#Nearly every ask I’ve received I have a response to.

[charseraph]

Towers are a neolithic sophont race with two strains.

[lovelybucky1]

Nectar- Tommy Shelby x Reader

warnings: AFAB!reader, f receiving oral sex, fingering, mentions of masturbation, blasphemy kink, church sex, heavy religious themes, corruption kink, dirty talk, canon typical violence

masterlist

The church is quiet like it always is at this hour. The pews empty of parishioners, the confessionals vacant, and the lights dim. The priest and almost everyone in the neighborhood have long been in bed. You, however, were wide awake.

You’ve been working in the church since you were a girl, per your family’s wishes. It’s mostly charity work: caring for the sick, poor, orphans, and others in need. You also spend a fair amount of time working inside the church, cleaning and whatnot. It is fulfilling work, but it doesn’t offer much in terms of pay, so you don’t have much of a space to call your own. That is why you spend your nights in the empty church, alone save for the conversations you have with God.

Since you spend so much time in the church, you’re pretty familiar with the congregation. It’s not often you see a new face unless a new family moves to the city. When you heard the heavy oak doors open, you were expecting a devout Catholic in crisis, not the notorious crime boss, Tommy Shelby.

You watch from the first pew near the altar as he walks down the aisle toward you. His hat and coat are wet from the rain, and once he takes a seat a few rows behind you, he takes them off. You’re confused, wondering what he could be doing in your church in the middle of the night. Part of you feels nervous, knowing that danger never follows far behind a Peaky Blinder.

“Good evening, Mr. Shelby,” you decide to speak up, voice kind and sweet as always.

Tommy’s eyes flick to you, but his expression is unreadable. “I’m not dead yet, eh?” he says. You look closer at him and in the dim light, you can just make out the dried blood splattered on his face.

So maybe it isn’t a good evening. Nevertheless, he has come to a church and he is allowed sanctuary here. You make your way over to where he sits and you stand at the end of the row, obviously looking hesitant if his glance is anything to go by.

“Do you mind if I sit?” you ask. Instead of a response, he cocks his head to the side in a way that you’re interpreting as go ahead. You sit down, pressing your knees together to make yourself as small as possible. There is about a foot of space between the two of you, but even still, the proximity to him is overwhelming.

As the two of you sit in silence, your mind starts to wander. You know his Aunt Polly is Catholic; she frequents the church, though she never attends the services. You’ve overheard her prayers before, and you understand why she prefers to pray in private.

“Are you Catholic, Mr. Shelby?”

Your desire for conversation seems to surprise him. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye before he goes back to looking straight ahead at the altar. It takes him a few moments to respond, and you can see the inner battle on his face as he decides how to answer.

“No,” he says.

“I see. Your Aunt is, though. I see her nearly every day.”

“And she’s a fool for it.” The bitter tone he takes only gives you more questions.

“I take it you don’t believe in God?”

“You’re quite inquisitive,” he says, shooting you a look. “God abandoned me long ago.”

You sigh. Many of the men held the same sentiment after they came back from the war. The horrors they experienced in France, the death and destruction took the fear of God away from these men. Now, all they fear is each other.

“It’s never too late to find him again,” you offer. Tommy lets out a dry, humorless chuckle in response. “You can still be saved.”

“I’m past the point of saving. I’ve got a spot in hell waiting for me.”

You frown at that. “God is all about forgiveness. God will even forgive men like you as long as you accept him.”

“What’s the point in asking forgiveness if I don’t indent on stopping?” he asks, leaning back in his seat, making himself look more intimidating. “And what do you mean, men like me?”

As if someone dumped a bucket of ice water on you, you immediately realize your mistake.

“I didn’t mean to offend you, sir. I just meant men in your… line of work,” you say, trying to backtrack.

“And what line of work is that?”

Tommy is sitting up now, leaning just slightly closer to you. Now that he is fully facing you, you can see the blood on his face, but by the lack of injuries he has, you’re suspecting it’s not his. His gaze is piercing as he stares into your eyes, smirking as he waits for you to respond.

“I-I don’t know.” With a small, satisfied smirk, Tommy leans back again. “I’m just saying, sir, you haven’t strayed too far from God’s light.”

That makes him chuckle again. “I see. So all I have to do is absolve myself, right? Confess my sins and I’ll be God’s child once again?”

He’s toying with you now. He wants to see if you are devoted enough to your God that you’d try to convince the biggest sinner in the city to become a religious man.

“That’s right,” you smile softly, still hesitant from your previous slip-up.

“Can I confess to you?” he asks.

“I’m not the priest-”

“I want to do this now. I want to find God.” His voice is so earnest that you believe him.

“Okay,” you agree. It’s about confessing to God, the person doesn’t matter. “We can go to the confessionals.” You begin to stand, but he stops you by grabbing your wrist.

“That’s far too formal, don’t you think? We can do it right here,” he says, the faintest look of mischief in his eyes.

You nod and sit back down, folding your hands onto your lap. Tommy slides off the bench and sinks to his knees on the floor, hands clasped in front of him.

“Bless me, for I have sinned,” he begins, looking into your eyes. “It’s been many years since my last confession. In my time away I’ve done many bad things, terrible things, that make me ashamed to look in the mirror. I’ve lied, stolen, scammed, and gambled. I live a life of deceit and greed, and I’ve found great success in doing so, but those are not the sins that weigh heaviest on me.”

You watch him intently as he speaks, your eyes tracing every word his mouth forms. Your heart begins to beat quicker in your chest; the idea that you’re getting access to information only meant for God makes you feel guilty, but it’s also exciting in a strange way.

“I’ve taken many lives. During the war, I was ordered to, but I continued once I came home. I’ve killed in every way imaginable. Shot in the head, slitting their throat, hanging, drowning, burning, suffocating. I’ve had men ripped apart for betraying me, and I did not feel remorse. I watched these men suffer as my men tortured them. I laughed as they pleaded for God to save them.”

Tommy doesn’t look as remorseful as most do when they’re confessing their terrible sins. He almost looks proud, like he’s bragging about them to you as you squirm under his gaze. The graphic descriptions he’s offering make you uncomfortable like your skin is too tight on your bones. Like he’s corrupting you just by having you listen to his tales.

There is a blaze behind his light blue eyes that captivate as much as they scare you. They bore into your soul and peel back the layers, revealing all of your inner thoughts. It makes you want to run away screaming, to pray for God to rid this world of the devil in front of you but you’re stuck, frozen in front of him as he confesses.

Tommy takes a breath as if what he is going to say next brings him great shame. As if he hasn’t already confessed the worst sins man could commit.

“Perhaps worst of all, I lust. I lust after women and I envy men with beautiful wives to the point I take them for myself. I’ve had many married women in my bed, as well as hers. I fuck whores too, but only the pretty ones. And they can’t be cheap, because those women can’t keep a secret. I don’t only fuck them in the bed. I’ve fucked in my office, my car, and my pub. It doesn’t matter who these women are, but once I have my sights set on them, I am determined to get what I want.”

The confessions about his sex life shock you. Of course, you know people have pre-marital sex and affairs are common, but you’ve spent your life in the church. You don’t hear of these things frequently, and you feel bashful because of his vulgar words. Tommy holds eye contact with you as he speaks, though you find it difficult to meet his eyes.

Your body betrays you now; you’re unsure how to react. You should be scared, you are scared. There is a murderer less than two feet from you, splattered with someone else’s blood. However, he has a soothing, gentle voice, kind eyes, and a soft smile. It’s hard to believe that the man on his knees praying to God is a monster, but you find it harder to believe that there is a heat growing between your thighs from his confessions.

The vivid images of Tommy with some faceless woman play in your mind. You imagine the way he’d look lost in pleasure, carefree and blissful. You imagine how his rough hands, which are currently clasped together, would feel on your skin. You imagine how his voice would sound in your ear, how his lips would feel as he whispers.

Your heartbeat picks up in your chest, a physical reaction from the fantasies. Your skin feels hot, burning with shame as you pray that Tommy doesn’t notice your current state.

“And finally, I’d like forgiveness for lusting after the church girl who was stupid enough to think she could show me the light,” he says, hands now dropped at his side and gaze predatory.

Entranced by his words, you didn’t notice how close he had leaned in, now only inches from your face. Your breath hitches in your throat and for a split-second, you think you see Tommy’s eyes on your lips.

“Sir?” you ask, voice no more than a squeak.

“I appreciate your efforts, dear, but I sold my soul many years ago.”

Tommy’s eyes are sharp and his grin is wide as he leans closer to you. He has lured you into his trap and you fell for it like a fool. Now, helpless and trapped, he is going to swallow you whole. Your heartbeat throbs in your ears, almost downing out his sweet, deep voice.

Tommy places his hands on your knees, and even through the fabric of your skirt, you can feel the coolness of his skin. The touch, although not sexual in nature, electrifies you. A shiver runs down your spine and Tommy must notice if the slight smirk is anything to go by.

“Are you alright?” he asks, a teasing lilt to his voice.

“Yes,” you choke out.

“Would you mind helping me?”

You furrow your brow, now much more hesitant to do anything for him. Your heart is still hammering in your chest and you’re certain you are trembling slightly.

“With what?” you manage to ask. Somehow, even on his knees below you, Tommy makes you feel small.

“I need something new to worship,” he says.

Tommy slides his hands down your claves until he reaches the hem of your dress, which he then pushes up to reveal your stockinged legs. He gently guides your knees apart and you allow him until you feel too exposed. You resist against him and he looks up at you with a questioning look.

“I-I can’t,” you say.

“You can lie to yourself, you can lie to God, but you can’t lie to me,” Tommy says, grasp still from on your knees but no longer pushing. “You want this.”

You look away, over your left shoulder as you try to hold onto any of the values you held before Tommy entered the church. You’re saving yourself for marriage, and even worse, you hadn’t formally met Tommy before tonight. There’s no love, no future, between the two of you. It goes against everything you have been taught since you were a girl, but he is appealing to the primal side of you. The side of you that slips your fingers underneath your nightgown after you say your nightly prayers. The side of you that allows your eyes to linger on the men in the chuch during service, even as their wives and children sit beside them.

Tommy is not putting the thoughts of sin in your head, he is simply tempting you to act upon the urges you have felt for years.

“You’re the devil,” you whisper.

“And you’re the fuckin’ Virgin Mary,” he counters. “You spend all your life worrying about what’s going to happen when you die. How about I show you what it’s like to live, eh?”

You set your jaw, trying to save a bit of your dignity before you give the man on the floor permission to debase you. You squeeze your eyes shut and nod your head, but that is not enough for Tommy.

“I need to hear you say it.”

You wonder if he is really concerned with how much you want this, or if this is just another power move. You swallow thickly and resolve yourself to the reality of the situation: if you want anything from the devil with the silver tongue, you’ll have to play his game.

“I want it.”

You’re Eve, and you have just been tempted to take a bite out of the apple by the snake.

With a wicked grin, Tommy presses a kiss to the inside of your knee and, embarrassingly, the contact makes you jolt. He removes your shoes, unbuckling them quickly and with ease, then placing them underneath the pew. His hands reach up your skirt to grab ahold of the top of your stocking. He gently rolls them down your smooth leg and pulls it off your foot before turning his attention to the other one.

It is unnecessary for him to undress you like this, especially when your stockings wouldn’t be an obstacle. There is something about being unusually bare in a church that makes you ache with guilt, and Tommy must know that. He seems like he knows everything.

He bunches the skirt around your upper thighs and he spreads your legs farther. This time, you don’t resist. You swear you see his mouth water when he catches a glimpse of your white knickers, pristine and perfect like a good girl should wear.

“What a precious little thing you are,” he grins.

Tommy ducks his head and drags his nose along your inner thigh until he reaches your clothed mound. He presses his face between your legs and takes a long, slow inhale like he’s smoking a cigarette. His fingers press firmly into your legs and you’re certain you will have bruises left behind. You should be upset about that but truthfully, you’ve longed for something like this.

Tommy’s fingers find the edge of your panties and gently push them to the side, exposing your pussy to the church air. Your breath hitches in your throat and you watch as he stares shamelessly at you. He swipes his finger through your folds to gather your wetness on his fingertip. He brings his hand back to show your desire glistening in the dim light.

“What’s all this?” he asks smugly.

“Don’t make fun of me,” you huff.

“Oh love, I’m not making fun. I think it’s sweet how worked up you got over nothin’.”

Tommy leans in again and his hot breath fans over your cunt, which now feels cool from being in the open. You shiver with anticipation as he nears, and your body jolts when his tongue makes contact with you. It’s a light, barely there touch but it sends an electric shock through you and elicits an embarrassing moan.

You hear him chuckle, but he doesn’t stop or say anything else. He licks a stripe from your entrance to your clit, then back down. Your hands twitch at your sides, fighting back the urge to grab him, not wanting to show how much you’re enjoying his torture. He knows, of course.

He works you up slowly, not giving too much attention to one spot, not making you too sensitive. You keep your attention focused on him, watching intently as he pleasures you. You don’t even feel the sting of his nails digging into your thighs when he sucks on your clit.

“Sir, please, this is wrong,” you try to reason, but your broken, airy voice sends a different message. You don’t want him to stop, you’d probably cry if he did, but it’s still wrong. It’s still a sin.

You hold on tightly to the edge of the wooden bench to ground yourself so you don’t get lost in the pleasure. Part of you realizes how ridiculous this situation is: a notorious gangster eating out an innocent little church girl. Another part of you couldn’t give less of a shit and just wants to cum.

“Mr. Shelby, please,” you whine. It’s unclear if you’re begging for more or to stop, but Tommy doesn’t seem to care either way. He’s going to give you what he wants and nothing more, nothing less.

He slides two fingers into your soaking cunt and curls them against that spot deep inside of you that makes your toes curl. He fucks you with his fingers and works your clit with his tongue, and you feel yourself nearing the edge faster than you ever have before.

You build up to your peak, and after a particularly harsh suck to your clit, you begin to cum. Your orgasm shutters through you, making your legs twitch on his shoulders. You let out an unintelligible whine as you grip the bench. Despite having cum, Tommy doesn’t let up on his assault. He continues to suck on your over sensitive clit until you’re shrieking and pushing his head away.

He chuckles and sits back on his heels, looking at you with a glistening face. He makes a show of pushing up his sleeve and wiping his face with the back of his hand. You want to close your legs to stop the cool air from hitting your sensitive cunt, but he is still in the way, keeping you exposed.

“Nectar of the gods in there,” he smirks, glancing down at your soaked pussy.

Without another word, he stands up. He picks up his hat and coat, and begins to walk down the aisle, leaving you alone.

“Wait,” you say, voice echoing in the church. He stops and turns around, eyebrow raised. “That’s it?”

“What more do you want?” he asks.

“What about you?”

Tommy chuckles. “Such a generous soul. I’ll take care of it myself, love. You just get to prayin’. We did a lot of sinning you have to repent for.”

You sigh and nod. “Will I see you again?”

“If I decide to become a priest,” he says with a smirk before turning on his heel and continuing out the door.

You know Tommy Shelby will never turn to priesthood, but you do have a feeling he’s found something in the church worth coming back for.

my inbox is open for requests!

[princesspae]

until i found you.

eddie munson x shy!reader

eddie munson knew everyone in the small town of hawkins, indiana. or at least he thought he did. it was a normal tuesday at hawkins high school when eddie was sitting with his friends from the hellfire club discussing the next campaign as per usual in the school cafeteria. he was laughing at a stupid joke one of the boys made before his eyes landed upon what he believed to be the most beautiful girl his cynical eyes have ever come across. she was sitting at a lunch table by herself with a chapter book in front of her and she seemed greatly interested in whatever she was reading. her eyebrows were furrowed and her tongue poked out of her mouth as she read what was in front of her. 

eddie knew it was weird to stare, but he just could not help himself. “dude, what are you staring at…oh god” dustin henderson trailed off as he watched eddie get up from his seat and make his way over to the girl’s table. the hellfire club watched in anticipation, wondering which way this was going to go. eddie sat down in front of her and she pulled her attention from the book in front of her. even up close, she was just as beautiful. she watched as his chocolate brown eyes widened and he gulped a bit. “i-uh… what are you reading?” he asked nervously as he fiddled with the rings on his fingers. 

she could feel her heartbeat quicken with each second. she never would have thought that the cutest guy in school would just walk up to her and start a conversation. “um..the princess bride.” she spoke. her voice was so soft and sweet, eddie swore he could have collapsed right then and there. they sat there for a split second, gazing into each other’s eyes. at that moment, it didn’t even feel like they were in public. “i-i’m eddie by the way. leader of the infamous hellfire club” he introduced. she smiled. a beautiful genuine smile. 

“yes, the hellfire club. i’ve seen you guys around” she said. eddie felt his heart immediately skip a beat. “you’ve seen us around, huh? don’t know how i could miss such a beautiful face” he smirked. he watched as her cheeks tinted a light red shade and she looked down at her closed book with a smile on her face. “you’re cute” she chuckled. her eyes immediately widened at the words that slipped past her lips while eddie smiled so hard his dimples were visible. 

“hm.. well, you think i’m cute and i think you’re absolutely breathtaking so..would you wanna get some coffee with me sometime?” eddie asked, holding in a nervous breath. her heart was doing somersaults at this point. she’d had a crush on the metalhead since the beginning of her freshman year and now, here she was being asked out by him. eddie waited for her response with a heart full of hope. she nodded her head. “i’d love to” she smiled and eddie let out that breath he was keeping in. “good, good..i’m glad” he smiled at her.

it was that exact weekend they went on their coffee date. they talked and got to know each other to the point where there was nothing left to tell. eddie admired her love for books and cliche movies while she admired his love for music and dungeons and dragons. ever since that date, their friendship grew quickly. it seemed that no matter where eddie was, you could always find her by his side, following him around like a lost puppy. and eddie absolutely adored it. he never thought a girl would enjoy being around him as much as she did. 

she didn’t care for the way people viewed him. she didn’t care for the weird looks she received from other students in the hallways. to the town, he was a “freak”. but to her, he was the sweetest angel she had ever crossed paths with. and eddie seemed to grow fiercely protective of her once he came to notice how emotionally sensitive she could be and how she wasn’t necessarily a social butterfly. after a few months of hanging out nearly every day, their friendship started to change. but not in a negative way. they both looked at each other in a way he didn’t understand. it was a look of admiration and love. one day after school, eddie drove her to lovers lake where he already had a picnic laid out on the grass with a soft blanket. 

he held her hand as they walked over to the little setup. they sat there until the sun began to set. they talked, laughed, ate snacks, and flirted with each other. as she stared at the beautiful sunset, eddie took this as a chance to make his move. he gently put a finger under her chin and turned her head softly to look at him.

 he didn’t miss the way her cheeks turned a light shade of pink. “can I kiss you?” he asked. their faces were so close that their lips were already brushing. she almost immediately nodded her head. “yeah..please” her voice came out in almost a whisper. in that moment with their lips pressed against each other, eddie swore he could melt. he loved how soft her lips were. how perfectly they both moved together in sync when kissing. “i never thought i’d ever fall in love until i found you” he mumbled with a smile as his forehead rested on hers.

just wanna say, i haven’t written anything in such a long time so, i’m so sorry if this is horrible. but thank you for taking the time to read it ♡

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

I’ve binge read your blog tonight! Amazing! I was hoping your requests are open if not please ignore this message 😊

What about astarion x tav reader , who’s an artist - astarion who’s dying to look in a mirror but she depicts him perfectly , possibly angst to fluff? Feel free to take this prompt any which way, I thought this would be wholesome 😊

Aww, that's so cute!

This reminds me of that comic that's floating around here with Tav drawing him and Astarion, not knowing what he looks like anymore, looking over their shoulder like "ooooh you got a crush on this random man we don't know. who is he?" So I mixed that vibe in here!

This is set just a bit before he realizes he's in love with you because I love that for him.

~

Astarion wasn't worried. He wasn't obsessed, he was just intrigued. Curious even, mildly perplexed at worst. Because he had no idea why he kept catching you drawing the same elf time and time again. And you refused to tell him why.

Now, in all fairness you did occasional sketch out other members of your group. Not everyone, just the few who had the patience to stay still while you worked. Wyll, Shadowheart, Halsin. It was a passion of yours, your art, something that Astarion always liked about you. It helped that you were fantastic at it. You're drawings were so life-like, capturing nearly every feature on their faces. They always left Astarion sincerely impressed, the few times he had managed to see them. Because for someone so talented, you were oddly secretive about your sketchbook.

Now that didn't exactly stop Astarion from seeing them. There were the times he would shamelessly watch you over your shoulder, only leaving when you noticed him and started flailing to cover up your work. He also took the opportunity to occasionally steal it from your tent while you were gone without him, a consequence of you trusting him. He had warned you about that, hadn't he?

You really did create beautiful work. From picturesque scenery to your famous portraits. Though it seemed you had a favorite subject, that damned unnamed elf. You knew the man well enough to draw him from memory it seemed, because Astarion would have remembered running into that face.

Why you never asked the man you're sleeping with to model for you instead of this stranger, he wasn't quite sure. But it was starting to bother him. It didn't help that he was objectively handsome, attractive in a semi-mysterious way. It was even worse that you would start blushing and stuttering whenever he asked about him. You wouldn't even give him a name, just vague stumblings.

