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whimsyfinny · 10 months ago

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Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: None (Yet) in chapters to come there will be smut (and lots of it) and possible violence/blood/gore

Chapter Word Count: 2803

—-MDNI—-

A/N: My first Supernatural fic so I hope it doesn’t suck ass. Only proof read by myself, so pls let me know of any errors so I can correct! Also I know at this point in the series Dean is more serious, however I love pre-Hell Dean so imma bring some of those vibes in here. This is also posted on my AO3.

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Please read the below first:

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

I’m Not Your F*cking Maid

Chapter 3

The rest of that day was pretty uneventful. Charlie practically threw my sad lone duffle bag through the front door and left before I could give her a piece of my mind for just leaving me here. I helped Sam put away the groceries he’d bought, emphasising that ‘we don’t put things down, we put them away’, otherwise we end up living in filth again. I also cleared some space around the study area that seems to be the centre of the bunker, and much to my dismay, threw out even more take-out boxes and beer bottles. I arranged all of the research that had been left on the desk in a mess, organising it into piles of read and unread; or at least what looked read and unread to me. The whole time Dean sat at this very desk and was watching cartoons on Sam’s laptop whilst his brother was in the shower, letting me do all the dirty work as he just sat there and relaxed. When I was finally done, I slumped down in the chair opposite him and slid all of the neat stacks of research towards myself. Dean looked up at me, his relaxed ‘cartoon-watching’ expression fading slightly.

“What are you doing?” He asked. I looked up at him like he was stupid.

“What do you think? I’m catching up on what you guys have been researching.”

He closed the laptop and folded his arms across his chest, the cotton of his flannel pulling tight over his large biceps.

“That’s such a waste of time.”

“And why, pray tell, is it such a waste of time Dean?”

“It’ll take you days, maybe weeks to catch up on what we know - either me or Sam can give you a rundown on what’s most important in an hour,” his tone was very matter-of-fact, like he didn’t want to be argued with. I sighed, crossing my arms on the table in front of me, leaning forwards.

“That’s great, you can still do that, but the more clued up I am as to what is going on then the more chance we have of finding what you need,” I paused for a second, a thought flashing across my mind. “Come to think of it, you haven’t even told me why I’m here, other than to ‘do research’. What are you looking for that has you so stumped?” Dean sucked a breath in through teeth, shifting slightly in his chair.

“The Fist Blade,” his tone had a thickness to it that I couldn’t place.

“The First Blade? As in Cain and Abel? THAT First Blade? ”

“Bingo.”

“But surely that’s long gone by now, it’s been two millennia at least. Nothing can last that long…can it?” I asked almost rhetorically. Dean shrugged.

“That’s what we want to know too,” his eyes flicked up and caught mine, his gaze burning into mine for only a moment with such intensity I felt my breath catch in my chest. The dark purple bruising on his face around his eyes made that forest green even more vibrant and alluring. There was a pause - for some reason I couldn’t look away and I had to catch myself before glancing at his bruised lips, which I knew already were devilishly charming. Right as I gave in to temptation and saw the corner of Deans poor split lip twitch into a smirk, Sam saved the day by striding in, towel-drying his hair. He paused, looked at us and frowned quizzically, almost like he was more surprised that we weren’t throwing furniture at each other. He didn’t say anything on that topic though, because as he looked around he noticed I’d cleaned. Again.

“(Y/n) you really have to stop cleaning up our mess,” he smiled, hanging his towel on the back of his chair as he took a seat next to me, his long legs grazing mine slightly.

“Sam just say ‘thank you’,” I tilted my head up to him - he was still enormous even when he was sitting down. He laughed slightly, almost bashfully as he looked down for a second at his twiddling thumbs before locking his eyes with mine again.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I returned his smile at last, holding it for a few seconds before continuing: “So Dean has just been explaining to me what you’re looking for. Surely the First Blade is long gone by now? How would it have survived this long, and still be functional - not just some pile of dust?” Sam huffed out an already exasperated breath, slouching back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest, much like how Dean was sitting.

“I have no idea, at this point I feel like we’re grasping at air,” we all mumbled in agreement, suddenly sitting in a solemn sort of silence. It was short lived though as Sam leant forwards, pushing his damp hair from his eyes and trying to lighten the mood.

“Guys why don’t we just leave it for a few hours and get something for dinner? It’s getting late and we should really eat.” Dean suddenly sprang forwards, sitting up straight and lacing his fingers together on the desk with a grin on his stupid face.

“Good idea Sammy - I can’t wait to try her cooking. If she can cook half as well as she cleans then we’re in for a treat.”

“You son of a bitch!” I jumped up, grasping the first thing I could find (a file on God knows what) and smacked him across the face with it. Deans head turned with the force - albeit not much - and another stupid grin crept onto his stupid lips. He chuckled his deep, chesty laugh and tenderly touched his already sore face, wincing slightly.

“Just for a second I forgot you hated my guts,” he drawled, rising to his feet.

“Well you don’t do yourself any favours by talking to me like that.”

“Yeah? Well maybe if you weren’t such a hot head you’d be able to take a joke.”

“A joke? You call that a joke? Jokes are supposed to be funny, Dean, there wasn’t even a punchline,” I had started to raise my voice slightly and he gave me an extremely puzzled look.

“Hold the fucking phone - are you mad at me because I ‘insulted’ you or are you mad that there was no punchline?”

“I’m mad at YOU, because you’re just trying to rub me up the wrong way on purpose!”

There was a pause, and a smirk and a twinkle in Deans eye.

“Well I’m sure if you ask Sam nicely he’ll rub you up the right way.”

“DEAN!” Sam and I both cut in at the same time and when I glanced at him I noticed a faint pink glow on his cheeks.

“What?” He threw his hands up, “Sam you’ve been acting like a schoolgirl around her since we met her at the diner, always jumping to her aid first. Just admit you have a crush ok?” Dean gave his younger brother an ‘all knowing look’ as Sam covered his face.

“Dean I’m going to pretend you never said any of that and just move on,” Sam turned to me and said in a hushed tone “I’m so sorry,” before looking back at his brother, who was now reaching for his jacket. “And where are you going?” Sam quizzed.

“To get dinner, that’s what this whole conversation escalated from right? About what we were going to eat? Well I’m going to get takeout, what do you both want?” Dean said, throwing his hands into his jacket pockets.

“Dean sit down,” I chimed in, my voice sterner than I intended.

“What?”

“Just sit the fuck down. Both of you. Carry on researching and making yourself useful,” I said, moving away from the table.

“Why?” Sam did as he was told but Dean looked at me like I’d asked him to eat tofu.

“Because I’m not letting you boys eat yourself to death with E numbers and MSG. I’ll cook something,” and as the words left my mouth I saw Deans eyebrows raise so much I thought they might push his hairline back. Before he could get a single word out Sam spoke on behalf of both of them:

“If you’re really ok doing that, (Y/n), you’ve already done so much today-”

“Sam it’s fine, I really don’t mind. I actually enjoy cooking, and since Bobby’s been gone I’ve had no one to cook for. So yeah it’s ok,” I smiled at him reassuringly, and he smiled back.

“Ok, if you’re sure,” he paused, looking to his older brother who had removed his jacket and was taking a seat again, “I just didn’t want you to feel like you had to just because Dean-”

“Really Sam, I’m fine with it. I was planning to cook even before the jackass opened his trap.” The younger Winchester gave me a final ‘ok’ before I spun on my heel and walked towards the kitchen, not even bothering to give the older Winchester a second glance.

I guess it’s time to find out what these boys have lurking in their pantry.

I’d been cooking for maybe half an hour when I was finally done and called the boys to the kitchen. I set three places at the table, and placed down three beers and enough cutlery for all of us, alongside various condiments they might want. I was just serving up as they walked in, muttering to themselves about something they’d researched. As they both sat down, I placed two plates in front of them and watched their faces light up.

“STEAK!” They both had wide grins as they picked up their cutlery and immediately dug in.

“Don’t get too excited, it’s nothing special. Plus the fries were frozen and the mac ‘n’ cheese was instant,” I said, placing down my own plate and taking a seat between them.

“Don’t care, ‘s home cooked,” Dean said with a mouthful of food, reaching for his beer. Sam just nodded vigorously in agreement.

“Well ok then,” I smiled to myself, I guess a little happy that they were happy. And for once that Dean had nothing smart to say. Yet.

Dinner was pretty uneventful - and short - as the boys practically inhaled their food. When their plates were empty they just sat at the table in a happy silence, rubbing their full bellies.

“Considering you just used what we already had and didn’t go shopping for anything, that was fucking beautiful,” Dean said, stifling a burp. I looked at him in surprise.

“Oh… Thanks Dean,” I half smiled down at him as I stood to collect their plates. He put his hand out to stop me, taking them from my grasp and pushed gently on my shoulder, urging me to sit. He returned the half smile, standing up.

“No problem. Now let me do this, you’ve done enough for us today already. Take a break,” his voice was low and strangely kind towards me, and I was almost lost for words as I felt his firm chest brush against my arm as he took the plates from me, his body heat reaching my skin through the fabric. Was he being serious, or just leading up to be a dick in a rather roundabout way? Who knows. But I should try to appreciate the moment at least.

Dean washed up whilst Sam dried everything and put it all away, and I sat sipping my beer as they bustled about for a few minutes. Once they were done, Sam took his seat back at the table and Dean grabbed the tea towel, roughly wiping the surfaces and flinging it over his shoulder when he was done.

“And now it’s pie time,” he said suddenly, sparks of joy in his voice. I grinned.

“Oooh, can I have some?” I asked. Dean turned to look at me like I’d asked him to shoot a puppy, and Sam muttered an ‘oh boy’ under his breath.

“Can you have some?” Dean repeated my request back to me, those sparks of joy in his voice no longer there.

“Yeah…please? I saw it in the fridge earlier, there’s definitely enough to share,” I stated, starting to feel like I was missing something here. Sam cleared his throat and I turned to look at him, an unusual expression on his face.

“Uhhh…(Y/n), Dean doesn’t share his pie. Not even with me.” Dean slammed the fridge door closed, said pie now in hand.

“You’re Goddamn right. The pies mine, now back off,” he gave me a warning look as he grabbed a fork and sat back down next to me again.

“Fuck me; really? What are you, a child? Who the fuck won’t share a pie made for four people?” I asked, getting exasperated with Deans bullshit. I knew the kindness wouldn’t last.

“Me.”

“Fuck you.”

“Guys, I’m gonna go and get some sleep - I’ll be back in a few hours. Thanks for dinner (Y/n), it was great,” Sam stood and pinched the bridge of his nose, not being inconspicuous at all about being done with bickering between Dean and I. He smiled softly at me before he left, patting my shoulder as I said a quiet ‘sleep well’ to him before he exited the room. Then it just left me and Dean. Again.

“Just one slice,” I asked abruptly, watching him shovel pastry into his face.

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Dean I made you dinner and tidied your shit, the least you can do is give me a slice,” I slid forward in my chair, inching closer to him in a new attempt to get him to share.

“No.”

“Pretty please?”

“No.”

“Fuck,” I threw my hands up before leaning forwards a little more so I was now close enough to smell him. And annoyingly he smelt divine - his cologne mixed with the scent of old leather and woodsmoke, perhaps a little gunpowder too. I breathed in, trying to get to the sweet smell of the desert he had, but all I could smell was him. I tried to ignore it. He was still a douchebag.

“One bite?” He sighed and turned to look at me, noses almost touching as I flinched back, not realising how much I’d shuffled towards him. He sighed, dropping his head slightly.

“Ok, just one bite,” he said as I did a very quiet squeal of delight. I reached for the fork in his hand but he held it up out of my reach, shaking his head.

“No. Not you.”

“Dean, come on.”

“Open.”

“What are you-”

“Open your mouth,” he said sternly, those evergreen eyes finding mine.

“Wait wha-”

“Open your Goddamn mouth (Y/n)” he said, his voice turning gravelly as I felt his breath on my face. I felt heat start to flood my cheeks and I couldn’t tell what emotion it was coming from, as I had started to feel a lot of things all at once. What made my head spin a little though was hearing my name fall from his lips - he hadn’t said it before, at least not to my face. And I hated myself for liking how it sounded. I didn’t say anything to him as I eventually did as I was told; opening my mouth and instinctively sticking out my tongue a little. I wasn’t sure where to look, so I looked at him - the concentration on his face as he scooped up an acceptable amount of pie to part with was amusing to say the least. Happy with my tiny portion, he turned to me and put the fork on my tongue, to which I closed my lips around as he slowly pulled it from my mouth, leaving the amazingly sweet desert behind. With my eyes now closed, I couldn’t help but hum in delight, savouring every flavour before I swallowed it down. Slowly opening my eyes again, I wasn’t expecting to see Dean still watching me, lips slightly parted as his gaze flickered between my eyes and my sticky lips, which I was now licking clean. He seemed to catch himself quickly though, immediately scooping up more pie for himself and cramming it into his own mouth. I sat back in my chair, picking up my beer and draining the bottle.

“Next time you buy a pie, Winchester,” I started, standing and tossing the bottle in the bin, “buy one for me so we don’t have this problem again.” He looked up at me just as I turned to leave.

