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foundtherightwords · 2 months ago

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Fallen Empires - Chapter 3

Pairing: Geta x OFC

Summary: Having done the unthinkable to secure his throne, Emperor Geta rules with ruthlessness and paranoia. Now, after escaping an assassination attempt, a badly injured Geta is saved by Daphne, a young widow, who takes him back to her remote village without knowing his true identity. As Daphne nurses the former emperor back to health, attraction blooms between them, and Geta discovers a soft side he didn't know he possessed. But can their love survive his thirst for revenge and his desire to reclaim power?

Chapter warnings: stillbirth, mentions of surgery and blood

Chapter word count: 4.6k

Prologue + Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Geta's convalescence was a long one. Though the fever had broken, he was still frail, and even the slightest exertion left him breathless, his chest cramping painfully. He had never been ill in his life. While on campaigns, even when the army had been struck down with plagues, he had remained in good health. He had never even been injured, save for the one time in the Circus Maximus when he'd broken his leg for a foolish dare. He always saw it as a sign of the gods' favor, and this unaccustomed weakness infuriated him. For days, he lay tossing and turning in bed, cursing the traitorous Martialis for wounding him, cursing his body for its slowness to heal, cursing the army and the Senate for their inactivity and stupidity. Useless lot! They were probably running around like chickens with their heads cut off while he lay here rotting, while his enemies might be creeping closer, and he was helpless to defend himself.

It didn't help that the healer, Daphne, was always reminding him of his helplessness. Anything he wanted to do, she would say he was not well enough. He was tired of the constant thin gruel and broth that she was feeding him? He was not well enough for solid food. He wanted a bath? He was not well enough for a bath. He wanted some privacy to relieve himself? He was not well enough to get out of bed on his own.

It was this last thing that made him lose his temper.

"This is intolerable!" he shouted, though in truth it was more like a gasp. "Can a man even take a piss on his own?" He kicked at the chamber pot, which toppled over. Luckily, it was empty, and his leg had no strength, so the pot didn't even break. He remembered all too well that it was pissing on his own that had landed him here. This only incensed him further.

"There is no need for that kind of behavior," Daphne said, calmly picking up the chamber pot and setting it upright. "Now are you going to let me help, or are you going to stay there until you piss yourself?"

There was nothing he could say to that. Grimacing, he allowed her to put her shoulder under his arm. For all her thinness, she was strong and had no trouble lifting him to his feet.

"If you don't stop working yourself up like this, you'll never recover," Daphne said, once he was done.

"I can take care of myself!" he snapped. He managed to get back into bed, where he lay panting and wheezing.

Daphne shook her head, clearly exasperated with his stubbornness but not wanting to agitate him further. "I'll bring you some valerian to help you sleep," she said, covering up the chamber pot.

"No! No more of your witch's brews!" Those made him feel like his head had been stuffed with wool and brought his ghosts back with such vividness that he feared they would step out of the shadows and into the waking world. "I don't want to sleep," he continued. "I want to see something that is not these cursed walls. Open that window," he ordered, though the window was so high up that he knew he couldn't see anything but the sky through it.

"It is open."

"Then why is it so stuffy in here? I can't breathe!" He clawed at the neckline of his tunic.

"It's not the room. It's your lung. The wound must be deeper than I thought." Still, she obliged him by throwing open the door and keeping it open to let in some air and light. "Let me see if I can find some mullein for that," she said, bustling out.

She was always bustling. In and out of the room, bringing him medicine and food. In and out of the hut, fetching water and firewood, drying herbs, mixing her concoctions. She hardly seemed to sleep. Even on the rare occasions she sat down by his bed, she was constantly moving, checking his forehead for signs of the fever returning, checking his pulses, changing the dressing of his wounds, or waving a fan over him to chase away the flies.

Always talking as well, though often not at him. He had been quite alarmed one day when he heard her shout, "Amalthea! Get out of the garden!" until he realized she was talking to her goat. The goat bleated in protest, and she responded, "And none of your lip, thank you very much. You know you're not allowed in there." It embarrassed Geta to realize she was talking to the goat much in the same way she talked to him. Her chattering, mixed with the bleating of the goats, the braying of the donkeys, and the buzzing of some insects, grated on his ears, making it impossible for him to focus on more important matters at hand—namely, how to return to his army, discover who was behind his assassination attempt, and exact his revenge.

But even at night, when it was all quiet, he couldn't think of anything to do other than to find his way back to Edessa as soon as possible and hope that the army was still there. Strategizing had never been one of his strengths on the battlefield; he'd often relied on brute force to catch his enemies by surprise. But how can one fight an unknown enemy? He tried to come up with a list of people who might want him dead, but it soon became too long to keep straight in his head. And so he continued to agonize in futility over his own helplessness, without making any progress at all.

Another thing that annoyed him was Daphne's calmness. No matter how much he raged at her, she remained unflappable, the slightly dour expression on her face never changing, like a weary mother used to dealing with her child's tantrums. But she wasn't a mother. As far as Geta knew, she had no family and lived alone, save for her animals—the donkey and a couple of goats.

For a healer, she received remarkably few visitors. Rather than wait for people to come to her like most healers, she would, every few days or so, pack two saddlebags full of herbs and potions, put them on the donkey, make her rounds in the village, and not come back until late in the afternoon. Geta supposed he should count himself lucky, for the remoteness and loneliness of the hut meant fewer chances of his enemies discovering him. However, since Daphne always took care of closing the door to his room and warning him not to make a noise whenever she went out, it only made him feel like a prisoner.

When Daphne returned from the village, he always asked if there was news, and she always shook her head. "But we're only a little hamlet," she added apologetically. "News takes a long time to reach us." It did nothing to reassure Geta. And, because he couldn't think of anyone from his circle to pin his suspicion on, he turned his suspicion to Daphne herself. True, she might have saved him out of the goodness of her heart, but who knew what she could have heard during her travels? She might have learned his true identity already. She might be in contact with his enemies and was waiting to hand him over to them.

These suspicions took over his mind until he could no longer rest. He started to refuse his food and medicine until she tried them first, which she obliged grudgingly. He questioned her incessantly every time she went out, hoping to catch her in a lie, but she never slipped up. Eventually, he decided he needed to look through her possessions to make sure she wasn't hiding anything from him.

One day, after Daphne had packed her saddlebags and the clip-clop of the donkey's hoofs had faded down the hill, Geta carefully sat up in bed and put his feet down on the floor. Even this simple act made his head swim, so he had to sit on the bed for a while. Once the dizziness passed, he pulled himself up. Then, holding on to the walls for support and dragging one foot after the other, he made his way into the front room, which, during all his time in the hut, he had only seen in brief glimpses and glances.

It was not much larger than the bedroom and was as crowded as the bedroom was sparse. True, there wasn't much furniture—only a rough wooden table and a few stools by a window opposite the hearth, and a little cot in the corner—but the rest of the room was taken up by shelves upon shelves of amphorae, jars, bottles, vials of all shapes and sizes. A large stone mortar and pestle sat on the table, and bundles of herbs dangled from the low ceiling, giving off their bitter aroma. In the tiny hut with its dusty walls and floor, baked by the sun, the smell was suffocating.

Any of those containers could be hiding the evidence of her treachery. Geta picked up a jar closest to him, opened it, and recoiled as the pungent smell of vinegar hit his nostrils. It would be impossible to search them all.

As he stood looking about in confusion, not knowing where to begin, his attention was drawn to a shuffling sound outside the door. One of the goats? No, it was footsteps. Somebody was coming.

With a speed he scarcely thought possible, Geta turned and ran—or rather, staggered—back to the bedroom. He shut the door behind him just as the front door of the hut creaked open.

Clamping a hand over his mouth to stop his wheezing breath from echoing through the small hut, he put an eye to a crack in the door. An enormous woman, with a torso like a barrel and arms like tree trunks, was pushing her way into the hut. She had to bump the door open with her wide hip because her arms were laden with loaves of freshly baked bread. Their warm scent wafted toward the bedroom door, making Geta's mouth water.

"Daphne!" the woman shouted, making the hut positively tremble. "You here?" Then, although it was clear there was no one in the hut to hear her, she continued, "Just taking some stomachic, all right?"

The woman dumped the loaves into a basket by the hearth, where they would be kept warm, and took down a jar from the shelf with a practiced air. She decanted a concoction from the jar into a smaller vial, put the vial in a pouch on her belt, and went out again, leaving the jar on the table.