"He's um, from Baldur's Gate," You had mentioned once, completely avoiding Astarion's eyes, "It's um. Not important."

"So you'll be introducing us soon then?" Astarion had asked, half-hopeful that you'd deny it. His life would be a lot easier if the mystery man turned out to be a long-dead lover.

But instead you just gave him a shaky nod, "I-sure. Y-Yeah. One day."

And you had left it at that, staying infuriatingly vague whenever he brought the subject up.

Astarion wasn't worried. He wasn't. Or maybe he was, purely off the fact that it couldn't be healthy to be so obsessed with one man's face. Especially if the man in question wasn't him.

Astarion was aware that he was attractive. He had to be for everything he'd gotten away with over the years. But he literally could not know how he matched up to this... random stranger. Who, by the way, had done nothing to help you while you had a mind flayer parasite trapped in your head. Astarion certainly had that over him at least. But he wasn't quite sure if he matched up in... other areas.

Astarion wasn't exactly used to being self-conscious. At least not when it came to his appearance. The ability had been taken away from the second Cazador got his fangs into his neck. He still thought about it, often in fact, that he had no idea what he looked like. But the enamored responses he usually received by existing quelled most worries.

Now though... now he had to wonder. And he wasn't a fan of the feeling.

He hadn't wanted to ask for your help in seeing himself, he was hoping that you would have offered on your own by now. But since that was clearly not happening, Astarion had to bring matters into his own hands.

He watched as you fiddled away in your sketchbook, suddenly obsessed with replicating the tassels on his favorite pillow. According to you it was one of the few things you didn't know how to draw perfectly, despite it looking just fine to everyone else. Astarion supposed that the artist mind just worked in mysterious, semi-frustrating ways. Ways that he frankly did not understand.

"How would you feel about drawing me sometime?" Astarion asked suddenly, his brows going up to his hairline at how the simple question made you flinch, "No offense darling but I do believe I'm more interesting than a few tufts of string."

You weren't looking at him as you answered, still scribbling away with now-shaky hands, "I-um, I'm not sure if you'd want me to-"

"Why ever not? Frankly my dear I'm a little offended you haven't asked me to model. It would be nice to be aware of what my own face looked like."

That at least got your eyes up. You looked oddly guilty, fiddling with your pencil, "I-shit. I'm sorry. I should have thought about that."

"It's fine," Astarion said with a wave of his hand. He was used to being a last priority, he didn't take offense, "Besides, you can make it up to me now. What do you say?"

You swallowed, avoiding his eyes as you nodded, "Y-Yeah. I can do that. Um, sit up a little for me?"

Astarion listened, excitement starting to crawl up his spine. He was actually going to see his own face again, for the first time in centuries. All because of the person he love-cared for. Cared for deeply. Who still made him borderline beg for the privilege but oh well. Beggars couldn't be choosers. He had learned that lesson many times.

It took a long time before you were finished, nearly three hours. Not that he minded, if anything he appreciated how seriously you were taking it. And who knows. Maybe if his face managed to be interesting enough, you'd abandon your other muse in favor of him. He could only hope.

"Okay," You said eventually, setting your pencil to the side, "It's done. But... just don't laugh, okay?"

Astarion barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes, "Is my appearance that amusing?"

"No but-gods, here. Just look at it," You said, tossing the sketchbook to him, "Be gentle."

Astarion caught it, excited to hells and back as he looked down. Only to find the exact same elf he'd been seeing for weeks. Except this was more detailed than all of the ones from before. He could see... everything. The scars from that dreaded first night with Cazador, two barely there moles on the right side of his face, the exact flow of his hair. He was beautiful, a fact he was aware of, but it was still nice to see. He just... hadn't realized how many times he had seen it.

Astarion swallowed, looking up at you with wide eyes, "You've been drawing me? This whole time? I've been your 'mystery man' from Baldur's gate?"

You shrugged, picking on a string on your pants instead of looking at him, "You make a good subject. And we spend a lot of time together. And... I should have told you when you first saw it. But I just...." You trailed off with a sigh, finally gathering your courage enough to look him in the eye, "I didn't want to freak you out. I know it's a bit... creepy. I guess I didn't want you to know just... how obsessed I was. Or am."

It made sense. In all honesty, the Astarion from mere months ago probably would have found a way to find offense. But now it just felt... sweet. It made him feel warm, and incredibly idiotic. Here he had been, fretting over his non-existent competition. While this whole time he was the one constantly invading your mind. It was a strangely validating feeling. Almost like maybe... you would still want him when all of this was said and done.

He hadn't started this relationship with that in mind. In a perfect world, he'd use you to kill Cazador, cure himself of the tadpoles, gain his own freedom, then be on his merry way, you're feelings on the matter be damned. And he was actualizing that plan perfectly, if this new news was anything to go by.

So why was it suddenly making him feel ill? You had been nothing but kind to him. Accepting, trusting, all to someone who deserved less than dirt. And what would this all end in. Him abandoning you after everything you'd done?

Or maybe... it was about leaving before you had the chance to do the same.

"Do... do you not like it?" You asked, obviously nervous at his stunned silence. But it at least snapped him out of his own thoughts.

Astarion rushed to shake his head, going as far as to move to sit next to you. He took one of your hands in his, feeling uncomfortably sincere as he spoke, "I love it. Thank you for doing this for me. Thank you for all of them. I am more than happy to be your muse darling. There's nothing I'd like more."

"Really?" You asked, looking so hopeful it made his heart clench in his chest.

"Really," Astarion said, moving to cup your cheek, "But I will be expecting payment for my services. I hope you realize you'll be sleeping here tonight."

"No complaints here," You murmured, right before his lips touched yours. You were smiling into the kiss, sweet enough to make Astarion want to scream.

Just what had he gotten himself into with you?

[juneknight]

Hand Covers Mouth

Kink: sex pollen/aphrodisiac

About this: Takes place during canon events, Steven/fem!reader, Marc/fem!reader.

*

Let’s split up, Layla had said. She tacked on a hurried, ‘You with Steven? Be careful!’ before nearly sprinting off down a tunnel, leaving you (her scowling friend) and Steven (a mesmerized puppy) alone in a sandy tomb.

Look, you understood it was complex. Steven shared a body with her (soon to be? Possibly?) ex-husband, after all; but in your mind, that gave her even more of a reason to be the one responsible for him. Absently, your hand reaches down to lay your palm on the holster where your gun rests. You have no doubt that Harrow’s minions would kill without qualm. While you would not find it so easy to digest, you would do whatever you had to, to keep yourself safe.

To keep Steven safe. No matter what—

“What are you doing?” you ask at a frantic whisper. Steven is barely visible in the darkness where he is brushing sand and dust, centuries of time away from the hieroglyphics on the wall.

He glances back over his shoulder at you, giving you his typical expression of an adorable animal who fears they are about to be on the receiving end of a harsh kick in the rump, but who is so thrilled by their own discovery that they hardly care. He points to the wall.

“Reading these hieroglyphics,” says Steven. “Think they might be important.”

You glance toward the wall. You are not like Steven or Layla, able to read the symbols. You did not have the same practical and personal education which they had so tediously earned for themselves over the years. At the base of the wall sits a gilded table, the bottom of each leg morphing into the paw of some great cat. Some of the items around it are unrecognizable, turned to rubble, after so many years. But resting on top of it, there are a set of neat little figurines inlaid with moldavite, glittering black in the darkness.

“You don’t think—the ushabti?”

“Not likely,” Steven admits with a frown. “But some of the wall has crumbled here, can’t make out the rest, can I? It does say that this is powerful. Maybe we should take these to Layla and have her look at them.”

You fight the urge to scowl again. Layla. Steven was always trailing after Layla…

Alright, perhaps you had another reason for being so sour at Steven’s mention of your closest friend. How could you help being enamored with him, with his big brown eyes, with his undying enthusiasm, with his gentle heart and scathing wit? But Steven didn’t look at you like that. He was always too busy looking at Layla.

When you look at him, the expression of hope on his face is painful. You do your best to bite back any sarcastic or caustic replies. He truly doesn’t deserve them. It isn’t his fault he doesn’t reciprocate your feelings.

“We don’t have time to hunt down Layla with every artifact we find,” you remind him gently. “And we don’t have time to search every little artifact for significance, either.”

He leans against the wall, like some suave Don Juan from a movie.

“Life’s about stopping to smell the roses, love, or stopping to find the roses if no roses immediately present—oh—oh bugger.” Steven slips, more of the wall crumbling away beneath the weight of his elbow. He stumbles into the little golden table—and off go all three of the little figurines, smashing into brittle pieces on the stone floor, the sound deafening in the silence around you.

“Oh my gods,” Steven says, both hands coming up to clutch at his curls. “Oh no, I deserve prison. Oh look what I’ve done—these were thousands of years old and I just destroyed them—”

“Steven—” Your words die in your throat. Your heart begins to race, breathing becoming fast and shallow. He looks up at you from where he has knelt on the floor in anxious guilt over the figurines, and you see something in his eyes which you can’t identify. Something sharp. Something hungry.

Then he blinks.

In the distance, you hear the sound of voices calling, none of them the familiar timber of Layla. He reaches out with the reflexes of a snake and grabs you around the waist, dragging you down to his position. One hand—warm, tasting faintly of sweat and sand—clamps over your mouth as he drags you back against his body, making both of your positions smaller as you hide behind a pillar.

Against your back, he is hard.

“Quit it,” he hisses lowly in your ear, and that’s when you realize that it isn’t Steven at all. That posh British accent has dissolved into something relaxed and loose, a Chicagoan accent that you’ve never heard before but would recognize anywhere. Marc. His words register secondarily, and you realize that you are writhing against him, literally arching your back to try to rub your aching cunt against the hard line of his cock.

A whine slips past his hand, and he lets out an angry, shaking breath against the crook of your neck. His free hand reaches around and slips right down the front of your pants. By the time he is cupping your sex with his broad palm, you are soaking wet, aching, already working towards that blissful crest even with the only stimulation being in your own mind.

“It must have been an aphrodisiac,” Marc whispers, barely audible over the raging pulse in your ears. “If I give you some fingers, can you be quiet until they’re gone?”

You nod, exaggeratedly. Truthfully, you aren’t sure. You just know that you would say anything, agree to anything to have any one of his fingers inside you.

He gives you two. You cum straight away, eyes rolling back, pussy clenching around his digits tightly. Marc gives a choked breath at the sensation of your walls squeezing and squeezing his fingers. His hips work once, twice, three times against the curve of your ass and then he stiffens himself, a breathless, nearly inaudible sound of pleasure passing through his lips.

The sweetest fucking sound you’ve ever heard.

The voices in the distance begin to fade away—the sweetest silence.

Then you have a mouthful of sand, Marc’s hand between your shoulder blades pinning you into the ground. You hear the clinking of his belt as he frantically tries to loosen it, and you wiggle your hands beneath you looking for the fasten of your own pants.

“Didn’t want it to go like this,” he says through clenched teeth. You can’t even imagine his expression: something hard and desperate. You wonder if he took over for Steven forcefully or if Steven retreated, anxious at the potent desire that the aphrodisiac evoked in him. “Didn’t want our first time to be like this—”

“Is he okay?” you whisper, working your pants and underwear down at once, arching your back for him. He still has on his boxers, but he’s grown desperate: hands gripping your hips, thighs snapping against the back of your own as he simulates sex with you. Marc makes a perplexed sound. Fuck, his cock feels good, even covered by soft cotton that you’re drenching with your own slick. You struggle for a moment to remember your question. “Steven—is he okay?”

“Steven is—fucking great,” Marc says, laughing a little derisively. “Trust me. Steven’s been wanting to fuck you since the moment he saw you. There’s a little place in my head where’s he’s beating off furiously, I’m sure—”

“You’re such a dick,” you gasp.

“I’ll show you dick, gonna give you mine,” he mutters through his teeth, finally working down his boxers. “Gonna fuck that girlish expression you give Steven all the time right off your face, gonna make it so every time you look at him, you’re thinking about how good my cock fills you.”

“His cock,” you breathe, arching your back more, fingers curling in the sand and scratching the stone beneath. “His cock too.”

“Yeah yeah,” says Marc testily, finally resting the head of his cock at your entrance. He slips in with one devastating, life-changing thrust. “We’ll test that theory when I let him out for his turn.”

[urhoneycombwitch]

lulu idk how to properly explain it but “is that how you usually get out of these situations? by fucking your way out of them?” rly screams reader teasing steve when they’re hooking up post- or mid-s4. something very goofy but also a little angsty abt it… because you both know he shouldn’t have gotten out of these situations but he somehow has. this while they’re having passionate rushed life affirming sex 🫶🏻if that makes any sense hehe xox han

foreword: Han I can’t tell u how perfect this is for the drabble I’ve been planning in my head for days now. paying homage to S4 Steve with this one!!! (4 u my beloved @stevenose )

wc: 1.4k

cw: hurt/comfort, oral (R receiving), description of injuries, lightly unresolved angst

___

Something’s different, this time.

You can feel it in the way Steve touches you, a bit rougher around the edges, crowding you back against your bedroom wall, stealing the breath from your lungs with the force of his kisses.

He’s adhering to the routine, still, can’t really fault him for his hunger- it’s been two weeks since he’s been by; you figured he was busy with trying to find a new job after the mall fire and plus, Steve’s not the calling type. Not with you, at least.

Which is fine. It’s been a cordial friends-with-benefits, emphasis on the benefits, since your collective senior years. After Nancy Wheeler dumped the King of Hawkins High, you were the one to pick up the pieces. It’s been a mutually beneficial arrangement for the last few years, a familiar fling to expend pent-up energy with no strings attached.

Steve’s always been a really attentive sexual partner (has you to thank for that, really- you fucked him when he was still spoilt high school royalty, all bravado but none of the skills to back it up until he was taught), but the way he’s looking at you now, like he’s hungry, has you squirming.

“What?” he asks, between kisses with tongue that part past the seam of your lips. “What’s up, hm?”

Steve’s hands are splayed on the wall at either side of your head, his eyes lust-blown, black nearly overtaking amber irises. You shift against the steady weight of his body against yours, slipping your hand up up up to cup the side of his face.

“This new?” Your thumb catches the white-lined split of his lower lip.

Steve kisses your fingertip, dismissive. “Doesn’t hurt any more. Don’t worry about it.”

“That’s not an answer,” you start, but Steve sighs so piteously and with such conviction that you kiss him again.

It’s not like he hasn’t shown up with minor injuries, before- there was a month straight where he had a new bruise every few day. He was squirrely about their origins and then they faded and you forgot all about them.

You’re finding it hard to hold on to any strand of coherency now as Steve takes the skin of your neck between his teeth, denim-clad knee slotting at the apex of your bare thighs; He’s still fully dressed, while you’re down to just undies and bra.

Half a bra, now, as Steve slips one of the straps from your shoulder to release a breast, dipping down to suck your nipple into his mouth.

You hiss when there’s a flash of teeth, hands shooting to grip Steve by the long strands of his auburn hair. He moans in response, vibrations sending shockwaves to your core, hips bucking to grind into his waiting thigh.

Steve kisses across your chest, hands sliding up your back to undo the bra clasp. He drops it to the floor, then latches on to your other nipple, cheeks hollowing out with the force of his suction.

You can feel the ridge of his split lip. When you tug at his hair, hard enough to tip his head back, he comes off your nipple with a wet pop.

“What?” He whines it, this time, petulant, pawing at your lower back to take more of your weight onto his knee. “Honey, what? Jus’ lemme take care of you, for chrissake.”

Steve buries his grumbling into your clavicle as you pet through his hair, caution in your tone as you say, “Heard about the mall fire last week.”

“Yeah. Crazy news for a small town, huh.” Steve doesn’t even pretend to sound interested, instead sinking to his knees and pressing your hips flat to the wall with his big hands.

“Thought maybe you’d tell me-” sentence bisected by a brief gasp as Steve noses into your clothed pussy, stuttering out the end- “-a-about it.”

“Nothin’ to tell, angel,” Steve says, pulling your underwear down and off your legs before sliding a hand under your knee and slotting it over his shoulder.

He leans in, nose bumping into your aching clit, tongue wet and warm at your entrance.

Any argument that you’d been leading up to is erased from your mind the second he starts sliding his tongue in and out of you, strong and quick, wetness gushing out to greet him.

“Steve-”

He places a hand over your stomach, thumb deftly finding the pulse of your clit and rubbing in tight circles, and you’re gone- thighs trembling around his ears, stomach muscles rippling under his palm as your orgasm curls you inwards.

Steve coaxes you through it with his mouth and fingers, wringing out every last bit of pleasure. He leaves a trail of wet kisses as he ascends your body, a sharp-sweet tang of you as he licks into your mouth again.

“On the bed,” he says, voice low. Half-lidded eyes watch you obey.

In the few seconds that it takes Steve to close the distance, some of the fog clears from your mind, hand at the middle of Steve’s chest before you get flattened on the mattress and really lose all sense of decency. “Hold on. You’re not even gonna take off your shirt?”

He grins, all charm, leaning some weight into your hand- “Could be kinda kinky. See if you can make me cream my jeans. It’s your favorite pastime, after all.”

Your resolve is nearly gone as you pull him in by a fistful of shirt to keep kissing him- but when your other hand trails up his ribs and Steve flinches away, your blood runs cold.

“Steve.” It comes out more authoritative than you mean it, but you figure firmness over fear is preferable right now, so you don’t soften. “Take off your shirt. Now.”

He straightens with an eye roll, but when he sees that you’re not fucking around, he sighs and reaches behind his neck for the collar of his shirt. “Fine. But I’m not too pretty after boxing, last week, you should just know th-”

Steve’s cut off by your sharp intake of breath, your eyes roving over his bare torso for the first time that night.

Even in the soft light of your bedside lamp, it’s bad. The left side of his ribs are mottled with bruising, some areas wine-purple, yellows and greens wisping around his waist.

You shove at his shoulder, and he half-acquiesces, letting you catch sight of a bootprint in the tender flesh of his lower back before knocking your hand away, gently- “Hey- they’re fine now, okay? I’m not hurting any more. Took some Tylenol before this, so I-”

“That is so not the point.” On your feet now, arms crossed over your chest, tears springing to your eyes- “Bullshit you got all that from boxing. These are like- like hospital-grade injuries, Steve.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, sits on the edge of your bed, still in his jeans- “I know, sweetheart. I got checked out by the paramedics, at the mall- they said there’s nothing to do but wait it out.”

You step closer, until you’re between his parted knees, his hands coming to rest on your bare hips again as you say, quiet and hurt- “You weren’t gonna even tell me? About being in the fire?”

His thumbs stroke hypnotic across your skin. “Didn’t wanna upset you.”

Your head hinges back, eye-roll of your own as you scoff to the ceiling, then back to him, trying to wall in your teary emotions with forced stolidness- “Look, I probably don’t have any right to say this to you, seeing as we’re just fooling around and I’m not your mother, but… I’m worried about you, Steve. You keep showing up on my doorstep more fucked-up than last time and I just…”

Steve pulls you in again, hugging around your middle, side of his face pressed warm to your bare stomach; you continue.

“I don’t want you to just fuck your way out of these situations, any more.”

He kisses just above your navel. “Okay. Deal. From now on… not including tonight.”

You’re going to protest, you really mean to, but then Steve’s kissing his way down again- and your argument melts away with the rest of your night.

[bloodiedrogue]

A FOOLISH LOVER'S OFFERING (10)

SUMMARY: On the way to Moonrise you and Astarion talk about some important things.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 3,060

WARNINGS: Spoilers for Act 2 (henceforth there will be spoilers in all chapters here on out), ANGST, mentions of murder.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi this chapter single handedly took every brain cell I had to write so hopefully you like it because I just want to set it on fire for all the grief it has caused me!!

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER

-

“Gods, I hate this place.”

Gripping your torch, you try your best to focus on the Harper’s. How they move through the shadows, navigating every twist and turn without issue, leading you through the pathways.

It hasn’t been long since you’ve started your journey. No longer can you see the shining veil of the Inn but, given what you know, you’re well aware that your destination isn’t nearly ahead either. There’s still plenty of walking to do. A few hour's journey at the least. Perhaps more if Astarion insists on continuing to walk so slowly.

At your side, his eyes scan the trees with a heavy breath, taking in the decrepit scenery at such a leisurely pace that it makes you huff and glance around, noting the distance between you and the others. At this point, you’re close enough that you can still see them but too far to hear what any of them are saying —something you’re certain Astarion’s done on purpose when he plants his arm around your shoulder.

“You know, I happen to find it quite charming. All the dread and despair. It’s a bit like being at home.” 

You give him a look, raising your brow only to receive a snort in response, confirming that he’s (thankfully) kidding. “Ha, you think you’re so funny, don’t you?”

“Funny?” He moves his other hand to his chest, placing it against his leathers. “Darling, I’m hilarious.” 

“Yes, yes, a real jester.” 

His fingers flex around your shoulder, squeezing. “I’ll have you know I’ve always been funny. Even before all this vampiric bullshit.” 

“Yeah?”