“No promises,” his lip quirked slightly - so slightly that I wondered if he’d even smirked at all. I scoffed, giving him one last look as I rolled my eyes before I left the room to continue researching.

“Fuck you.”

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Up Next:

Chapter 4

#dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester #dean x female!reader #dean winchester x reader smut #dean winchester x you #dean x y/n #dean winchester enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers #eventual smut

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spctrsgf · 4 months ago

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rocks and faulty plans

summary: you and poe make an unexpected stop to a rocky planet. with a broken ship.

-> based off this prompt

words: 1.3k

a/n: heeeeeeeey guys 😅😅 i will be more active soon I PRAY but here is a silly drabble i wrote i miss my silly space pilot :((

You’re not really sure why you even listened to him in the first place. You knew that beside all of his cockiness, he had some sort of planning skills and a desire to not kill the both of you, but it wasn't all that apparent in your current situation.

The rocky terrain of the planet you'd landed on– an unplanned detour– was harder to navigate than you'd thought when you were back on the ship. Despite this fact, your companion was already several steps ahead, trekking along the curve of a particularly large rock.

You groan loudly, hoping he hears your disdain as you tug on the collar of your jumpsuit and double your speed to catch up to him. The burst of energy from your fiery anger is, much to your dismay, hardly enough to last for longer than twenty seconds. A burn in your leg ignites the gravel beneath your feet, sending you stumbling.

“You okay down there?” Calls that ever so taunting tone. You glare up at his figure, backlit by the red sun. Still several steps ahead. “Oh fuck off, would you?” You snap, glancing down at the beads of blood forming along the scrape of your leg.

He laughs. “It's okay, baby, it happens to all of us. Even me.”

You raise your eyebrows at him.

He shrugs back. How does he manage to admit fault cockily?

“Using pet names to hide your concern, I see.”

He tuts, but says nothing to dispute your claim, heading towards you.

“I can get up myself, Poe.” You snarl at him.

“I think the rocks would beg to differ.”

“Would it kill you to not tease me?”

He grins. “In an instant.”

You roll your eyes, but grab the hand he had extended out to you and let him help you up. He pulls you forward, seemingly only letting go of your hand when he realized he had been holding it for so long. The two of you trek together to the top of the rock, not sharing anything but the oxygen during sharp breaths.

It was a weirdly serene moment with him. Poe wasn't necessarily a man of little or many words, but it wasn't often that you saw him comfortable in the silence. Especially in your current… predicament. You’d half expected him to spend the whole adventure talking your ear off about the ten billion plans you knew he had thought of, but he remained quiet.

You suppose you could chalk it up to the view. It was nothing short of breathtaking. The small town below was bustling about, nestled among the rocks that spiked out of the ground. The light from the sun cast a loving red sheen on the whole scene, cupping the inhabitants and painting them friendly. It was difficult to even consider looking away from.

Yeah, that was probably Poe’s silencer.

You smile, letting him bask in the scenery before you shove his shoulder, beginning to head towards the town. “C’mon, pretty boy, stop gawking and get a move on! We don't have all day.” He scoffed. “I was not gawking, it's just-” he runs a hand down his face, “it's been a while since I've seen a view like that.”

“Space just isn't quite like this, is it?”

“Not quite. A lot more black.” He says, finally catching up to you.

You snort. “That's true. It's calming in its own way, isn't it?”

“Yeah. If it weren't for our current situation, I’d spend a couple days here. Nice vacation.”

“You deserve that.” The words leave your mouth before you can take a second to think about them. Shit.

But Poe doesn't tease, he just smiles wide. “Thank you.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “But, back to business-”

“Here we go."

“Hey!” You glare, and he quickly quiets. “What are we gonna do? Just ask one of these people if they can walk however long with whatever tools they need to fix our ship?”

“Well, that was plan D in my extensive list of ideas.”

“Oh, and what about the other ones?” You indulge, curious.

“Well, plan A was to not crash on the planet in the first place, but you can see how well that went.” He grumbles.

“We tried our best.”

“I know,” he sighs, running a hand down his face, again. “Rest of my plans weren't quite as good.”

“Doubt that. Let's try plan E.” You quip, seeing how close the two of you were to the town.

He shrugs easily. “Let's.”

You watch him gather his confidence and paint it across his face, and with that, the two of you make your way into the town. You trail a few steps behind him, letting “plan E” fall into place. He makes his way into a bar, leaning against the counter and motioning for you to do the same.

As you copy him, he leans over, whispering, “just go with it, okay?” You nod, locking your jaw to stop yourself from yelping when his hand wraps around your waist. “Hey, bartender!” He yells, catching their attention. “What can I get for you today, sir?”

“My fiancé and I are here trying to get to the next planet in your system, but our ship crashed. Would you happen to have something that could help us?”

The bartender tilts his head to the side. “You do realize this is a bar, right?”

“I’m willing to bet you see most of this town here. So if anyone knows of someone who can help us, it's you.”

“Sure, a lot of people come in here, but I just serve drinks. Can I get you two anything?”

“Sir, please-”

“Listen here, outsider,” the bartender leans over the counter, and you can smell the alcohol he'd surely downed earlier. “I’ve been gracious enough to not kick you two out of my bar as soon as you didn’t place an order, because you and your fiancé seem like respectable people. But this is a busy bar, so if you're not going to buy a drink, get the fuck out of my bar before I have someone make you.”

“All we need is one address!”

“Last chance, sir.” The man gnarls at you two.

“Okay,” you jump in, taking Poe’s hand off your waist and pulling him away from the bartender. “Thank you for your help!”

You drag the two of you out of the bar before either man could exchange any more malicious words. Poe struggles, clearly trying to make his plan work. It was obvious he had more things to say– or do– to the bartender, but eventually he gives in to your pulling, trailing behind you.

“So much for plan E.” You grumble as soon as you aren't in earshot of the bar. “I could have made that work! He would've listened to me.” Poe grumbles right back.

“You and I both know that isn't true.”

He sighs. “Yeah.”

“What is it with him anyways?” You question, making sure your voice was low and there wasn't anyone around before continuing. “He was so much meaner than anyone else we've seen.”

“Bad day, maybe? They could not get many visitors here.”

“Or too many.” You add in.

He smiles. “Or too many. Maybe he's struggling to make ends meet.”

“That's also true,” you sigh in defeat. “But it doesn't solve our problem.”

He shakes his head. "Let's just move on to plan F. F stands for fabulous."

"The way all your other plans have worked out so far, I would assume F also stands for failure."

“Hey!” He yelps, glaring.

You giggle. “Joking. Plan F it is! What do you need me to do?”

His smile made what some would call a shit eating grin.

You groan. “Oh no.”

Well, the two of you definitely made it off the planet in record time. With nothing more than you came with, other than a bounty on your heads.

No biggie.

someone yell at me to write my reqs bye

#space bf <333 #poe dameron #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine #star wars #star wars imagine #oscar issac #oscar issac x reader #oscar issac imagine #oscar isaac x you #oscar isaac hernandez estrada

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belovedspector · 5 months ago

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Barely a Scratch

Pairing: Jake Lockley x gn!reader (implied Marc Spector x gn!reader and Steven Grant x gn!reader)

Word Count: ~580

Summary: Jake comes home from patrol a little worse for wear. You help patch him up.

Content: Blood and injury (nothing graphic), fluff

A/N: Just a little fic to try to get myself back into writing! Enjoy! :)

Masterlist

You’re sitting in bed with a book when you hear the distinct squeak of the bedroom window opening. You should be used to it by now—you do live with Moon Knight, after all—but it still makes you jump.

You catch a glimpse of the suit before it dematerializes and know it’s Jake who’s standing in the room with you.

“How’d it go?” you ask, closing your book after marking your place.

“I got shot.”

“You what?!” You spring out of bed, panicked.

“I got shot. Only a little bit, though.”

He seems far too calm. You, on the other hand, are beside yourself.

“And how, pray-fucking-tell, does one only get ‘a little bit’ shot?!” you ask, struggling to keep your voice level.

He lifts his shirt to show off where the bullet grazed his side. “See? Barely a scratch,” he says with a slightly feral grin.

You shake your head disapprovingly.

“Hold on,” you say after a moment. “Why didn’t Khonshu heal you?”

Jake shrugs. “Dunno. Haven’t heard from him all day. It’s been nice, actually.”

“Why’d you go out if that stupid bird didn’t tell you to?”

“There’s still people who need my help,” he says simply, like it’s the most obvious answer in the world.

You nod in understanding before moving through the apartment to grab the first aid kit.

“Kitchen or couch?” you ask as you reemerge from the bathroom, kit in hand.

He considers his options. “Couch,” he decides.

“Fine, but you’d better not get any blood on the cushions this time.” You let him lead the way, sitting down in the spot next to him.

“We can just flip ‘em over, no big deal.”

“We already did that, genius,” you remind him, opening up the first aid kit and pulling out the materials you need. “Shirt off, please.”

“Oh, right,” he says as he complies, wincing slightly at the movement.

You suck air through your teeth in sympathy. You hate seeing your boys hurt. The fact that it’s such an uncommon occurrence doesn’t make it any easier to stomach. If anything, the rarity of the situation makes it worse.

You make quick work of cleaning and bandaging the wound. To his credit, Jake is a good patient. He hisses a little when the disinfectant is applied, but otherwise stays remarkably still and quiet.

“Alright,” you say, closing up the kit, “you’re all set.”

He grabs your hand as you hoist yourself off the couch. “Thank you,” he says when your eyes meet his, warm and bright and full of unspoken appreciation.

“Of course,” you say softly, smiling down at him and giving his hand a squeeze.

You return the first aid kit to its spot in the bathroom cupboard and rejoin him on the couch.

“Can you get me the remote?” he asks sweetly.

You look to the coffee table, where the remote sits directly in front of him. “You can’t get it yourself?”

He pouts. “I’m injured. You have to be nice to me.”

You give him an exaggerated eye-roll, but you do as he asks, not quite able to keep the fond smile off your face.

“You’re really gonna milk this, aren’t you?” you ask.

He just flashes you a grin as he turns on the TV.

You snuggle up against him on his uninjured side, and he puts his arm around you. You smile to yourself while he flips through the channels. You’ll gladly do whatever he asks, as long as it means he’s safe at home with you.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Please feel free to let me know what you think! :)

#moon knight #mcu #jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #x reader #jace writes

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applesontheground · 2 months ago

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get a room 🦇

KINKTOBER 2024 | DAY FOUR - LEATHER(EN)

i got nothing to say for myself other than i love a good ol' 80s vamp who already sorta does the leather thing.

NSFW | Word Count: 2,248 | Severen x GN Turned!Reader contains fuck it. these, canon typical/vampirism, teasing, leather kink & sensory play (if you can call it that) 🎼: x

You bashed open the stall door, taking your flannel shirt and shaking off any remnants of dust that you might’ve picked up from all the moving you had just done in a place that sure wasn't used to it, satisfied until you turned towards the bathroom mirror, running the sink water and starting with your stained hands.

You had dragged some gentleman into for something far too dirty to be left out in the open, and knowing it’d be a solid forty minutes or so before anyone else would walk in after you to see what you had left for cleanup, the risk was calculated.

He had thought it was going to be something to do with the glory hole on the left side of the wall, but he sure didn’t know what kind of dirty you were hinting at – and what kind of dirty you were capable of.

It'd help if you could see what you were doing now, but you figured when you rubbed another paper towel over your mouth and no pink nor red came off with it, looking at nothing reflecting back in the mirror, that you were going to fare just fine.

Severen had been stirring the pot while you were in the bathroom, making it even more pressing to leave as soon as possible. It was the one time his attitude and disposition were working in favor with your situation, almost hand in hand with the feeding habits.

“Speaking of bites, how’s the sugar farin’?” You slid onto the stool next to him as he asked, keeping one leg hanging off. Still, you grinned and replied, “Just fine, but I want you to come outside with me to smoke.”

“One thing ‘fore we leave these kind folk. Take a load off.” He hooked his hand around your thigh, trying to pull you onto your seat fully. You laughed, running your tongue over your bottom teeth before opening to show a fang still out, eyes a little panicked but quickly blinking the honest expression away before anyone could catch it.

We need to leave. NOW.

It would’ve been a better strategy to not show your desperation, because he only started to play with you a little more. “Well, I’ve been talking with these two gentlemen, you see, and it made me realize something about us.” The men sitting beside him looked anything but interested in holding a conversation, but you finally sucked in a breath, keeping your voice steady. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Don’t ya think it’s been a sec since we…” He trailed off, turning his head to you and smiling as you wiped your mouth. When he couldn’t stand your willful ignorance, he blurted it out, upper lip curled up and showing his top row of teeth as he put a slight thrust in his chair into it, “FUCKED?”

Ignoring the onlookers turning their eyes towards you in judgement, you bounced your eyebrows at him and looked down at your feet, uninterested as you considered what to say to that besides another plea to leave.

It wasn’t a purposeful neglect, the close quarters with your clan being the only thing that kept you from allowing him to slip a couple fingers in when cuddling at night, do more than purr in your ear, half awake and half hard against you. It killed you to ignore it, in fact, ignore him the way you did at times. You already felt pressure to be a good member of the team, not someone who would just be a hole for Severen to fill and play with in front of everyone to his own amusement.