Geta knew he should go back out and resume his search, but the incident had left him exhausted. He sat down on the bed again. I'll rest for a bit, just until I get my breath back, he thought and fell promptly asleep.

A clatter woke him. The little patch of sky outside his window was tinged with purple and Daphne was bringing him his dinner on a tray as usual. Geta was enraged, mostly at himself. A whole day, wasted. He would have to wait for the next time she left.

"I heard a woman come in today, while you were out," he mentioned to Daphne, trying to sound casual.

"Oh, that would be Tatia, the baker. She brought the bread."

"She took something as well."

"Yes, I know. She left the jar on the table."

"So you just leave your hut open for people to come in whenever they want and take whatever medicine they please?" he asked, baffled.

Daphne shrugged. "That's how we do things around here."

"But—what if they take something they shouldn't? What if they take without leaving the container out? How would you know? What if they use your herbs to harm others?"

She fixed those inscrutable eyes on him. "Are you always this suspicious?" she said.

"Are you always this naïve?" he countered.

"I'm not naïve," she said calmly. "These are my neighbors. I know them and trust them. That's different than being naïve."

It was on the tip of his tongue to point out to her that the people one knows and trusts are mostly likely to betray that trust, but he stopped himself in time. If her conviction had served her well thus far, it wouldn't be his responsibility to open her eyes.

"But how do they pay you?" he asked.

"With their own products," she said, gesturing to the bread. It was true that he had seen her return from her rounds with amphorae of oil and wine, jars of olives, and even a length of linen. "We have little use for coins around here," she added.

Geta could well believe her. He had a coin pouch on his belt, containing a handful of copper asses, a few brass sesterces, and a silver denarius, as he always did whenever he went out. One never knows when the occasion may arise to play the part of a magnanimous Emperor by tossing a few coins to the plebs. But Daphne hadn't touched it. All the better. If she had, she would have recognized her patient's face stamped on the coins.

Daphne may have little use for his coins, but still, it didn't mean she was trustworthy. And so Geta bid his time and waited until she next left for the village, so he could have a thorough search of her things, not only make sure she was not in secret correspondence with his enemies, but also to determine what kind of person she was.

Before he could carry out the search, however, something occurred to answer the question of Daphne for him.

That night, he was woken by the faint but frantic ringing of a bell, which he'd never heard before. He bolted upright, and for a moment, thought he was back in Rome—although it had been four years since he was last in Rome—and the bell was the fire alarm sounded by the Vigiles. Then the door burst open, and Daphne came in, silhouetted against the light from a lamp in the room behind her.

"There's an emergency," she said, throwing a mantle over her tunic. "I may have to go into the village, or the person needing care will be brought here. Either way, I need you to stay in this room and stay quiet." Without waiting for an answer from him, she went back out, shutting the door behind her.

She hadn't been gone for long when he heard voices, low but urgent, coming in from the outside. One was Daphne's. "Put her here," she was saying.

"I didn't know what to do," a male voice said, sounding close to tears. "She's bleeding so much—I shouldn't have moved her—but I was afeard that if I went and got you, it'd be too late—"

"Shh," Daphne said, her voice reassuring. "You did right to bring her here, Habib. Now light all the lamps and put on some water to boil for me."

Geta crept out of bed and looked through the crack in the door. In the fitful light of the lamp, he saw Daphne bending over a figure on the cot, which had been pulled to the middle of the room. It was a woman, Geta could see that by her long dark hair and the swell of her belly, which Daphne was feeling with a practiced hand. A young man, his chubby face barely covered with dark fuzz, was lighting more lamps with trembling hands. His features were Syriac, though he was speaking Greek with the same strange accent as Daphne's. There was a large red stain on the front of his tunic.

The figure on the cot moaned.

"You said she fell?" Daphne asked the young man, who was busy stoking the fire.

"It was my fault," Habib said sorrowfully. "I should've helped her bring the sheep in... but she insisted on doing it..."

"Don't blame yourself," Daphne said. "It was an accident." She gestured toward an amphora on the table. "You've done what you can for her. Take some wine and go outside for a breath of fresh air." Habib hesitated, his eyes lingering on the figure on the cot, but Daphne gave him a little shove with her foot. "Go on," she said. "I will do everything I can."

After one last look at his wife, Habib reluctantly took the amphora and left the hut.

Daphne turned back to the cot. Her face was somber as she measured a few drops of milky liquid from a vial into a cup and held it to the woman's lips, and her voice was firm but gentle as she said, "Drink, Lenia. It'll help with your pain." Geta recognized her tone. She'd spoken to him the same way during his fever.

To his surprise, Daphne went to the bedroom and opened the door. "I need your help," she whispered.

"I don't—"

She pressed the vial into his hand. "Here. Just watch her; if she stirs, put a drop or two on her tongue. That's all. Quickly."

Geta followed her into the front room, where the patient, Lenia, now lay motionless. A spoon had been wedged between her teeth to keep her mouth slightly open. Daphne set about cleaning her scalpel and making the first incision on Lenia's belly. Geta watched, fascinated. He was no stranger to blood. On the battlefields, he had seen surgeons remove arrowheads, amputate damaged limbs, and sew up cuts and gashes, but those had always been brutal, filthy scenes, full of not only blood and other bodily fluids but mud as well, accompanied by much shouting and cursing, with the surgeon acting as a butcher as much as a healer. Never had he witnessed such a silent operation, where the surgeon was so tender and meticulous. Once or twice, Daphne gestured for him to drip the poppy juice onto Lenia's tongue, or to hand her this or that tool. There was no sound except for their breathing—Daphne calm and almost inaudible, Lenia shallow but steady, and his own wheezing one—and the soft clattering of the tools Daphne put down on the tray next to the cot.

As she worked, Daphne's face grew darker and darker, while Lenia's grew paler and paler. Geta didn't know that a woman could bleed so much and still live.

For some reason, his thoughts wandered to his father's first wife, Paccia Marciana, who had died in childbirth. Some even said she was his true mother, and that she had died giving birth to him and his brother. Geta never had any reason to believe it was the truth, but now, in this small room, in the fitful light of the lamps, surrounded by blood and grim-faced women, he was struck by a sense of superstition. What if he had killed his own mother? That would be another victim waiting for him in fiery Phlegethon.

A movement from Daphne drew his attention again, cutting off his dark thoughts. She was leaning over the pregnant woman, whispering, "Lenia? Can you hear me?" Lenia made no sound, gave no indication that she was even conscious.

"Daphne?" Habib's diffident voice came through the door. "How's it going in there? Do you need any help?"

Daphne's mouth trembled as she looked from Lenia's white, sweat-drenched face to her still-swollen belly.

"What is it?" Geta asked under his breath.

Daphne shook her head at him and bent over Lenia again. "I can't save you both," she continued, her voice breaking. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. What do I do? What do I do?"

There was no answer from the patient. No one heard Daphne's anxious question, save for Geta.

Finally, Daphne seemed to have made up her mind. Pressing her lips together, she took a deep breath. "No, Habib," she said more loudly, her voice steady. "It's all right. Just... stay out there." She took up her scalpel once more.

Geta looked away, the vial of poppy juice forgotten. Was it simply because it was a woman and thus her predicament felt worse to him, or had his own brush with death made him soft?

When he looked back, Daphne was finishing stitching Lenia up. Something small and gray and red lay on a blanket on the floor. "What have you done?" he mouthed, horrified.

Without answering, she ushered him into the bedroom. He tried to look over her shoulder at the blanket, but she blocked it from view. Once the door closed behind her, Geta put his eye to the crack. Daphne's shoulders were shaking with silent sobs as she rolled up the blanket. "I'm sorry," she whispered, though it was to the woman on the cot or the bundle on the floor, Geta could not tell.

Then she sniffed, composed herself, and opened the front door. Habib burst in. It was clear he had been waiting right outside the whole time.

There was no need to say anything—one look at his wife, now sleeping quietly on the cot, and the bundle on the floor, and the young man understood.

"Boy or girl?" he asked Daphne, his voice trembling.

"Girl." The young man's chubby face crumpled. "Lenia is resting now," Daphne continued. "You can come back for her in the morning. Bring a cart."

Habib nodded and rubbed his eyes like a child. Daphne gave his shoulder an awkward pat. "She's young and strong, so there shouldn't be any—issue in the future," she said. "I'll stop by in the next few days to see how she is."

"Thank you," said Habib. He touched his wife's cheek briefly, picked up the bundle as if it were the most precious thing in the world, nodded at Daphne, and left.