He nods, a slight thought flashing across his face that makes you wonder what he’s thinking about. Given the circumstances, you assume it’s a thought of the past. Perhaps of his life before Cazador’s reign. When he was merely an elf roaming topside around Baldur’s Gate without a care in the world. You imagine he was funny back then. Mischievous. Probably a little too out there, even for a magistrate considering the personality you’ve grown to love. Based on pure assumption, he probably had more fun in one night than you in a lifetime, spending his hard-earning coin on good food and drinks and—

“It’s rude to stare, you know.” He pulls you tighter into him, using his free hand to pluck the torch out of your hand so that you can wrap yourself around him. As you do, both of you breathe a sigh of what feels like relief, even though you’re currently experiencing anything but.

“Sorry.”

“Well, you were staring at me, so I suppose I can forgive.” 

“Many thanks, my liege.” 

He growls suggestively under his breath, making you scoff. “My liege, hm, I could get behind that.” 

“Of course you could.” 

“My liege,” he repeats, tasting it on his tongue, eyeing you with a lusty gaze that doesn’t quite make its mark. 

Which only furthers the assumption that he’s deep inside his head still. Sifting through thoughts you’re completely unaware of as you walk in tandem to your potential untimely end. Almost immediately, it makes you wonder if maybe this is the right time to start asking questions. To finally speak up about the inquiries that have filed through your skull. Because after this, there’s no telling where you may find yourselves. You could be killed or locked away —lost to an abyss of some kind.

The options are endless; however, time is not, so instead of stewing in the silence you currently find yourselves in, you look up at him, taking in the shape of his face.

You’ve known him long enough now to know that the comments he often makes about his beauty are true. In appearance, he’s almost otherworldly. A beacon of well-aged flesh your eyes feel constantly drawn to. Whenever he’s around there’s this feeling of awe that comes forth. A subtle beating in your chest that quickens each time he’s present. When you look at him —really look at him— your eyes tend to open a little wider, surprised by how every feature seems to fit so perfectly in place. How everything feels uncharacteristically cohesive given his time spent abused beneath the moon, forced to stave and serve for all eternity. 

If it weren’t for the issue of Cazador you’d be convinced he was blessed by the Gods themselves. Melded by their very hands to create a being of such high temptation and desire. You imagine them brainstorming his existence. Tirelessly spending weeks on end crafting the perfect specimen that would ultimately end up broken. 

You realize then, taking in the lines that have developed throughout countless bouts of false grinning, that the very thing he loves most about himself was more than likely the result of his own downfall.

A downfall you find you’re still curious about. Even after your conversation, Astarion’s life before all this still holds an air of mystery. Between details already revealed, there are still patches of missing information. Sections of time where assumptions feel wrong but asking feels just as bad. And because of that, deep down, you know you should leave the curiosity alone. Pack it into the back of your mind for later use, but with the oncoming war and no determined outcome, you instead loosen your hold and take a side step. 

“Can I ask you something?”

He narrows his eyes, readjusting his position now that you’re not locked against him, suddenly looking awkward as he puffs out his chest. “Depends.” 

“On?”

“Whether or not the question is going to be depressing,” he replies. “Because you have that look in your eye.”

“What look?”

He reaches out to poke your forehead, pressing it roughly. “The one where your brows look like they’re going to become one at a moment’s notice.”

Swatting his hand away, you twitch your brows back into their proper positioning, annoyed. “I was going to ask about Cazador,” you tell him, truthfully. “I know he’s probably not a topic you want to discuss as we waltz to our potential doom but —I don’t know— I just have questions.” 

He sighs deeply, drawing out his breath before giving you an unimpressed look that speaks volumes.

He doesn’t want to talk about it. Nor do you, but at the same time, you’re at the point where you’re unable to deny your interest because Astarion’s your friend. A companion you cherish more than you know you should. A person whose well-being is so important you’d virtually do anything to maintain it. Which is why you’re determined to pry a bit more than usual. Taking these final moments you have to yourself to ask the one question you’ve been wondering for ages. 

“What will you do about him? When this is all over.”

Surprisingly, there’s no hesitation in his words when he tells you he’ll kill him. As you continue along the path, listening to him come up with all the vile ways he’d do it, you find yourself strangely calm. Numb almost to the descriptions of stakes being driven into hearts or knives slicing through jugular veins. Lost in the way he throws your torch around with every passing phrase.

“Personally, I think a stake to the heart’s a bit cheap,” you eventually comment, watching him laugh. Hearing the way the sound quickly flutters out and hits your ears, making you smile despite the subject matter. 

“It’s a classic for a reason, my dear.” 

“Is it though? I mean, in my experience there’s far better ways to kill someone.”

“Is there, now? Do tell.” 

You’re not sure if it’s just because you’ve grown used to the excessive violence throughout your journey or because Astarion’s tendencies have potentially rubbed off on you. Either way, as the two of you joke of his master’s demise you find yourself wondering if maybe such a result is even plausible. Sure, you’ve never killed a vampire. Hell, before Astarion you’re not even sure you’ve seen one up close, but for him, you’d be willing to try. Especially given the ever-growing lack of regard for your own safety.

“Honestly, the only thing that’s coming to mind is cutting him open and doing something to his innards.” 

His brows shoot up in surprise, making you laugh. “Mm, a cold-blooded killer after my own heart.”

You roll your eyes, prompting his hand to subtly grip your own. Tangling your fingers together, he raises your palm carefully up to his lips and places a lingering kiss. One that tickles your flesh long after he’s gone, leaving you grinning like a fool, wondering if this is what love feels like. 

You imagine it is. Deep beneath the surface, your chest is tight but not with fear. Instead, there’s only warmth that spreads —a growing sensation of heat that wraps around your lungs and heart. Filling you with this discomforting ache that only he can alleviate. So much so that it makes you want to scream sometimes, knowing he’s the cause. That somehow through his charms and tricks he’s managed to find a home inside your chest without permission. How he’s sliced you open with that wicked grin and crawled inside, calling you darling all the while. 

It makes you wonder if he feels the same. If all the afflictions he’s given you are returned in some capacity. If when you look at him his mouth goes dry or his heart skips a beat. Or the longing to be near is indeed reciprocated and not just another plot to keep you close.

Because sometimes it’s hard to tell. 

Throughout your journey, you’ve gone back and forth a hundred times, debating the possibilities —weighing the pros and cons of every interaction that you’ve ever had. Even now, knowing such trivial thoughts should be the last thing on your mind, you can’t help but wonder: does he care for you? Truly? Does he think of you? Does he look for you? Within his everyday thoughts does your presence linger in the background, waiting for the right moment to be put on full display for him to admire?

Does he love you?

“You know, if you ever need help with the whole murdering Cazador thing…”

It sounds ridiculous when you say it. So nonchalant and unfazed. Even you have to cringe at the way you trail off, waiting for him to speak. Praying that he’ll laugh or scoff or say literally anything to fill the silence you find yourselves walking through. 

It takes him a while but eventually, you hear him quietly sigh, his gaze moving to view your nervous face. “It won’t be easy, you know. Cazador isn’t some vagabond with a blade, he’s—“

“I know.”

“No, you don’t.”

He says it like a warning. As if he’s preparing to scold you for speaking out of term, narrowing his eyes with a huff. “Darling, I appreciate the enthusiasm but Cazador —he’s different. He’s not like the villains we’ve faced thus far. He isn’t motivated by greed or lust. The only thing he wants is power. Power over me —over you.” 

He pauses then, swallowing hard. Making it apparent then that this hypothetical conversation of murderous jokes has turned into something far more real. That your offering is no longer a mere gesture of kindness but instead a potential act of solidarity. One that you extend further by running your thumb along his, applying a bit of pressure at the joint, feeling him twitch. 

“You know there’s very little I wouldn’t do for you, right?” 

In an instant his eyes are on you, staring in surprise, trying to process the words that’ve just spilled through your lips. At first, they’re focused on their position, fully immersed in the way you clear your throat, trying to suppress a nervous laugh as you continue to grip his hand. Not long after though, they start to go distant, moving past your face to view the trees behind you, fizzling out of reality so quick that all you can do is try to pull him back. 

“I know you probably think I’m in idiot for even suggesting that fact that I may be capable of killing someone who spent centuries in control of so many people—“

“A bit, yes.” 

You snort, watching him slowly start to return to you, his lips curling into a half smile you can’t help but reach out and touch, stopping your stride. “But I would do anything you asked of me. Even if it meant death, I would kill that bastard for you without hesitation. Whatever way you wanted, whether it’s decapitation or throwing him off a bloody cliff or—“

The light of the torch shifts as his hand slips out of yours, taking hold of your head to guide you to his lips. To press his mouth to yours with such need that the breath within your lungs is ripped out. Swallowed behind his starving tongue —lapping whatever life you have to offer as his hand drifts over your cheek, taking hold of your flesh to keep you from leaving.

Standing still, you can feel the tenseness of his frame as it all happens. How aside from his mouth and hand the rest of him refuses to move, prompting you to reach out, running your hands along his sides, coaxing him to relax. 

When his body does, you slowly pull away, sucking in air like your life depends on it, watching with half-lidded eyes and swollen lips as he opens his mouth to speak, stuttering out something incoherent before swearing under his breath. 

Narrowing your eyes further, you watch him struggle to speak, wondering what could be going on in that complicated brain of his as he turns his body, releasing you from his grasp in favour of moving forward again.

Immediately, it makes you drop your jaw in annoyance, watching his hands move towards his hair, gripping his locks in frustration as you hear him mutter to himself and continue to move, leaving you behind. 

“Hold on, you’re just going to kiss me like that and walk away?” 

He doesn’t even turn to acknowledge you as you yell, making you even angrier as you race toward him, placing a rough hand against his shoulder to gain his attention. 

“Astarion—“

“Do you mean it?”

Your mouth twitches when he turns, looking at you with angry eyes. Scanning you with knitted brows filled with so much frustration all you can do is breathe and nod.

“Why?”

Because I love you. 

“Because…”

“Tell me.”

Your mouth is drier than it’s ever been, making it hard for you to form the words as you feel your tongue poke out to wet your lips. “I—“

His shoulder shifts from your grasp in one quick motion, leaving you bare —untethered and weak against the aggression of his eyes staring you down. “You know, I’ve spent centuries coming up with all the ways I’d do it. How I’d kill him if given the chance.”

You watch his gaze move to the trees again, travelling elsewhere even though you’re here, standing still in front of him, already wondering how you'll get him back.

“Despite the scenarios being nothing but my foolish imagination running rampant, every time I end up suffering. Forced further into madness —pushed to the brink of what my body is capable of handling.” He shakes his head before raising it, blinking back tears that make your body ache. “Even in my wildest dreams I cannot win against his torment and yet… the moment you mention it… the moment you look at me with those eyes—” 

Hearing him choke back a nervous laugh, this time it’s you who’s on him, clutching his face with both hands, pressing your thumbs to the inner corners of his eyes to wipe away the liquid that continues to pool.

“Why are you so willing to help me do the unimaginable?”

This time there’s no hesitation. No moment of thought that graces your mind as you smile up at him, pulling him further down with shaking hands to press your forehead to his. “It’s because I love you,” you tell him then. Barely above a whisper, you let it filter out like smoke, allowing it to envelop him entirely as you breathe and take him in, watching the way his lips unfurl and the anger laced within his features slips away. “And because the thought of allowing him to live after what he did to you fills me with a kind of rage I’m not sure I’ve ever felt before.”

His hand moves to stroke the side of your neck. Gently, his fingers run across the bite marks he's inflicted, marking their positions with two subtle taps before they glide away, rooting themselves at the back of your head for support. Forcing you to remain in the moment, realizing what you’ve just said.

It’s hardly the right time to admit your feelings. But then again, given the circumstances, you quickly remember that there really isn’t one. Considering you're in the middle of a war, on your way to Ketheric’s base, it’s very unlikely you’ll have a spare moment to clear your mind and properly say all the things you’ve been itching to say. 

Until the end, it’ll always feel like something’s missing —like you’ve forgotten an important phrase or detail. That whatever you say will never be enough to fully convey the weight of how he makes you feel each time he looks you up and down or makes you laugh. 

Even as you stand before him now, holding him tight —watching the tears within his eyes threaten to spill once again, you know nothing you say will ever amount to the ache inside your chest, knowing that you’ve managed to give him the last sliver of hope you have to offer. 

“I love you, Astarion,” you repeat then, praying this time it holds its weight. That the nervous rush inside your stomach passes through and all you’re left with is the kind of warmth you’ve only read about in stories.

His jaw is slack as you repeat your confession, shifting in a way that makes you more nervous than it should, watching him blink and hearing him breathe —doing everything but speak the words you want to hear as Shadowheart calls your name, pulling you both away to notice the annoyed look on her face as she tells you to hurry up. 

-

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[mightbeimpossiblenotto]

Call - Oct 15 - @rosekillermicrofic - 920 words - Warnings: none

Barty was having an awful day. It started when he woke up late because the alarm on his phone didn’t go off. And then he discovered that the reason his alarm didn’t go off was because his phone couldn’t turn on at all. Thinking it had died, despite being plugged into the charger all night, Barty brought a different cord to work with him to charge it during the day.

But it didn’t turn on even after a full workday in his father’s terrible office. At that point, Barty was very frustrated, and decided to go to the phone store and get an entirely new phone so that he didn’t have to deal with this one anymore. Only, at the phone store, they also failed to get his old phone to turn on, meaning Barty had lost all of the previous memory on his old phone, including all of his contacts.

Fed up with his entire life, Barty decided to call the only person who would listen to him complain for nearly an hour about everything that had ever happened to him: his best friend, Regulus. Luckily, he had memorized Regulus’s phone number ages ago, just in case he ever had to call him from a jail cell.

0 - 2 - 0 - 3 - 5 - 5 - 5 - 4 - 3 - 7 - 7

The line rang a few times before the receiver clicked, and Barty started talking before Regulus could say hello.

“You’ll never believe what bloody happened to me today,” Barty began. “First, I’m sure you’ll notice that I haven’t called from my usual number. That’s because my phone decided to up and die, completely unusable anymore, and I can’t even get any of the data. I woke up and it was just black, the whole screen, and it never came back the whole day. I thought it might have died, only I charged it all night and all day during work for good measure, and you know how unbearable a day without my phone is, especially when I’m at work. And I get out of my long 9-hour shift only to find that my bloody cellular is still fucking broken — so I have to go to the phone store —“

“I don’t know who this is,” a voice snapped suddenly, interrupting Barty’s tirade. Barty was caught up short at hearing a voice other than Regulus’s, the only voice he’d been expecting. He brought the phone back from his ear to look at the screen, scanning the number quickly — oh, he did two sevens at the end, his mistake. Regulus’s number ended in a 7 - 8.

By the time he brought the phone back to his head, the other man had hung up and the dial tone was ringing in Barty’s ear. He cursed, quite affronted about the lack of response to his rant, stranger or not — and he decided to call the man back. This time, when the line clicked, the man spoke in a terse tone before Barty could get a word in.

“What do you want now?” He demanded, and Barty’s eyebrows flew up his forehead.

“Wow, aren’t you just a peach?” Barty said sarcastically. “You didn’t care to respond to my no good, very bad day, which I took offense to.”

“Sounded like a typical day to me,” the man responded. “Now will you leave me alone?”

“No,” Barty replied instantly. “I think it must be fate that I dialed the number wrong and got you instead, if only to brighten up your miserable life.”

“I didn’t ask for this.”

“That’s the whole point, but you need me, you see,” Barty insisted.

“I doubt that,” he sighed.

“Will you humor me for just a second?” Barty huffed. “I’m Barty, nice to meet you over the phone. I’ve had a very unfortunate day, how was yours?”

Silence on the other end for a long moment. Finally, another sigh, and then, “My name is Evan. My day was fine.”

Barty ended up calling Evan the following day, just to annoy the guy, since he seemed so stubbornly irritable. Evan acted annoyed at him, but he stayed on the phone for a full conversation, so Barty declared it a success. He called the next day, too, and the day after that — until one day Barty was bringing up Evan’s contact to give him a call, and he realized he had been calling the other man every single day for an entire month. It only made him pause for a moment before pressing call.

“Hello again, Barty,” Evan answered somewhat-warmly, and Barty hummed in response.

“Did you know that you have taken my call every day for a month?” Barty asked. Evan went quiet for a moment as he pondered that.

“I didn’t think it had been that long,” Evan admitted, sounding a bit sheepish.

“I think it’s officially undeniable that you like my sparkling personality,” Barty gloated, grinning widely at nothing as he walked home from work. Some of the people walking by stared at him as he passed, and he only grinned wider.

“Like is a strong word,” Evan insisted. “Tolerate, more like.”

“I don’t know,” Barty drawled, still smiling. “Some of those calls have been pretty long...”

“Yeah, yeah,” Evan finally acquiesced. “I guess it’s finally time we meet in person.”

Giddy excitement rose up in Barty’s stomach, and he fought the urge to actually skip through the streets. “Yes, yes, literally any time.”

[peterparkersnose]

Throne

pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x fem!reader

word count: 3k

warnings: smut, sugar daddy themes (not au), undefined relationship, dominance, teasing, aegon can be such a fucking asshole, guilt tripping, neck play, angst, public pleasuring, punishments (yay), dirty talk, fem!receiving oral, fingering, begging, delayed orgasm, blood play, degradation, aftercare, aegon's ownership of reader

a/n ok ok ok i actually really enjoyed writing this smut. so much. i just love me a good dominant man that does what he wants (within reason ofc we love consent here)

summary Y/N is taught a lesson by Aegon

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read time: 11 mins 1 second

“What is it?” she asked, bursting into the throne room angrily. No bows, no titles, just anger.

Aegon smirked at her devilishly, watching her approach him with such an angsty tone.

“I cannot just simply ask for you to pay me a visit?” he asks, unfolding his legs from the childish position on the Iron Throne and straightening his back.

“I don’t like being torn from my studies just because you wish to see me.”

He laughs out loud, almost mockingly. “A ‘Hello your Majesty’ and perhaps a bow would have done.” Aegon scoffed, staring her body up and down like she was a new shiny toy. He noticed the dress she was wearing; the one he had commissioned for her after she was such a good girl after their previous endeavors together. She earned it- she deserved it. 

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” Aegon said, rubbing his legs until he got to his knees and finally stood.

“Have you?” she asked, raising an eyebrow and walking closer to him.

“It’s rude to deny your king of what he wishes. I called upon you nearly an hour ago.” Aegon declares as he skips down the stairs, meeting her halfway and softly grabbing her wrists. He was just as an impatient man as he was a gruesome King. He holds her at arm’s length, looking her up and down once again with hungry eyes. 

“And you are what I currently desire.”

She catches her breath as she stares at him. “You called me out of my studies… for this?”

She stares at him, her heart pounding against her ribcage. The room feels suffocating as if the tension between them has thickened the air. Her initial confusion morphs into a wave of disappointment and frustration, evident in the deep furrow that forms between her brows.

Her disgust was off-putting to him. With a menacing glare, so different from the adoring one he had for her moments ago, he pulled her close and brought his fingers to her chin, and forced her to stare into his gaze. His face contorts, momentarily betraying a flicker of vulnerability, as her disgust pierces through his facial facade. In response, his expression transforms, and his previously adoring gaze is replaced by a cold stare that bores into her soul. “I can do what I want, when I want. I am the King. Do you understand?” 

The weight of his words hangs heavily in the air, a chilling reminder of his position of authority. 

She does not reply, her lips tightly sealed as she gazes into his tired eyes. It looks like he hasn’t slept in days. In fact, it was clear that he hasn't slept in days. The exhaustion seeps into every fiber of his appearance, affecting his posture, his movements, and even the cadence of his voice. His shoulders sag, burdened by the weight of ruling the Seven Kingdoms, and perhaps watching over her every movement. She wasn’t obedient enough yet for his liking, evident by her previous actions of the day. 

“Do you understand?” he asks once again, this time with more anger backing up his tone. Aegon was not one to be denied, especially when he felt such ownership over her. His grasp on her wrists became tighter as his breath now drew on her ears. “You act like you don’t deserve this dress. I had it made for you. Act like you deserve it, love.” 

“I’m sorry…” she whispered, closing her eyes as his words flew through her. She let out a shuttered breath. 

Aegon smirked at her, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. It was a kind smirk to most, but she could recognize the evil behind his mask. “Not good enough,” he groaned. 

“Perhaps you shouldn’t wear it anymore. You are misbehaving, hm? What happens to disobedient girls? Do they get to keep all the presents they were so gracefully gifted?”

Aegon’s hand moved to her neck, softly squeezing it. It didn’t harm her, if anything it would be seen as comforting. But she knew, she knew how Aegon worked. His hand traveled from her neck to her collarbone, touching the stone necklace that rested on her chest. “So pretty,” he whispered, fingering the stone. As he got bored of that, his hand traveled to her neckline. Right between her cleavage, he dipped his fingers under her hem, feeling the top of her breasts. 

She looked beyond him and to the Iron Throne, feeling the oh, so familiar guilt mixed with pleasure wave crash upon her once again. 

Aegon’s fingers moved from her chest, following the hem of the neckline of the dress up to her sleeve, and pushed her left sleeve down exposing her shoulder. “What shall your punishment be?” he asks her, bending over slightly to kiss her shoulder ever so softly. His hand moved to her cheek now, cupping it and forcing her to look at him once again. 

“Punishment? What for?” she asked. He couldn’t tell if she was toying with him or being serious. He let out a cruel little laugh. “For being late to my summoning and disobedient to your King.” he scoffed, stating his words like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“You treat me as such even though I treat you so kindly. Do you know how many coins this dress cost the crown?” he asked, pulling down her other sleeve. She shook her head no.