It was a nice fantasy, though.

“Well,” You finally sighed, needing to save face as you looked towards the door one last time, “How ‘bout you appeal to something that I’d wanna snack on?” You smiled, praying that the sarcasm was read by him, and that despite the jests he knew you wouldn’t trade a quickie, a long night spent under the stars with him buried at the hilt inside and you unable to untangle your hands from his dark hair, or any “fuck” in between for just any other dusty vamp, or a man you planned to sip from afterwards for that matter.

The doors opening got your eyes torn away from his testy glare back, and you double took, consideration of ordering a shot to wade through the oncoming rough night paralyzed. The long, sleek appearance of the chaps over jeans was different, but something you had been teasing on. The added studs of color towards the bottom, covering their boots and complimenting the dark brown of the garments altogether, was only icing on the cake – and it didn’t help the man had long legs, perfect for the leather to really show off to everyone.

Despite your willingness to bump uglies with Severen, he didn’t dress like that, at least not often enough for you to associate it with his likes. Besides, you weren’t the kind of [boyfriend/girlfriend/partner] to ask him to alter his appearance. He was fine as he was, and the only lead he’d ever get was your jests that you only half meant to begin with.

Speak of the devil, he snorted next to you, throwing his cigarette into one of the shot glasses belonging to the man sitting on his other side while he wasn’t looking. “Clown convention just rolled into town.”

You made a face at that, pursing your lips in a pensive glance behind the two of you. Severen immediately caught on and scoffed, “Aw, [Y/N], hell no.”

“What?” You squinted at him, and when he only let your idiocy hang in the air between you, you smiled and looked back a second time. He rolled his eyes, and you finally admitted, “You know what? I think it looks great on him.”

“Fuckin’ yanking my balls.” He sneered, and you responded with a slow shake of your head. You then swiveled off your seat, heading for the exit before making sure he’d follow. Sure as shit, he almost mobbed after you, smiling as he leapt from the bar and broke in the same stride with you.

“Shit, what if I wore that some time? Would that get me back in the game, coach?” He then asked, holding the door open for you, and you turned to stare back as he followed you into the night.

Your smile twitched, and you saw his own looking back at you: he wanted you to admit it would look awful on a guy like himself, a reminder to circle your attention back. You didn’t slip from him often, and you could admit you even adored this asshole on good days, but sometimes he just got a little too…well, in your face.

It was something you were growing used to, almost letting it fit into your own subdued disposition, but God, it pushed your buttons. In turn, though, you knew what would get you your way with the man after a few trials and tribulations.

You leaned in and murmured almost shyly, “I’d only like it if we had a room to ourselves after I got a good look atcha.”

His pupils blew immediately, shoulders squaring in an inhale as you feigned from the conversation. Still grinning, you broke into a gallop after hearing the familiar croon from the rest of the group already coming down the street to meet you two.

Like riling up a dog, Severen was grabbing you from behind as the both of you approached, jostling you off your feet in a spin like it would show you who’s boss.

“You two should get a room.” Homer noted, rolling his eyes as he tried to look like he wasn’t associated with either of you. You grinned, a thought formed but you kept it to yourself, naturally averting from sharing with the guy just from the fact he looked so young.

That’s the plan.

The next evening, you had been told to run off on your own by Severen himself. Worrying he had taken your joking a little too close to heart, you had a couple questions deep down in your agreeing expression, but when he told you to ‘get’ after letting it linger a bit too long for his liking, you just brushed it off and did as you were told. He’d get over it, as you had to get over all of his snarky comments and bully-esque teases in the same fashion.

Mae and Caleb had given you two questioning looks after such a taut exchange, and after you had stepped into the shoddy motel bathroom to clean your appearance up for a hunt on your own, they stopped you. Sev was already gone, having left promptly after you took your eyes off him.

“Hey, just so you know.” Mae warned, holding a strong eye contact that made your own stare widen, “I was told to relay something to [Y/N] before he left.”

“What?” You put a hand on your hip, squeezing a little anxiety out as you joked, “That I better not suck the soul out of anyone while eating ‘em tonight? He told me to go it alone.”

Mae reached into her pocket, and you now noted Caleb in the back with a wondering raise of his brow. She set a key in your hand, and mumbled, “He told me to tell you to come to Room 45 across the hotel from where we’re staying. Don’t know how he managed it, and hell, he didn’t say what for, but-“

“Aw, gross!” Homer suddenly yelled from out of view, “They’re gonna pork.”

“Oh shit, uh-“ You let her put the key in your hand, feeling as though you were reaching a temperature in your face that you shouldn’t be able to any more. You started making a beeline for the door, and spat before leaving, “At least we’re taking your advice and getting a room, buddy!”

You had to walk the streets for about an hour just to cool your jets, knowing there was about to be hell to pay, whatever he was planning wasn’t going to do much except give you an orgasm…if you were lucky. It was going to be an ordeal, a road towards that, and as the moon rose higher over your head, you knew it wasn’t in either of your favors to put it off for too long.

When you finally stopped grinding your teeth, accidentally poking your gums in the process from a few jabs from canines and even molars that couldn’t stop unsheathing, you clenched the key in your pants pocket and turned on your heels back towards the hotel.

It was just a little bit past midnight, distant police sirens perking your fogged senses as you made your way past the room with the rest of the clan, and found the fabled 45. Daunted, you pressed an ear up against it, and a beat lasted before a mockingly high voice called in an almost Antebellum tone, “Ooh! Do come in, Miss [L/N]! I was just powdering my nose!”

A sigh, then a breathless laugh of relief left your lungs. “Funny, funny man…” You groaned, unlocking the door and shouldering through, already trying to ease your own worries in the face of Severen, “Hey, babe, if this is about the shit I was slinging last night, I was ju-"

Your eyes adjusted to an even deeper dark than what you were walking in from, and the last of your words were choked out as you got an eyeful of him. No shirt, something about what he was left wearing looked like what you saw the night before adorning his legs. He uncrossed them so you could see chains trailing from the belt loops, jangling slightly for an affect he was surely orchestrating.

Approaching slow, he tipped his head to one side and teased, “Oh, look what we got here. Took those words right outta your little fuckin’ mouth, did I?” He sat up more, letting you stand between his splayed legs, and muttered, “Think I look like a fucking jackass, but I can tell it’s doing what I want to ya already. Things a man does for a little tail.”

“I didn’t say anything about what I’d do.” You reminded him. A bewildered smile was plastered to your face as your hands ran up from his knees, feeling the material with bumps forming over your arms, leather itself running under your palms stimulating that familiar pang within you; it was hard enough to keep your grip around someone looking good in leather, but leather on him was just as you feared: nearly impossible to handle. You didn’t know whether you wanted to tear it off or tell him to keep them on.

You slipped to your knees, hands resting on his own with your chin just inches away from his crotch, still looking into his eyes as you murmured, “What the fuck did I say to you, Sev?”

He smiled and grumbled as you practically felt the confidence sliding off of him, bathing you and enticing you to get even closer, “Slips my mind, cutiepie. Something about what you’d do if you saw me like this.”

“Well,” Sev’s hand stopped yours before getting too close to his waistband, resting on top and your other one matching in the freeze. You smiled as he gestured with his head downwards, “Best get to showin’ me, then.”

#severen x reader #severen van sickle x reader #vampire x reader #kinktober 2024 #notsfw #🦇#taking note of which prompts lead to more plot/words written and which are left as PWP... really like drawing it out with sev it seems #✏️

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thatruerealmwalker · 9 months ago

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"Sometimes... When I look at the other kids playing around, unaware if what's happening here... My Stomach Hurts..."

"When one of those Toys is Near... My legs Scream at me to RUN..."

"When night comes... and the Workers look over me while I try and sleep... My eyes threaten to Cry..."

"BUT I CAN'T... I can't show that anything is wrong, That I know..."

"I'll change my chosen toy all the time, be average on every test they give me, speak nothing of what I know..."

"I'll stall for as long as I can, buy myself as much time as possible. I'll learn every weakness, every flaw, of both this factory and those horrible Toys. I'll get stronger, faster, smarter, as much as possible without anyone catching on. I'll prepare as much as I can, for every fight, every route, every danger..." "So when the time comes..."

"I'll GET OUT OF HERE"

Hello there! This is William, a young orphan within the walls of Playcare, a new OC I made for Poppy Playtime! Specifically William was inspired by and somewhat considered an OC of the blog @realizinau and their wonderful work over there! (Hello!)

William is a kid who knows far, FAR to much then he should. Aware of what the toys really are, aware of what their doing to children like him, and aware that he is not safe within Playcare.

If someone were to ask him about something in the factory, he would most likely know, but would never dare even entertain answering those questions. He knows that one wrong step, one target on his back is enough to get him selected next... so he stays as average as he can, shows himself to be not soon-to-be toy material. He has it down to a science at this point, and he won't risk his life, not yet, not for a damn question.

He considers every toy in the Factory to be both horrifying and the highest threat to his survival and chances at leaving one day. He avoids and dances around them when he can, and recites literal self made mantras of every weakness and every way to harm or escape the toy in question he knows about within his head while around them if he can't (due to not being able to write anything incriminating down). Several times in a panicked state because he doesn't have the tools and weapons on him to follow any plan he has.

He is afraid of the Smiling Critters the most for the fact that he sees them and interacts with them every day, thus being the highest risk to him. After every interaction there is a chance he may genuinely puke in the nearest bathroom from his fear getting hold of him. He silently prays that they never take notice of him, or god forbid take interest in him and spend more time then normal around him. He would wear the most perfect mask while interacting with them but be screaming his Mantras internally while mentally holding a cross, especially around Catnap (due to his red smoke) (not sure if the Realizing Au has Catnap with his red smoke still, so if not he would most likely consider Bubba the most dangerous of the critters).

William's core desire is to leave the factory and never look back. He, when he is at least 80% sure he can get away with it (it used to be higher but he's getting desperate) gathers as much information as he can, about the layout, systems, patrols, anything to give him an edge when the time of his escape comes. He has also been able to make very small stashes of makeshift tools, weapons, and items around Playcare, all either to help him escape or fight back against a Toy should he need to. The most dangerous is a Flare hand he smuggled off of a GrabPack once, which almost got him caught.

William is at the point where he genuinely does not value any life inside the Factory other then his own, and would not hesitate to kill a staff worker or Toy should he have to. Again, nothing matters to William other then getting out... but that could change depending on events to come.

I'll be throwing some more stuff of William up later, but I absolutely tore my hand up drawing all this today. Hope you enjoyed!

#poppy playtime #smiling critters #poppy playtime oc #realizin' au #Catnap #my hand fucking hurts #and I don't know what else to tag this with #But I think the drawing came out wonderfully!#Also side note here #if William was not in this situation and going slightly (very) insane from fear his favorite critter would be Bubba.#But now Bubba is his most second hated behind catnap (Unless nappers doesn't got the that red breath)#Then bubba would be his most hated critter #Because Bubba is smart #and smart people notice things

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joeyscherryjubilee · 2 years ago

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Like Calls to Like (III)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC

Author's Note: I fully believe Aemond is a consent!king, he's gonna make sure his lady is comfortable and is about communication.

Warnings: smut, first time for Laenyra, Crispin Cole, Aemond coping a feel beneath the table and a lot of consent.

Word count: 4,825

Summary: Laenyra and Aemond have finally confessed their feelings for one another. But they must put their desires temporarily aside in order to sit through dinner. Aemond, however, does not want to wait to lay claim to his princess.

“You seem happy, my son.” Alicent held Aemond’s hands. She was clearly glad of her son’s mood, especially as he was prone to states of lonesome forlornness. Aemond and Laenyra had arrived for dinner with secretive smiles and looks of longing clear on their faces. “Truly happy.”

She noted how her son’s eye flickered across the room.

“I am, mother.” He said the words with an almost shy smile, his mind wandering momentarily and Alicent’s heart clenched for a love she would never have.

“Good.” She forced a smile and squeezed his hand.

Alicent left him in order to greet a weak Viserys. Aemond, of course, immediately went to Laenyra’s side, standing too close to be proper and his hands itching towards her. Whatever note his princess received at breakfast, its contents had clearly shifted their relationship.

“A fine couple.” Viserys rasped, his weight sagging over his embellished cane. His gaze was set on Aemond and Laenyra with an unappealing smile though his joy was warming to see.

Alicent could not argue that fact no matter how much she wished to deny it.

“Let us eat.” She said instead, knowing any approval shown in front of her husband would be followed by talk of a betrothal.

The king sat first and let out a sigh that told his relief at finally taking the weight off his aching body. The group followed suit and Laenyra secured her usual spot between Aemond and Helaena, insisting that her aunt give a full debrief of the new insect that had been recently acquired.

Aemond shifted in his chair, the food in front of him untouched and his hands tapping upon the table. He was trying with all his might, and failing miserably, to not keep glancing over at Laenyra. She kept catching him staring, giving him only a knowing smile in response before returning her attention to Helaena.