Daphne returned to the cot. She wiped Lenia's face, changed the sheet on the cot, cleaned her instruments, mopped the floor, and put everything away, before bedding down herself in a corner, wrapped in her mantle. Soon, both women were sound asleep, leaving Geta the only one awake in his dark room. Realizing he was still clutching the vial of poppy juice, he put it down on the table. His hands were shaking, though it had less to do with his weakness and more with the confusion of thoughts and unaccustomed emotions swirling through him.

He must have fallen asleep as well, for when he woke, bright sunlight was streaming through the window. He dragged himself out of bed. A hollow-eyed Daphne was sitting at the table over some bread and a jug of milk she wasn't touching. The cot was empty, Lenia apparently having been picked up by her husband.

Seeing Geta hovering at the doorway, Daphne turned to him with a tired smile. "Good morning," she said and got up, her movements slow, like those of an old woman. "Stay there, I'll bring you some water to wash."

Geta was now well enough to no longer need her help with his morning routine, though he still had to rest several times between washing and getting dressed. Daphne brought in a tray with bread and milk and a bowl of goat cheese. "Sorry, there's no porridge," she said. "I forgot to put the oats in to soak."

"This is fine," he said, more gently than usual. Somehow, he felt it would be rude to demand that she wait on him hand and foot after the night she'd just had.

Daphne sat down next to him. "Thank you for your help last night."

"Why didn't you ask the husband?" Geta asked, voicing the question that had been bothering him since the previous night.

Daphne mistook his meaning. "And let him see his wife like that? He would've been no help at all."

"No, I mean... when it came down to either saving the mother or the child, why didn't you ask the husband?"

She looked at him once, then turned away. "It wasn't his decision."

Her offhand tone astounded Geta. "It's his wife!" he said, unable to stop the accusatory note in his voice. "His child. Whose decision was it if not his?"

"Habib is a good man," she said. "A good husband."

He looked at her in confusion. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Daphne turned to face him fully. "So you believe I should force that nice, kind boy to decide which one to kill, his wife or his child?" she asked. "And force him to live the rest of his life knowing that he's condemned one of his loved ones to death?"

Her words hit Geta like a whip. He didn't know how to answer. He had never thought of it like that. In Rome, a father would think nothing of leaving his newborn child to the feral dogs if he didn't want to raise it for whatever reason, but clearly, they were more sentimental here in the East. Or perhaps it was only Daphne. When he remained silent, a look of contempt came over Daphne's face. "You're a soldier," she said, in a tone that implied it was the worst of insults. "All you do is follow orders and kill. What do you know about the choices we have to make every day, just to live?"

Geta wanted to shout at her, to tell her that he, too, had had to make difficult choices of who to kill and who to spare, and that those choices still haunted him to this day. But he couldn't do so without exposing his true identity, so he bit his tongue and swallowed the bitter taste at the back of his throat, shamefaced.

Daphne was still staring at him, her eyes hard. She picked up a piece of bread to taste it.

Perhaps a woman who saved the life of a stranger, a woman who talked to her animals like they were children, a woman who wished to spare a grieving husband a difficult choice, would not be the kind of woman who could betray or poison someone.

"It's all right," Geta said, putting out a hand to stop her. "You don't have to taste it. I trust you." And to prove it, he took the bread from her and ate it himself.

A look of surprise passed across Daphne's face, softening it. She stared at him for a moment longer, and then, without another word, she went out.

After Geta had finished eating, Daphne didn't come back for the tray or bring him a drink of water as she usually did. Wanting to test his strength, Geta picked up the tray with one hand, and, holding to the wall with the other, went to the front room himself. He found Daphne asleep sitting up, with her head on the table, pillowed on her folded arms. Now would be the perfect time to search the hut. Daphne was sleeping so soundly that she probably wouldn't wake even if he dropped a clay amphora in front of her. But he made no move to start the search. His attention was on Daphne.

With her usual dour expression now wiped clean by sleep and exhaustion, and those sharp eyes veiled by bruised lids and dark lashes, her face looked younger, more vulnerable, like that of a girl, except for a deep line between her eyes. Reaching out, he ran a finger lightly over that line, smoothing it away. Daphne stirred in her sleep but didn't wake. Geta stood looking at his finger for a moment as if expecting it to sprout wings and fly away. What on Earth had compelled him to do such a thing? He couldn't think of an answer. After a while, he, too, went back to bed, and for the first time in weeks, he slept the peaceful sleep of the exhausted, without nightmares of Tartarus and lemures to disturb him.

Chapter 4

Septimius Severus' first wife, Paccia Marciana, who died of natural causes, was rumored to be Caracalla's real mother. This seems to explain some of the animosity between Caracalla and Geta, but there is no proof of it (Marciana died in 186, Septimius Severus married Julia Domna in 187, and Caracalla was born in 188, so clearly he was Julia Domna's kid.)

Ancient Roman physicians did perform Caesarean section, though only in extreme situations.

In Ancient Rome and Greece, unwanted babies were often left exposed to the elements. Some lucky ones may get picked up to be adopted or raised as slaves (not much better, but at least that way they'd live!)

Taglist: @sheneedsrocknroll92, @justnobodynothingmore, @barcelonaloverf1life, @myotakureprieve (if you want to be tagged, let me know!)

#joseph quinn #joseph quinn fic #gladiator 2 #emperor geta #emperor geta fic #geta #emperor geta x ofc #geta x ofc

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thecapricunt1616 · 6 months ago

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Knock knock 🚪✊- Is anyone out there?! For some reason the bug has only been biting me to write late at night, so I’m sorry I’ve been posting so late lately (lol) but I hope that some lip smutty fluff brightens up your morning! (p.s. ; yes I know there are still 17 asks rotting away in my box. I prooomise I’m getting to them. I’m wanting to do asks how I usually do them, which is giving you an 8-10k plot instead of just what I can write on my phone since I don’t have a laptop at the moment, but I swear im trying to get a new one suuuuper soon!!! I love you all!!)

I’ve been thinking all day, probably since it is Carnival season after all - about how fun it would be to go to a Carnival with Lip over summer break, or even take a roadtrip to Cedar Point together and make a whole week out of it?! Eeee our prince deserves some fun time! I just know he’s the kind that is such a kid at heart, he grew up with so many siblings! He also has Frannie around, so he would totally love stuff like that (more BTC)

(Warnings for BTC: AFAB reader, No physical attributes for reader are described other then r/ has long hair, Smut!!!, No use of Y/N {r/ goes by pet names like baby, sweetheart, honey, etc.}, Fluff {happy lip!!}, Established relationship, College!Lip, sweet older-brother vibes from Lip, vomiting (r throws up cotton candy, it’s not too bad or long though!) , No ‘typical’ Gallagher drama to be found! {giving our mans a break!!} , not heavily edited, sweet/caring BF!Lip) [if I missed any please let me know in the comments!]

So you’d get there probably just as the sun is setting ‘because that’s the most romantic time to go’ he’d teased, in your ear earlier that afternoon between heavy needy kisses that you shared the moment he’d gotten home from work and he tugged you up to his bedroom since the house had been empty, he was going to use that time ever wisely.

He had been talking up this grand fun night together when the Carnival Fair was finally coming to town that weekend. It was going to be a wonderful chance for you and him to get some nice time alone, especially after finishing out your spring semester of school and having the summer off. He’d been working the summer at Patsy’s, so he told you he was gonna have all the money a girl could dream to get cotton candy and funnel cake since you’d gushed about how when you were a kid those were your favorite to get.

He had wrapped his beat up Jean jacket around your shoulders as you walked after he bought your tickets, even though it was nearing the middle of August and during the day summer was in full swing - fall had already begun to creep in at night causing goosebumps to arise on your arms. “Have I ever told you what a gentleman you are, Gallagher?” You kiss his cheek gently and he chuckled, shaking his head a bit

“Takin’ care of you is my job baby.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulder, kissing your head gently as you waited in line together to get a big bag of cotton candy to share.

“Well you’re really good at that job- you should give yourself a promotion” you held up your left hand jokingly, wiggling your ring finger and he lets out a chuckle, heat creeping to his cheeks that you couldn’t help but feel a rush of pride in your chest for being the reason of.

“I promise I will promote myself as soon as I can find it in the budget” he mused, lacing your fingers together as you head up to the counter and the guy a few years younger then the two of you asked what he could get for him- and he looked at you “you still want the bag one, yea?” He confirmed.

