like this is growing on me,” his soft breathy confession travels right to your core. You bring his right wrist up to your lips and kiss it gently.

“Oh, I think you will love what I’m about to do next,” you give him a smug look and stretch the arm you were holding towards the upper corner of the mattress. Reaching under the pillows at the headboard you produce a thick leather handcuff connected to the bedframe with a rope.

Astarion lets you close and secure it around his wrist with an excited sigh. “Gods, you really planned everything out.”

You throw him another confident smile and repeat the same steps with the other wrist.

There is now a beautifully splayed vampire on your bed and it’s time for the main course. You shuffle back slightly, spread your thighs and press his legs down with your shins making it much harder for him to move his hips. You lower yourself down and start worshipping his exquisite body, letting your hands and mouth freely explore and trace all his lines and curves. Broad chest and shoulders, sensitive neck and nipples, firm abs, narrow hips – no part is left without your thorough attention. You deeply enjoy discovering every possible reaction he can give you while you caress and scratch, kiss and nibble, lick and breathe down his flawless ivory skin.

His hitched breaths and hisses gradually evolve into soft quiet moans the longer it continues and further down you go. When your arms and hot tongue leisurely reach his hips, your hair and the collar of the shirt start lightly brushing against his aching neglected erection. He can't stay more or less composed anymore.

"P-please, love," his urgent plea makes you raise your head and catch his longing gaze, pupils blown wide.

"Hmm?" You tilt your head and raise an eyebrow, waiting for more elaborate begging.

Astarion doesn’t wait for you to nudge him further. “Please, I need you. Your hands, your mouth, anything...”

"Like this?" You position your tongue at the base of his hard girthy cock and glide it up, savouring his taste, feeling it twitch against your touch. You pay extra attention to the pale pink tip, suckling on it gently and cupping his balls with your hand.

"Mhmm... yes, please… more," his purring approval reaches your ears, and you dive down on his length, taking in as much as you can on the first go before sliding back up and releasing him with a little pop. Astarion is quickly becoming a writhing mess as you repeat the pattern a few more times.

Your movements are slow and deliberate as you alternate between hand strokes, sucking or just teasingly kissing all around his delicious cock and balls. You are not being consistent with your pace or type of stimulation on purpose, attempting to drag out his pleasure as long as possible. It only works somewhat effectively as he is obviously on a steady ascend towards his climax no matter how chaotic you are in toying with him. There is just too much pent-up energy aching to burst out.

His head is slowly tilting back, erection almost rock-hard, and erratic exhales start breaking into moans. This is your cue. The perfect timing. You drop everything you were doing at once and pull yourself up into sitting between his legs, watching him break apart groaning and throwing his hips up in the air, finding nothing to help him finish. He was oh so close and you just denied him the much-awaited moment of bliss.

“Why must you be so cruel?” He loudly whimpers, shutting his eyes and rubbing his feet against the sheets in frustration.

“Cruel, my dear?” You climb over him and slide off the bed to pour yourself a glass of water from the pitcher. “I’m merely serving a fantasy. You know the words if it’s getting too...”

“No!” He interrupts and his wide red eyes meet yours. He adds a much softer, “please continue.”

You take a few sips of water and rest the glass back on a bedside table, inspecting the toys on display. You go for a small bottle of thick lube, a girthy glass butt plug and a strapless strap-on.

“Isn’t this exactly what you wanted? As I recall…”

You theatrically clear your throat to proceed with your best “Astarion” impression as you climb back on a bed armed with new tools to ruin him.

“I want you to torture me with pleasure, darling! Tease and edge me to your heart’s delight. Make me go feral for the sweetest release by the end of it…”

You prop one of the pillows under his ass for extra comfort and position yourself in between his slender legs. Then you gently tap him to spread wide open, knees bent high in the air. You generously coat your fingers in lube and start teasing his entrance and continue quoting him almost word for word.

“I know it may not be easy to achieve, unless you are, well, a seasoned professional like me,” you pause to imitate his high-pitched giggle. “But please make your best attempt.”

Astarion is taken aback by the sheer audacity of you mocking him like that, and can only watch your performance with his jaw open. You bend over and place the weight of your body on his chest getting your lips closer to whisper in his ear:

“…or something like that.”

Your index finger effortlessly slips inside, earning you his sweet gasp.

There is no rush as you slowly curl your digit inside him, kissing his neck and playfully nibbling on his earlobe. Soon enough, second finger joins the first and you feel Astarion’s calves brushing against your backside as he relaxes into the feeling of being stretched out. You raise yourself on one elbow to find his lips and start kissing tenderly, noses brushing together. You are eager to share just how much you’re pleased with him without any words.

He hums sweetly and wraps his legs around your waist when you carefully add a third finger in and push a little deeper inside. His cock is leaking precum on his abs, twitching against your lower belly.

“I’m so ready for you,” he rasps quietly, and you feel a rush of wetness, igniting your desire to give him everything you can. What did you do to deserve this world-endingly beautiful man melting under you like this?

You raise up and slide your fingers out carefully. While giving his shaft lazy pumps with one hand, you are fitting in the strap-on with the other. Even though a strapless variety is harder to keep in place, you appreciate extra feedback and pleasure it can provide. One more coat of lube for good measure and you are ready to invade his body again.

Taking it very slowly you line up the tip of your strap with his hole and dive in inch by inch, sending shivers up his spine. You give him a couple of seconds to adjust and then push under his knees encouraging Astarion to practically fold in half as you choose your preferred angle. Time to clench your pussy and get to work.