His princess seemed to be the height of decorum, as though they had not been pawing at each other just moments before entering for dinner. Laenyra had tugged him into a hidden passage, bringing him to her desperately and they were late arriving because of it.

Laenyra grinned as she caught him looking again, she could feel his gaze and the heat it held.

“The wings are fragile but powerful.” Helaena explained eagerly, using her hands to provide a diagram of the new bug she had found. Aegon huffed in boredom from across the table, but otherwise said nothing. “It appears to be praying when it is still.”

Laenyra did not find the topic intensely interesting but her aunt’s excitement kept her attention and she smiled at how animated Helaena was.

There was a calmness in the room that was a welcome change from the usual despair that permeated the family meals. Viserys was in reasonable health and Queen Alicent in a somewhat good mood. Laenyra’s heart was soaring as she dared to think of the man next to her and what they have revealed to each other that day.

The calmness evaporated though, when Laenyra felt the brush of a touch on her leg.

“Are you alright?” Helaena asked as she jolted in her chair, dropping her fork with a clatter.

Laenyra nodded earnestly and smiled bashfully at the table.

“Apologies.” She said quietly at the look of concern on her grandfather’s face and the sudden interest in the rest of the table’s. “I simply startled myself when I dropped my fork.”

Everyone seemed to believe her and return to their own conversations or thoughts.

Helaena resumed her explanations though Laenyra froze as a touch feathered across her leg once again.

She glanced to see Aemond looking extremely pleased with himself, one hand on his goblet and the other beneath the table, stroking a deft pattern on her thigh.

“Are you quite sure you are well, Princess?” Aemond asked quietly with such a touching tone of concern that she glared at him.

“Yes.” Laenyra whispered curtly.

His responding grin was lecherous as she returned her attention to Helaena, attempting to ignore how his fingers trailed so dangerously across her leg. A previously undiscovered desire flooded through her and the room suddenly became hot. She pressed her legs together, seeking an unknown source of pleasure.

Laenyra attempted to remove his hand but could not do so without risk of discovery, he was unfairly stronger than her. Aemond made no further move as she squirmed at his touch, resting his hand sentry upon her thigh.

The meal passed by slowly, his hand a constant upon her body and Laenyra found time agonising until finally the servants cleared away the plates and she could leave without fear of scrutiny.

“I am tired, I shall retire.” She stood and breathed a sigh of relief as Aemond’s hand fell away, she desired his touch more than anything, but not at a dinner and not in full view of their family.

Her awkwardness was covered by Helaena announcing that she was also tired and wished to retire. It was unknown if her aunt did wish to rest or was simply covering for Laenyra and Aemond with her unlimited knowledge, but either way, Laenyra was most grateful.

Viserys nodded his consent at their departure from the table.

“Ser Arryk, would you please escort Princess Helaena to her rooms, and Ser Erryk, if you would escort Prince Aegon.” Queen Alicent commanded the twins by the door. Aegon looked extremely discontent at the idea of being escorted to bed like a child, but made no argument against it.

“Aemond can escort Laenyra.” Viserys said with a joyful smile. “I have no doubt he will see her safely to her rooms.”

“Of course, my love.” Queen Alicent said tersely, though sent a nod to Ser Criston which did not go unnoticed by Aemond.

Laenyra bid everyone a goodnight and led the way out into the darkened hallway.

They made it round the first few corners in a formal fashion before Laenyra glanced around and grabbed his hand.

Aemond couldn’t contain his grin as she tugged him forcefully through the halls, darting left and right and right again. She only stilled once they were far away from the dining hall and hidden within an alcove.

“I can’t believe you.” Laenyra whispered hotly, but there was no anger in her voice, only a barely contained desire.

“I am to blame for being tempted by such a siren?” Aemond asked with a lofty tone and clasped his hands behind his back with the poise of a prince.

Laenyra scoffed in order to conceal her amusement.

“You are silly.” She muttered and Aemond laughed loudly in the empty hallway.

She was quick to silence him, slapping her hand over his mouth and glanced around. No footsteps came to enquire about the noise but Laenyra waited a long moment, her heart thrumming, before she lifted her hand.

Aemond’s heart soared and he ducked his head in order to kiss her. Laenyra’s breath stuttered at the force of it, her hands gripping his arms to keep herself from drowning in the kiss.

“I’ll meet you in your room.” She said hurriedly, her gaze slightly hazed as she managed to pull herself away. Laenyra flushed scarlet at her prince’s responding smile, it told a thousand promises and desires that sung between them.

She darted away before he could say anything and Aemond was rather glad for it. Anything he wished to say would be highly inappropriate.

Aemond departed in the opposite direction, taking the long way through the castle in order to prevent any further gossip about his comings and goings. In some ways he was lucky that Aegon was such a disappointment, the focus on his brother’s activities meant that Aemond himself was not watched with anywhere near as much scrutiny.

He huffed in quiet annoyance though, as he rounded a corner to come face-to-face with Ser Criston Cole. Aemond usually enjoyed the knight’s presence, even if Laenyra despised him, but his appearance was an extreme inconvenience.

“Where is Princess Laenyra?” Ser Criston asked but there was no true concern in his voice.

“She wished to speak to Helaena about something and asked to walk alone.” The lie rolled easily off his tongue, Laenyra often visited her aunt before bed, the two could be found talking deep into the night.

Aemond made to step around the knight, but his path was blocked.

“Do you have a moment, my prince?” He posed his words as a request, though Aemond knew a refusal would result in further inconvenience.

“Of course, Ser Criston.” Aemond’s tone was monotonous, attempting to contain the frustration at being kept from his princess.

“Your mother is concerned for you.” The words were poised like they were coming from a place of care. But Aemond knew anything said by Ser Criston were truly the thoughts of his mother, who no doubt wished to know more of her second son’s recent activities.

“How so?” Aemond asked, feigning ignorance.

“She worries about how you have been spending your time, you departed upon Vhagar this morning with no warning, accompanied by Laeny-”

“Princess Laenyra.” Aemond interrupted sharply and his look was stern.

“Apologies, Prince Aemond.” The knight grimaced at the prince’s tone but made no comment. “You were accompanied by Princess Laenyra and I believe your mother is worried as to what rumours may arise from the two of you spending so much time together, unsupervised.”

He allowed the implications of his words to hang between them.

“I appreciate your concern for mine and Princess Laenyra’s safety and reputation, but I am unsure as to why this is being brought up now. Being alone with the princess is not a new occurrence and we often fly upon Vhagar together.” Aemond would not give him an inch, his tone deadpan and the knight squirmed.

“The reason your mother is concerned, I believe, is because of the danger of impropriety.”

“Impropriety?” Aemond drawled, raising an eyebrow and maintained a straight face, hiding his inner amusement at how far past ‘impropriety’ he and Laenyra had ventured. “I do not understand what you are attempting to imply, Ser Criston. Though I suggest that when you report to my mother, you ensure she is aware that there is no risk of wrongdoing and if she has any further concerns, she can ask me herself.”

Ser Criston was smart enough to recognise a dismissal and nodded curtly, undoubtedly knowing how displeased Queen Alicent would be at his lack of new information.

The prince left the knight, venturing once again through the halls, seeking out his one true desire.

Aemond breathed a sigh of relief when he finally came within view of his rooms, his steps quickening even more and he practically leapt through the entryway. He barred the door securely and confirmed its sturdiness twice. There would be no risk of disturbance.

His princess was standing before the fireplace, her gaze upon the flames.

Laenyra looked over her shoulder at him, the glow of the fire illuminating her like a true dragon.

I would follow her through the seven hells if she asked it of me.

Aemond clenched his fists, attempting to maintain his dignity and a distance between them.

She smiled gently at his stationary form, closing the gap herself and sliding her hands into his. Laenyra raised herself and kissed him, not at all embarrassed that she desired him, and the idea warmed Aemond’s heart.

“Hello.” She whispered and reached to stroke his jawline with a fire in her eyes.

“Hello.” Aemond murmured, his hands resolutely remaining by his sides.

“I was half-worried you wouldn’t come.” Laenyra said with a small smile and he knew he was forgiven for his lateness.

“I will always come when you call.” He breathed softly.

Laenyra glanced down at his hands, not on her body, and pulled him closer by the lapels of his jacket. Capturing his lips as hers, Laenyra dared to tease him with her tongue, a quick movement that was only a promise of things to come.

Aemond felt himself harden as she continued to take the lead for both of them, but as her hand weaved into his hair, tugging at him, Aemond's resolve broke. His hands moved quickly as he growled against her, tugging her body against his, his hardness flush against her belly.

Laenyra moaned softly and allowed him to dominate her, his mouth bruising against her own with the force, his teeth nipping at her, his longing as fierce and savage as a dragon.

“You are certain this is what you desire?” He growled after a long moment, attempting to restrain himself, for her sake.

“You keep asking, I will not change my mind.” Laenyra insisted, confused at to why he was so cautious of their joining.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He explained though it did nothing to diminish Laenyra’s confusion. Aemond smiled to himself and stroked her cheek, his thumb gliding over her swollen lips.

“You won’t.” She insisted, reaching for him, attempting to pull him closer.

“Not like that, my love.” Aemond murmured and tried to think on the best way to explain it to her. He pressed another kiss to her cheek before moving to brush his kips against her throat. Laenyra let out a small moan, a sound he wished to bind to his soul, as he dared to let his teeth nip at her pulse. “I need to make sure that it won’t hurt when we come together.”

He attempted to save her ears from crudeness, unsure as to how she would react.

“Oh.” Laenyra breathed, understanding dawning and Aemond glanced up to see her flushed but eager.

“Yes.” He said with a small smile. “Is that alright?”

Laenyra nodded, suddenly shy as she stood before him, all of it so real and her desire stirring so agonisingly.

“Yes, I trust you, Aemond.” She said and joined her lips to his again, more desperate with the heat building within her.

Laenyra sought to press herself closer to him and he could no longer deny himself of his most precious desire.

His hands weren’t gentle as he finally laid claim to her body, enveloping one in her hair and the other around her waist. Laenyra shivered as Aemond’s mouth enveloped her own, his kiss rough and desperate.

Laenyra gripped his arms, attempting to tether herself lest she float away on her desire.

“My Laenyra.” Aemond growled softly. She sighed prettily against his lips, his words fuelling the fire between them. His fingers were hurried with the tiresome strings of her dress. With a growl of frustration and yet another futile attempt to undo her dress, Aemond unsheathed his dagger and with startling precision he cut through the ribbons and frills.

“How am I supposed to explain that?” Laenyra laughed in shock at such a barbaric move though it thrilled her.

Aemond grinned roguishly, tearing the remaining seam and pulling it off her.

“Just say you were attacked by a dragon.” He offered and Laenyra snorted, kicking the now ruined dress under the bed.

“Attacked is certainly the right term.” She muttered and laughed as Aemond yanked her towards him once again.

“‘Attack,’ is it, dear niece?” He drawled, perusing her figure and taking note of how her perfect she looked beneath the satin slip, how desperate he was to rid her of it. Her nipples hardened as he dared trail his fingers along her sides, treading dangerously across her stomach. “You seem rather eager considering this brutal attack.”

Laenyra grinned at his words, her cheeks flushing and chest heaving as determination built inside her. The princess was not a patient person, she was the blood of the dragon and they were not known for patience.

Taking a deep breath Laenyra tugged at her slip, lifting it over her head. The thin dress pooled deliciously around her feet, Laenyra’s head held high as she bared herself to him. Aemond stilled and he felt a dragon rear its head and roar within him.

“Is something wrong?” Laenyra asked, a mild panic flashing through her eyes and he could see her starting to worry.

He shook his head earnestly.

“You are perfect.” He said hoarsely. His hand shook slightly as he raised it, his palm cupping her right breast gently. Laenyra shifted as he ran his thumb over her nipple. It hardened as Aemond stroked it and he dared to do the same to the left.

“Hmm.” Aemond hummed as Laenyra shivered, but he didn’t believe the cold had anything to do with it. His hands slid upwards, goosebumps following his touch. He slid his hands up her neck into her dark tresses, reviling in the softness of Laenyra.

With a startling boldness Laenyra tugged at his waistband, pulling him closer and joining them together.

“My love.” He whispered against her lips, his hands greedy as he gripped her naked body, leading Laenyra backwards to the bed. Aemond picked her up with ease, laying her gently down upon the covers.

Aemond stood tall, his breath rising heavily as he took Laenyra in, the way she looked so sublime on his bed, her body red with his marks and the apex of her thighs glistening, because of him. With a new found confidence Aemond steadied his nerves and knelt upon the bed.

Laenyra’s eyes were on Aemond as he moved to hover over her. She squirmed though as he leant to lay soft kisses up her stomach and Laenyra held her breath as he dared to press a kiss on both breasts.

“I love you.” He whispered into her collarbone, his tongue sucking and nipping at her skin, Aemond relished in the marks that were quick to form.

Laenyra whimpered her response as Aemond’s fingers trailed downwards and sat dangerously above her wet heat.

“You are alright?” Aemond breathed quietly and she huffed at him.

“If you do not touch me soon.” She threatened and he chuckled, her huff soon stuttered as he stroked her softly, his thumb applying such a pressure that a moan escaped her. Aemond couldn’t help his smug grin as he coaxed moans and whimpers out of Laenyra with slow, determined motions.