You looked at lip like he had hung the moon in the sky that night, you usually looked at him that way. How he was so kind, and attentive in the way he loved you. How he yearned to take care of you, he wanted nothing more than to make you happy. He made you the happiest girl in the world just by remembering you told him cotton candy was your favorite fair treat so getting right in line for it with you the moment you got there. Because it was what you liked, what made you happy.

“Yes, thank you baby” you planted a little kiss on his neck, since you couldn’t reach his lips when he wasn’t ducking his head to kiss you as he handled the paying and the conversation. Being taken care of had become routine for you, pampered- loved. That’s how you felt when you were around lip, loved- and seen.

Your next stop after sitting and munching on cotton candy until you nearly gave yourself a tummy ache, causing Lip to have to tie off the rest of the bag yo keep your sneaky fingers from getting in when he wasn’t looking - was the strongman game.

You giggle and point “Babyyyyy! You’re so strong- look at that cute pink unicorn!! I can cuddle it when you’re at work! Pleeeeease Lip, can you win it for me baby? Pretty pleeeease?” You beg sweetly, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck and kissing along his jaw to sweeten the deal.

He chuckled a bit, looking at the top rack where said obnoxiously large unicorn was zip tied to the grate, looking down at you before back up at it and sighing a bit to himself “I can win it - but do I particularly wanna carry it around the rest of the night?” He looked down at you again to see your fluttering lashes and pouty bottom lip.

“For your lady? For your bestest girl in the whole world? Pleeeease? You work too much who am I gonna snuggle!” You stand on your tip toes and peck his lips “if I was strong enough to do it myself I would but I need my big strong man to do it for me” you emphasize for added pizazz and he snorts a laugh, patting your ass playfully and giving it a squeeze.

“You are a damn good manipulator” he teased as he dug out his wallet, grabbing a 5 dollar bill that it costed for the three swings “gimme a real kiss- y’know, luck and shit” he puckered his lips, ducking his head and you giggle, happily squeaking as you plant a juicy loving kiss on his lips, your hand finding the back of his neck and stroking gently

“Thank you best boyfriend in the world” you giggle happily and stood to the side as he handed the guy the money

“So uh- what do I need to do f’the horse” he nodded at the pink unicorn with a rainbow tail.

“It’s a unicorn, baby!” You remind and he rolled his eyes playfully

“The fuckin unicorn, then, what do I need t’do” he asked the man running the game booth

“Have to get 100% on one of your 3 tries.” He explained, putting the money in the cash box and Lip nodded

“Easy enough” he picked up the mallet, rolling his shoulders a few times to stretch them out.

“You got this baby!!!” You clap happily and watch as he takes his first swing and the little piece races up and hits 96% causing you to jump up and down happily “Good job baby!!!” You giggled and he smiled at your sweet, encouraging reaction even for something as silly as a carnival game, something he always adored about you is your undying support and encouragement for the people you love. He always felt when you were around that he could just be himself and somehow, that was enough, all on its own.

“Not bad for a first swing ‘eh?” He mused with a playful cockiness and since it wasn’t all too common someone could really get 100% on the thing, a small crowd of 5 or so carnival goers had stopped to see if he was going to get it.

“Not bad at all, I’m already thinking of names for our soon to be adopted unicorn baby” you said and he chuckled a bit, lifting his arms to take his next swing and you couldn’t help but realize how the hem of his black T-shirt rode up when he did, exposing his v-line and happy trail just a bit. You bit your lip gently at the sight, also not missing the sexy little grunt that left his throat when he used all his strength slamming down on the platform with the mallet.

The little knob races up and pangs the bell, announcing that Lip had in fact hit the 100% threshold - breaking you out of your lustful gaze and dirty thoughts that nearly constantly plagued your mind when he was around, the man was walking sex - how could you deny yourself? You gasped and cheered, rushing up to Lip and jumping into a hug “Baby! Oh my god, I love you! I knew you could do it!” You laughed excitedly, kissing him back passionately as he held you safely around his waist, spinning around with you once and chuckling as he set you down, his cheeks slightly pink when he realized there were still a few stragglers hanging about who had watched him win.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t comfortable with PDA, he actually quite loved showing you off, and showing the fact that you loved him off. It made him feel special, wanted. But the two of you had gotten more then just affectionate, you weren’t just the girl of the month that he was screwing to let off steam. He didn’t even realize that the whole ‘love of your life’ thing was real - or possible for someone like him none-the-less.

But as dopey and love sick as it sounded to him in his head, he knew there are absolutely people out there who aren’t loved as proudly as him by someone like you, so any testament of that love and how lucky he was to have it made his chest swell with pride. You were his girlfriend, his lady. Nothing you could ever do would embarrass him.

“Unicorn, right?” The man asked and you nodded excitedly.

“Baby Glitter Gallagher! Isn’t that so cute? Our very first baby together” you giggle as the man handed over the large stuffed toy and you give it a big hug “thaaaank you lip” you said sweetly

“Baby Glitter - so baby is the first name, glitter is her middle name? Or is it baby-glitter like MarySue or some shit?” He asked, causing you to laugh as you walked with him in search of your next adventure to partake in together.

“BabyGlitter is like MarySue, I’m glad we clarified. She’s absolutely a Gallagher, though. So step up or cough up child support is all I’m sayin’” you joked, earning another adorable chuckle from him.

Your next stop was one that Lip had pointed out, so you felt like it was mandated to stop and partake because it was the first thing he had mentioned on his own since you had gotten here; the zipper ride. You had spent the last 10 minutes in line as you waited for the group in front of yours to go, telling him that you could absolutely handle it.

“Gallagher, are you callin’ me a crybaby?” You teased, playfulness edging your tone. “Cause last I checked I can handle myself, even if I like having a sexy man around to protect me” you smiled, kissing his jaw gently. He chuckled at that, shaking his head and holding his left arm around your waist while his other was holding onto your new member of the family, as well as your remaining cotton candy that was deemed a hostage until at least the end of the night.

“I’m not- I’m not!” He holds the cotton candy up in defense jokingly “I’m just sayin I know you don’t like goin’ upside down is all and if I wanna go on the ride I wanna have fun.. when Ian and I used to ride it we’d be flipping the whole way around it was so fuckin fun.” He chuckled a bit at the memory, bringing a happy warmth to your chest. It was rare that the Gallagher kids got to make real, childhood memories together. So that all the more made you want to do this with him, to be a part of his nostalgia and nurture it the way he always made an effort to be a part of yours.

“Well then I wanna have fun! I’m not a baby we’ll be fine, I have you to protect me” you kiss his cheek as you got to the front of the line waiting to be let on the ride. He gives you a gentle peck on the lips before kissing your cheek

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, princess” he said, putting your things he had been holding for you over to the side with the rest of the carnival goers. He helped you up the platform steps, always being sure you never tripped and kept your fingers laced, rubbing the back of your hand gently with his hand as the man unlocked and opened the cage door, a creaky noise coming from it as he does so.

“There’s no-“ you swallow thickly when you realize there was no seatbelts, and lip gave you a ‘told you so’ look, allbeit playful, it only egged on your petulant pride and you shrug. “No seatbelts, makes for more fun, right?” You muse, stepping in and lip got in right next to you, your shoulders and arms pressed up against one another.

“That’s the best part” Lip smirked, holding onto the grip bars when the man clanked the door shut, dropping the lock bar in place and you were suddenly moving. Everything was no longer steady, and it felt as if you were trapped in a fan blade rocking back and forth ready to flip over any which way.

“Lip” you said, concern etching your voice. He was right, Lip usually was right, as annoying as it is for you most days. You didn’t particularly like heights, or being spun in circles, and mixing that with being trapped in a tiny metal cage was bringing those fears right to the surface and you weren’t quite sure what made your ego so big before you got on.

“What baby? You scared?” He teased, playfulness edging his voice. He begins to rock his weight back and forth, the whole cage rattling and clanging as he does so. The hinges seem to creak and you can see in your mind the gruesome terror that would unfold if the cage door just so happened to give out.