You are rolling your hips in rhythmic deep thrusts and manage to snake one hand in between your bodies to stroke him as well. The end of the strap within rubs deliciously against your tense walls. Sweet praises leave your lips as you fuck him gently.

“Such a good boy, taking me so well.”

“You look breathtaking just like this.”

“I love making you feel good.”

Doesn’t take too long until Astarion is reduced to sweat and loud whimpers, eyes shut and completely lost in his own world of rapture. He is about to fall over the edge at any second, arms grasping at the ropes that hold him in place, legs wrapped around your waist. You are not too far behind yourself and it's extremely tempting to just keep on going until it shatters you both into pieces.

You listen closely to his telltale signs not to miss the right moment. And then you pull out and break away from him. Again. This time he almost flies off the sheets after you. The whole bed frame shakes at his attempt to escape his restraints and chase you.

“Feeling feral enough, darling?” You pant heavily and toss aside the strap, brushing away strands of hair stuck to your face. A growl and flash of fangs is all you get as a reply.

“Shhh.. shh.. I just want to feel you inside me as you come undone.”

It almost feels like you are approaching an injured tiger as you try to get through to whatever humanity is still lingering in his brain.

“Allow me?” You show him the glass plug and he stills just enough for you to glide it inside, giving him at least some feeling of fullness back.

“Last thing I’m going to ask you to do…” You reach to free Astarion from leather cuffs while he practically burns holes in your face with a smoldering stare. “...is to fuck me however you want.”

You free up his right arm and he grabs your shoulder immediately, scrunching his own shirt roughly. Before you can even process what happened, you are pinned down on your back and have to somehow reach your arms from under him to get his other wrist. He is pushing your thighs apart urgently, lining himself as your fingers clumsily fiddle with the buckle on the other cuff.

Astarion shakes the damned thing off and holds you down in a squeezing embrace as he drives himself into your dripping wet pussy with a single powerful thrust, burying himself up to the very hilt. That hip-slapping entrance makes you see sparks and hold on to his back for dear life. Right away he sets a fast and punishing pace that makes the corners of your eyes water from intensity. His head drops to nuzzle your neck and send hot shaky breaths into your bare skin.

There is no holding back. Nothing, but pure animalistic lust as he rails you with vengeance. The sensation of being fucked helplessly like this is overwhelming and you feel him all over your sensitive spots, stretching you deep and to absolute capacity. Your legs start trembling and you are digging nails into his scarred back as he bites down on the curve where your neck meets the shoulder. And this mutual exchange of piercing pain is all it takes to finally finish you both.

You’ve never felt or heard either you or Astarion come so violently until tonight. Waves of orgasm hit you both like a screaming tsunami. If his undead vampire heart was still beating it would surely leap out of his chest right there and then, as he was spilling everything you made him hold back inside you, arms gripping even harder, fangs sinking deeply.

For a few moments it seems like you have merged into a single entity – one body and soul in a state of absolute incomprehensible mess, riding high on your climactic waves. When it’s over, you both are slowly coming back to your senses. Astarion carefully retracts his sharp canines from the wounds that guarantee to leave bruises and starts gulping your blood. His grip also softens, and you both enjoy the intimate closeness of him feeding on you for a bit, steadying your breaths. He laps and licks your puncture wounds, drawing just enough blood to make you feel a little dizzy, while satisfying his own urge to taste you.

“You alright, my love?” He is the first to check in, searching your eyes with a smidge of worry as he realises he may have been a little too wild, even by his own unhinged standards.

“I am great. This was incredible,” you manage a tired but happy smile and lazily run your fingers through his unruly curls while he pulls out of you, gets rid of the plug and tosses all the toys back on the bedside table. “How do you feel?”

“I’m not even sure how to put it all into words yet. It was liberating? Intense? Ecstatic? Certainly fun! I’ve never experienced anything like this before. You were amazing, thank you“ Astarion melts your soul with the softness of his gaze. A little pause and then it turns a little naughty. “And I will be asking for more. Although, we have to do something about your cute obsession with stealing my things before it gets out of hand.” He slightly tugs on the collar of his shirt you were wearing this whole time and smirks. You chuckle at his glowing review and pepper his face with small kisses.

Next few minutes are spent side by side cuddling, joking and whispering sweet nothings to each other, refusing to let go just yet.

“Darling, just how many lovers did you have to go through to get this good?”

“Not as many as you had to. I’m a natural, you see.”

“Oh, are you now?”

He purrs the question in your ear and playfully rolls on top, caging you with his limbs only to freeze a mere inch away from your lips, his face looking like he just remembered something mildly concerning.

“Where is His Majesty?”

“Oh shit, I locked him in the kitchen to spare us his judging gaze.”

“You did what?!”

“Hold on, I’ll let him out.”

You almost jump out of his embrace and quickly disappear to free the forgotten cat. A few loud disapproving hisses later that smug hairless bastard enters the bedroom like he owns the place, you are merely trailing behind. His Majesty gracefully leaps on a bed wasting no time to curl up next to his favourite elf. Astarion may be the only person in the entire Faerun, you are convinced, who somehow found a way to tame that ball of absolute feline sass.

“Natural, she says. Can you believe that woman?” He coos and kisses the cat's forehead.

His Majesty throws you one last glance before melting into Astarion’s hands as you crawl back under the blanket. You can’t help but adore these two cuddling in the most sickeningly sweet way possible. Even when these brats are seemingly plotting against you.

The last candles are blown out and the sunrise is fast approaching as all three of you settle to rest in one pile of blissful comfort, saving any worries, big or small, for later.

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