Laenyra relaxed into his touch, her back arching and her hips bucking upwards at Aemond’s skilful touch. He delighted in her body’s reaction to her, dipping his thumb between her folds to brush at her clit, her body jerking deliciously at he stroked her pearl.

Aemond moved to adjust himself, kneeling before her to utilise both hands to please his princess.

“Good girl.” Aemond murmured and he explored her body with his hand. Her wetness increased and he inserted a finger, shocked at how loudly Laenyra moaned as he pleased her. His thumb continued to stroke her and she fisted the sheets, a heat building that she did not entirely understand.

“It’s alright Laenyra.” He purred as she writhed. “Let me please you.”

Her thighs shook when Aemond changed the angle of his wrist, his movements speeding up and a second finger pressing inside her. He could tell she would soon reach her peak and he was eager to seek out all the ways to bring her pleasure.

Aemond curled his fingers slightly and Laenyra fell over the edge, her hips bucking upwards into his hand as she came. His fingers slowed and he worked her through her pleasure, her thighs glistening and Aemond grinned at his triumph, leaning down to press a firm kiss to his princess, swallowing the pretty sounds she made as he touched her.

“That’s it.” He praised when her body started shifting once again.

Calmness seemed to radiate from him though Aemond was a storm of desire inside, his arousal straining desperately against the confines of his pants and he shifted pitifully, attempting to alleviate some of the pressure and failing.

Laenyra whined while Aemond struggled internally as he stroked her, his palm providing delicious pressure and friction to her clit. Her eyes fluttered shut once again as her hips starting to rocking against his hand, seeking more pleasure.

Laenyra’s thighs began tensing once more and Aemond knew she was close again, her second peak coming quicker with her wetness, her eagerness to receive pleasure now she had had a taste.

A soft moan escaped her lips and Aemond was desperate to hear the sound again, crooking his fingers in just the right way-

“Oh gods.” She choked at the precision of his movements as they brought her over the edge once again, her whole body shivering against him and he grinned, his lips seeking hers once again.

“Such perfection.” He whispered and Laenyra fidgeted under him, suddenly bashful as he looked over her flushed body. “Don’t hide from me.”

Aemond leant down to kiss her with startling softness, with one hand he tugged softly at her hair and with the other he finally freed himself from the tight confines of his breeches.

“I love you.” They said it at the same time, in such tandem that they smiled at each other, hearts beating as one.

Aemond settled above her, taking his length in one hand and Laenyra shuddered with pleasure as he teased her folds, letting her know what he was about to do.

She nodded to him.

“I am yours, Aemond.” Laenyra murmured with fire in her eyes.

He thrust gently, slipping inside her with relative ease.

He worked himself in patiently, using her building wetness to soften his entry. She was greedy and eager to take him but Aemond was determined for her to feel no discomfort. Laenyra whined as he stroked her softly, just enough to work her up more, not enough to provide any real pleasure, she was already overstimulated.

“You must wait.” He purred in her ear, the tightness of her almost too much. He had to go slow for both their sakes and he grabbed at her reaching hands, trapping them above her head with one of his, not allowing her to distract him further.

“Let me touch you.” Laenyra pleaded, her voice was desperate but she was beyond caring. The feeling of him between her legs was too much, such perfection that she writhed beneath him, willing Aemond to move.

“Patience.” He said softly, his own resolve weakening as Laenyra whimpered. Aemond would never hurt her, and ensuring she could take him properly was his first priority.

“Fuck patience.” Laenyra growled, bucking her hips to have him further inside her.

Aemond let out a low curse at the feel of her body welcoming him, yearning for his touch.

“This is much more difficult for me than for you, my love.” He murmured, his thumb pressing into her clit, groaning as she fluttered around him. Aemond dared to thrust gently, just slow movements to see if she could take more of him. Laenyra whimpered at the action, her cunt clenching desperately.

“Aemond.” She moaned as he gave a sharper thrust forward, her body finally taking all of him, the two of them joined together perfectly.

“It’s as though the gods have made you for me.” He whispered, relishing in the feeling of fitting so well inside her. Aemond’s free hand reached up to slide over her breasts, his thumb brushing over her nipple with a grin at how willing her body was to take all of him. His look predatory as Laenyra moaned wantonly at his touch.

She gasped as he thrust gently, only drawing out a fraction before sliding back in, her wetness allowing for easy access, just as he had hoped.

“You’re perfect.” Aemond murmured, one hand still locked about her wrists as he leant down to kiss her. Laenyra whimpered against him, the feel of his chest against her sensitive nipples, the pressure of his body against hers.

“I need you to move, please.” It was desperate, she was desperate and Aemond couldn’t help the pride at it being his touch to make her feel such a way. His.

“We’ll go slow to start.” Aemond followed his words with a gentle thrust and Laenyra saw stars, her hands fighting at his. She needed to touch him, to feel all of him as he allowed her to settle into the feel of him making love to her.

“Oh gods.” She whimpered as he began to speed up, her body egging him to increase his force. It was so much, it was too much but it was perfect. “Fuck.”

Aemond was too far gone to find her cursing amusing and pulled out entirely, waiting long enough Laenyra’s eyes to open in confusion before slamming himself back in. Her eyes widened and he finally released her hands, allowing her to grip at him.

Laenyra’s felt fat tears of pleasure cascade down her cheeks as her body finally let go and Aemond continued to thrust with so much force she had to scream into her pillow.

“You’re taking me so well.” He growled, his speed and force causing the very bed to creak dangerously. Aemond gripped the headboard with one hand to assist his movements, his other hand reaching down to gently stroke her clit, the juxtaposition of his movements only overwhelming her further. “You’re perfect, Laenyra.”

She grabbed his shoulders, clinging to him desperately as he brought them closer to their climax.

“Look at me.” Aemond ordered softly, his fingers gripped her jaw to face him. Laenyra reached and took his hands in hers, their fingers entwined as she looked upon him, their gaze set upon each other as they took and gave pleasure.

They soared and fell together, like dragons taking flight and the pleasure was unspeakable between them. Aemond delved his head into the crook of her neck at the intensity, biting into his lip so fiercely he drew blood in order to not scream out his pleasure.

Laenyra was not so controlled and moaned loudly in his ear, her hands clutching at him, attempting to tether herself to reality. Her thighs shook as she came back to herself, the overstimulation bearable as Aemond settled himself beside her, one arm thrown possessively over her.

“I love you.” Aemond said breathlessly. He noted with a fierce pleasure the marks upon Laenyra’s body, how flushed she was and how she looked at him like he was the only person in the world.

“I love you.” She murmured in agreement and reached weakly to stroke his face, tugging at his hair to pull him closer for another kiss.

Aemond gave her a kiss freely before pulling away, sitting up and hurrying to dress.

“Where are you going?” Laenyra asked in a tired voice, curious as to his movements. Aemond tugged on a tunic and pressed a swift kiss to her cheek.

“I will be gone one moment, my love.” He said and grinned at the sight of her exposed and satiated in his bed. She stretched to pull a pillow closer, fatigue settling in.

Laenyra hummed her consent to his movements, her body relaxed completely for perhaps the first time in years. She only closed her eyes for a moment though Aemond had returned by the time she opened them again.

He was standing at his desk, a small pot set atop the table as he mixed a herbal brew.

“Aemond?” She yawned aloud and he turned, a cup in one hand and a wash cloth in the other.

“Moon tea.” He explained quietly, offering the mug to her with a kind smile. “Helaena keeps a store in her rooms.”

She drank it quickly, not relishing in the bitter taste. Aemond stood before her, his touch soft as he wiped away the mess from her body.

“I love you.” He whispered after a moment, his eye flickering to her face as he discarded the cloth. Laenyra’s heart clenched at how vulnerable he was, how much of himself he was exposing to her and the trust they had.

She stood and reached for him, baring her body unashamedly now that Aemond had seen all of her. His gaze was intense, their eyes set on one another and her touch was soft as she traced the exposed parts of his scar. Laenyra vowed to have him remove it for her soon, but that was a discussion that would come later.

“I love you, Aemond.” Laenyra said with a fierce look, insisting that he knew how fiercely she felt for him. “It is you and I, forever.”

He warmed at her words and smiled as she pressed her forehead against his and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his lips.

“I would ask you to return to bed.” Laenyra whispered. “If you desire it.”

Aemond chuckled and nodded, kissing her brow.

“There are many things I desire in this world, and I dare say you in my bed is at the forefront of them all.”

____________________________

Tags: @grungegrrrl @daddysfavoritesexkitten @neenieweenie @m-indkiller

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00127am · 9 months ago

Text

signed with love and forever yours, dejun

postage. xiao dejun & gn! reader, mentions of kissing cost to ship. 872 words

there was that time, laying in the open field behind the school, that you asked me why i always avert my gaze around you. i wasn't able to provide you with an answer. and how could i? when you were laying so close to me, nothing more than the thin separation of blades of grass between us. the same grass that i twisted in between my fingers as i fumbled for any semblance of a correct response. you weren't looking for a 'correct' answer, but an honest one, and perhaps--in the grand scheme of all things--that was worse.

it was hot that day. some week in late august, when we were skipping class. a class i shouldn't have skipped. considering the fact that i was flunking it. i had to get kun to tutor me, though i also remembering begging you too. i knew you weren't any good at the subject, but to me, at least, you could never be bad at anything.

you always loved the sound of cicadas. they were loud that day, a steady stream of their chirping that you said sounded like the melody of your favorite song. no matter how hard i tried, i couldn't figure out exactly what you meant. but perhaps that was because they were hard to hear over the beating of my heart. a rhythmic pounding that overtook all other noises beyond the tone of your voice. the up and down waver of your inflection which cut clear through everything else in its way. you sounded like my favorite song that day. though i guess your voice is always my favorite.

the answer to your question, the one you asked about me averting your gaze--if you still care for the answer, i hope you do (pray)--is one that you probably already know. or one you have figured out through my obvious yearning. or told by hendery, the most likely out of the three options. i can't look at you for long, because if i do--if i spot the reflection of myself in your irises and the utter adoration in my own--it becomes obvious what i feel for you.

if you were to look into my eyes, to return my stare with one of your own (the same one that makes my mouth run dry and my chest burn) then you'd catch every bit of longing for you that i hold in my body. the same longing that is desperate for your words, attention, touch, kiss.

if i did answer your question that day, underneath the heat of a dying summer (one which remains immortal in the grounds of my memory) and in a moment caught in time, i'm afraid that i might have kissed you. that my silly, schoolboy crush would have superseded any inkling of common sense in nothing but the sheer hope that you would kiss me back. would you have? kissed me for an honest answer?

i'm being honest now. so when you get this, and if you still care--if you would have rewarded me back then in between the blades of grass and in the lull of the cicada's song that summer--will you repay me with a kiss?

about dejun's love letters.

xiaojun's handwriting is practiced to a degree of elegancy, with swooping ends of consonants and dramatically drawn vowels. everything about him is beautiful, so it only makes sense for this to be as well, with elongated strokes of cursive that seem to be stripped from the fine pages of old prose. despite all of its intricacy and detail, it's always legible. every phrase and sentiment able to be discerned underneath all the glitz and glamor of his penmanship (something he tends to regrets each and every time ten or hendery seems to get their hands on them).

he's a nostalgic person, constantly and consistently returning to old memories to revisit them again and again and again. he loves to write about the past, to remember every detail that made his head spin and his breath catch. and he loves to relive them, though it's nearly melancholy, and to write them down with such a pretty consideration to ensure he'll never forget them. it's for this reason that he writes on white lined paper, the kind you rip out of notebooks or are handed in secondary school. it's rather pointless in the grand scheme of things, since his words transcend lines and sentences break across margins. isn't it really all for the memory, though?

like chenle, xiaojun's letters are not slipped into an envelope, stamped with an address, and signed off with your name. he finds there to be something devastatingly romantic in writing love letters that will never reach their addressee, or at least, don't have the intent too. but he hopes that one day, perhaps in the silence of a conversation or when his hand is clutching yours a bit too tight, that he'll find the courage to enunciate all of his affections. and then deliver the letters, each and every one that he has written throughout all the years he has known you, in the hopes that your love will become something that he can hold with both nostalgia for your younger years and fortune for your future ones.

your mailbox

taglist. @evilsailorsenshi @222brainrot @yangasm @jenaisnte @sour-chaos thank you for supporting me! ♡

🧾 © 00127am 2024

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lively-potter · 10 months ago

Text

— moon struck ; jjk ; one

— genre ; strangers to friends to lovers/kinda grumpy x sunshine/smut/fluff/angstwithahappyending 🥹

— warnings ; body insecurities ( mentioned ), eating disorder ( in the past but mentioned ), oc deals with a severe amount of anxiety and panic attacks, violence, smut ( later ), FLUFF, love struck jungkookie 🥹

— find me on Wattpad ; @/LivelyPotter

— word count ; 2.4k

— part two

— 2024 © @LivelyPotter

river’s pov ; six am

My brother Brandon always used to tell me to make sure the walls that I built to protect myself didn't become a prison — a prison that I couldn't escape.