“Stop- stop it- it’s broken! Don’t you hear it, Lip? We gotta get off!” you said worriedly and he laughed like a masochistic 7 year old boy, rocking his weight more dramatically until you were fully laying down before swinging the other way and laying on said creaky cage door while you look below at the 50 foot drop and knuckles popped from gripping the grab bars on the cage door so hard

He chuckled more “baby it’s fine it’s not gonna break. Cmon let’s do a flip” he said, throwing all his weight back and you squeal as your suddenly hanging upside down and he laughs loudly “woops! Guess we’re stuck till we start moving” he teases and you whine, feet dangling off the floor of the cage

“Phillip Gallagher you’re the meanest boyfriend in the whole world!” You shout, causing him to laugh and you heard a chuckle from the riders below you at your current misfortune

“I thought I was the nicest boyfriend also the proud father of- what was it-“ he’s cut off as the ride starts again to let more riders on and you flip forward, swinging back and forth dramatically as the cage once again balanced your weight. You seized the opportunity to slap his shoulder once you found your footing

“You could have killed us!” You said but couldn’t help the big smile on your lips.

“Then I guess Baby Glitter Gallagher would have been an orphan before she even made it home” he mused, before giving you a kiss on the lips.

“This is why no more cotton candy babe” Lip said gently as he held your hair back and you puke up bright purple lemonade mixed with your blue and pink cotton candy.

“Yeah- kinda pretty though, right like -“ you pause to gag, more sugary neon purple mess splashing into the unfortunate bush you had decided to victimize tonight after your what felt like hundreds of flips on the zipper ride. “I would totally get my nails this color-“ you sniffle, spitting in the bush to rid your mouth of the slimey after puke feeling before standing and wiping your mouth with the back of your forearm.

He chuckled a bit, shaking his head as he dug around in the pocket of his Jean jacket that sat atop your unicorn for safe keeping and pulling out a small flask “open” he tilted your head back and you scrunch your nose, obeying and opening your mouth. “Sorry- but I know Y’gonna wanna kiss me and I don’t want to taste y’vomit babe, as much as I love you” he dribbled a mouthful of vodka in your mouth and you scrunch your face and whine slightly as you swished it around, gargling a bit for good measure before spitting it into the poor little bush and turning back to him to see he was finishing off the flask while you did so before putting it back in his jacket pocket.

“I think you need some water, and we should sit and relax f’r a second ‘huh?” He rubbed your arm gently before pulling you into a comforting hug and kissing the top of your head. You shut your eyes, enjoying the spicy scent of his cologne mixed with the musky earthy scent of tobacco and weed he’d consumed earlier.

“Yeah- but let’s stay over here. Well, maybe not by puke bush. But where it’s quiet. I know you probably want a smoke” you sat down next to a tree and he joined you, resting your unicorn next to his lap

“This fuckin thing is gonna take up my whole side of the bed” he muttered as he dug out his cigarettes and lighter from his pocket, lighting one between his lips

“Mmm, only when you’re not home. Gimme some” you said sweetly. He looked over, pressing his lips to yours in a slow, gentle kiss as he exhaled the smoke into your mouth and you sucked it down graciously, eyes fluttering shut at the short light feeling it gave your mind since you were only getting half of its effects.

“Better be you know I like doin butt rubs after a day at work” he mumbled against your lips before kissing you again, shorter this time because it was inturupted by a giggle from you. He was right, Lip loved to lay in bed in the dark with you, detailing what had went on at work that day while he felt up your ass. It wasn’t strictly sexual, (although a lot of times it ended that way) it was more a…stress toy for him to play with as he went on.

“I love butt rub time. I was actually thinking about that earlier. One of the best times of the day” you wrap your arms around his middle, nuzzling your face in his neck and kissing the warm skin gently as he took another drag.

“Yeah baby?” He kissed your temple gently, squeezing your side and lifting up the helm of your shirt to run his fingers along your bare skin. The action brings goosebumps to your skin, calming but sensual. Your eyes flutter shut at the gentle affections, enjoying the carefree laughter and joyful screams from the carnival a hundred feet or so away, mixing with the gentle quiet sounds of crickets chirping in the woods.

“I love all our time.” You assure him, planting a gentle kiss on his warm broad shoulder.

The next thing you decided to do, after being sure to make a pit stop for ice water and Lip being sure you drank a decent amount - was a calm pretty swing ride. It had a lot of hight to it, but that was mostly so you could get a good view of the city while you swung around at a fast (but not dizzying) pace.

You got in line behind a pregnant mother and her young daughter, who looked to be not much older then Frannie. Smiling to yourself, you thought what it may be like to have kids with Lip some day. You didn’t want that day to be soon, of course. You and Lip had promised eachother that you wanted to finish college. He wanted to make it out of the south side, and while you were a Chicago transplant, you still understood why that was from the stories he told you of their growing up. You wanted to be sure that any family planning would stay far off until you and Lip were both working adult jobs, and had a house or something - when you were real adults.

You hadn’t even realized you’d made it to the front of the line, and were being broken out of your dreamland daze when the little girl stomps her feet “but mommy! We waited all this time! I wanna go on!” She said getting increasingly upset as the ride operator explained that single riders had to be of a certain height

“I know baby but mommy’s belly is too big - I can’t go on it’ll hurt your little sister! I’m sorry, honey. I really am.” The mother tried to explain, and Lip, being the brotherly gentleman he is spoke up.

“Uh- I’ll take ‘er for you, Ma’am - If that’s cool with you- babe are you good on your own?” He asked you and you felt yourself swoon like this was some romance movie and not real life. You nodded with a big smile

“He’s got so many siblings - he’s gonna look after her real well, I’ll sit right behind them!” You gushed and the woman lights up

“Oh gosh- would it be a hassle?” She asked

“Mommyyyy! Please! Pleeeeease!! I’ll listen so good!” She jumped excitedly and the mother looked at Lip before looking back at her.

“Fine- but you better listen! You hear me! Give this nice boy no trouble at all missy” she said, handing her hand over to Lip and she giggled excitedly

“Thank you mister! Thank you sooo much!” She gushed, throwing her arms around his hips and giving him a big hug. You pout at the adorable sight in front of you, following behind to sit in the single seat behind the double they’d be sitting in.

“I’m Marley, I’m 5, what’s your name?” She asked as Lip helped her into the seat before sitting next to her and adjusting the lap bar.

“I’m Lip” he said, causing her to giggle

“That’s a silly name- Lippy lip lip” she repeats as she swings her legs back and forth in that darling childlike way. “Are you a grown up?” She asked him and he chuckled a bit, realizing like when Debbie was little- this carnival ride was going to turn into more of an interrogation then anything else.

“I guess you could say that, yeah.” He said. You watched them with sparkling eyes, a big grin on your face as you saw just how good he was with her. Lip was always good with kids. They took to him because he would usually speak to them how he spoke to other adults (minus as much swearing as he could remember to omit) and that made them feel special, equal. Which is one of the many things he can say he wanted as a kid, and never got. So he did his best to pay it forward.

By the time you’d gotten to the top the wind was louder at the height as you spun so you were no longer able to hear their conversation so clear. You looked at the twinkling lights of Chicago below, trying to see if you could pick out the Gallagher house just by your mental map of the city you’d made in the few years you’d been living here. You did hear though when the girl started giggling wildly, drawing your attention back to them and you saw Lip pretending to be fully limp and dead in the seat next to the girl, tongue hanging out of his mouth and everything.

You shook your head, rolling your eyes at his silly antics. Even though he held up a hard exterior a lot of the time, you knew deep down he was a kid at heart which is why they liked him so much. When you got back down and hopped out of your seat, you greet him with a kiss “did he give you too much trouble?” You asked Marley and she giggled, shaking her head.

“No- Thank you, Lippy Lip” she told him giving him another sweet hug. You returned her to her mother and Lip told her they were welcome to Patsy’s for a piece of pie on the house any time which just made your heart swell even more at how generous and kind he was, even to a stranger he just met.

“You are just the sweetest- thank you so much, Sorry what was your name I never caught it-“

“LIP! Lippy lip lip lip!” The girl sings again, gasping when you came over with your large unicorn “She’s so fluffy I’m gonna die!” She squealed, hugging it tight “what’s its name?” She asked you, looking up with a bright sugar rush smile. This kids gonna sleep good tonight

“Uh- Baby Glitter!” You told her and she smiled

“Baby glitter is perfect” she told you and her mother giggled, a bit nervously at all of her energy likely so far past her bedtime.

“Well, Lip- thank you again. We’re gonna have to check out your restaurant! Alright Marley say goodbye to your new friend we have to go home now I said just one more ride” her mother told her and she pouted, handed your unicorn back over.

“Byeee Lip, I had fun playing with you” she gave him one last hug and you felt like your heart could explode with the way he ruffled her hair and pat her back in such a brotherly way.