“More than I pay any one of these useless studs in a year.” he said, looking around at the six guards that stood obediently in the throne room. They all looked the same and sat perfectly still, their only intention to protect this arrogant man and the crown. 

She quite adored the dress. Aegon really did well with this gift, it was spot on to what she wished for. Perhaps above her wildest dreams of what it could be, it most definitely exceeded her expectations from their… their strange agreement. The dress, in every aspect, seemed tailor-made for her. It was neck tied with a few buttons around the back of her neck and with a short sleeve. It was colored a deep gold and bronze. The colors seemed to breathe life into the fabric, casting a radiant glow that shimmered with every movement she made. The neckline plunged, showing off her assets quite nicely. It had beautiful traditional embroidery, one fit for a noble of quite high standings. The waistline, designed with precision and purpose, hugged her curves in all the right places, accentuating her frame with a subtle grace. A bust of gold adorned the ensemble, meeting at her navel and drawing attention to her slender waist, creating a beautiful pattern that enhanced her natural beauty. It was floor length and seemed fit for a Queen. 

“You will behave. Even if I have to teach you a lesson. It’ll do you better than any of those stupid Septas teaching you how to be a Lady.” he whispered to her, now grabbing her hand at her side and entwining his fingers with hers. It was a surprisingly kind gesture, one she didn’t expect from him. 

He led her to stand in front of the Iron Throne, her back to the chair and he stood a step below her. It felt almost wrong, as he was the King and she was just a noble Lady. She looked at him with a confused face, unsure of what he was doing. Aegon had a terrible grin displayed as he looked her up and down once more. Aegon placed his hand on her stomach, pushing her back into the throne. 

“Aegon what are you…”

He shushed her quickly and harshly. 

“You will obey. Do you hear me?”

She nodded. He got down on his knees, reaching out one of his hands for her to place her hand in. He graciously accepted her hand, kissing it slowly, giving each finger its deserved attention. She was flushed, embarrassed at what the guards must have been viewing at that moment.

Little did she know, that was the easiest part of this she would have to endure in terms of embarrassment. 

“Did I ever tell you how pretty your hands are? So gorgeous.” he kissed her palm. “Especially when they are around my cock. That’s my favorite, seeing your pretty little fingers work for me.” 

Her eyes widened as he said these words. A red tint came to her cheeks, but that only made Aegon want more of a reaction from her. 

Aegon dropped her hand, now placing his hands on both of her thighs over her dress. “I want no complaints from your lips. Do you understand?”

She was hesitant to answer him again. Furrowing his brows, he was angered by her rebellion. He grabbed down on her thighs harder now, his thumb trailing dangerously close to her core. His eyes met hers once again, waiting for a response. 

“Mhm,” she whined out, feeling the pressure building between her thighs.��

“Good girl.”

With a sudden movement, his hands left her thighs over her dress. Aegon lifted her legs to his shoulders, each leg resting on each shoulder. He moved his hands to cradle her lower back, pulling her closer to his face. She squirmed, as she did not expect this move from him at all. She didn’t have time to complain. His hands delved under her skirt, pulling at her undergarments and swiping a finger over her bundle of nerves. 

He laughed at her reaction, watching her squirm under his touch was one of his favorite sights. 

“Hold your pretty present for me.” he ordered, speaking sweetly with a hint of cruelty as he bunched up her skirt, holding the expensive fabric in his hands for her to grasp. She listened. 

“B-but Aegon, the guards.” she protested. He looked at her and rolled his eyes, smirking and staring at her with a look that she was the most idiotic woman in the world. “Fuck the guards, my love. Perhaps they’ll enjoy the pretty little noises you’ll make for me. Stroke their own cocks to the memory of your wails after their shift.”

She gasped at his words in shock. Her gasp was followed up with another one, but a pleasurable one. Without warning, Aegon delved his face between her thighs and began lapping eagerly at her cunt. There was no warning, just an over sense of his tongue on her. 

Y/N let out a guttural groan, her hands moving straight to his hair. She pulled ever so lightly, her head resting against the back of the throne as he worked his magic. “But if anyone… if anyone were to see.” she says between breaths, now looking down at his blonde head between her thighs. He stopped momentarily and looked up at her. He licked his lips, as her juices dripped off his chin. 

“Then they will see that I am very obviously busy.”

He returned to his place between her thighs, but this time brought a finger to her and inserted it. 

“Aegon!” she cried out as he did, pushing herself forward and more eagerly into his grasp. She could feel his chuckle on her cunt as he stopped momentarily. He kissed her and continued his multitasking of eating her out and fingering her. His nose sat perfectly within her. It was almost as if his nose was made just for her cunt. 

He works for a while more, he could feel her pulsating around his fingers. This only drove him more mad, as if he was drunk off of her. He inserted another finger, revealing another groan from her that went straight to his cock. He pumped in her faster by the second, he was sure she was going to cum any minute now. “Are you close?”

She nodded eagerly. A smile came to his lips. “Do you want to cum?” he asked, his wrist beginning to hurt with the angle he was pumping his fingers in and out of her. Oh, how he would suffer for her pleasure. 

“Use your words,” he says sharply. “Tell me how you want it.”

“I-I…” she could barely form a sentence. “Tell me,” he ordered her. “Beg for it,”

Her hips rolled against his touch as she cried out for him. “P-please, let me cum.” she whispered out, with all her might she had left. 

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you, dear.” Aegon teased her cruelly, her words weren’t enough to satisfy his needs. “Say my name like I’m yours, like you fucking mean it.”

“Aegon,” she breathed out, trying her best to keep her eyes open. “Louder,” he demanded. “Say it like you mean it.”

“Aegon!” she blurted out, loud enough for anyone down the hallway to hear her voice. “Just like that, yes.” he praised her, brushing his free hand up her thigh. His touch sent chills down her spine, a foreshadowing of what was about to come. He could feel her heat rising, her climax was definitely near. He kissed her thigh, looking up at her pretty face as she moaned, her head bowed back and her left hand in his locks. This is exactly how he wanted her; this was what she deserved. A fitting punishment for a brat such as herself. 

“Yes, you can do it. Come on my fingers, pretty girl.” he says, moving his fingers to her clit and circling it just as he knew she enjoyed it. She tried to speak his name, but she couldn’t process the syllables to do so. She had used the last remnants of her voice moaning his name only seconds ago as he had requested. Only a strange mutter mixed with a moan came from her. “Oh yes, just like that.” he says, adding now a third finger temporarily, stretching her out. Aegon was pleased by her lack of words. She nods as he does so, with her hands moving from being entwined in his hair to absolutely anything around her. 

Usually, when they were in bed, she would grasp the sheets when she became close. It was something to ground her, making her feel stable in her weak state as she would cum. Now as she was surrounded by swords, there wasn’t much to hold on to. But that thought didn’t occur to her, as she was too obsessed with the orgasm that currently racked through her body. She let out a cry as she stupidly grasped a sword, slicing her finger as she came.

Aegon didn’t notice this at first, all he could do was watch her cunt clamp down on his fingers. He smirked evilly as he kissed her slit once more, then grabbed the bunched-up dress from her waist and made her modest once again. 

She was still breathing heavily from her orgasm, but her eyes were on her now sliced finger. “Fuck,” she whispered. That caught Aegon’s attention. He now stood in front of her, ready to scold her for her language, but then saw her wound. 

“You stupid woman.” he scoffed, grabbing her wrist. He inspected the cut. “How could you be so dumb? Grabbing the Iron Throne?” he asked, looking at her with a certain look of disdain. 

“I suppose you want me to fix it.” he groaned, looking into her eyes. A sense of embarrassment has filled her, more than already had. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. 

“Good. You’ve learned your lesson.” he smiles with dead eyes, his power trip coming to its height as he praised her. 

He takes her finger into his mouth, licking off the blood. Y/N groaned as he did, as his tongue swiped the cut roughly. Aegon enjoyed watching her in pain, swirling his tongue on her cut as he did with her clit just minutes ago. 

After the wound was empty of blood, he swallowed hard. So obviously, letting her know that her blood now rested in his throat. As a way to let her know that he truly does own her. 

“Do you want a bandage? I would hate for that to get infected.” 

He lets go of her hand.

She inspected her now-cleaned cut, but more blood seemed to seep through. Y/N knew all too well that it wouldn’t be that easy with Aegon.

“Do you want one?” he asks her. She nods. He comes close to her once again, grabbing her chin like he did before, and looked into her eyes, their faces only inches apart. “Use your words, love.” he says quietly but dominantly. 

“Yes.”

“Yes what?” he asks, raising her chin slightly.

“Yes, please.”

“Good girl.” he purred once again. Aegon snapped his fingers at the nearest guard, and within seconds a bandage is delivered to him, along with some sanitizing liquid in a vile. The guard returns to his place. Y/N struggled to look the man in the eyes, knowing all six guards heard her moments before. 

He carefully took her hand, treating it with such grace. “Such a shame to see your pretty fingers hurt. Be more careful next time, dear. I don’t like my things to be broken.”

Aegon took some of the sanitizer and placed it on her cut. It made her pull back her hand slightly as she seethed at the pain. “You could have warned me,” she hissed. Aegon rolled his eyes. “Watch your tongue, girl. I am doing you a favor.”

He closed the vile and placed it in his pocket, and began to unwrap the bandage. “Is it too tight?” he asked her, looking up at her with kind eyes. She knew that his care wouldn’t last long, so she enjoyed it while she could. “No, my King. Just right.” she replied. He smiled as she used his proper title, the feeling of love he had for her returning momentarily. Aegon tied off her bandage, lifting her wrist and kissing her finger. 

"There we go," he says proudly, looking from her hand and back to her. Aegon was in awe of what was his. She looked absolutely gorgeous in her post-orgasm state. He huffed proudly.

“All better.”

-

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[digitaldiarystuff]

The Interview

Hi guyss! Thank you so much for the support for my last post, here’s another idea I’ve had and if you want a part 2 to any of my stories feel free to reach out to me!

————

summary: You’re an actress in Spain who supports atletico and are asked in an interview about Joao’s goal against your team, you playfully answer and receive a notification afterwards.

genre: fluff

pairing: Joao Felix x Y/N

————

So, Y/N, we’re coming to the end of our interview but before that, I see here in my cards that you’re a die hard Atletico fan. Is it true?” Jim, the interviewer asked. You giggled.

“It’s true Jim, growing up, my dad was a football man. We spent every weekend watching games in the stadium or at home and I still do, just not going to games because of my crazy schedule, just watching them with my Griezmann shirt at home. We’re all big fans.” you answered truthfully. You loved watching the games but sometimes it was hard to catch up.

“So, did you watch the game they played against Barcelona?” he asked, intrigued.

“I did, actually. It was heartbreaking.” you said.

“Oh yeah yeah. Felix scoring the goal.”

“Yeah, it was hard to watch because I always knew he was a good player, seeing him score against us was hard.” you answered hoping that nobody would get upset because as much as it was true, you knew you had to make interviews professionally. Especially the live ones.

Soon after, the interview was done and you were in the backstage grabbing your items to head out. It was an off-day and you had planned on going home and not do anything.

When you went into the house, your dog, Biscuit was waiting for you at the door. You played with her for a few minutes and then grabbed some treats from the kitchen and a blanket to make yourself cozy and watch some TV but your phone vibrating like crazy meant the interview was up and everyone had seen it. You weren’t a big time celebrity but your recent role in a Netflix series has gained you tons of attention.

You were going through your message requests seeing the good and the bad things people said until one name caught your eye.

Joao Felix

Sorry to break your heart 💔 he said. You stared at the message for what felt like an eternity.

Maybe one or two footballers slid in your dm’s in the past months but none had any effect on you but Joao’s single sentence made your tummy flip. Was he mad? How could you respond to this, if you were to respond of course because you shouldn’t. Right?

It’s a little late for that, what’s done is done, you wrote but deleted right after, was it too harsh. You always had a weird sense of humor and enjoyed banter in flirting but you didn’t even know if this was flirty.

Well, you could always make up for it, you wrote then but feared it might be too forward, what if he was just apologizing genuinely to a fan? Oh god that would be embarrassing.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s just your job” you wrote and sent. This is the most appropriate, you thought. And maybe, he wouldn’t even respond after this.

You were wrong, he replied back in a minute.

“What can I do to make it up to you?”

Okay, this wasn’t about all fans, you thought. Because he specifically asked what could he do for you. Breathe Y/N, breathe.

Before replying, you quickly went onto his page, he was an amazing looking athlete there’s no denying and you’re single so you shouldn’t feel bad about the butterflies in your stomach.

“You could start with a dinner.” you replied and threw the phone on the couch scared of his response. Oh god, you hope you didn’t misread the interaction.

After a few minutes you decided this was stupid and picked the phone up.

“My pleasure. Tonight at 8?” he wrote and you nearly screamed, this gorgeous man was taking you out tonight and you were already shaking.

You quickly said ok and decided to have a long shower and get ready since it’s already 5. He also asked for your location to pick you up at 8.

After the shower you went into your closet trying to decide on what to wear and ended up with a navy dress and did your makeup. Just as you were putting on earrings, you heard the door knock. You tried calming yourself and opened the door and saw the most handsome man you’ve ever laid eyes on with a big smile and a bouquet of flowers in his hands.

“Hi.” he said sheepishly.

“Hi.” you replied equally giddy.

“Are you ready?” he asked, eyeing you up and down.

“Yes, here just let me take those of your hands and we can go.” you said, blushing because he was looking at you with no shame.

He drove you to a fancy restaurant which you’d once been with your manager as a celebration but he reserved a secluded table for the two of you.

At first, you were a little nervous about being on a date with him but that quickly went away as you talked about anything and everything. You quickly realized he was the most down to earth guy and wasn’t full of himself. He listened and gave you compliments as you described your life and you listened about his career. Before you knew it, it was nearly midnight and you were having the time of your life. You didn’t have to put on a facade with him and say whatever.

When the bill came, you of course offered but he wouldn’t budge and paid for the night and helped you walk to the exit with his hand on the small of your back. You got goosebumps just from a simple touch.

You went in the car and he started driving so you put on the radio and singing along the song when he joined you. You giggled.

“What, do you not like my voice?” he asked offended.

“No, I actually do.” you said. It felt like you knew him for years.

“I had fun tonight.” he said while walking you to your door.

“Me too, thank you for everything.” you said as you walked up the stairs to your door.

You stood just looking at each other’s eyes, lost in the moment.

“I sho-“

“Do you want to come inside?” you cut him off before he could finish his sentence.

“Yeah.” he smiled as you walked in the door.

He started looking at your home, analyzing details and when he saw the pictures of your family, he smiled.

“Did I also break your dad’s heart?” he asked.

“Why, are you going to buy him dinner too?”

“No, that was all for you.” he said as he walked over and held your waist looking at you intensely.

You looked up at him and smiled. He leaned in and stopped, as a way of making sure this was okay and you gave him the permission by pressing your lips against his. He smiled into the kiss and started moving his lips immediately. You lost yourself at his touch and placed your hands behind his head, playing with his hair. His hands roamed over your body trying to hold you closer.

“Y/N, I think I like you.” he said after you broke the kiss to breathe.

“I think I like you too Joao.” you said smiling widely.

“Now take me upstairs.” you said in a quiet tone, needing more of him.

He nodded immediately telling you to jump and wrap your legs around his torso. He carried you upstairs and you strengthened the connection you found today, until the sun came up.

You opened your eyes slowly, feeling a presence next to you and it was Joao. He was still sleeping. After you went to sleep, your mind wandered if this was just for one night but seeing him next to you happily snoring made that feeling go away. You carefully escaped his arms holding you at place to wash your face and go down to the kitchen. Just as you were passing the living room, you saw the flowers he brought last night. Smiling to yourself, you picked them up to put in a vase when you noticed a card sitting in between pink tulips.

You opened it up to see what was inside and found a note from him and smiled even wider if it’s possible.

“I hope this is the beginning of a great story”

————

Ahh, this was sooo sweet even when I was writing I was smiling, hope you enjoyed it! Feedback is always appreciated luvs 🌷

[formulapierre]

Timezone | Charles Leclerc

pairing: charles leclerc x y/n!reader

prompt: based off my favourite song at the moment; Timezone by Maneskin. Where Charles is fed up with being so far away from you at a time where both of your lives are changing, not that he knows that.

warnings: 18+ as brief mentions of sex

word count: 4.6k

Song:

“You're wearing my old clothes, but you, you wear it better And every time I see your face, the moon should be jealous”

“Bonsoir Amour,” Charles says as his face pops up on your screen. “You look tired,” He quickly adds, as you make yourself comfortable on the bed you usually share.

“I am, work was a nightmare…all I want is to go to sleep and your shirts just don’t cut it anymore darling,” You joke as you show him the shirt you were wearing, it was one of his favourite linen button-ups; the one he likes to wear when you go driving down the Monegasque coastline together. 

You had sprayed it with the few drops of his cologne that were left in the bottle…but that was starting to fade, seeing how long he’d been gone. Nothing was the same as when you fell asleep in his arms; his warm chest pressing against your back, arm around your waist as he told you how much he loved you. “Stay with me?” You ask, turning off the bedside lamp as you prop your phone on the side table.

“Of course, I’ve got tons of emails to go through so I will probably still be here when you wake up,” He jokes as he sets his phone against the wall, atop the makeshift desk in his foreign hotel room. He continued to talk as you rested your head on the pillow below, wanting to listen to how Pierre ended up locking himself inside his hotel room; knowing that this was about as good as time-together got at the moment but also knowing that you had to be up early for work tomorrow. 

The latter finally proved to be more important.

“And I keep talking to the wall 'til he's a friend of mine”

Charles continued to talk for an hour until he broke eye-contact with the laptop in front of him to find the peaceful image of you fast asleep. He starts to question how worth it all is. Is his job, His dream worth more than you? Shouldn’t he be home with you, letting you rant about your day as he made dinner? But then He supposes once he met you, his dreams changed.

Growing up, Charles’ dreams were about one thing. Becoming world champion. But since meeting you he can't help dreaming of you, and everything you could become together. He would imagine the chateau you would have in the south of France in which you would raise your children (He knew you wanted children as you had expressed it before when He asked…but only at a time that suited you both, you didn’t want to be raising them yourself, and Charles didn’t want that either. Or at least…that was the plan)

“I would sacrifice it all for you…” He said quietly as he admired your sleeping figure. “Every last bit, every race, every win…if it meant I didn’t have to leave you like this amour, I don’t know how much longer I can be apart from you” He continues, ignoring the sole tear threatening to roll down his face. His mood quickly changed when He imagined your response. How you would tell him ‘don’t worry about me’ and how ‘I’ll still be here when you get back’

But what you wouldn’t tell him was that you selfishly wished for nothing more, if only you had fallen for the guy next door. Why did he have to have such lofty dreams and ambitions…but also the ability to make them come true? You wished nothing but the world for him, and his happiness was yours; so why when you spoke to him over the phone did he always seem so…sad?

“I call you every hour just to tell you that I'm losing my mind”

“If not for you-” You sang as you swept the apartment, your daily Saturday routine nearly over and you were excited as Qualifying was only a few hours away. The music quieted by the incoming call you were receiving. You quickly hurried to the kitchen where your phone lay on charge next to the speaker. You disconnected both before answering.

“Charles? Is everything ok?” You ask, you knew with only a few hours until Quali he needed pure focus so this was unexpected.

“N-No…I-” He tries to say but you shush him as you move over onto the couch.

“Turn on your camera,” You say, revealing a tear-stained Charles. Your heart shattering into a million pieces to see him like this. “Hey, look at me…you are ok, take some deep breaths,” You say and he quickly does as he’s told, collapsing down onto the couch in his drivers room.

“I can’t do this anymore,” He says quietly, probably not wanting to alert anyone else in the hospitality to the situation. 

“What can’t you do?” You ask confused.

“This…you and me-. The pressure I-” He starts to say before he realises what he said. “N-Not like that Amour. This distance between us. I haven’t seen you in nearly two months, I’m not myself without you, I’m losing my mind not being able to kiss you or hold you. I don’t know how much longer I can do this? Questions are being raised within the team, the media are saying I’m off my game.” He questions, his voice wavering at the end.

“They don’t know what they’re talking about. You are at the top of your game, Ferrari are performing as well as they have ever been and there are only two more races before you get to come back home…you’ll see me in just over two weeks darling. I know it’s hard, I feel it too. I walk around our apartment, remembering everything that's happened here and then I go to sleep alone, just waiting to see you again… But they are the sacrifices we have to make.” You tell him honestly as he wipes his face. He moved to the bathroom connected and you hear the tap running, assuming he is splashing his face with water. He returns to you much more calm and collected than before.

“T-Thank you Amour, I need to go but I will call you later,” He promises with a soft smile spread across his face.

“Good luck Darling,” You say before blowing him a kiss. You sit down to watch qualifying with baited breath, unaware of the toll your relationship was taking on your love.