Ten years later, I could shamefully say that I did not listen to his advice, and now I was paying for it in the worst way possible.

Knees tucked to my chest, I panted and eyed the area around me nervously, as if I expected the man that I had been avoiding as the plague had come upon me.

Tucked inside the teeny tiny cleaning closet across from the kitchen, with the door locked and closed – it wasn't possible, but in my mind, there was still a chance.

But maybe that was just me being paranoid.

Okay, I was paranoid. Very paranoid.

Listening closely to the parents dropping their children off, I prayed to whoever was listening to me at this moment that I wouldn't be found by anyone until it was only Sang, the children, and I in the building.

I gulped past the ball that seemed to be lodged in my throat constantly whenever he came to my mind.

He nearly always was on my mind, so I was growing quite used to the clogging of my throat and the constant upbeat of my heart thrumming inside my chest.

He was here, and he crept up on me ( not really, I'm just being dramatic ) without my notice with little Moon in his big strong arms.

Once I caught sight of him – smiling kindly and brightly as he always did, a breathless whisper of my name leaving his red-bitten lips – I squeaked and ran away like a coward, ghostly pale face stained crimson.

It had been this way for seven, grueling, nerve-racking, months.

Ever since Jeon Jungkook moved to Charleston with his two-year-old daughter to live closer to his aunt, Mi Cha, my life had turned on its axis. I was living in fear every morning when the twenty-six-year-old man would drop off his daughter at the daycare center Sang and I ran.

A whimper of disparity left my lips.

My other best friends Brett and Atlas would never let me live this down. On the other hand, Sang and Wil wouldn't give me a hard time about running away from the man when he hadn't even spoken ten words to me.

Not for lack of trying, he had tried speaking to me — every day in fact, but I was the problem. I was the one who chickened out the moment I saw his intimidating, tattoo-laden figure — looking totally out of place in the yellow and lavender mellow aura surrounding the daycare center.

I didn't want to admit to the rest of my friends and family that I was scared of him. Terrified is a better word for it.

I gnawed on my bottom lip, enough to taste the nasty metallic taste of blood coating my tongue.

I cringed and rubbed over the small gash on my lower lip.

I know. I know it's unrealistic and okay, childish to be afraid of a man that I didn't know...but I just couldn't help it! I just couldn't!

Not when he stares at me, with those pretty boba-like eyes and that sweet smile on his handsome face, which for some odd reason, I find him doing a lot before my slow brain finally clicks that he's near.

When I catch sight of him, my fight-or-fly instinct kicks in and I'm gone.

It leads me to some very embarrassing moments that I'm not proud of.

Heck, even last week at the supermarket, I found him and Moon shopping and before he could find me, I hightailed it to the freezer section, and thankfully old man Joe — the resident frozen food stocker, let me hide in the freezing ice room containing huge pieces of pork, beef, and chicken hanging from metal hooks.

I could imagine Brett and Atlas laughing at my misfortune. Those two were a lot more courageous than I was, and I was still fighting past my insecurities about how in the world those two amazing people would want to be friends with me.

A girl who had way too many issues and experienced large bouts of cowardice.

Oh for dingleberries sake!

A shiver tumbled down my spine as I once again remembered that freezer room.

It freaked me out since it reminded me of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre, but I held strong. Being forced to be scared of ole Joe plunging one of those metal hooks through my neck and suspending my dead body from the ceiling was better than being around Jungkook and those feelings I got whenever I was around him.

Yes, I was running away from my feelings, and I didn't care.

As long as it wasn't hurting anyone, I could carry on in life with a guiltless conscience.

I wasn't hurting anyone, right?

A tremble parted my lips as a quick knock sounded on the door.

"River, he's gone now." A resounding sigh of relief left my lips at hearing Sang's voice. "Moon's been crying for you for the past ten minutes."

I licked at my chapped lips and got up off the floor, and dusted off my light denim baggy pants, and tugged at the oversized Nike sweatshirt I wore as I opened the door and skittered out.

Sang, with her arms crossed across her pink dress-covered figure, watched me sympathetically and carefully wrapped her taller self around my pixie-like frame and led me down the hall and into the children's room.

"You know you'll eventually have to stop avoiding him, right?" She chuckled and pinched my rosy cheek between her manicured fingers.

I avoided her eyes and fiddled with the hem of my shirt, "You don't see his face every time you run, Rivvy." She sighed, "I feel bad for the poor man, Mi Cha speaks about it sometimes. You ought to give Jungkook a break."

Why did it matter to him whether I avoided him or not?

Wouldn't a lot of people be put off by the sheer dominance that man gave off?

Wasn't he used to it?

I cringed, "...I'm sorry. I just can't help it." I mumbled and tucked my pale hair behind my ears as a high-pitched scream entered my ears.

Wincing at the familiar sound, a smile quirked up my lips at the tiny baby, with her gleaming, tear-filled boba eyes and wobbly lips, and cute little curled pigtails swinging back and forth as she marched towards me.

Her little white Air Force ones thumped on the ground as the tiny little girl marched towards me clumsily.

I mustered a giggle and knelt to receive the adorable two-year-old in my arms.

This, ladies and gentlemen, was Jeon Moon.

"Riv!" She cried out a new version of my name, the only part she could pronounce, and fat tears dribbled down her face as she placed her head on my chest.

"Shhh," I hushed the little child, who had begun to get the other kids' attention and before the others swarmed me, demanding attention, I had to quiet her. "It's okay, Moon." I smoothed back her silky dark hair as she calmed down and sniffled against my sweatshirt.

Sang smirked and pushed her chameleon-colored hair off her shoulders, "I don't know why she always comes to you, River." She snickered, now holding little Sarah in her arms.

"But seeing as you both prefer to keep to yourselves and avoid other people like the plague, I kinda see it." She joked.

"Haha." I deadpan at her, blinking down at Moon. My heart swelled at the adorable child and I hugged her closer to my body.

She was just too darn cute!

I wouldn't admit it out loud, but she looked like a baby female version of her dad.

Over the next few minutes, Sang and I sat on the floor as we watched over the kids who had already raided the toy box.

Being the youngest and the most interesting yet introverted child I had ever met, Moon decided to stay seated on my lap while digging into the soft strawberry puff snacks her dad packed for her.

"Oh!" Sang spoke up suddenly, causing Moon and I to look at her, lips forming an O at being startled.

My best friend stifled a giggle, "Your brothers will be here soon — they decided to bring lunch for us since you forgot to bring your own." She sent me a knowing look, more than likely knowing that I had forgotten on purpose.

I once again avoided her eyes and turned my focus to Moon who cooed, those rosy sun-kissed cheeks chubbily pooched out as she ate.

I released a laugh of my own and wiped along her lips with a baby wipe, cleaning the crumbs from her little delicate face.

"Sounds good." I exclaimed, meeting her emerald eyes, "Brett messaged me this morning and said she and Atlas may come down soon to hang out."

Sang only nodded and looked behind my shoulder, biting her lol nervously.

I felt my stomach drop and dread fill my gut. "What is it?" I gulped, fearing the worst.

Sang chewed on her top lip thoughtfully, "I was wondering whether or not you could take over pickup later today, Brandon and Corey need me back at this apartment."

The nervous tinge in her voice caused suspicion to curl along inside my chest, but knowing I would have to face my biggest nightmare, I nodded.

"Sure," I replied, my normally soft-spoken voice shaking in trepidation. I would find a way out of having to face him. I risked a look down at Moon who began to toy with my earring.

Sang had a proud glint in her eye, "Thank you, Rivvy!"

"No problem." I forced a smile and played with Moon's little pigtails.

Sang walked off to help stop a dispute between a couple of ten-year-olds while I gazed down at Moon.

"Oh, Moon." A loud sigh left my lips, displaying the fear inside my heart. "Why does your daddy have to be so darn scary?"

***

third pov ; jeon jungkook

The twenty-six-year-old man stared glumly at the table before him in silence. Using a spoon, Jungkook stirred the warmed ginseng tea within the mug.

"Did that sweet River flee from you again, joka?" Jeon Mi Cha guessed, studying the expression on her nephew's face.

Jungkook fiddled with the silver bar through his brow and sighed heavily, his expression and bodily actions speaking for themselves.

He sipped slowly at the warm drink and licked the droplets from his pierced bottom lip.

"Of course." He exhaled, gritting his teeth. "It's been like this for months, gomo. Why should I expect anything else? I...I try to speak to her every day, and it just stings when she doesn't even give me a chance to speak to her."

Jungkook felt his heart squeeze within the confines of his rib cage and resisted the urge to rub the skin above his heart.

Mi Cha frowned, "I've known that girl since she was five years old and clinging onto her brother's pant leg." She chuckled, seeing a smile erupt on Jungkook's face as he imagined a tiny five-year-old River.

Fuck, he imagined she was as adorable as his Moon!

"She hasn't got out much, Jungkookie." Mi Cha smiled comfortingly, "From what Sang has told me, the girl was homeschooled by her brothers and never really left her home. The only people that are close enough to her are family and those friends of hers that she's known her entire life."

"I know," Jungkook rubbed across his sharp jawline and tongued his cheek thoughtfully, "Since Min Jee and I divorced...I hadn't ever really tried to get back into the dating scene — honestly, I never really felt the urge to, until I saw her." He rumbled, eyes crinkled at the corners as his cheeks flushed the slightest bit.

He'd never blush because of a girl before, but since he had met River Henshaw, blushing in her presence was all he could do.

He wished he could play it cool.

Mi Cha hid her knowing smile behind her hand and continued to listen to Jungkook ramble.

"It's unbelievable to explain this out loud...but I want to get to know her so badly...it's like...she's like..." he struggled to find the right words so his aunt came to understand him. "I just know that she's something special. I just know it. We've never had a conversation, but I know I'll fall for her the second she looks into my eyes and smiles at me."

She was perfect in his eyes.

Attracted to her from first sight, and later falling in deeper the more he learned about her from Sang, Mi Cha, and hell, even his little Moon, who worshiped the ground River Henshaw walked on just proved time and time again that he shouldn't give up.

He didn't think he could.

No matter how insecure he got...when all she did was blatantly avoid him and tremble when he got near.

It was a searing blow to his self-confidence.

When she looked at him for the first time, it was like bells rang in his ears and everything around them blurred and all he could see was her.

"You'll get your chance, joka. It will take time. She's a skittish one."

Jungkook nodded, but other thoughts overwhelmed him.

"It just makes me upset when I hear her mutter 'run, River, run!' to herself." Jungkook's face fell in sadness.

What if the reason she wanted nothing to do with him was because he was older than her? Not too much — only seven years — or was it the fact that he was a dad?

The woman his mother had tried and failed to set him up with a year ago was always put off by the fact that he had a daughter. A baby.

Pushing those thoughts to the back of his brain, Jungkook looked back to Mi Cha and rose that pierced brow of his.

"Because you're here at seven am on a Monday morning and not at your shop." She snorted, "Plus you have that puppy love look in your eyes. Again."

Jungkook only grunted in return, resuming his task of avoiding her knowing eyes to count to specks on the marble counter.

author's note ; ✨

Thank you all so much for reading and I hope you loved the introduction to River's story!

Don't hesitate to let me know what you think!

#dilf jungkook #jungkook x oc #jeon jungkook #bts fanfic #wattpad fanfiction #wattpad #jjk #jungkook x original character #moonstruck

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thedragonagelesbian · 3 months ago

Note

durge!cyrus/wyll for holding your lover by the jaw to kiss them 🥺

oowoo kiss prompts

holding your lover by the jaw to kiss them

Avernus rings quiet. The hummed wailing of the Soul Pillars has died away, as have the last flames burn-burst from Raphael's gallery of sinners, but Wyll does not relax into the silence. Maybe it's the fleck of ash that has wedged itself underneath his stone eye, or the fact that the good one kept seeing himself in the rags left behind, but he's itchy all over. An old, inevitable self scratching up against the new, impossible one.

His companions, clustered around Raphael's smoldering corpse, seem no more at ease. All eyes drift to Cyrus as the bhaalspawn drifts away, head down, steel-bladed wings wrapped tight around his body.

"Soooo," Astarion strings the word out long enough to sheathe his shortswords, as if the exaggerated syllable will hide the tremor in his hands, "are we going to talk about the five-armed monstrosity in the room, or...?"

Cyrus flinches. The edge of one of the blades catches against his arm, but he doesn't seem to notice. Already too bloodied or too guilty--or both, blood like holy oil to anoint the guilt--to care.

It still echoes in Wyll's ears. At the very beginning of the battle, eyes, lungs, heart, stomach, all full of cinders and smoke and a cambion's brutal fury, he heard Cyrus screaming his name.

Heard the snap of Cyrus' spine as his body undid itself.

"That was duk-tak." Wyll has never known Minthara to speak with warmth, but she does so now, a scorching kind of pride in her voice and a smile on her lips as she regards Cyrus. "The unholy executioner, among the most exquisite of Bhaal's blessings: the dread aspect of the Slayer."

"I didn't realize we were accepting grotesque gifts from our fathers these days." Astarion, still laying the levity on so thick it becomes concentrated, concerned. "However did that happen?"

"I didn't want it!"