“You too kid, be good f’y’r mom heard?” He told her and she nods, taking her mom’s hand and they head off into the crowd.

“You’d be a good dad” you said softly, taking his hand and lacing his fingers with yours. He laughed, shaking his head

“She was just a good kid” he counters.

You’d ended up together at the ferris wheel, luckily it wasn’t one that had to be balanced with weight so you could snuggle up to Lip with his jacket wrapped tight around you and legs over his lap. As soon as you got far enough from the ride operator he even pulled out a cigarette, lighting it and resting his head back as he blew the smoke out.

You sat and just watched him, admiring the way his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed or the way he adorably sniffled once in a while since the poor guy had year round allergies it seemed, and never bothered with Zyrtec or any allergy medicine at all. “You’re pretty” you said softly, chin resting on his pec as you as you watched him.

He chuckled a bit, his cheeks flushing a cute pink. Before you, no one had ever called Lip ‘cute’ - He had been called a plethora of things.

Disobedient, disorderly, rude, loud, obnoxious, violent, a bad influence, a waste of potential -

But pretty? That was something that started (and he told himself very likely ended) with you.

“That’s all you c’mere” he tilted your chin up, giving you a sweet and tender kiss, cupping your cheek with his other hand and stroking his thumb across it. When he pulled from your lips he kissed across your forehead and browbone, down your nose to your cheekbones and then leaving one final lingering kiss on your jaw before having another drag of his cigarette casually. Your heart felt like it was thumping out of your chest, and your belly was swarming with so many butterflies it was as if migration season came early.

But that wasn’t new, it felt like that every day with lip. Ever the gentle, sweet, kind, affectionate man you had yearned for every past boyfriend to be for you. But you figured it was just the universes way of teaching you to appreciate French Vanilla Bean type of love - rich, fulfilling as opposed to the cheap watered down fake chemical crap that comes in a bottle with a squeeze lid.

So many emotions washed over you, gratitude, love, fulfillment, appreciation, but for some reason what won over- was lust. You weren’t quite sure where it came from, but by the time you had stopped at the top, you were in the depths of a passionate, heated makeout session - cigarette long crushed out.

The smoke scent clung to his palms that cradled your cheeks as if you were a fine porcelain doll to be cherished and gently caressed. He hummed softly, disconnecting your lips and soft puffs of breath fanning over your spit-slick lips as his mind short circuited a moment due to your hand trailing down and popping the button of his jeans, and pulling him free of his boxers and pants.

“You sure?” He asked carefully, hands trailing to your shoulders and squeezing them gently as if to silently tell you it was ok if you just got too caught up in the lust of it all. Lip Gallagher - ever the gentleman. In response you gently stroke over him, using the pre that had started to leak out of his hardening pink tip to give yourself some lubricating before reconnecting your lips once more, opening your mouth for him.

A small whine escaped your throat when he slipped his tongue into your mouth, his hips rutting up into your hand subconsciously. His stomach muscles flex under your touch as you slightly tighten your grasp, twisting your hand with each return pass.

Such actions was causing him to lose all resolve. He panted softly into your mouth, licking and sucking your tongue, breaking to grunt softly at the feeling of his dick trying to twitch at the delicious stimulation you provided but being unable to due to the literal grip you had on him.

“Doin’ so good- so fuckin good baby - god. Jesus fuckin Christ. Such a good girl f’me, huh?” He praised, giving you more sloppy kisses to be sure no moans escaped his throat and if they did would be muffled most of the way by your mouth.

You hummed at the praise tilting your head down and letting a glob of spit fall into your hand, using it as added slick to pump your hand faster and he bit his lip, nose scrunching adorably as he tried to hold himself back. “You gonna cum? Mm? Wanna cum in my hand baby?” You said in the shell of his ear hotly before taking the lobe between your teeth, slowing your strokes and rubbing over his sensitive leaky tip with the silky soft pad of your tongue.

The action made his jaw fall slack, head resting over the ledge of the ride and as you started moving again you quickened your pace realizing you were on your decent back to the bottom. “Yeah? Er you want me to swallow it? Hmm? Get on my knees for you-“ you goad, egging on his release.

He looks at you and nodded fervently, rendered speechless by the actions of your hand causing you giggle a bit- getting on your knees and out of sheer routine Lip gathered your hair in a makeshift ponytail and watched as you took him into your mouth, giving his tip sensual little kitten lips and tapping his cock against your tongue making soft wet thudding noises only to be heard by the two of you.

“So fuckin filthy- huh? So eager to have a mouthful’a cum with all these people around?” He eases your head down and you let your jaw fall more slack, swirling and slurping your tongue around him how you’d learned drives him wild.

It wasn’t long of lewd slurping and soft moans of enjoyment coming from you as you continued to get him off, before you felt it.

Success.

You braced yourself as he began using your hair to roughly fuck your face, panting softly as he worked himself through his high. “Jeeeesus - good fuckin’ girl, yeah? That’s my good fuckin girl- my girl” He rambled on as he worked himself through his high. You swirl and slurp around him, swallowing down all you could before he pulled you off

“So fuckin pretty with a mouth full’a’cum, how’s that possible?” He pats your cheek lovingly as you opened your mouth to show the stringy sticky white mess he left. You shrugged a bit, smiling friskely and swallowing, making a show of licking your lips off and he grabbed your jaw, collecting the mix of saliva and cum on your chin with the pad of this thumb before sticking it in your mouth

“Clean it up” he ordered and in turn you sucked the digit clean obediently. “Good girl, now come act decent in front’a’these people, yeah?” He tapped your cheek lightly and fixed his jeans and boxers as you come and plop back down next to him, licking your swollen lips that were adorned with a satisfied smirk as you completed your decent to the bottom

“Mmmm- oh my god literally the trip here was worth it just for this it’s the best” you hum softly, taking another bite of funnel cake from between Lips fingers when he put it to your mouth.

“Can’t lie it’s pretty fuckin good” he said, popping another piece in his mouth.

“Can you believe there are sinners in the world that put marinara sauce on this?!” You said and Lip starts laughing, shaking his head. “What? What!! It’s gross, you like it?” You asked not sure what was so funny

“Baby- babe” he coughs a bit, trying to catch his breath “oh god- y’fuckin kill me, kid. That’s fried dough, people do that with- you’re right, someone would be a fucking psychopath if they put marinara sauce on their cake” he said and you started laughing as well, shaking your head at your own confusion

“I love you” you said, leaning over and kissing his cheek. He blushed a bit, turning his face and giving you a real kiss. A kiss that tasted like tobacco and powdered sugar, and sticky sweet love.

“I love you, baby” he said in that soft low way you loved.

From that year on, the Carnival was a yearly date for the two of you.

A/N: EEE! My longest Lip fic to date!!! I hope you enjoyed, if you did please be sure to like / reblog to let me know ❤️ as always, (kind) critiques & feedback are always SO appreciated! Ilyilyilyyy all!!!

D/C: @carmybrainworms - Wormy stayed up until the wee hours of the morning last night beta reading this for me, Wormy 🪱, thank you for tasting my potatoes so many times!!! I love you down bbg

@mouseymilkovich - Mousey Mouse 🐁! Thank you so much for all your encouragement in writing Lip & inspiring me to do so! I love you so much ❤️

@carmenberzattosgf - My sweetest Martini 🍸, thank you for always lifting me up on hard days, supporting my work, being an all around kick ass friend, and feeding the fandom with your amazing Carmy goodness while I’ve been on this Lip kick! Smooches for days for you (you already know that💋💋💋)

& finally, @daysofyellowroses - my lovely flower 🌼, welcome back to the app baby!!! We missed you so much, even though we’ve been talking BTS, I am happy to see the writing bug has paid you a visit (a very good one that Kerry fic still has me sweating)

#capri writes: Lip ❤️#lip gallagher x you #lip gallagher fluff #lip gallagher fanfic #lip gallagher smut #lip gallagher x reader #lip gallagher #lip gallagher angst #lip Gallagher fic #phillip gallagher

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freshl6ve · 4 months ago

Text

𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒. 𝐒 | 𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐄

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ A ©FRESHL6VE ORIGINAL ONE—SHOT 𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦

⭑.ᐟ : 𝐈 𝐬𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐛𝐨𝐰𝐥, my feet dangling in the air above the concrete below. I watch as Chris effortlessly skates along the smooth surface, his body flowing gracefully with each movement. I feel my heart calm with each one of his tricks, the familiar routine of watching him skate acting like a soothing balm in my chaotic home life.