“Now I know you're sleeping Where I'm supposed to be in”

*CALL NOT RECEIVED*

*CALL NOT RECEIVED*

*CALL NOT RECEIVED*

“Merde,” Charles swore as he threw his phone on the bed, he had finally gotten back to the hotel; only eight hours after the chequered flag. After celebrations, after media duties, after strategy debriefings, after engineering debriefings, after the awful traffic leaving the track, after everything…then, came you. But He had forgotten the time difference. You no doubt would have stayed up late to watch the race live, quickly sending him a congratulations text before falling asleep.

This was the part Charles hated the most, the loneliness. The empty hotel room, devoid of any emotion; leaving him with only his own thoughts for company. He longed for life to be different, for the days when he wasn’t under the spotlight. As much as Formula 1 was a team sport, he was the driver, so everything was done for him. He never had a chance to make many connections within the team.

Pierre was the exception, he was the childhood friend in the corner, always cheering him on. But even He had seen recently the shift in Charles’ mood. The change in how he interacted with others; shorter answers with the media, less patience for fans, sometimes borderline reckless driving on track. Pierre knew his reasons and how much Charles was struggling…that's why Pierre was the way He was. No long-term girlfriends, strenuous relationships with friends and his ‘fear’ of commitment. He saw what it was doing to his best-friend and didn’t like where it was headed.

“Wish I could've stayed”

“Have you got everything?” You ask your boyfriend as he wheels his three massive silver suitcases into the hallway.

“I think so, are you sure you’re alright to stay here by yourself? I could always ask Maman…you know she wouldn't say ‘no’ to staying a few weeks,” He offers again.

“Darling, I promise you, I will be fine. Eight weeks is only four-two week breaks. And I know I can do two weeks.” I assure him, taking his face in my hands as I do, slowly rubbing my thumb over his cheek. “I’ll still be here when you get back, and then you have a few weeks off where it can be just the two of us. We can do everything and Nothing if you want.” I remind him before pressing a kiss to his soft lips.

“I love you Ma Belle,” He mutters as he pulls away, resting his forehead against yours. You spend a few minutes just taking in each other, knowing this would be the last time you would be in the same room as him for a few months.

“Je t’aime Chérie,” You reply, both of you knowing that was the extent of your French vocabulary, somehow making it even sweeter.

“Only thing that keeps us apart Is seven thousand miles, running like a mad dog”

“This won’t take long, I promise,” Charles is told as he sits down at the table, around which sits his team. His lead Engineer, His PR officer, His Trainer and His Team principal. “We just wanted to make sure everyone is on the same page with what's going on over the coming weeks,”

“Ok, has anything changed?” He asks, looking over the calendar on his Ipad.

“After your performance in the last few races we think it would be beneficial to get in some extra SIM work once we return from China…a week maybe two will be more than en-” His Engineer says tentatively.

“No, absolutely not,” Charles says adamantly, his fists balling as the device thuds on the table. “I haven’t been home in over 6 weeks…I-I’m not waiting another month-” He says getting up. “I’m not doing this now…we focus on these two races,” He tells them before walking out the same door he had walked through not 10 minutes before.

“Only thing that keeps us apart Is a different timezone”

CURRENT TIME — 17:36

HOME TIME —--- 02:36 

The icon on his home screen taunted him as he watched the minutes tick by, the drive from the track to his hotel seeming even longer than usual. His mind goes back to that meeting, how dare they ask him to go to Maranello for another two weeks, he was there only a few days before he flew out for the first of the 6 races he was away for. 

Did they understand that you were waiting on him? Did they care? Charles was beginning to think they didn't. If they did they would have at least offered him a week or two at home first. He sighed in frustration as thoughts swirled in his head, the usual thoughts when He was left alone…

“So fuck what I'm dreaming, this fame has no meaning”

“I want to come home Maman, I want to see her. It is unbearable to be without her any longer,” Charles said to his mother as they spoke, ironically mirroring your words from when you spoke to her a few days ago…’It’s unbearable to see him like this’.

“I know it is Cherie, it's the same feeling I felt when you and your Papa were travelling the world for your karting…you have wanted this for so long, I can see how much your racing means to you. But as your Mother I just want you to be happy, so if she makes you happier than you could ever be, then go for it. You’ve won races, you’ve won championships but you have to ask yourself if this particular one is worth all the pain I can see you’re in?” She asked as she sat on her balcony in Monaco. Unbeknownst to him however, that the exact person he was talking about, was sitting on his Mothers couch, listening to the conversation and reading a book.

“-I know, I know…she said the same thing. It would be slightly more bearable if the time-difference wasn’t so big. I called her 3 times last week and only then did I realise she would be fast asleep,” He complained. Your heart had sunk when you got back into bed and realised you had three missed calls from him; you had to very quickly run to the bathroom out of fear of vomiting on the floor, so didn’t even think about grabbing your phone and messaging him back.

“Only a few more weeks and you will be back in her arms, I promise,” She says before ending the call. The clouds covering the sun forced her inside as the wind picked up. “How are you feeling?” She asks, pressing her ice cold hand to your forehead.

“Honestly?” You ask and she nods. “Like shit, I can't get rid of this nausea, and every time it feels like it’ll pass, it comes straight back,” You admit as you take a sip of the steaming tea she had made you only minutes before you were interrupted.

“The first few months are like that. It was the same with Lorenzo and Arthur…don’t tell Charles though but he was a dream, no sickness, no nothing and labour was a breeze,” She says causing you to laugh, Mr Charles ‘Perfect’ Leclerc struck again.

“I'm coming home”

*CONFIRM FLIGHT MA1611 TO NICE*

    [CONFIRM]    [CHECK BOOKING]

Charles pressed the confirm button instantly, without hesitation. Without thought of the consequences of what would happen with his team; He would be at least a week early. He didn’t care about this last race, He didn’t care how close his rival was to him in terms of points. He didn’t care about anything…except getting home to you. He asked his Maman to collect him from the airport and drop him at home. He also swore her to secrecy but that seemed like the least important part. 

“I wouldn’t have the balls…” Pierre said from across the table.

“You know how I feel about it, and Her,” He simply replied. But it was true, Pierre did know as they had talked about it for hours. Charles felt like Pierre was the only one who truly understood what it took and continued to take.

“I didn’t mean it like that…just make sure I’m the best man at the wedding alright?” He joked, neither of you had really discussed getting married. It just didn’t seem important at the time, but now, Pierre’s comment had planted a seed.

“Only thing that keeps us apart  Is a different timezone” “Tomorrow I got another plane,”

“How are you feeling about this last race?” His trainer asked as they walked through the international airport, only minutes away from boarding the flight to the final race.

“I’m feeling good, -I’m just going to go to the bathroom, you guys board without me…I’ll only be a few minutes,” Charles smoothly lied; He knew that the bathroom had two entrances in front of two different sides of the terminal. 

“I'm not gonna take it”

He checked his watch and saw that his other flight was about to depart so He started to run. He shouted ‘sorry’ as he brushed past someone, others choosing to move out the way as He ran through the airport. He looked at the gate numbers as he ran. 35…..34…..33…..32…..31…..30. He sighed as he finally reached it. The last few people started to board as he took a minute to compose himself before approaching. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself as the Stewardess checked his boarding pass.

“Welcome onboard Mr. Leclerc,” She said politely to him before showing him behind the curtain to his left. He relaxed as He settled into his seat. Only 12 more hours until He would be with you.

“Instead, I'm gonna fly straight to you, I paid double for the tickets” “And I don't give a shit about the contracts that I signed”

*MISSED CALL*

*MISSED CALL*

*MISSED CALL*

*MISSED CALL*

*MISSED CALL*

*MISSED CALL*

*MISSED CALL*

*MISSED CALL*

*MISSED CALL*

*MISSED CALL*

*MISSED CALL*

*MISSED CALL*

*MISSED CALL*

*MISSED CALL*

*MISSED CALL*

*MISSED CALL*

*MISSED CALL*

*MISSED CALL*

*SHOW [128] OTHER MISSED CALLS*

He didn’t even manage to put his seatbelt on before the calls started flooding in, he quickly silenced his phone and tucked it into the bottom of his bag. He really hoped he was making the right decision. 

Charles was so exhausted from the past two months that He slept almost the whole way home, something very unusual for him. He was finally woken by the Stewardess telling him they were about to start their descent into Nice. At that news He woke up almost instantly, eager to be reunited with his Maman and see a familial face.

He made sure he was one of the first off the plane and was glad that his celebrity afforded him to be escorted through the airport and straight into arrivals. He didn’t have any bags to collect as they would be in the Middle East by now, probably with a group of very confused Ferrari employees. Pascale spotted her son almost immediately as He walked into the Arrivals hall, arms wrapping around him and pulling him into her.

“I’m proud of you, Cherie,” She says, kissing him on the cheek. “Let’s get you home,” His Maman adds as they start to walk out of the airport, a place Charles wished to not see for a very long time.

“And they can say whatever,”

“I’ll just drop you here,” Pascale says as she arrives outside your apartment building.

“Thank you Maman, for everything,” Charles says as he kisses her on the cheek before getting out of the car. He rifles through his bag looking for his swipe pass that would allow him access to the building. As annoying as it was having to have the card, you couldn’t get into the building or up the elevators without it. He swung his bag over his shoulder before shutting the door. Charles went onto autopilot as he swiped into the building, swiped to open the elevator, pressed the button for the top floor, and walked towards your door. It was only until he reached your door that the gravity of the situation dawned on him. He had just deserted his team and travelled 12 hours across the globe to see you.

He raised his hand to knock. Should he knock? Technically he lived here too…He twisted the handle and walked into your shared apartment. He could see you out on the balcony, eyes shut and enjoying the fresh-air. Charles tried to be as quiet as He could, He took his shoes off and dumped his bag before slowly walking towards you. 

The double doors were wide open as Charles approached and found you sleeping. He sunk down onto his knees next to the lounger you lay in and took your hand in his.

“Amour,” He whispered as He brought the back of your hand up to his lips and pressed a firm kiss to it. You muttered something under your breath. “Mon Ange,” He cooed as he tried to rouse you from your sleep. 

“Mmh, want to sleep,” You groan as you try to swat his hand away.

“I thought you’d be happy to see me Amour,” He said, only now His voice registering in your head.

“Charlie?” You asked in utter disbelief as your eyes widened and you sat bolt upright. “You! You’re here!” 

“I am, and I’m not going anywhere. I promise,” He assures you as you scramble to get up, tugging your shirt over your growing stomach before throwing your arms around him.

“Why- what-. Charles?” You ask, hoping he’d know what you were asking him.

“They don’t know I’m here. I’m tired and so fucking fed up of having to be away from you,” He admits and you sigh pulling him into your chest.

“I know you are Darling,” You tell him as you stroke the top of his head and fiddle with the tips of his hair. You fall into a comfortable silence as you just hold each other.

“I’m-,” You say.

“Ma-,” He says at the same time. “Sorry Amour, you go first,” Charles says with a smile on his face.

“I-I’m pregnant,” You admit taking his hand and placing it on your stomach.

“You’re what?” He asks with wide eyes.

“Pregnant, We’re having a baby Charles,” You tell him again with a wide smile on your face as you place your other hand on his cheek and rub it softly.

“We’re going to have a baby” He repeats in disbelief and I just nod. “How far along are you?” He asks, lifting your shirt up to see your slightly swollen stomach.

“The doctors think about three-and-a-half to four months. So I was pregnant before you left but with everything going on, I guess I just forgot,” You say but it seems like he’s daydreaming.

“Marry me,”

“What Ch-,”

“That's what I was going to say before. Marry me Amour, I haven’t bought a ring yet but I’m down on my knees so I’m halfway there. I don’t know what to tell you that you don’t know already. You are my reason; you are why I get up in the morning, why I try so hard at work, why I’m here right now. It’s all for you, and now our growing family…so marry me” He says, putting both hands on your stomach. 

“You already know my answer Darling, you are my everything Charles,” You tell him, pulling him off of his knees and into your arms.

“I need you to say it,” He pleads.

“we'll be making love,” “ I'm fucking you tonight”

“Yes, I will marry you Mr Leclerc,” You say with a laugh as he picks you up and spins you around. “Charles, be careful. Morning sickness is not a joke,” You warn him and upon realisation he stops spinning you but picks you up, ironically, bridal style and carries you to your bedroom. “What are you-,”

“I want to fuck my fiancée, is that alright with her?” He asks teasingly as He places you down onto your bed gently.

“Let me check…,” You say, pretending to think. “She says she’s been waiting months for you to say that,” You say pulling him on top of you and letting yourself savour every moment of it.

“So fuck what I’m dreaming,  this fame has no meaning,”

“Ladies and Gentlemen, Welcome to Abu Dhabi and to the final race of the season!” The commentator announces as the camera pans down the pitlane. “It all comes down to today. With only 5 points in it, who will be crowned World Champion?” He asks. “Will it be double world champion Max Verstappen with RedBull? Or will it be reigning three-time world champion Charles Leclerc with Ferrari? Well, todays the day. Stay tuned for the duel in the desert!” He announces over the TV screen in Ferrari’s hospitality suite. You were sitting next to Charles' family. Both of his brothers and their girlfriends, His mum and some of his extended family that were able to make it.

“In a shock week for Ferrari, well…more like Charles Leclerc; the grid will say goodbye to one of its most talented today. After arriving here two days later than scheduled, Charles posted onto his social media and announced in the press conference that He is retiring and Yas Marina would be his last race. He is joined this weekend by his whole family as we celebrate a very accomplished driver; and most especially He is joined by long-term girlfriend and as of a few days ago; Fiancée, Y/N who is a very well-known face within the paddock. We also send the Leclerc family our biggest congratulations at the news of their impending arrival,” The commentator said as He walked the grid in preparation for today's race. You all started to make your way into the garage, Arthur offering to carry your bag as you were taken aside and onto the track. Ferrari wanted to take a few photos with the team and Charles refused to take them unless you were there.

“Thank you for being here Amour,” He said, taking you by the hand and escorting you over to where his car lined up on pole position.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world Darling,” You say, pressing a kiss to the side of his face. Charles’ PR manager took the photos they wanted before He was ushered off for the national anthem. Whilst you stood next to His car the same commentator from earlier approached you.

“I am joined now by Y/N Y/L/N, How are you?” He asks, pointing the microphone at you.

“I’m feeling amazing Martin. Nervous for today but Excited for the party that will no doubt ensue tonight,” You answer.

“So your money is on Charles for the win?” He asks and you scoff.

“I think it has to be, doesn't it?” You joke causing him to laugh.

“Probably wouldn’t be a great start to your marriage if you didn’t,”

“Your words not mine Martin,” You playfully remind him.

“Well congratulations to you and Charles on your recent engagement-” He says before he is spoken to via his earpiece. “Jenson would like me to remind you not to forget his invitation,” Martin Brundle explains.

“Jenson I promise you will be the first to get an invite, and I will hand deliver it myself If I have to,” I promised him whilst looking directly at the camera.

“-and finally before I have to head off. Another congratulations to you and Charles, upon the announcement of your baby.” He says causing you to blush at all the attention you were receiving.

“Thank you Martin, it really means a lot,” You reply with a smile.

“If you are open to name suggestions…might I suggest Martin? It’s a great name!” He asks in true Martin Brundle style.

“I will have to consult with my husband-to-be, but I’m sure we’ll work something out. You assure him before the National Anthem starts to play.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Charles_Leclerc

Liked by Pierre_Gasly and 1,406,356 others

Charles_Leclerc Nothing in my life compares to today.

Juliette Elise Leclerc and Leo MartÍn Leclerc; I cannot even begin to tell you how much my heart fills with joy every time I see you; your Maman and I are so unbelievably happy to introduce you to the world.

Y/N and I thank everyone for their kind words and messages over the past few days; we will however be taking some time away from the media whilst we adjust to our new lives as parents to our wonderful twins.

The birth of our children marks the start of a new chapter in both of our lives, one we have both been looking forward to for months. Before I take my leave I would like to dispel any rumours of my return to racing; I have no plan to return to racing in the foreseeable future as I plan to spend my time with my soon to be wife learning what it means to be a father.

Lastly, I just want to say how proud I am of Y/N, And how thankful I am to her for bringing our beautiful little girl and boy into the world.

Charles x

I hope you enjoyed reading, this is my first F1 oneshot I've published on tumblr so if you did enjoy it, please dont hesitate to let me know by dropping a comment. Thank you xxx

[robin-evry]

Hi, I saw you taking requests, and I’d like to request an Odin fanfic from Record of Ragnarok. He’s my favorite character. I love how mysterious and dark he is, but I wish there was more content about him. I’ve only seen a little, and it makes me sad 😭. Would it be okay to request an Odin x Frigg fic? I don’t like shipping myself with characters who are canonically married or have a lover. But if you only write x reader fics, maybe you could do Odin x Frigg reader instead?

Sure thing, ask and you shall receive

PS :! this is my first time writing romance

𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐆!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

Frigg (/frɪɡ/; Old Norse: [ˈfriɡː])[1] is a goddess, one of the Æsir, in Germanic mythology. In Norse mythology, the source of most surviving information about her, she is associated with marriage, fertility , clairvoyance and motherliness, and dwells in the wetland halls of Fensalir. Nearly all sources portray her as the wife of the god Odin.

Warning : Angst, cheating, and intimacy implied

( English is not my first language )

As the wife of the chief god of the norse pantheon, your life would be filled with luxurious, dresses made by the most elegant silk and jewelry made by the shiniest of gold's and jewels carve and created by the dwarfs themselves

He will build castles, pavilions and the most beautiful gardens ever seen in heaven.

Even tho he is busy with work as being the chief god of the norse pantheon he will make time for you, making sure your bed is warm every night.

He will prioritize you, even if he's busy. Something happens to you, he will drop everything for you. And go find you to see what's the problem.

The ravens adore you, always flying towards you when they see you and cuddling towards you and watching over you if something happens like an assassination they would fly away and alert the guards and your husband.

But this marriage doesn't start easily, it was an arranged marriage at first. He was cold and inconsiderate over your feelings. To be honest during your first centuries with him it feels like you guys are not even married, it feels like you guys are just strangers that are married together by a contract.

When you hear he created a son with another goddess, you couldn't take it anymore. You ran away as possibly as far as you can. A few of your fellow goddesses warn you about him and the unhappy marriage you will be in, they were right and you shouldn't listen to them. You hide yourself in Midgard hiding your present from him.

You adorned yourself in the disguise of a woman named "franziska", to be honest during this time of period in Midgard. You feel like people actually see you unlike the inside palace during your marriage.

Suddenly a raven lay on your window and it has a lily of the valley flower on its beak and put it on your window and fly away. Soon many ravens would bring you flowers everyday different types of flowers tulips, orchids and hyacinth. You fully know who's responsible for sending these flowers but you usually didn't do anything, you just left the flowers to rot.

But one day, he appears and he begs for your return to the sky above. When you refuse and are about to leave, he grabs your wrist and kneels down upon you, hugging your waist and trails of apologies and begging for forgiveness. When you demand to release you he hugs you tighter, and finally when he looks up. He has tears coming down his eyes. After one sentence of begging you to come home. You are finally reluctant to retrieve back to the sky.

You were soon carried by a carriage that is pulled by the pegasus, during the ride it was silence no words exchanged with each other but the only action of him reaching for your hand and holding it tighter, soon he started to shower you with affection and gifts. You even manage to meet his son he had with another goddess, he has red hair and beautiful golden eyes. Even tho he was the product of the affair it wasn't his fault but you still cared for him as a mother.

Even tho the love you have for him was gone, it started to grow even tho it's not as big as it was before it slowly is growing and he will be patient waiting for you.

This is my first time writing romance and there was barely anything about the goddess frig so I decided to go by my own path, sorry if this wasn't what you were expecting but I've tried my best.

PS : please don't follow the relationship pattern of this story, this will lead you into an extremely toxic environment

[fushipurro]

Red Lights Red Flags

Chapter 10 - Haunting

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☆ Content: 18+ MDNI, mentions of past assault, foreplay (f. receiving)

☆ Word Count: 4.6k

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Toji’s sudden appearance startles you, and slowly, you turn to his position with a coy smile. The disappointment is more than apparent through his features. His arms are crossed, and he has that same disgruntled look as he had yesterday and the day before when he caught you exactly like this ─ sweeping away.

“You know you should be resting,” he says, and you know in your heart he’s right, but you don’t want to admit it.

“I know.” You sigh as you lean your chin over the top of the broom’s handle. “I am trying, but it doesn’t feel right for me to sit around and do nothing.” After spending nearly your entire life doing chores or familial duties, you can’t help but feel antsy the moment you get some peace to yourself.

He shrugs, arguing, “This place is abandoned, no one will care about a little dust.”

“I care.” You frown at the man, narrowing your eyes. “Shrines are a place of worship, and if we’re going to be here for a while, then I want to show that respect and appreciation.”

“Even if it’s going to be dirtied the moment we leave?”

“Even then,” you say with determination, although in Toji’s eyes ─ it’s stubbornness. Either way, he doesn’t seem all that appeased by your response judging by how his brows crinkle more than before, but really, you feel fine for the most part.

You won’t lie, it’s not the most comforting of tasks for your healing bones, but compared to the labor Toji’s been putting in, sweeping is nothing. Every day, he’s out there hunting, always coming back with fresh game and whatever ripened fruit he can find. Out here, far from any village, it’s given you the feeling that you and Toji are all that make up the world. It’s peaceful, even if this shrine can be… creepy.