Wyll moves now, pulled by Cyrus' voice reverberating along his heartstrings. Foolish, perhaps, knowing already what blood lust the aasimar harbored, and knowing now how it could break loose in bone spurs and howls, but he steps forward anyway. Even as Cyrus shies away.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, hoarse. "I should have-- everyone should have known, I just didn't want... I thought I could control it..."

Carefully, oh so carefully, Wyll reaches through the shroud of serrated metal to touch Cyrus' face. Fingers hooked under his jaw, thumb on his cheek, wiping away some of the blood and tears. Though Cyrus will not look at him, there is no resistance to his touch. Just a tired sigh, sinking into his palm.

"I failed Isobel and Father both when Marcus kidnapped her from Last Light, but in killing Ketheric, I killed her too, and so he... rewarded me. Forced it upon me, made my body match my wickedness." Cyrus shakes his head. "I was out of my mind the first time, terrified that I would never find my way back to myself. By the grace of the gods, Halsin found me before I could hurt anyone. He calmed me down enough to transform back, and I thought... hoped, prayed, that so long as I was never that scared again, the Slayer wouldn't come back."

"What happened this time?"

Cyrus blinks. "You, Wyll. You. When I saw you almost go down, I..." Head still bent low, he touches Wyll's chest, peeling away the charred cloth of his robe to graze the burn scar beneath, still raw-magic-tender, the quick battle healing that turns wounds into bruises. "I would have seen my claws run red with the blood of each and every devil in Avernus to keep you safe."

Now it is Wyll's turn to blink, heart thundering underneath Cyrus' fingers. "You manifested an aspect of the Lord of Murder to protect me?"

"It's wretched, I know."

"It's wonderful." Wyll covers Cyrus' hand with his own and squeezes. "You took your father's curse, and despite its every foul instinct, you turned it to your own purpose. You made the Slayer serve you, as my pact once served me."

Cyrus glances away. "You should want to kill a monster like the Slayer, not turn it over looking for something better."

"I need not look any further than the kindness in your eyes."

His other hand still on Cyrus' jaw, he lifts the other man's head. Cyrus stares up at him with his mouth parted, that same constant, wordless objection that's been hanging from his lips since he first tried to kill Wyll in the Shadowlands. Wyll isn't sure if he'll ever be able to erase it completely, but he's gotten very good at swallowing it. At touching their mouths together, washing it across his tongue and down his throat as Cyrus melts against him.

They both taste like soot and blood and heat, Cyrus' mouth ever ravenous and burning at a fever-pitch like the rest of his divine body. Like every campfire Wyll ever had to light alone in the wilderness, shivering in his exile.

The hearth of a home he hadn't known in years.

When he opens his eyes again, Cyrus' wings are gone, folded back into harmless ether, the tell-tale sign of something approximating peace for the aasimar.

Rationally, Wyll knows that Cyrus could still hurt him. Without the wings, without the Slayer, with just the hunger singing in his blood. But when Cyrus flings his arms around him and hugs him tight, Wyll trusts that he won't.

"Thank you."

#durge!cyrus #cyrusXwyll

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theladyofdeath · 1 year ago

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Lady Death's Lover {VI}

Lady Death's Lover Masterlist & Summary

19th Century Period AU Nesta x Cassian Secret Affair / Enemies to Lovers / Forbidden Romance Fanfiction / Characters from Sarah J Maas / ACOTAR Based on a prompt sent in by anonymous

A/N: Oh my word...I have had the most difficult time getting this up this week! I'm sorry for the delay. I hope you enjoy! Thank you to everyone who reads, comments, likes, and reblogs! x

TW: marital abuse, sexual content, language, depression, alcohol abuse

This story is for readers 18+. Mature readers only. Content should not be read by anyone under 18.

Dear Cassian,

I must admit that I am completely miserable in Adriata. It has rained all week so I cannot go to the ocean, which is the only thing worthwhile to do here. I have also found zero romantic partners which has brought the boredom to a new level of heinousness. I do not think I can stand this place for more than a fortnight. By the Cauldron, I do not think I can stand it for another day. Perhaps I will cut my trip short.

Do have enough diabolical fun for the both of us in my absence, will you? If I know you are causing chaos, that is enough for me for now.

Your Favorite,

Mor

P.S. Try not to attempt to philander with any more married women. It’s very ungentleman-like.

Nesta

My gowns are lovely.

The modiste has truly outdone herself. There are four in total and each matches the other but has its own personality. The fabrics are all deep blues and grays, meant to bring out my eyes. They are the colors I am most comfortable in. In fact, most of my wardrobe consists of blues and grays but no one has complained about it thus far.

After transferring payment, my gowns are loaded into my carriage. Before making my way back home, I take advantage of the time alone and make my way down the street to my favorite bakery. I’ve never been one for sweets but they make the best macarons in Velaris and I cannot help but buy a box whenever I visit the modiste.

It is when I’m coming out of this bakery that I see him.

For a moment, I forget how to walk. Every elegant thought vanishes from my mind and I am suddenly all too aware of the giant box of sweets in my hands.

I pray he doesn’t see me and for a moment I feel I will get away with it, but then he turns from where he walks across the street and halts when he catches my eye. For a moment, we both stand there, staring at one another.

Then the world around me comes back to life.

The city streets around me resume, full of life. Carriages hurry past and people rush in and out of the shops. The sky above, recently clear and bright, opens up and the softest of rains falls down upon me and my macarons.

He still stands just across the street, watching me, although his head has since cocked to the side and a grin has begun spreading across his lips. A sudden sense of embarrassment floods me. I must look foolish, standing here in the rain with a box of baked goods while everyone around me starts to run to safety from the turn in weather.

Oh, gods.

He’s coming towards me.

“Lady Nesta,” he begins when he’s halfway across the street, “your dress. You should find cover.”

I find my voice. “Ah, Mr. Nazari. Yes, I, um…yes.”

I go to turn on my heels but, in true Lord Cassian fashion, he steps in front of me just before I can get far. “A lady should never be caught in the rain.”

“If it were not for you blocking me I would be well on my way to shelter, my lord.” I try not to sound too demeaning, but I cannot help myself. Every now and then that tone just seeps out and there is nothing I can do to stop it.

He finds this funny, apparently. A chuckle escapes him and he nods. “Apologies. Good day, Lady Nesta.”

Not Lady Mandray.

Lady Nesta.

I somehow like it better coming from him, like it better than the title the rest of the ton refers to me as.

Lord Cassian steps aside and I go to stroll past him, but I stop when he begins to walk behind me. Turning, I lift a brow.

He stops and rocks back on his heels. “Do not fear, I am not following you. I walked here and now must walk home, which is this direction. That is all.”

“How far do you have to walk?” I ask, the rain picking up. I worry more for the well-being of my macarons than my hair.

“A little more than a mile, it’s no worry,” he says, shrugging, then continues on his way.

I hesitate, knowing I shouldn’t ask what I’m about to but asking it anyway.

“Would you care to join me?” I ask, and he freezes, his back to me. “It seems we’re going the same direction and you should not have to walk in the rain. It seems a storm is brewing. You wouldn’t want to catch a cold.”

Lord Cassian looks up at the dark clouds, the rain falling directly onto his face as he squints. He looks back to me, his face searching mine, but then he asks, “Are you certain? I don’t mind a little rain.”

Thunder rolls and lightning strikes, and I nearly drop my macarons. I swear it’s purely for my benefit when he clears his throat and says, “It would be a pleasure to join you, Lady Nesta.”

I nod quickly as a downpour begins and hurry to my coach up the street. By the time I throw myself inside, my dress is drenched and my hat is drooping. Lord Cassian is in no better condition as he slides onto the bench across from me, his jacket drenched and his trousers sticking to his thighs.

My breath catches at the sight of him and I suddenly feel foolish. It should be impossible for a man to look more dashing sopping wet, but he somehow manages to. That ridiculous, shoulder-length hair of his is soaked and dripping into his cravat. I don’t realize I’m staring until I meet his eyes, and suddenly I’m all too aware of every inch of my body and his. My cheeks turn pink and I have to clasp my hands together to keep them from shaking.

The carriage jolts as it begins its journey and it makes me jump, which makes Lord Cassian grin…although he tries to suppress it. This was a mistake. That’s what I get for trying to be nice. This very thing reminds me why I do not do nice things often. Nice things always come back to bite me in the ass.

. . . . . . . . .

Cassian

Lady Nesta looks equally stunning and uncomfortable, although her discomfort is not the type of discomfort that causes alarm. No, it’s the type of discomfort that tells me she does not do this often.

I do not know much about this woman but I do know that she’s not exactly…personable. I’ve heard what other women of the ton think about Nesta — Mor brought the gossip to our recent Monday tea time and I have a feeling Rhys put her up to it — and it’s not good. In fact, the ladies of Velaris think Lady Nesta to be brutally honest and permanently bitter. I, however, value honesty and think a certain level of self-hatred and introverted nature can be mistaken for anger or bitterness.

Not that it should matter.

After my last encounter with Nesta, I vowed never to be around her again. Especially alone. Yet, the second I saw her stepping out of the bakery with a box-full of what seems to be macarons, my feet decided my thoughts should be damned and acted of their own volition. Before I could fully comprehend what I was doing, I was standing in front of her.

Now, I’m alone with her yet again, stuck in a coach as it rattles down the cobblestone. Outside, it’s pouring as it often does in the spring, and all I can think about is how her eyes keep drifting to me.

I’m trying to also be inconspicuous about where my eyes are wandering, but from the way her pale cheeks are turning pink, I don’t think I’m doing it properly.

Her light blue dress is clinging to her skin and I can’t ignore how her breasts are even further on display behind the soaked fabric. It doesn’t help that her chest is rising and falling, rapidly, as if she’s had a difficult time catching her breath since entering the confined space that surrounds us.

“You’re having a ball soon,” I say, because I’m not sure what else to say but I know that we can’t keep sitting here in silence, me trying my best to avoid the swells of her breasts, the way I can see her peaked nipples through the wet cotton.

“I am,” she says, voice soft but firm. “Will you be in attendance?”

I clear my throat. “Yes. Thank you for the invite.”

I neglect to mention that I originally did not plan to attend, that being in the same room as her is too tempting and I’m currently going mad, but my brothers coaxed me into going.

She gives me a curt nod before taking a deep breath and letting her eyes wander towards the closed window. I swallow, cursing as my eyes take another dive to her chest and back up again. Once the silence becomes too heavy, allowing my thoughts to run rampant and inappropriately wild, I ask, “Do you do this often?”

Nesta’s eyes snap to mine and she blinks. “Do what?”

“Come into town on your own,” I say, and I watch as she swallows and clenches her jaw. “Not even a maid with you? Isn’t that unbecoming?”

Her eyes narrow and if it wasn’t for the quick rise and fall of her chest, the way her skin is flushed, I would think she was offended and not something else entirely. “Are you implying that I do not live my life as a lady should, my lord?”

“I’m implying that it is simply not safe for you to be traveling alone,” I say, and she watches as I run my hands down my thighs, trying to eliminate my sweaty palms. It does not work. “You never know others’ intentions when they see a woman alone.”

“It is the middle of the day,” she says, meeting my eye once more. “And I have my driver.”

“Still.”

We stare at one another for just a moment, but that moment is filled with so much silent, skin burning tension that I feel the need to loosen my cravat, shrug off my coat, but I don’t. I let it suffocate me, let her gaze strip me bare instead.

If I slouched in the slightest, my knees would nearly graze hers. Suddenly the space between us seems so short, too short to make any rational decisions. This was a mistake. I should have stayed on my own damn side of the street. I should have walked.

“Is that what this is, then?” she asks, and I blink.

“Pardon?”

“Do you have poor intentions, my lord?” she asked, clasping her hands on her lap. I swear they’re trembling.

“Need I remind you that you were the one that offered me a ride in your coach?” I ask, then add, “my lady.”

Her lips part, and it’s so slight that one has to be watching them intently to have seen it, which I am.

She shifts on the bench, words seeming to have left her. It’s the silence that makes me say, only because I cannot stand silence and I’ve already seemed to have dug myself into a hole of wickedness, “Perhaps it is you that has poor intentions.”

Her head leans to the side, which is somehow unladylike and beautifully cunning at the same time, and the smallest of smiles plays on her lips. There’s no joy in this smile, only a cruel seduction that has my trousers holding back my hardening cock. Now it’s my turn to shift, and she notes it, those dark eyes trailing down until they’ve settled on my lap. Her eyes flare before snapping back up to mine.

“I am a lady,” she says, simply. “Ladies do not have poor intentions, only charitable ones. What kind of lady would I be if I were to let a gentleman walk through a downpour?”

“Indeed,” I say, and I cannot even help how rough my voice suddenly sounds.

This is ridiculous. I feel like I have never been around a woman before, or like I am once again sixteen and around a woman for the very first time. Furthermore, she’s married. This is highly inappropriate, but I seem to have lost control.

No.

That’s not entirely true.

If I had lost control her dress would be torn to shreds and I’d have her lying beneath me on this bench, worshiping every inch of her body beneath.

“I am grateful,” I add, and she nods her head politely in response. I stay in control until a wheel hits a dip in the road and our bodies jostle, and we touch.