As he skates closer, Chris smiles at me, acknowledging her silent presence and unwavering support. He easily hops up to the edge of the bowl where I’m sitting, taking a seat beside me.

For a few moments, we sit in comfortable silence, our eyes both fixed on the sunset as it begins to paint the sky in warm, orange hues. The soft glow of the setting sun casts a glow on Chris’ face, highlighting his defined features and making him look more alluring than ever.

I turn my face away from the sunset and towards Chris, my eyes looking over at his profile. I notice his usual carefree expression is tinged with a hint of tension, and I raise an eyebrow in curiosity.

“Why’d you stop?” I finally break the silence, my voice echoing with a note of concern.

Chris lets out a small laugh, running a hand through his hair before he responds. “Just needed a break,” he replies easily, as if it were nothing. “Pushing myself too hard, needed to catch my breath for a second.”

I chuckle softly, shaking my head teasingly. “That's a first. You're always pushing yourself to the limit, never even seeming to care if you need to gasp for air,” I say, my voice gentle but filled with mirth.

“Maybe I’m getting tired in my old age,” Chris replies with a smirk, resting his elbow on his knee and turning so that he’s facing me more directly. “Soon I’ll be needing a cane and a wheelchair to get around the skate park.”

I smile, raising an eyebrow in challenge. “And who's going to be there to push you around the park when that day comes?” I ask, my voice light and teasing.

Chris laughs, shaking his head before replying. “You, of course. You know Matt or Nick won't do it, and with my luck I'd somehow end up sending myself into a wall or something.”

I chuckle, picturing Chris accidentally propelling himself into a wall and wincing with sympathy. “You're probably right. I can't picture Matt or Nick being very keen on being the designated wheelchair pusher.”

Chris grins, leaning back and propping himself up on his elbows. “They'd probably just laugh and leave me stranded somewhere. You're the only one I can trust to faithfully push me wherever I need to go.”

I laugh, my eyes returning to the orange and pink hues of the evening sky. The banter between us fades into a comfortable silence, the only sound the soft rustle of the wind through the trees.

The skate park was Chris's territory, and every time we visited the place was eerily empty and silent. He was the only one who really knew how to skate, but he always offered to help me learn.

Chris looked at me with a concerned expression, his voice soft as he asked, “How's everything?” He paused for a moment before continuing, “I know we promised not to talk about it, but I just wanted to check in. When you called me, you sounded different than most times.”

I shrugged my shoulders, a flicker of helplessness and resignation appearing in my eyes. “It's been the same,” I muttered, my voice quiet and strained. “The arguments, the yelling, the tension. It's the same, just louder and more chaotic than ever before.”

I looked up at the sky, my eyes burning and watery as a lump formed in my throat.

“I just wanna get out of there, Chris,” I whispered, my voice cracking with emotion, tears beginning to well up in my eyes. “It's too much sometimes. It's like I'm drowning in the chaos, and I can't find my way out.”

I continued, my voice growing more desperate and emotional with each word. “Everything's always so loud and out of control. There's no sense of peace or calmness. It's just constant yelling and arguing, and I can't handle it anymore. I feel like I'm suffocating, like I'm stuck in a place where I don't belong. I just want to escape, I just want to be free from it all.”

I took a shaky breath, my eyes meeting his as I continued. “You make me feel free,” I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper. “When I'm with you, the world seems less chaotic, less harsh. It's like you have the ability to mute all the noise and create a space just for us, where we can ignore the outside world and just be.”

Chris's gaze softened, his eyes locking onto mine with a mixture of concern and affection. “You don't have to suffer through it alone,” he replied gently, reaching out to place a comforting hand on my knee. “You always have a place here, with me, where you can find peace and escape. I'll always be here for you.”

I felt a wave of warmth spread through me at his words, the sincerity in his voice bringing a fresh wave of tears to my eyes. “Thank you,” I whispers, my voice choked with emotion. “That means more to me than you could ever know.”

Chris stands up, a small, strained smile on his face as he asks, “Your dad still hate me though?” He starts to skate slowly, circling around the bowl as he waits for my response.

I sigh, nodding somberly as I reply, “Unfortunately, yeah, he does. He still thinks you're a 'bad influence' and doesn't want me hanging out with you.”

Chris lets out a bitter chuckle, continuing to skate as he responds, “Yeah, I figured as much. It's been the same old story every time we meet, hasn't it?”

I nod again, an annoyed frown on my face as I think about my dad's constant disapproval. “Yeah, it has. Every time he catches me sneaking out to see you, it's the same argument. He just doesn't understand why I enjoy spending time with you.”

Chris skates a tight circle around the bowl before responding, a self-deprecating smirk on his face. “Because I'm a skater with no future, as he says,” he echoed, his voice filled with a mix of resignation and bitterness.

I chuckled despite the sentiment, knowing full well that my dad had indeed said similar things about Chris and his passion for skating.

I watch with both fascination and sorrow as Chris continues skating, his movements both graceful and melancholic. Despite the constant criticism and disapproval from my dad, there was something captivating about watching Chris glide through the air, making even the most difficult tricks look like poetry in motion.

Chris suddenly landed a particularly impressive trick, sticking the landing with a look of pure determination on his face. As he came to a stop, he turned to face me, a small, satisfied smile on his face.

“What did you think of that one?” he asked, his voice filled with a mix of pride and vulnerability, as if he was seeking my validation more than ever.

I smiled back at him, genuinely impressed by his skill. “It was incredible. You made it look so easy,” I complimented, watching as a flicker of relief passed through his eyes, as if my approval meant more to him than he would ever let on.

Chris sat back down beside me, looking straight ahead as he spoke. “Me, Matt and Nick were talking,” he began, pausing momentarily before continuing, “and we were thinking you should come move in with us.”

I raised an eyebrow in surprise, not expecting such a sudden offer. “Move in with you guys?” I repeated, a hint of disbelief in my voice. “Are you serious?”

Chris nodded, leaning back and supporting his weight on his palms.

“Yeah, dead serious. You can stay with me in my room, and we thought it'd be a good way to get you out of the toxic environment you're in right now,” he explained, his words honest and direct.

I sighed, my mind already picturing the myriad of insults and threats my parents would throw my way if I even mentioned moving out.

“I would love to, but—” I began, only to be cut off by Chris's firm yet gentle tone. “C’mon, Y/N. You're old enough to make your own decisions, not your dad, not even your mom. You can't let their approval dictate your life forever.”

I started to protest, opening my mouth to speak, but Chris quickly cut me off, grabbing my hand firmly and looking me straight in the eyes.

“Escape with me,” he repeated, his voice filled with both determination and tenderness. “Feel the actual freedom you've always wanted to feel, not just those three hours of freedom we get with each other and then being trapped in that toxic home of yours.”

My heart fluttered at the intensity in his gaze, his words echoing through my mind. “But... my parents, they'll—” I started to object, my voice trailing off as I thought about the confrontation that would surely follow if I went through with this.

Chris squeezed my hand tighter, his expression firm yet reassuring. “They won't do anything to you because I'll be there,” he promised, his voice filled with the unwavering confidence that had always attracted me to him. “I won't let anything happen. You have my word.”

I felt a wave of comfort wash over me, his words melting away some of the fear and anxiety I felt about confronting my parents. “Okay,” I whispered, my voice small but sure. “Okay, I'll do it. I'll escape with you.”

Chris smiled, relief and happiness evident in his expression. “You won't regret this,” he said, still holding my hand. “You're going to experience a whole new level of freedom, and I'll be right beside you every step of the way.”

I smiled back, feeling a sense of excitement and anticipation building within me. For the first time in a long time, I felt like there was a light at the end of the tunnel, a way out of the chaos and abuse.

“I trust you,” I whispered, my voice filled with a mix of gratitude and affection.

Chris smiled, his free arm wrapping around my shoulders and pulling me into his chest. He held me close, his strong frame providing a sense of comfort and security I hadn't felt in ages.

As I leaned into him, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, I felt a sense of peace wash over me, knowing that I was making the right decision.

We both looked out at the sky, watching as the sun began to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. The last rays of sunlight cast a warm, soft glow over the skatepark, bathing everything in a peaceful and calming light.

Chris broke the comfortable silence, his voice light and playful. “Can I teach you how to skate?” he asked, a smirk playing on his lips as I looked up at him, my eyes meeting his gaze.