“Do you believe in ghosts?” Your voice is quiet as you ask, already afraid from how odd of a question it is to ask out of the blue. You don’t look him in the eyes as you wait, sparing yourself from whatever look he may have for you now.

“What makes you say that?” He responds, almost sounding more concerned than anything if you had to guess, and hopefully not for the reasons you’re already assuming.

“It’s probably nothing,” you say.

“Or it could be something,” Toji says without missing a beat. He moves to lean his back against one of the walls, his arms still crossed into his sleeves. “Just tell me what’s on your mind.”

If it were that easy, you would’ve brought it up the first time it happened, but here you are mulling over what you’ll say next in your head. Crazy isn’t exactly the best look to have.

“It’s just… ever since we got here, I’ve– had a weird feeling is all,” you tell him, now anxiously tapping away against the broom’s wooden handle.

“A feeling?”

“Okay,” you drawl like you’re sighing. “Maybe some things have been happening that I can’t quite explain.”

“Like what?” he asks, mirroring your tone.

It’s obvious he wants you to get on with it, despite the better part of you that believes it’s all in your head. But you may as well stop trying to hold back; at least if it does turn out you’re crazy, you’re in a shrine along with a dozen strange tools lying around in waiting. One of them must be used for exorcisms, right?

“Well for starters, remember that pile of bones we found in sanctuary?”

A pile is putting it lightly.

What you found on your second day here was akin to a hill with a throne stuck on top. You and Toji had been exploring the shrine to see what supplies you could scrounge up, neither of you expecting to find a sight so unsettling. It was obvious ─ even to you ─ where most of those bones had originated from. That is ─ people.

And that was only the beginning of the strange happenings.

He huffs, making light of it the memory with an air of amusement. “How could I forget?”

“Well, I was doing some cleaning in that room, and when I touched one of the bones…” You pause, looking down at your hands. “I saw… something ─ almost like a memory. I’m not sure how to explain it, but it happened so fast that I don’t remember much of anything except red.”

“Red?” he deadpans.

“See?” You sigh. “It’s probably my imagination is all, or I’m going crazy…” Your words shrink by the end along with your form.

“Stop that,” he scolds in a low, warning tone. “If what you say happened, then I believe you. You’re not going insane, but I do think you need to rest more.”

“It’s hard though,” you whine. “Every time I close my eyes, I swear I see those same four red eyes watching me.”

Toji’s reply falls flat in his throat, so you take it upon yourself to continue, hoping to alleviate the pressure.

“I feel like the more I keep myself busy, the less frightening it is at night?” you muse out loud. You’ve begun telling yourself that those eyes belong to the spirit of the shrine itself, or whatever it was built to enshrine. The more you take care of its domain, the more it’ll leave you alone ─ a give and take sort of relationship with this unknown being.

It doesn’t help your mind when on the same day you discovered the bone pile, you also had uncovered a library full of scrolls depicting “curses” and other fantastical elements you’d find only in folk tales and myth.

Of the ones you read, they appear more like the ramblings of cultists or crazies rather than priests of the common practice. Nothing so much as close to resembling the bedtime stories you grew up with.

“I don’t know… do you think this place could be haunted maybe?” you ask.

Toji suddenly steals the broom right out of from under your hands. You go to reach for it back, but he stops you using his free hand, raising the broom higher than you’re able to reach.

“I think you need to go and take a breather while I do the rest of the cleaning,” he declares.

“But Toji–“

“Aht aht, don’t argue,” he says, pointing his finger in front of your face. “There’s fresh fruit in the kitchen, so go eat and then find somewhere to lay down.”

“Fine, but don’t forget–“

“To water all the plants before the sun gets too high; I’ve got it,” he drones, giving you that cocky smile that takes all your frustrations away.

You take your leave, but not without stealing a few ─ or several ─ glances at Toji. He’s right in that you need this time to heal and move forward, especially with how close you came to crumbling the day you both arrived here. It won’t be an easy recovery, and all the labor you find yourself doing has helped you to not think about it. Whether you like it or not, you’re going to have face your trauma head on to come out on top. And at the end of the day, there’s one key factor that remains.

You’re free now.

There’s no one here to hurt you, to punish, or leave you at their mercy. You have the world again ─ more now than ever thanks to Toji. He was your friend first and now your savior, and where you go from here is up to you to decide.

It’s clear when you arrive at the kitchen that Toji’s hunt must’ve gone well. Seeing the abundance of fruit ─ some already cut and prepared ─ you throw a few pieces into your mouth, savoring the flavors while putting together a second plate. This one will be given as an offering to whatever spirits inhabit this shrine, in hopes the kind gesture rewards you with some peace of mind.

Maybe then, you’ll be able to sleep for an entire night or walk alone in the halls without hearing what sounds like men and women crying out in agony.

…you left Toji in the dark on that detail.

The evening hours are when the shrine is at its best ─ when the setting sun filters between leaves, bringing out the rich red tones of the architecture. The cherry blossoms take on an orange hue, resonating with the fire-like atmosphere. After nearly being burned alive, this is the closest you’ve been able to get to an actual flame without reliving the fear you had felt. That day and those red eyes are all you’ve been able to see, haunting you even in your sleep.

Right now, you’re on your way to a hot spring formation near the back of the shrine.

It sits in a lovely spot away from it all, hidden behind trees and bamboo alike. The view from it overlooks what feels like the whole of Japan. It’s a breathtaking sight, one that reminds you how small your existence is compared to the world around you.

Following the rocky pathway up to the spring, you immediately spot Toji resting inside, his back leaning against the edge. He turns his head at your arrival, a smirk playing across his lips.

“I was wonderin’ where you were, you get lost on the way here?”

After finishing dinner together earlier, you had planned on being the first to bathe, with Toji following up after. It appears your golden hour scenic route lasted longer than you anticipated if he made it here first.

“Sorry, I can come back later,” you offer, but he shakes his head.

“Nonsense, the bath’s big enough for two or… fifty, at least,” he muses, and rightfully so. It’s a spa big enough for the mightiest king to bask in, or even the gods themselves.

Toji turns his head away, giving you the privacy to slip from your robe and undo each of your bandages. You start with dipping your toes into the water first, feeling a shiver come over you from the vast difference in warmth from the surrounding air. But as you try to step further down, you lose your footing on one of the rocks, unable to register fast enough what’s happening as the world spins around you.

“Easy there,” Toji says, and only then do you realize he caught you from falling. His arms rest on either side of yours, steadying you as he sets you down into the water at his side. “These rocks are slippery as hell.”

You wish he said something earlier, but better late than never, you guess.

Hopefully he didn’t see much either of your form, but the likelihood of that is almost nonexistent.

“Thanks…” you mutter, taking a seat close to him, with an audible sound of pain as you get comfortable.

“How’s your chest?” he asks, your head snapping to the side.

“My chest!?” you respond with more eagerness than intended ─ to which, he smiles, with that typical smug expression.

“Your ribs,” he corrects. “How are your injuries lookin’?”

“O-oh.” You sink deeper into the spring to hide your vivid flush, the warmth doing wonders already for your wounds. “Well, everything’s still sore, but it’s not as bad as when we got here,” you tell him.

“You’d feel better if you rested more and quit acting like some servant,” he says, teasing as much as he is scolding.

“I like to clean, thank you very much.” He rolls his eyes at your playful reply. “As scary as this place is, it’s still a shrine and a beautiful one at that.”

The art, the view, the incredible poetry you found in the master bedroom…

There’s beauty in the madness of it all once you look past the rough, boney exterior. Even if you’re only here for a short time, you want to do your part in preserving its unique history.

“You’ve always been that way, haven’t you?” Toji comments.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m saying, that when we met, I was nothing but a cold, bratty kid and yet you still came running.”

“I didn’t think you were mean,” you argue, his negativity making you frown. “You let me play with your sword and hung out with me those other times. I never thought of you as anything but nice.”

Toji scoffs amusingly. “You’re still referring to my training as play?”

“Well, we were just two kids playing together in a park.”

“And now we’re two adults sitting naked in a bath together,” he chuckles, “Time’s changed, hasn’t it?”

The silence that overtakes is nearly deafening, a reminder of the situation you’re in ─ both naked, and with only a foot of distance to spare. While it’s frightening to you, you can’t help butfeel nervous among other feelings stirred up from the heat.

You remind yourself in your head that this is Toji.

Toji, the man you’ve always felt safe to be around, even in your most vulnerable state. He’s the same person who has never sought to harm you on purpose, or for pleasure. The same person you trust your life to with all your heart.

He saved you, didn’t he? Freed you from your shackles, whisked you off into a land unknown… You’ve never had to doubt your safety so long as he’s at your side.

With all that in mind, you don’t feel afraid when you ask, “Have you cleaned yourself yet?” You glance back and forth between his side and moon’s reflection in the spring as you do.

Its height in the sky shows just how long it’s been since you entered, making the water appear as though it’s ablaze with silvery light among droplets of a thousand stars. Their brilliance is no longer clouded by iron bars or a red lantern’s glow.

An annoying grin creeps up over his face, the kind you know aims to tease. “Why, you offering?” He asks, lowering his head until he’s the only object within your view.

“Maybe I am,” you tell him, watching as that same smile widens at your declaration.

“Had you shown up sooner, I might’ve let you ─ but I’m already clean.” He stretches his arm back, reaching into a bucket resting along the edge of the spring. From it, he pulls out a white cloth, one with fragments of herbs rubbed into the fibers. “So why don’t you let me help you instead?”

Toji wets the cloth before bringing it to your face, gently smoothing the fabric across your cheeks and down to your chin. You wonder in the moment if it’s truly just the water making you feel so heated. But with nowhere else to look but his face, you let yourself become mesmerized by the subtle green hues, and the same silvery light of the moon reflecting back.

Would things have turned out differently had you recognized him sooner?

It’s one question you have that you’ll never know the answer to.

For all you know, he could’ve saved you the night you met, but die trying to escape. Or perhaps you did manage to escape, only to later find out your family paid the price. Your greatest fear of Hanami’s revenge, a reality in that path. In a way, the fire that ravaged the district could almost be described as a blessing as much as a curse.

It left your existence a question, one buried beneath layers of ash and rubble. All the pain and self-sacrifice that eventually ended in flames became the start for something entirely new, like seeds sprouting from a forest ravaged in an inferno.

He moves the cloth down your neck, his touch soft as ever, as if any harshness would cause you to crack. One hand steadies the opposite side, cradling your head and with the slightest back and forth motion of his thumb that does little to calm the familiar heat building in your core.

Your eyes drift to the scar marring his lip, the one difference in his face from the Toji you knew before.

“When did that happen?” You feel the hand holding your head tense, the glow in his eyes seeming to fade as they narrow into a look of scorn. A look that makes you regret bringing it up. “Sorry, I shouldn’t ha–“

“It’s fine,” he interrupts, softening his stare as he moves the cloth back under the water, wetting it once more to clean your arms now. For a while, his eyes focus only on the task in front of him, a silence hovering all the same as before. The emotions felt now however, are that much different.

“My family.” He stops himself short, kissing his teeth. “The Zenin Clan–” he corrects, “are the reason for this, years ago.”

A memory comes to you of one snowy day in particular ─ the last time you had seen Toji before your life went to hell.

“Was that why you wouldn’t let me look at you?”

“Smart girl,” he praises, with the makings of a smile heard in his voice, something you can tell despite your back now turned to him. You feel his hands gliding down your spine and across your shoulders.

“It was time for me to man up and stop fooling around,” he starts, a spiteful flare to his words. “’We’re a family of proud warriors, so act like one,’ was what they told me, and the next thing I knew, I was on the battlefield fighting to survive.”

You know of the war he’s referring to ─ one from around that wintery time when the Shogun, Saga Tsukumo, had risen to power. The battle took many lives, with the Zenin clan taking pride in the victory they claimed was their doing.

Now you know why.

“Toji, I’m so sorry.”

“I guess we both share similar scars now.” As he speaks, you feel the cloth trailing down your side, hovering over the same ribs Jinichi had fractured. Then suddenly, his arms ─ wrapping tight above your chest ─ pull you flush against his body.

“’m sorry,” he muffles against your shoulder alongside a whisper of your name. “I never wanted you to get hurt, ever,” he says, those last words laced with pain and regret. You’ve never seen Toji act so vulnerable in your life before, but for good reasoning.

This freedom you found together is as much of his as it is yours. For you, it’s freedom from suffering in a life you never asked to be a part of. For him, it’s freedom from the family that never asked for him, wanting no parts of him in their life anymore.

You lift your hands up, placing them over his wrists. A quiet response, one that hopefully shows him that it’s okay, and that you want him here, close to you. It’s obvious now you aren’t the only one with those questions in mind ─ about how life would be if the past were done different. As agonizing as it was to live through, you managed to make it out in one piece, together.

“Toji…” You turn your head to the side, your nose brushing up against strands of his hair. “I could never blame you for what happened to me, never. I trusted you then, now, and even when I had no idea it was you at my side again.”

A quiet moment goes by before you raise your voice again, “Why didn’t you tell me it was you?”

“I was scared,” he tells you. He feels foolish for even saying such meek words. A once infamous samurai of noble birth, reducing himself to feelings of fright. On any battlefield, such words are grounds for a knife in your stomach, and a sword at your neck. “You already didn’t recognize me; I didn’t want you see me as anything other than the boy you once knew.”

A monster is what he wants to say. That or the other namesakes he’s been called since birth. Titles and epithets you’ve always looked beyond with childish glee. But even now as an adult, you still look at him with the same stars in your eyes.

“I think we’re a little past that, aren’t we?” Your comment has Toji raising his eyes ─ lightly glossed over ─ to meet yours, attempting to decipher the meaning behind your words.

It soon dawns on him the moment your gaze falls to his lips, this time with a new emotion. He doesn’t have to ask to know what’s on your mind now, with the thought of that New Year’s night coming back to him all the same.

“You’re right,” he mumbles, closing the gap between your faces that much more. “How could I have almost forgot?”

That smug expression of his is felt even when his lips are on yours, his eyes closing to savor the moment and the taste of you on his tongue. Your body flutters, spiking your arousal like the turning of a knob on an oil lantern. The fire of your heart’s desire flickering in full, dancing to the beat of his own.

Only he can make you feel this way ─ so heightened with desire, and a longing to be close. Here at this shrine, there’s no mystery, no need to be silent to avoid being found. It’s just you and Toji, in your own corner of the world. That’s why you find it easy to sink into his touch, showing him with fervent grace that this is everything you want, when it’s obvious he’s still holding back.

He’s playing it safe by moving with caution, all to ensure you’re comfortable with the escalating situation. It’s unlike those who have harmed you, deriving their pleasure without a care for your own consent, but as always ─ this is Toji.

It’s your choice if you want this to continue, and you don’t think you’ve ever had a more easier decision to make. With the way your body is angled to meet his lips, it’s all too easy to slide one hand down his chest, inching closer to–

“Don’t,” he warns, breaking from the kiss with half-lidded eyes.

“But–“

“You can have at it another time,” he says, cutting you off. “Let me take care of you tonight, okay? Would you like that?”

“Please, Toji.”

That’s all he needed to hear before lifting your body up and onto one of his thighs, using the thickness of it to keep your legs parted.

“That’s it,” he murmurs against your ear as you relax against his body, one hand firm around your torso in the valley your chest, and the other ─ gliding along your inner thigh. “Just relax and I’ll make you feel real good, hun.”

The sensation of his fingers between your folds has you gasping, and no sooner are his lips on you again, swallowing every sound made when he pushes inside with one finger to start. The rough, calloused texture can be felt even with the water distorting your senses.

You move to grasp his body as a means of steadying yourself. Fingers curling inwards, scratching at his arms to relieve the rising pressure in your body.

He moves to add a second finger, and that alone has you feeling the burning stretch of it. On instinct you try and close your legs, but Toji won’t allow it. He bounces his leg up, reminding you that it’s there to keep you widened for his hand.

As he breaks from the kiss he chuckles. “Don’t go getting all shy on me now.” He compliments his teasing words by curling his fingers from the inside.

“Toji!” Your attempt to scold him comes off as moaning cry instead, but with the way you’re squirming, he knows it’s merely a faux frustration.

“Fuck,” he groans, kissing you with a bit more roughness to it. “If I knew my name sounded so pretty coming from this mouth of yours, I’d have told you it the day we first met.”

He returns to kissing you, lips traveling from your face to the side of your neck. This way, you’re free to shout his name as the palm of his hand comes over your clit. It has same calloused texture as his fingertips, providing everything your body needs right now.

These hands seeking to pleasure you are a stark contrast from the same hands that have killed in your name. It doesn’t matter that world paints him to be a monster, because all you’ve ever seen was and is Toji himself.

And even as he pushes you to your high ─ he remains gentle as could be, holding you perfectly so no pain can be felt. His fingers continue to press against all those sweet spots that have you seeing stars different from the ones hanging overhead.

“Let go for me,” he says along with your name; a whisper that pushes you over the edge of glory. Waves of euphoria crash over you, twisting your mind and body as much as you can handle to completion.

You don’t remember a time you’ve ever felt so good in this depraved state, even while coming off your high. Feeling Toji’s sultry breath against your neck is almost enough to have you ready for more, if only you weren’t so dizzy all at once.

Your name is a blur against your ear as you shut your eyes to the feeling, your body falling slack in his arms. A coldness then settles over you a moment after, stirring you from that darkening feeling.

“…Toji?” Your voice is a murmur clouded with exhaustion.

“Shh, I got you,” he says back to you. You fight your eyes weighing heavy to keep them open, realizing now that you’re cradled in his arms on route back to the shrine.

“What happened?” you quietly ask, bringing a trembling hand to your forehead.

“Spent a little too long in the spring, I’d say. How’re feelin’?”

“Okay, I guess,” you reply breathlessly.

“Just okay?” He clicks his tongue a few times, showing off a toothy grin. “I think I kept my word; don’t you agree?”

You smile, although it’s weak as you reply, “Yes ─ yes you did,” chuckling in between.

Putting aside how it ended, this was a night you’ll never forget for as long as you live, and it certainly won’t be the last of moments like these.

Toji brings you into the same servant room you’ve been sleeping in together since your arrival. The idea of taking over the master bedroom was appealing at first, but something deep down told you it wouldn’t be a good idea, and thankfully, Toji agreed.

As he places you down under the covers of the futon, you find yourself no longer caring over the lack of clothing before him. After what all just went down, your previous nerves are no longer there, replaced by your trust in him.

“How about I get you some fruit, huh? That’ll fix you right up,” he offers, turning to leave.

“Sure,” you respond, but before he gets too far, you remember the offering you laid aside. “Oh, but don’t touch the plate I left to the side, please.”

He turns halfway out the door with a look of confusion. “You savin’ it for later or something?”

“It’s for the ghosts,” you tell him, too out of it to mind your words, no matter how odd it sounds.

Toji lets out an amused sound before sliding the door shut. In truth, he doesn’t know what all to think or say for the experiences you’ve had.

He’s certain that if there was something nearby, he’d know about it and would have it taken care of without you noticing… but there’s nothing. It’s only been you and him since the day you arrived.

And yet, that still doesn’t explain why he finds the offering dish without any trace of fruit.

☆ Notes: question is, are these really ghosts or something more? We’ve reached a turning point with everything, so enjoy it while it lasts tehe. I hope the smut was worth it though, I’m worried it was too short but do you really need a lot for a fingering scene? Idfk

☆ Taglist: @fandomtrash5092 @catmania-choco @tojisfantasy

[blank-slate-jay]

Shared Warmth

Joel Miller x Male!Reader

Word Count: 6.8k

Summary: Joel brings reader to an abandon home, that he wants to call home for the two of you. Something erotic in Joel ensues seeing you in just your underwear.

Tags: Smut (18+), Anal, Fingering, Dirty Talk, Pet Names, Dom!Joel, Fluff, Established Relationship, no use of (y/n)

A/N: Longest fic I've ever written so far. I don't know how I managed to conjure this! Could've split this into two parts, but decided this is better as one post to make this more cohesive. Enjoy!

AO3! | Reposts are much appreciated!

——————————————————

"You'll see," is what you had received.

A response with very little context, a saying with many different meanings.

You didn't know what to make of this, sitting behind him on the horse with your arms around his waist, you genuinely felt left in the dark. It was very much like Joel to leave you questioning the tones under his voice. Most of the time it was just Joel being Joel, being the closed off man that he was. But the man was in a very good mood, deliberately mocking your naivety with a chuckle.

You sighed, "where are you taking me", saying it more toward yourself than to Joel. Being nearly a day away from Jackson, the question was a reasonable one. After all, what purpose was there to go beyond Jackson for? A gated community was a blessing in times like these, and yet strangely for you, something felt off. Living there has made you feel out of place, made your relationship with Ellie and Joel seemly less meaningful. Perhaps being in a safe haven, with so many people, wasn't truly what you sought.

Bizarre for sure that if you say it out loud, you knew people would call you crazy. You yourself felt you might’ve lost your mind. However, you can’t deny your feelings. Those days, weeks, and months traveling with Joel and Ellie across the country - those were some of the best times you've had even with the looming danger around every corner.

Regardless of what was going through your head, you weren't complaining, being back out into the world. The orange glow of the sun only served to emphasize this notion, piercing through the branches just above your head. It created this relaxing setting, one you can bask in for an unhealthy amount of hours.