My knee hits hers and her foot lands on mine as she tries to stop herself from toppling forward. I don’t even realize my hand is on her leg, just above her knee, until we both look down at it.

I don’t move it.

She doesn’t ask me to, nor does she move at all. All that moves is the rapid rising and falling of her chest — a chest that my eyes are in perfect line with. Mustering every ounce of self control that I have, I go to lean back, to settle myself once again on the opposite bench until this torturous ride is over, but I don’t make it far.

Just as I move, Nesta places her hand on top of mine and I freeze. She’s looking at me wildly, searching my eyes for something. I don’t think I’m breathing at all. I have no thoughts in my mind whatsoever. All I can focus on is her intent eyes, her hand on mine, my hand on her skirts, her lips that are parted and begging to be kissed.

Neither of us says a word.

“Just—“

Whatever she’s about to say evaporates as the coach slows and when it jerks to a stop, reality steps back in.

Nesta snatches her hand from mine as if she’s been burned and I take the hint, pulling myself back just as the door opens and I’m looking at the front door of my townhouse.

Not wanting to keep the poor lad standing in the storm, I take my leave and hurry to my front door, drenching myself further. I don’t look back at Nesta. I have a feeling she doesn’t want me to.

I have a feeling that whatever she was about to say, whatever would have happened if we just kept driving, would have surely led to utter regret.

Before I shut my door behind me, I watch Nesta’s carriage roll away, gone into the storm.

Calling for my butler, I beg for a drink to calm my still pounding heart.

#nessian #regency au #19th century au #period au #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acosf #acofas #sjm #fanfic #fanfiction

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wisecrackingeric-2 · 1 year ago

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“I’ll Help You Pray”

Word Count: 2,121

Rating: General

Summary:

Luis no longer believes in God, but old habits from his Catholic upbringing still stick around. So one day when Leon comes home, he asks him to sit with him while he prays.

And Leon is more than happy to be there for him

((Basically just a short and fluffy character study of Luis’ Religious Trauma!! :) ))

Fic below cut!!

A/N:

Hihihihi!! Long time no see on AO3 I know!!!!!! Ever since Seperate Ways came out my anxiety has been KICKING my ASS and I also had a LOT of art work to catch up on, so I haven’t been able to find the time to write, I’m terrible sorry!!!!!! I’m not sure when my next upload will be as like I said I’m very gradually getting back into writing and taking it easy on myself, but if all things go to plan, I should have to seperate rather long fics to post!!!!!

Again, thank you for being patient with me and apologies for the lack of uploads recently!!

—————————————————————————

“Hey, Leon? Do you think I could ask you a favor?”

“Sure, love,”

Leon shut the door to his apartment behind him and slipped his jacket off methodically, not even bothering to glance up at Luis as he called out for his help.

“Whaddya need?”

Leon had only just walked through the door and arrived home from work, but he was already feeling beyond exhausted. His feet ached and it felt like his body was made of lead. It’d been a long day of chasing the President around and getting orders barked at him; but then again, when wasn’t it?

Even still, Leon had all the time in the world for Luis. The man he fell absolutely head-over-heels with in Spain could ask for the most outlandish request and Leon would do his best to accomplish it like the loyal squire he was.

Luis didn't ask for favors often, but when he did, they were usually cheeky and along the lines of ‘Oh, Leon, could you help me get the flour down from the top shelf?’ (Despite the fact that he was significantly taller than Leon) or, ‘Leon could you be a dear and plait my hair?’ (Again, something he was fully capable of doing).

Which was why Leon was a little more than curious when Luis failed to respond with what he needed.

He looked up from his hunched-over position as he untied his shoes and took a look at Luis for the first time that evening; he had his back turned to Leon, and was seemingly chewing at his nails. He looked nervous.

Which was not a very regular thing for Luis to be.

“…Luis..?”

“Oh, right, umm…”

Luis jumped a little as Leon gave him a soft reminder, eyes darting to the sides as his hands clutched at his waist. Something was definitely off.

“What’s wrong, love?” Leon took a step forward and placed a hand on his hip. “Is something up?”

“N-No! It’s nothing, it’s just…”

Leon knew that look. He knew all the subtle ways Luis’ facial expression showed his thoughts; the way his mouth twitched slightly and his nose scrunched up as he debated whether or not to laugh it off and make a flirtatious remark or be honest.

Leon was grateful Luis chose the latter.

“…It’s just dumb. Really dumb. I don’t know if you’d even be comfortable with it-“

“Hey,”

Leon interjected and gently took Luis’ hands. He kept his surprise to himself when he realized they were trembling slightly.

“It’s not dumb to me, alright? Especially if it’s bugging you this much. You can tell me anything, I promise”

Leon reached his hands up and gently kissed Luis’ knuckles; spending extra time mulling over the Virgin Mary rings he had on his long fingers.

Luis just chuckled and shook his head; making Leon’s chest feel warm with triumph. It took his lover a couple moments to collect his words, and the blonde waited patiently.

“…Do you think you could sit with me while I pray? If, ah, you’re comfortable with that, that is…”

Leon’s eyebrows raised in slight confusion and surprise. He knew Luis used to be Catholic- He’d seen the metal Crucifix he wore around his neck, and the way he’d always sign the cross before charging into battle back in Spain- But he didn’t think he still was after all that.

“Oh? I mean, yeah, of course I can, easy peasy, but- I thought you weren’t religious anymore?”

“Oh I’m not,” Luis answered, a little too quickly.

“But I still, uh, joder, it’s hard to explain-“

Once again, Leon was patient and waited for Luis to collect his words.

“I still pray from time to time, just… Out of habit? I suppose? It’s like- Like even though I’m far removed from all that, it’s a little something I can have control over. Something that I feel in control of for once. Especially after….”

Luis trailed off.

“…After all that. Does that make sense?”

“Absolutely!”

Leon nodded enthusiastically. He knew Luis still had trouble coming to terms with what had happened in Spain- That he’d nearly almost died- So Leon was more than happy to help in any way.

Sure, he knew, like… Absolutely nothing about Catholicism. But Luis didn’t seem to mind.

“I totally get what you mean. I’d be happy to just, uh, sit with you? Is that what you want?”

“Yeah,” Luis blinked a couple times and gave Leon the biggest, most grateful smile he’d ever seen. His eyes were a little glossy as he continued to speak,

“I’d go and do it by myself, but ah, I haven’t done it properly in years and I’d feel a little awkward doing it by myself. Especially since I don’t even believe in the God I’d be praying to anymore”

Luis laughed dryly, but internally, Leon felt himself cringing.

He remembered what Luis had said when he told him about how he had fully cut ties with his religion;

‘After I got infected with the Plagas and built that machine on my own, I had no choice but to self-surgically remove the Plagas…”

Leon still remembered the way his stomach felt sick at the memory of Ashley writhing and screaming in pain. He didn’t want to picture Luis in that same position.

‘…The pain was so much greater than anything I had ever experienced. It was right then and there I realized that there was no God.’

Luis’ voice had been bitter as he spoke.

‘If there truly were a God, and if he truly were merciful, there is no way he would have let a single human being experience such agony.’

Leon didn’t know why, but that had really stuck with him for a long time.

“I’ll probably just go upstairs and do it in front of your windowsill, sí?”

“Oh! Yeah, sure,” Leon snapped out of his thoughts. “I’ll come with you”

Leon trotted behind Luis’ tail as they made their way up the stairs and into their shared bedroom- at first, the blonde just awkwardly stood at the door, hands to his sides as he waited for…. Something. Again, he knew absolutely nothing about Catholicism, or what was appropriate or not.

He watched as Luis shuffled to the window and got down onto his knees; propping his elbows up against the windowsill, he clasped his hands together and flicked some stray hairs out of his face, getting comfortable.

“You can sit down on the bed, y’know,”

Luis smirked at Leon’s awkwardness and chuckled to himself as the blonde very quickly took a seat on his bed.

“R-right, um, sorry.”

“Don’t be”

Luis gave Leon one last smile before turning to fully face the window, resting his forehead against his clasped hands and closing his eyes with a sigh.

Leon knew he probably shouldn’t have; but he couldn’t help but admire how Luis looked in that position.

The late afternoon sun hit his front and cast a harsh rim light around the edges of his body, framing his broad shoulders and slim waist and lighting his long hair aglow with a dark brown hue. Little strands that couldn’t be swept back stuck out in the light and fell over Luis’ face involuntarily; and it took all of Leon’s strength not to walk over there and tuck them back behind his ears himself.

The room was completely quiet. The only things that Leon could hear were the gentle sounds of Luis’ breathing and his own heart thrumming in his chest. How could it not, though? Luis looked absolutely gorgeous;

His face was relaxed and his pretty dark brown eyelashes fluttered against his cheek, and the sun hit them just right so that he could spot a couple gray ones coming through. The bridge of his aquiline nose had a soft glow to it and his body cast a long shadow across the room- Picturesque in nature. If Leon stared long enough, he could have sworn he was looking at a painting.

Luis’ shoulders gently rose and fell in time with his breathing. His expression was so calm- Something Leon was only ever fortunate enough to see when he was sleeping or watching the sunset from their shared balcony. It made him wonder what was going through his mind, what he was praying about; He couldn’t even begin to imagine what the disconnect to his old religion felt like.

Watching as his childhood home went from being a glorified cult to a literal one under Saddlers control and having every person he grew up with turn into zombie-like mind controlled followers of his must have been terrifying.

Leon remembered another anecdote Luis had shared; about how, in a desperate attempt at ‘saving his soul’, he had tried to surgically self-exorcize himself to spiritually escape from Saddler’s grasp. He didn’t go into details- and quite frankly, Leon didn’t want to hear them- But it sounded gorey at best. He had apparently palmed at his open-wound so much that it still left a scar. He had described it as ‘borderline blasphemous’, but also corrected himself by saying that almost everything he did with Umbrella was Blasphemous.

He didn’t like to talk about it very often.

Yet, somehow, through all of that trauma; Luis was still here. Alive.

And not only that, but he trusted Leon to watch over him as he performed an undoubtedly very mentally difficult task.

To say Leon was flattered would be an understatement. To know that Luis trusted him so much and so wholly- It gave him an emotion he honestly couldn’t describe.

It had been maybe at most a couple minutes since Luis had kneeled down, but for Leon, it felt like an eternity. He could’ve easily spent the rest of the day like that, just staring at Luis while on the bed with his head cocked and knees folded like a lovestricken teenage boy.

But alas, Leon was promptly broken out of his fantasies when Luis finally ended the prayer with a quiet;

‘Y espero que cualquier dios que esté escuchando tenga una muerte lenta y dolorosa. Amén’

Huffed under his breath.

Luis stood up; brushing himself off with his back facing Leon, he let out a little sigh through his nose. Just standing there.

Leon walked over and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder when he still didn’t move after a moment.

“….Love?”

“Hmmm?”

Luis turned to face him, and suddenly, Leon could see why he hadn’t earlier.

His bottom lip was pouty and trembling, and his bottom eyelids were wet and shining with fresh tears. His eyes looked glossy and his eyebrows were knitted together in a furrow. Leon felt his heart break with sympathy.

“…Rough, huh?”

“Y-Yeah….”

“Wanna talk about it?”

Luis paused for a second. Thinking. Then he shook his head in a ‘no’, his shoulders hunching up slightly.

Leon instinctively opened his arms and Luis immediately curled himself up against his chest. He brought his wrists up to his chin and buried his head in the crook of the blonde's neck as Leon wrapped his arms around his back and began to rock him from side to side gently.

Leon often joked that Luis was like those giant dogs that think they’re small enough to fit in your lap; he easily towered over Leon, and was probably 80% limbs, but he still always insisted on being the little spoon in the relationship.

And Leon secretly adored it.

“Aww, you just wanted a hug, huh?”

Leon kissed the crown of Luis’ head and whispered in his ear softly, smiling as he felt him nod and give a little ‘mmhmmm’ from his position.

Leon could feel the fabric around his shoulder getting wet and assumed Luis had started crying. That absolutely tore his heart in two. He hated it when Luis cried. But he had no idea what to say- What words to use to bring him some semblance of comfort- So Leon did what he did best;

He just held Luis. Rocking him from side to side ever so gently. Occasionally pressing a kiss to his forehead.

Leon couldn’t tell if it was working, but he did it anyway. He loved Luis too much to see him cry like this.

Eventually, after a few moments of silence, Luis finally spoke up; his voice quiet and a little croaky.

“I’m so sorry for dragging you into this..-“

“Don’t be,” Leon whispered back, kissing the shell of his ear.

“I’m glad you trust me enough to do this, Luis. It means a lot to me.”

Another pause.

“…Gracias, Leon. For.. Everything.”

Leon smiled and gently took his chin in one hand to bring Luis up for a soft kiss on the lips.

“Anytime.”

#ericswriting #resident evil #resident evil fanfiction #re fanfic #serennedy #serrennedy #serennedy fanfic #luis serra #luis sera #luis serra navarro #luis sera navarro #luis serra fanfic #luis sera fanfic #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy fanfic #leon s kennedy fanfiction #leon kennedy fluff #leon s kennedy fluff

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