"Do you have an idea of where we might be goin'," Joel asked.

Cruel. Just damn cruel, asking you a question you knew he'd leave open ended. Still, you played along.

"I’m assuming it’s pretty big,” after relaying that the man hums finally providing you with a clue, even if its unspecified. “…and that you aren’t playing some trick on me. So, a mall?”

“Try again.”

“A museum?”

“Nope…”

You let out a frustrated grunt, wishing the ladder were true. “Lake?”

Joel took longer to respond, “Mmm,” the man thought about it. “Not quite, it’s close by, but not important.”

You scoffed, placing your head on his shoulder, unsure of what he has disclosed so far is true or not, "Should I already know what it is?" Maybe that'll give you the upper hand.

"I doubt you'd guess this," Joel responses.

"So I'm guessing that a no then?"

The older man nods, turning his head to you before replying with a, 'Yeah'. There was no use in trying by that point. The constant persistence wasn't doing you both any favors. Joel probably had a reason to keep it secretive, so why spoil it? Knowing ahead would've made the trip less intriguing, if not boring. And on the bright side, what'll come will actually be a surprise.

Rather than playing into Joel's trickery you let it go, lifting your head back up, "Alright you won, I forfeit."

"Finally givin' up."

You reply, “I think I have too. I’ve ran out of ideas,” you lied just exhausted by the mind tricks, “Unless you want me to keep going?”

Joel partly wanted you to continue, to get back at you for all the times you fucked with him. He was starting to understand the fun in it now and why you did it to him. He settled for one more jab at you, “Will you get it a right this time?”

"Shut it" you giggle, bumping the man's thighs with your legs. Your comment did do the trick, as Joel fell silent after your remark. You could tell the man was smiling though; his rising cheek gave it away. Some of you was certainly rubbing off onto him, to know the man was now more comfortable with you was flattering.

Joel then reaches down for your leg, placing his hand right over your kneecap, caressing it like it was precious. “Don’t worry now, sugar. We’ll be there shortly.”

His considerate touch, that softness in his voice. Those two components together were enough to send a warm feeling throughout your body. How easy Joel could just captivate you by his touch alone, you guessed that was just how love worked.

You nodded your head as if he could see you, humming to acknowledge his words. Again you laid your head against him, face now between the back of his bare neck and the collar of his blue shirt. Closing your eyes, you let yourself listen to the sounds of nature around you to pass the time.

---

Sometime later, you found yourself opening your eyes to the sound of Joel's voice. Your vision, well adjusted to the growing darkness of dusk, focused on the dirt path some feet away.

"We're here," Joel says, spiking your interest enough to get your full attention. You lean back from the man's frame, hands rubbing the bags under your eyes.

Taking a look at the dirt path, you gaze in both direction. One leading deeper into the forest and the other extended out into a clearing. You confusingly study the area, unable to spot anything of interest. No water, no structure, not even a tree with any unique properties. You couldn't help feeling a bit bewildered, some of that feeling escaping through your lips with a quick 'Umm'. Stealing a glance at Joel's side profile, you tried reading what little you could see of his face.

He nods, "Good. You're awake. It's just this way," he explains, spurring the horse to get them moving in the direction of the dirt path.

Huffing in relief you spoke, "Phew, not gonna lie you almost got me there," thinking Joel might've been toying with you still. He turns his head to you, claiming that he wasn't going to bring you out there for nothing. If the man had told you that some time ago, you would have a hard time believing him.

Trotting forward, the horse comes into close proximity of the tree lines. Just on the other side you could barely see something faint between the leaves; a building of sorts. By what you could see the distance made it difficult to tell with the addition of nature covering your view. The universe really made things difficult for you. For what what it was worth, you were sure Joel didn't want you to see it until you stepped out into the open field. Still, the suspense was killing you.

This wasn't going to last any longer as Joel turns the horse right into the clearing. The tree's now finally out of view, you were hit with the red beam from the sun, blinded by your curiosity and in exchange being blinded by the sun in return.

You squint some, grunting as your gaze trailed around the perimeter. There was lots of tall grass, a noticeable transition compared to the on's just behind them. It stretched far beyond what your eyes could already see. Of course your mind was then caught up by the building some distance away.

There was a house. Someone's house. A house, that looked to be in good conditions. Surprisingly the lone tree just beside it has yet to infect the home with any vines. It made you believe that someone had to have lived here not too long ago. That person was one lucky bastard to have that home to themselves, you thought, imagining how nice the interior had looked.

"Ain't that something", Joel spoke, pretending as if it was his first time being there.

You comment, "Looks lively." A good point compared to everything the two of you had seen on the way there.

But Joel corrected you, "It's empty actually, has been for awhile". You let out a quick 'Huh', taking in his words, further scanning the house. The sidings are a tinted white, slightly scrapped on some parts of the wall. The dark colored roof, contrasting with the siding, made the home brighter than it already seemed. The house stood tall, two stories at most based off the windows, with the first floor being linked with the porch.

It was both funny and disheartening how attached you felt to this home already compared to the one you, Joel, and Ellie shared in Jackson. You kill to live in a home like this, not that you hated your existing home, just this one felt...right to you. Exterior alone, it reminded you of your old house pre-outbreak.

"Can we go in," you asked. A silly question, like you needed Joel's permission to enter the desolate property.

Joel responded sarcastically, dragging out the phrase "Nooo", with his gruffy voice. You knew he was only kidding and was now becoming intrigued by what was inside. Even so, the invasive feeling creeping up your stomach didn't go away yet. You looked around, taking in a full scope of the area. You trusted Joel of course, something that had improved since you first met. But your vigilant, alert mind hadn't shifted in the slightest; only improved thanks to being with Joel.

You turn your head around, looking behind you and at the edges of the tree lines to ensure that no one was following or coming. Like it even mattered, Joel had already assured your safety. You guessed it was better safe than sorry.

With your head now facing to the left, you gaze over to the far side of the field. So far that walking there would be ineffective. The field, a tad bit sloped, dragged on into the distance stretching too far for you to even consider. The sun made the entire sight something you'd see only from a painting or photograph. Sure enough, Joel wasn't lying from earlier when he confirmed there was a lake, just far off at the ends of the slope.

Joel steady the horse, grabbing the reins tightly to slow her down to a halt. "Alright," the man sighed. You let go of his waist as he began to move, his boots shaking the stirrups while he steps down from the horse. He then reaches his hand up to you. You gladly took it, allowing the man to pull you down.

You thanked him, a small smile stretching across the side of your face as you looked at the older man. He reciprocated your gesture with a smile of his own, one that made the wrinkles near his eyes stand out. He didn't have to mutter a word for you to know that he heeds your words.

The man turned his attention then to the horse, letting go of your hand in the process. He grabbed the reins and moved the horse over to tie it up to on of the porch's pillars. While he does so, you made your way up the few stairs, the wood creaking beneath your shoes.

Your hands trailed along the rails, rough and also smooth against your skin. Your eyes darting up and down the walls. Closely the walls looked more worn down, not too badly but could use some improvement.

You turned to look back at Joel who was slinging his bag over his shoulder. The man brushes his hand by your arm and passes by you. He walked up to the door before pushing it open. He moves his back agains the open frame, "Come".

Peaking inside for a moment, there was no way the house was empty like Joel had inferred. "Empty, huh. Doesn't look the way to me.", you look at the man with a snarky look on your face.

He looked unfazed by your humor, the man's face falling a bit flat. It reminded you of the times he'd looked at you after having to endure some of your playful banter. Those times were fun back when you traveled the country together with Ellie.

"Get in" he insisted, sounding annoyed but also seconds away from chuckling.

You don't push your luck and brush by the man still with that look on your face as you pass by him. To wipe that look off your face, Joel smacks your backside causing you to yelp; biting his lips in sync. It was a bastard move, but you weren't complaining. Looking back at him was either rewarding or a mistake cause he was making the face you familiarizes yourself with, best described as hunger. God. Choosing your next action carefully was smart cause anything that insight him to grab and kiss you, would lead to something more...erotic.

Not giving into temptation, you turn your attention to the living space ahead, balling your hand into a fist and squeezing it with the other hand. "This is...quite the place," you stated, stepping further into the home. You weren't kidding. The place had an aura very reminiscent of a cabin, the amount of woodwork around the living room alone gave you that impression. However, the house looked and felt homey all the same.

You walked up to a small craved out sculpture, shaped like a bull, placed above the small fire place. While inspecting it's form you brought up a question, "How'd you find all this?"

"Me and Tommy we're riding out", he started as the man trailed over to the wall to place his bag down, "And I wanted to do some more exploring but Tommy wanted to go back. So I let him and luck would have you..," the man finishes by raising his arms up some like he was revealing something grand, "...got my hands on this."

You nod, looking away from him to fiddle with the small bull, "Cool, it's like a comfy outpost. I like it". You then used the bull like a pointer, motioning it in the man's direction, "You weren't gonna hold out on us were you?"

Joel shook his head, making his way over to you. "Firstly this isn't a toy," he says, grabbing the small figure out of your hand. He places it back into its original spot before resuming, "And secondly, I was going to tell you, specifically just you about this place."

He was? You raised an eyebrow in question, wondering what significance a place like this would even have. It wasn't somewhere you'd visited with Joel before, nor was it a house that held any meaning to you prior to arriving. So what gives? "Just me", you muttered.

The man smirked some, finding it adorable how dumbfounded you appeared. He stepped closer to you, close enough to where you could feel the warm heat from his nostrils flaring against your face. “Yeah, just you”, he repeated, his voice now closer to a whisper. 

You could feel his hand grasping at yours as you kept your eyes locked with his. “I’m sorry, I feel I’m missing something here”. The man, obviously still listening, lifts your hand up to his own face, gently rubbing it against his cheek. His scruffy beard, pricked your palm as you cupped the man’s face. 

The man wondered if he should even answer. Your palm, tender against his rough skin nearly made him forget how to speak. Made him almost forget what you had even asked. He had held it longer than he should've, feeling slightly guilty for holding something like this off from you. He felt you inquired more than enough today. 

With your palm, slowly being squished between the man's hand and cheek he explains, "I got this for us. At Tommy's...I know things have been different between us since we got there. We, spend a lot of time outside of town, sometimes don't even spend time with each other much anymore. I thought it'd be nice to have our own space again, you know away from...everything. When I found this it just clicked for me. Felt like we could call this place home."

Your face was at ease, hearing him say what had been on your mind, spiked your attraction to the man further than you thought was possible. Every word, every sentence hit the mark for you. For a moment, you could swear he had to have read your mind at some-point. Either that or being with you had made it easy to determine what was bothering you. Regardless, having a place faraway for yourselves sounded too good to deny, especially when it was exactly what you wanted.

You couldn't quite put your thoughts into words, simply letting out a confused giggle, unsure of how to follow up on Joel's reveal.

Joel takes notice of this, captivated once more by your expression. He then breaks the silence, "You've asked a whole of questions. Now let me ask you this, how do you feel about living here with me, sunshine."

You nodded immediately, maybe a bit too quickly and possibly too eagerly. "I'd...love to," the words finally falling out of your mouth.

The man response, turning his head some to kiss your palm between an utter, "Good." His lips softly trailed down, like he was following the curved lines on your hand. Each kiss felt delicate, purposeful, each with some kind of meaning supposedly. That was just within Joel's transcended mind, he couldn't help himself, he got lost quickly whenever he'd feel your touch.

You leaned yourself forward, pulling your hand away from his mouth to wrap it around the back of his neck. Tugging him forward you embrace him, finding his hips as a comfortable spot to rest your free hand. No surprise, Joel indulged, pulling you into his arms too.

The two of you stood for some time, merely appreciating and savoring the moment of intimacy. You didn't think any words could pinpoint how much you loved Joel. Not even the word ‘loved’ felt like it was doing him justice. It was beyond that.

“What did I do to deserve you," he mutters above your ear.

“Luck," you say.

He hums, knowing it to be true but hating the notion of life without you, fighting for you made it all worth something, made it mean something. He made small circles around your back, just being grateful he had you now, thankful that you made it to this point to be there in his arms.

"I'm making dinner," Joel says, catching you off guard for a moment. "Got the ingredients for your favorite."

You knew what he was talking about, it was meal you'd two shared before and you couldn't keep quiet about your enjoyment of the dish, even while eating the damn thing.

Luck would have you, again, you were about to experience that meal again.

---

You turned the running faucet of the soothing shower off, grabbing the towel just off the shower's hinges to wrap yourself in its warmth. Stepping out the tub, you began to dry yourself, wiping away all the sweat you'd built up after leaving Jackson. Once knowing this new place had running water, you were quick to jump for the shower, never skipping the opportunity to get yourself clean.

Joel was just downstairs prepping dinner for the two of you. You wondered if it was already finished since you spent way too long wandering the upstairs plane; checking the available rooms before finding the shower. You were sure it wasn't even done yet since Joel would've called out for your name by that point.

Wiping away the last remnants of water, you threw on some spare clothing, a shirt and just your underwear, from your backpack before stepping out the restroom. The cooler air hit your body, nothing you wouldn't accept since the season was a lot warmer; spring.

You made your way into the master bedroom. In this case, your shared room with Joel. Not much was in it. Compared to the other bedroom, which hosted nothing at all, this one at least had a bed and a few dressers. You weren't complaining since the room felt less compacted and more freeing.

Walking into the room you toss your towel onto the bed, taking in the open space, a stark contrast to your room back in Jackson. The thought of what you could implement to this room had your mind racing momentarily. Like what you could put within the corners or whether you should put any entertaining devices in the room. Maybe not the last part probably cause Joel would advise keeping those contained to the living room.

It got you pretty thrilled thinking about what you could do in general now that you weren't limited to a communities resources. This of course meant you didn't have as much to work with, but everything you gathered would or could be used to further improve your new home.

You started comparing your home back in Jackson to the one you have here. Down to it's interior, format, and spacing. You thought about the kitchen, dinning area, your shared room, Ellie's room. Ellie. Again you thought about her, a realization hitting you in the process. 'Fuck' you sighed under your breath. So caught up and enthralled by a nice change of environment, you hadn't even thought about her wellbeing.

At the moment, she was at Tommy and Maria's place, likely giving them a hard time as you'd expect. The usual for Ellie. But being so far away from her, not being there for her made you somewhat fazed; a pinch of disgrace too. That girl was tough and she needed to grow up around people to understand what it's like to live. But on the other hand, she'd follow you and Joel to the ends of the earth, she said it herself.

Throughout the wave of thoughts, washing within your head, you were by the window now. Hands perched up on the dresser just below the glass's border. The spot made for a great place to reflect. Perhaps this would be a good position to do it, overlooking the grassy plains, it gave your head a hub place to ponder.

If it weren't for you being lost in your thoughts, you would've been aware of the man standing by the door frame watching you; completely out of eyesight. Joel, leaning up on the frame with his arm, exhales an exaggerated sigh to catch your attention.

You turn, startled by the sudden noise. Realizing it was just Joel you relaxed. "You almost gave me a heart attack," you joked.

His presence definitely lightened you up, giving you something to distract yourself from any thoughts running in your head. You'd talk out how to settle Ellie's situation with Joel, it'll work out; you knew it would with Joel by your side.

"Sorry" he started, his eyes gazing upon your exposed legs. "Dinner's ready."

You nod, "Alright. I'll be down in a bit."

You thought after relaying this to Joel, that he'd leave and wait for you downstairs. But he didn't move, his figure remaining still as his eyes stayed focus on you. He nods too, but it seemed more that he did it subconsciously since his eyes weren't locked with yours.

The look was back and more prominent than ever. The dark look that you avoided earlier, was calling out for you to let him have you. Mixed with the half smile across his face made for a deadly combo.

You tried being clever, looking about the room to see if your bag was in sight. It wasn't, but you were sure it was still in the restroom after changing out your clothes. "I'm gonna grab my pants, really quick-"

"You don't have to" Joel says, his fingers playing with his nails. "I think you look fine already."

Failed, you tried getting to see if the man would hold off, tried keeping him at bay at least until you both were in bed. But no, you only drew more attention to your undergarments. To make matters even worse, Joel's gruff voice had caused a twitch between your legs. A slight growth a hardness, noticeable by both of you.

Joel bit his lips, taking his weight off of the door, "You're not too hungry, right?"

This was the one time where choosing your words carefully would be wise at the moment. However, you felt there was no turning back now. He wanted you, now. And you wanted him more. You sheepishly shook your head, "Not really", finally falling for the man's glare.

While you spoke, Joel already had closed the gap between you too, looking into your eyes for a moment. He hooks the front of your trousers with his finger, pulling you closer to him until his lips were locked with yours. You inhaled deeply, feeling a tingle shake your spine.

He cups the sides of your face, passionately parting his lips to slide his tongue inside. Fast as Joel was to get things going, you accepted. The warmth elevated by the mixing of each others taste made the tightness in your underwear uncomfortable.

Joel's huffs deeply into the kiss, his grip, grew stronger with each passing second. His weight started to shift your stance, causing you to back up until you hit the dresser behind you. You grunted against his mouth, not letting the movement stop you from continuing to brush your tongue against his.

Both moaning and breathing heavily, you grab at his collar shirt, playing with one of the buttons to get it open. You tried getting him to undress, a chance taken from you when he grabs your wrist tightly. The man wanted nothing but to feel your skin against his own. He wanted to savior the moment. He liked the build up, he loved the anticipation.

His hands were free from your face, but they soon started invading your shirt. He rampaged through it, running them around your shirt before sticking them in by your sides. You tremble at his touch. His hand created a warm sensation on your skin, reminding you of the times he’d draw circles on your back whenever you’d lay in bed together.

For you, gripping his jawline pulled you two closer, crotches colliding too. It peaked Joel’s interest, his eyebrows raising between the groans against your lips. Joel’s jeans made it difficult to tell, but it was clear you were hard, just as hard as he was. That got him to smile into the kiss, proud he could get you really erect quickly.

You parted your lips from his, only a few inches apart. You used the moment to catch some air, something you knew you wouldn't be granted later the further you proceed.

You questioned his smile, "What?" "Nothing," he says, his accent rolling off the tip of his tongue. "Just you". He waits a moment before throwing himself back into the fray, wanting your lips to be sealed with his.

Aggressive, he pushes you harder against the dresser, unintentionally crushing you moments before dipping down to grab your legs and halting you onto the wooded surface. The dresser creaked, not adapted to a person being onto but that didn't concern either of you. The man caress your thigh, slow and aimlessly, while his other hand yanked at the front of your underwear once more.

He wanted you to take them off so badly and you didn't waste a moment. You shook yourself, getting enough room under you to slip them off. Joel helped, his steaming breath hitting your slowly exposing skin made you pick the pace up. He help fully get them off, letting the cloth hit the ground. His gaze fixed on your now exposed erection made him forget to breathe.

“Now your turn”, you said.

Rubbing his hands down your legs, he reaches down for his zipper to unbuckled his pants. His belt clicked and his pants loosened, dropping everything done to the floor with a thud. He swiftly took his underwear off too, slipping it fully off and sliding everything off to the side with his feet.

You let out a shaky exhale, your eyes so baffled by how hard his cock was; rock solid and strictly standing upward. Your started pondering if you could even take it. Under these conditions you would have to take him raw. There had to be something to use, you thought something to make it easier for him.

“Hey”, Joel’s voice soft on your ears. He tilts your head up to hold your gaze, “Eyes on me.” He slowly caresses the features on your face, adoring just how amazing your eyes looked and how kissable your lips were. Those lips, looking at them intently he slips his thump across the bottom half. He wanted to nibble on them, gently bite to leave a mark on them; to leave evidence of his pass doings.

He used his other hand to play with your cock, making sure you were staying hard for him. You assisted him with your palm overlapping his; working in unison. It was subtle and worked to keep you both pleasured while focusing on the man.

Joel dipped his finger between your lips, “Open your mouth, baby”. Your lips separated and he slid his finger in. A bitter taste hit the roof of your mouth as he swirled his finger around. “Get it nice and wet for me. Gonna need it for the hole of yours.”

So this was the alternative. Normally you and Joel would talk about using some sort of cream for sex. With seemingly none around to use, your mouth would have to do. You started sucking on his finger for a bit, his thick finger, took up a good portion of your mouth. Not enough to suffocate like his cock, but enough to make you think about how to manage your tongue’s movement. After the first finger he switched it out for another, a small line of saliva leaking out every time he’d pull out.

Three finger were soaked now, three fingers you were sure would break you, more than his cock would. You shiver, trying to estimate the width of his fingers with that of his cock. It served no purpose other than question your capabilities. What good did that do you, especially now?

Joel releases your cock, and trails his hands down to your balls. You knew where he was headed, this wasn’t your first rodeo with Joel. You lifted your leg up, leaning back onto one elbow to keep yourself upright. Joel effortlessly threw your hovering leg over his shoulder, getting a view of what he’d been dying to see. Your hole, albeit at an angle was still visible and accessible which was the only thing that mattered to Joel.

The man, looked to your eyes for conformation, he wanted to make sure you were ready. There wasn't a hint of denial in your face, Joel loved that look.

Coming into close contact, he circles around your entrance. His rough fingers toyed with your hole, allowing the sensations to prepare you for his soon to come entry. God the feeling alone was making you wish he just put himself inside you, knowing it might hurt but still wanting him to push deep in.

No longer waiting, Joel pushes a finger inside, slowly. You narrowed your brows, the walls of your ass being breached caused a slight spark in your stomach. His finger slid relatively easily, getting your breathing to become shakier than before. It was nothing you couldn't take and his finger was satisfying, it might've been enough to make you cum. His second finger though, made itself known too, pushing in with the first.

You winced, wishing Joel had warned you. Two thick fingers inside was about right, it felt about the size of Joel's cock at it's hardest. Staying with this rhythmic push and pull inside your hole made you believe you were ready for him to fuck you. But one other finger remained, one still damp and set to go.

A yelp escaped your lips feeling the third join the other two. It hurt for sure, causing you to throw your head back as a jolt reaction. You bump the glass pane behind you, the light outside barely shining onto the side of your face. You reached up to grab at Joel's collar, the fabric bringing some level of comfort with it's pure softness.

"Relax..." the man groans.

Fuck you wanted to, but how could you when the man was expanding your ass with every thrust. It made you grip his collar tightly as you kept your eyes tight to prevent it a tear from falling. The feeling was both painful and enjoyable, the tingles running up your stomach never ceased and neither did the sting in your hole.

You started to tell, no, insist that he fuck you. It escaped your mouth through a whine, a part of you wanting him to just remove a finger or two to let you relax. You knew it had purpose, you knew why he was pushing your limits. The longer you held, the easier it would be for him to push himself inside of you. Still you begged, "Please...Joel...take me, just fuck me."

Through your closed eyelids you couldn't see the man, shamelessly smirking, "Oh yeah? Tell me how bad you want it, sugar pie."

You gasp, "Bad".

He groans, "Yeah?". He licks his lips, "Want me to go really deep in there, want to me fuck you real good."

"Uh...huh"

He pushes fingers deeper than usual "How badly?"

You gasped, "Really fucking bad. FUCK".

Joel groans, acknowledging your plead. If you wanted it that badly, he wish you told him sooner. He pulls his fingers out, the sounds of your hole getting him excited. It was wet now, just the way he liked it. In one swift motion, Joel flings your other, idle leg over his shoulder and yanks you forward until your backside was against his crotch. His cock, bumping into your balls got another sound out of you.

You relax into the dresser the best you could, letting your elbows rest and leaning your head back until it was laying against the glass again. It wasn't the most comfortable positions for your neck, you didn't pay much mind to this though as Joel began running his hands up your thighs. With your legs so close to his face, he also started leaving kisses and bite marks you knew would be visible the next day. He wasn't about to let you off without at least some marking, whether it'd be visible later or hidden by your clothes didn't concern him.

Breathing hard against your skin, his gaze turns back to his hard-on. He reaches for it, while overlooking your body. He lines it up to your hole pushing, not inside of you yet, but rather around the exterior.

Again with the teasing, you thought, wanting to roll your eyes but refusing to try. Did the man not tire of his own nonsense? You shifted your hip toward his cock, physically telling him to knock it off and shove it in you.

He locks eyes with you then, seeing your desperate and longing expression. You chewed down on your lips, seeing how the man's eyes had darken since last you laid upon them. He just smirked, looking down between your legs before pushing himself in.

It hurt but not as much as his fingers. The aftermath of those three invaders acted as a testament to how well you could still take the man in strides. For what it was worth, they did make it easier for him to slide into you.

He slipped in and out easily, smooth like butter. His thrust started methodically, getting familiar with your hole's interior again. He groaned, his cock pulsating against the edges, trying to find your sweet spot.

He wasn't able too, it wasn't that easy. You had laid there making hush moans that could only be audible for anyone within the room. It was striking and incredibly hot to Joel hearing you try to conceal your voice. It came off is if you were going to burst, like you were going to scream out his name, that was something else entirely.

Thinking about it gave him a surge, a rush that rapidly increases his pace. His hips smacking up against your ass, created a sound that vibrated your body. Each smack, was music to the man's ears, meld together now with your rising grunts. It probably was the best thing he'd ever heard.

You were losing it on the other hand. Your body trembled, your eyes became hazy, your mind completely in shambles; a mess best described it all. So much so that you had no idea what was even happening, questioning what was even real.

Were you becoming stupid with each thrust or did you completely lose your mind to him. His strides were beginning to make you see stars, more pleasing than the ones you'd see in the sky. A sudden overwhelming feeling rushes from your stomach all the way to your head, the strongest sensation you've felt all day. It made you feel light, like you had been consumed by the clouds.

This strange halt in your mind lasted for a minute before coming back from being on autopilot. You were semi-confused as your body was on a softer surface now. Your body lays flat, Joel's entire weight on top of you. Your senses were coming back to you.

The dresser was no longer your resting place but rather it was now the bed. Joel had lifted you up moments ago, still inside you, and crashed you both onto the mattress. Surprisingly that didn't snap you out of it, but what was even more confusing was the wetness near your stomach, just in between your stomach and Joel's. It was quite sticky. Wait, you stopped your mind from racing, ignoring Joel's rough groans in your ears for a second. You already came, you totally did. Your cock didn't feel restrained nor was it in any desire need to let loose any longer.

Shit, you thought, not realizing the man had satisfied you. You got lost in thought due to him hitting your sweet spot, it explained why your mind went into a frenzy. The feeling sent you over the edge again, jolting you back to reality this time; he hit it again.

You cry out as a response.

"Fuck, I'm gonna blow, I'm gonna fucking blow". Joel groaned.

You couldn't speak a word, it was too much, too much to bear. You dug your nails into the back of his shirt and pulled him closer with your legs around his waist. Your strength was dwindling, and you didn't have the voice to tell him to finish. If he kept it up any longer you were surely gonna cum again.

Joel's voice was deafening against your ears, his rhythm completely erratic and harsh against your hole. He went all out, posting himself up onto his elbows and thrusting into you like it was his last. He could feel the sharpness on his back, a deep sting from you nails pushing further into his skin. He watched as tears rolled down your face, wanting nothing but to wipe them away. He was right there, he could feel it rising up.

A few more rough thrusts did the trick. Joel grunted, holding his breath for a second as his cock convulsed before blowing. It came out fast, faster than he expected, squirting strings of cum in succession against your interior. He squinted his eyes, as he came quickly back down to your neck.

Joel's cock had settled, just as the two of you were. Exhausted beyond belief, you felt weak, one of your slipping off the man's back. You both relish in each other's touch, your breaths becoming steady at last.

The man's body shifts, causing you discomfort from still being inside of you. He reaches down to pull out, a quiet groan breaking free from your sealed lips. He used his other hand to cup and rub your cheek, his way of showing his gentleness after the affair. The man's cum oozed out, running down onto the mattress. You could feel how wet and loose it had become. Compared to the last time Joel had fucked you, you weren't as messy as you were now.

He then looked over to the side, seeing the towel you had used from earlier. He grabs it and wipes away the stains on your stomach.

You let out a sigh followed by locking eyes with Joel. They looked a lot more calmer, vibrant even just by his soothing demeanor.

As he finished wiping you clean the corner of his lips rose, "We should go eat."

Just like that, he had nothing left to say, acting as if nothing just happened. You scoffed at how quick the man could go from wanting to devour you to being a sensual man who wanted to give you the world. You weren't ready to rise from your position, not yet. You yank the towel out of his grasp before pulling him back down onto you.

Dinner can wait, just a bit longer.

[copper-16]

been thinking about your platonic andrea + lola fic especially since andrea missed the last penalty that took atletico out of the CL. would you ever write a fic about that?

idk andrea feeling really guilty and pulling away from the team and lola reminding her that she’s more than just her bad moments on the pitch?

:)

The way this ask made me GASP...I posted this fic OVER a year ago and someone still remembers it? I cannot explain my excitement, especially because it's such a little niche/rarepair fic. It makes my YEAR when people still remember those silly little fics I made. If rarepair or platonic stuff was more popular I would probably have a million fics to write, honestly.

I wasn't ever planning to write about them again - but I pumped something out solely because I was so excited by you mentioning it 😭 It's not a full fic necessarily which is why I'm just posting it on here.

I Try, I Try

Andrea misses the penalty, crushing Atlético Madrid's dream of playing in the Champions League. Crushing Lola's dream of playing in the Champions League. The defender struggles to cope before she receives an important reminder.

If there was one thing that would have motivated Lola to save every single one of those penalties, it would be the sight of Andrea on the pitch after missing her own. It was burned into her brain it felt like, the image of the younger girl right next to the celebrating Rosenborg team, her head in her hands. 

Lola was absolutely disappointed after the loss. But she had been lucky to have a long career, to have won a Champions League trophy, to have experienced so many losses and victories. But the defender was still young, and it was a different kind of pressure and expectation to be the one to take the final penalty in a shootout. Especially one where the result determined if they had a shot at playing on the international stage. 

And Andrea hadn’t even flinched when she had been selected, insisting that she was ready. She was putting on a brave face, Lola could tell. 

But it was that kind of strength and the right attitude that made good players great ones. The keeper was proud of her for being a team player and fighting till the end, even if it wasn’t their day. Even if she wanted to cry, the blonde made her way around to her other teammates, patting them on the back and holding back her clear upset. 

Lola simply wished it didn’t have to end this way. The younger girl had been nearly catatonic in the changing room, on the bus ride, on the plane. 

It had been Carmen who had taken Andrea home, given that the two of them lived in the same apartment building. Lola had pulled the older defender aside, asking her quietly to keep an eye on their younger teammate. 

When the keeper asked Andrea if she wanted to come over to her and Christina’s apartment, she only received a muted head shake in response. The younger girl could barely even look her in the eyes as she brushed the keeper off, though not unkindly. 

It had taken less than two hours for Carmen to call Lola to come over, her voice filled with worry. 

The older woman rode a strange line sometimes, wanting to respect Andrea’s boundaries while also understanding that sometimes people didn’t always exactly say what they wanted. She did feel a certain responsibility to protect the defender from the harsh realities of the world, but she couldn’t solve everything. 

Personally, she hated the fact, even if she knew that she held no control over it. 

She makes it to Andrea and Carmen’s apartment building in record time, meeting her former partner by the door to the younger girlfriend’s apartment.

“I could hear her crying in her room when I was making her some food and I…I don’t know. She hates being alone, it feels more like she’s trying to punish herself than process,” Carmen said with exasperation, but underneath her tone is thinly veiled worry. 

“You probably aren’t far off,” Lola acquiesced, turning her head briefly to look at the door. “I’ve got her, you can go back up to your place. Don’t forget to ice your knee,” the keeper said with as much captainly authority as she could muster. Carmen rolled her eyes good-naturedly, saluting her teammate somewhat mockingly before she turned to head back up to her own place. 

Lola lets herself into Andrea’s apartment, and despite the fact that the defender’s door is closed, she can hear the muted sounds of crying that ring through the space. She doesn’t even hesitate, striding over to the younger girl’s room before she opens the door gently, poking her head in. 

The soft crying noises shut off abruptly, the entire room entering into a precarious stillness. Lola felt her heart sink at the evidence of the girl’s sadness, even if she knew it was there. 

The older woman doesn’t even bother with asking for an invitation, she simply moves into the room, climbing into Andrea’s bed with her. 

This bed held a million memories, at least for the keeper. Late-night conversations and confessions, the loudest of laughs, a safe space for tears. The mattress greets her warmly, sinking under her as she moves her body closer to Andrea’s, placing her hand gently on the defender’s back. 

“Lola, go away,” Andrea insists, attempting to sound more firm than she felt. Her words come out sounding more like they are from a tearful child, not that Lola cares. 

“It is okay to be upset Andrea, it is okay to cry,” Lola tries, but the blonde still shifts away from her, and the sound of a stuttering breath punctuates the silence around them. 

There is a pause before the younger girl speaks again, her words dripping with rage. 

Not for the team, but rather for herself. 

“It is my fault that we lost. I shouldn’t be crying over something that I had control over.” 

Lola sits up slightly after hearing her words, placing her head in her hand, her elbow pressing into the mattress. When she speaks, her voice is firm, with little room for argument. 

“No, it is not.” 

The sheer force of her words is enough to make Andrea pause and relent in turning over slightly to peer at the dark-haired woman. 

She expects Lola to be looking at her with anger, with frustration. 

First, she lost them an important game, all because she couldn’t shoot a ball into the net properly. Like it wasn’t her only job to do exactly that. 

And now, she was acting like a child, hiding in her bed when all she wanted was a hug and a reminder that she wasn’t the worst footballer in the world. 

She was older now, and she needed to grow up and be realistic. There wasn’t time for all of her big, unnecessary emotions. 

But Lola isn’t looking at her with anger or frustration. She looks more apprehensive and concerned than anything else, and Andrea turns over more fully to face her. 

“I’m so sorry Lola,” she whispers, crushed by the thought that she was the one who ended not only her dreams, the dreams of the team, but Lola’s dream. 

The keeper shakes her head instantly, her expression filling with sympathy. 

“Andrea, it is not your fault. There were 120 minutes, and four other penalties besides your own. This doesn’t rest on all you, I promise,” Lola points out, but Andrea cuts her off with a humorless laugh. 

“Yes, but if I had just made my penalty, my one job, we wouldn’t be here,” she counters, averting her eyes from the older woman. 

“And if I had saved more of the penalties, or the goals, we wouldn’t be here either,” Lola comments, but it doesn’t seem to do anything other than upset the defender more. 

“That is different, and you know it. Nobody expects a keeper to save a penalty, but it is the job of the players to score,” Andrea’s voice is forceful, as though she’s trying to convince herself of the words. 

“By the time we made it to penalties, we had already failed our job. All of us, the whole team, not just you. Just because you are the one who went last, doesn’t mean that our failures for the whole game lay completely on your shoulders,” Lola argues, and when the blonde doesn’t say anything in response, she continues. 

“This is not your fault. We all miss penalties or make mistakes on the job. I can’t even begin to count how many mistakes I have made in my career Andrea, truly. As much as I hate it, it’s a part of the game. And it doesn’t matter how many times it happens, or how old you are, you are allowed to be upset over it. It doesn’t make you immature or weak to cry or feel upset,” the keeper emphasizes, and when she sees the younger girl’s lip begin to wobble, she knows that she’s hit the root of the problem. 

“I’m twenty years old, I shouldn’t be acting this way over a penalty,” she sputters, and Lola settles herself back on the mattress, pulling the younger girl into her. 

“I don’t care how old or mature you are, you are allowed to be upset about things. I am twenty-nine years old and–” Lola starts, though the defender is quick to interject despite her sadness. 

“Aren’t you thirty-on–” Andrea is cut off with a hand that quickly covers her mouth, smothering the rest of her sentence. 

“Shush, I am in my twenties and I haven't finished speaking. As I was saying, I am older than you and I still cry about things all the time, when I feel the need to. It is natural and it is normal, just like it is to talk to other people around you. There is no rule book that says you must go through this alone because you feel that you are the one at fault for the situation. All you are doing is punishing yourself when I promise, you don’t have to,” Lola reassures, Andrea now tucked into her side, her head laying on Lola’s chest. 

There is a pause as silent tears slip down the blonde’s cheeks, as the words of the older woman wash over her. 

“I am so sorry Lola,” she emphasizes, and it’s the repetition of the word that causes the keeper to look down in confusion. 

“Why are you saying sorry to me?” She asks, a little lost on why Andrea needed to apologize to her specifically. 

“You are further along in your career, these chances aren’t always easy to come by, and I screwed it up. I blew your chance this year, and who knows if we’ll have this opportunity again,” Andrea’s voice is small, emotion caught in her throat. 

“I’m so, so sorry. Please don’t…” 

The blonde’s words trail off, but the unspoken part of her sentence is heard loud and clear. 

Please don’t hate me. 

“I could never, I promise you that. You are my teammate, but more importantly, you are my friend. I am proud of you each time you step out onto the pitch, and I consider myself so lucky to be your teammate. We win together, and we lose together. I love you far too much to ever let something like football come between us, even if it is an important match. It’s just a game, and you are…tan especial para mí,” Lola vows, feeling the younger girl curl further into her side, a sigh of relief leaving her exhausted body. 

And it was true. The defender meant so much more to her than anything that football might bring or take away, and she would much rather prioritize that than over something she knew could slip out from under her at any moment. 

“Te amo pequeña,” the older woman murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss to the crown of Andrea’s head. 

The younger girl snuggles into her further, tear tracks down her face finally beginning to dry as she settles into the taller woman. 

“Thank you Mama Lola. Te amo,” she whispers as she drifts off, disappointment now accompanied by the knowledge that she would overcome this. 

And by the fact that she didn’t have to do it alone.

[dottores]

LATE NIGHT TALKS | TARTAGLIA

summary: a chilly winter night, your lover finally returns home from a mission in liyue harbor and yet again, he tries to sneak in a conversation that he knows you do not want to have.

warnings: none, fem!reader (not sure if i used gendered terms in this but just to be safe), cuddles, light angst & hurt/comfort, a little fluff, unedited/written on phone, mentions of death

notes: i have literally had this in my drafts since like february rip

“hmmm, and what if one day i was killed in battle?”

you paused in your steady movements, fingers entangled in his hair as you processed his words. 

“must you be so morbid, ajax?” you sighed, shaking your head as you continued brushing your fingers through his soft hair.

“it’s a legitimate question,” tartaglia complained. “being a harbinger isn’t just for the giggles, y’know? death is a constant threat.” 

“a threat i would prefer not to think about,” you said dryly, tugging on his hair pointedly. he winced and batted your hand away, scowling at you, betrayed.

“how am i supposed to know you’ll be okay when i’m gone though?” tartaglia pressed.

when, he said, not if this time. 

not for the first time, you wondered if tartaglia was hiding something from you, but you knew if you pressed, you’d be met with the same flippant response and set of deflections you always received.

“i survived years on my own, ajax,” you finally humored the question, albeit reluctantly. “now can you drop this? i don’t want to talk about this.”

tartaglia went quiet for a moment, basking in your arms. it wasn’t often he got to come back home to snezhnaya—he was the harbinger most frequently sent on foreign missions. and as much as you loved how he would bring you home every little thing he passed by that made him think of you, you would much rather have him home with you.

it was exhausting—you knew that the higher ranked harbingers did it on purpose. tartaglia was aggressive and confrontational, and politics in snezhnaya between the aristocrats and the fatui was tense. and the aristocrats did not like tartaglia because he was very much prone to calling them out on their lies and bluffs.

“anthon and tonia and teucer… they really love you, y’know?” tartaglia finally said after a minute, rolling over onto his stomach, resting his chin on your chest as he looked up at you, all but smushing you beneath him. “i’ve never seen them take to someone like they have to you.” 

“they’re good kids,” you smiled fondly at the thought of them, brushing an orange curl from tartaglia’s eyes. you nearly let out a giggle as he captured your wrist in his hand—the movement swift and sudden—to bring your hand to his lips so he could kiss your palm. “tonia comes over often to bake with me when you’re on missions. i’ll have to show you what she’s taught me.”

because you were quite helpless when it came to cooking, tartaglia’s family often stopped by or invited you over for meals, and on days you were alone, you simply went out to a tavern to eat. at your words, tartaglia’s eyes shot open on surprise.

“show me?” he laughed nervously, and you had half a mind to pinch his ear. “fine, fine, but if i’m sick after, you’ll have to take care of me, deal?”

“as if i don’t already do that anyway,” you shot back, rolling your eyes, and tartaglia smiled, blue eyes softening just a bit as his gaze traced your face.

“will you look after them?” tartaglia finally asked quietly. you sighed, realizing he was dragging the topic back to the one you were trying to avoid. “i don’t want them to be alone. our older siblings are rarely around, and our mother… i don’t know how well she’ll be after…”

after i die, you finished for him silently.

and your chest felt heavy, and you felt sad, but there was also a type of adoration clawing at your heart as you noticed the earnest expression in tartaglia’s face as he searched yours for an answer. you had always known he loved you but this was different, because there’s nothing in the world that he loves more than his family and he was entrusting them to you when the fate that he thought was inevitable finally caught up with him. 

“yeah,” you said, and your voice sounded half-strangled but you forced yourself to speak anyway. “of course i’d look after them.”

and tartaglia looked far more at peace now as he let his eyes slide shut and his head fall against your chest. he was falling asleep easily, as he always did when he was in your arms, but now you were wide awake, eyes tracing his face, memorizing each little freckle and scar like it was the last time you’d be able to see them after his cruel reminder that one day, he would be gone and you would be alone. 

or maybe not alone, but you wouldn’t be with him.

“you scare me sometimes, ajax,” you said softly, too quiet for him to overhear. he was fast asleep anyway, snoring softly against your chest, but you didn’t dare speak louder than a whisper in fear of waking him up.

the scars that littered his body, the emptiness of his eyes, the way that sometimes he was in physical pain just moving around the cabin because of how worn down his body was—it scared you. you were watching him die and could only watch him put on a strong facade and a smile around you and his siblings as to not worry anybody. 

“stop staring at me and go to sleep,” he grumbled sleepily, not even opening his eyes, making you wonder if somehow, even in his sleep he could tell you were watching him.

“i thought you were sleeping,” you replied quietly and he didn’t say anything, the soft whistle of a snore resounding around the room as a response. 

you smiled fondly, leaning down to press your lips against head as you settled back into the pillows of the bed, holding him just a bit tighter as you finally began to doze off.