I chuckled, shaking my head in mock despair. “No, I will literally eat shit if I even step on a skateboard,” I replied, recalling the numerous falls and nosedives I'd experienced whenever I tried skating.

Chris chuckled, giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Not if I'm there, you won’t,” he said confidently. “I'll make sure you won't eat shit the entire time.”

I rolled my eyes but there was a hint of a smile on my face. “Oh really? And how are you gonna manage that, huh? Gonna hold my hand the entire time?”

Chris chuckled again, his grip on my shoulders tightening slightly. “I mean, if that helps, yeah,” he echoed, his tone slightly cocky yet teasing. “I'll do whatever it takes to make sure you don't fall on your face.”

I laughed, shaking my head at his confidence. “And what if I fall anyway, even with you holding my hand?”

Chris smirked, his eyes sparkling mischievously. “I'll fall with you,” he replied, his voice filled with playful nonchalance. “That way, your fall will be less embarrassing if I'm there to share the humiliation.”

I chuckled, the mental image of us both falling in a heap on the ground making me laugh even more. “Oh, how generous of you,” I quipped, a sarcastic tone in my voice. “Taking one for the team, huh? What a gentleman.”

Chris chuckled, pushing himself up to his feet and holding out a hand to help me up. “C'mon, let's give it a shot. You never know, you might actually enjoy it.”

I hesitated for a moment, eyeing the skateboard with trepidation. But then I took his hand, letting him pull me to my feet. “If I end up looking like a complete fool, I’m blaming you,” I warned jokingly, bracing myself.

Chris smiled, his grip on my hand firm and steady. “You won't look like a fool, I promise,” he assured me, his voice filled with confidence. “And if you do, I’m right there with you. Now, let's see if you can stand on the board without falling over.”

I took a deep breath and stepped onto the skateboard, gripping his hand tightly for balance. My legs immediately felt wobbly and unbalanced, but Chris held onto me, helping me to stay upright.

“I feel like I’m gonna fall any second,” I muttered, my voice laced with uncertainty. Chris chuckled, his hand still firmly supporting me. “Just take a deep breath and relax. I’ve got you.”

Following his instructions, I took a slow, measured breath, trying to calm my nerves a bit. The skateboard wobbled beneath me, but Chris's grip on my hand never wavered, keeping me from falling.

“That's it,” Chris encouraged, a hint of pride in his voice. “Just focus on keep your balance.” I took another deep breath, trying to convince myself that I could do this. The board beneath me felt unsteady, but I didn’t fall.

“You're doing great,” Chris praised, his voice gentle and encouraging. “Now, try to push yourself forwards with your other foot.”

I timidly lifted my other foot and pushed off the ground, causing the board to move slowly forward. I instantly felt my balance falter, but Chris's steady grip on my hand kept me from falling off.

“That’s it! You're doing it!” Chris exclaimed, his voice filled with excitement. “Just keep going, you're doing great.”

I kept pushing myself forward, the board moving a bit faster now. My heart was racing, but I also felt a strange sense of exhilaration.

“Okay, now try to turn slightly,” Chris instructed, his voice still filled with encouragement. “Just lean gently on your toes and we'll make a small turn.”

I obeyed his instructions, leaning slightly onto my toes and feeling the board respond, veering to the side slightly. The movement felt foreign and unnatural, but at the same time, it was strangely thrilling.

“Perfect!” Chris praised, his grip on my hand still secure. “You're a natural. Let's try it again, but a bit more this time.”

I nodded, gathering my courage and pushing off again. This time, I leaned a bit more heavily onto my toes, and the board turned more sharply, the movement feeling both terrifying and liberating.

“Nice!” Chris exclaimed, his voice filled with admiration. “You're catching on quick. Let's pick up the speed a bit, see how it feels.”

I took a deep breath, steeling my nerves as I pushed off a bit harder, sending the board speeding ahead a bit faster than before. The wind rushed past me, and the feeling was both terrifying and electrifying.

Chris chuckled, his grip on my hand steady as ever. “Alright, now that we're going a bit faster, let's learn how to stop,” he said, his voice calm and composed. “You're gonna have to push down on the back of the board, kinda like you're stomping on it.”

“Sort of,” Chris explained, a hint of amusement in his voice. “You don’t have to stomp, more like a gentle but firm pressure. Here, let me show you.”

He demonstrated, pushing down on the back of the board with his foot, causing it to slow down almost instantly.

“See? It's like a brake. Gentle enough to slow you down, but strong enough to stop you completely.” I watched closely, mentally noting the way his foot shifted, applying pressure to the tail of the board.

“Now, you try it,” he encouraged, his grip on my hand still anchoring me. I swallowed my fear and mimicked the motion, pressing down gently on the back of the board. Sure enough, the skateboard started to slow down, eventually coming to a gradual stop.

“Good job!” Chris praised, looking genuinely impressed. “See? You’re a natural at this. Soon enough you'll be doing tricks in no time.”

I chuckled, my heart still racing from the adrenaline rush. “Don't get ahead of yourself. I’ve barely managed to stand on the board without eating shit.”

Chris chuckled, amused by my self-deprecating remark. “Okay, I think you've got the hang of it enough to try without me holding your hand now,” he said, his voice soft yet confident. “Don’t worry, I’m right here if you start to lose balance.”

Chris gripped my hand tight, giving me a reassuring nod. “Okay, I'm gonna give you a little push to start moving and then let go, alright?” he said. “Just focus on keeping your balance and push off when you feel steady.”

I nodded, taking a few deep breaths to steady my nerves. Chris then began jogging, slowly increasing the speed as he pulled me along. Then, without warning, he released my hand, letting me glide forward on my own.

Despite the initial shock of losing Chris's support, I managed to maintain my balance, the skateboard responding to my every slight shift in weight. A small, tentative smile played on my face as I cruised across the skatepark, the wind rushing past me and the board rolling smoothly beneath my feet.

“I'm doing it!” I exclaimed, a hint of surprise in my voice. “I'm actually doing it!” Chris jogged alongside me, a proud smile on his face. “I told you, you could do it,” he called out, matching my pace.

Emboldened by my success, I decided to test my newfound skill. I gently applied pressure to the back of the board, just as Chris had taught me. The skateboard slowed down gradually, and eventually came to a smooth stop. I let out an elated laugh, feeling an incredible sense of accomplishment.

“Look at you, pro skateboarder in the making!” Chris teased, his eyes sparkling with genuine pride. “I guess I’m a pretty good teacher, huh?”

I laughed, my cheeks feeling flushed from the thrill of victory. “Yeah, yeah, don’t pat yourself on the back too hard,” I retorted, the sarcasm in my voice contradicted by the wide smile on my face.

Chris chuckled, his own smile matching mine. “Hey, I’ll take compliment where I can get it,” he joked, shrugging his shoulders. “You know you couldn’t have done it without me.”

I stepped off the skateboard, the rush of adrenaline still coursing through my veins. I approached Chris, a mixture of excitement and gratitude evident in my expression. Without a word, I wrapped my arms around him, giving him a tight hug.

“Thank you,” I murmured against his chest, my voice filled with genuine appreciation.

Suddenly, Chris picked me up into his arms, an unexpected move that left me laughing in surprise. He then hopped back onto the skateboard, placing me in front of him on the deck.

“Hang on tight,” he warned, his voice laced with mischief.

I laughed, clutching onto his forearms as he propelled us forward with skilled movements of his feet. The wind whipped through my hair and adrenaline coursed through my veins as he navigated the skatepark, expertly maneuvering around obstacles and even going over small ramps.

“This is crazy!” I exclaimed, my heart racing with both excitement and a hint of fear. Chris chuckled, tightening his grip around my waist. “Just enjoy the ride,” he replied, his voice filled with carefree confidence.

I closed my eyes, allowing myself to fully immerse myself in the experience. The wind rushed past us, the hum of the wheels underneath us like a steady, thrumming heartbeat. The fear was there, lingering in the back of my mind, but it was overshadowed by the sense of freedom and happiness that came with trusting Chris and allowing myself to just be in the moment.

In a moment, the exhilarating ride took a sudden turn. A rock or pebble had gotten stuck between the wheels, causing the skateboard to jerk violently and send us both careening to the ground.

I heard Chris yell out “Shit!” as we toppled over, and he instinctively covered my head, protecting me from the brunt of the fall. We hit the ground with a hard thud, the skateboard clattering a few feet away from us.

I felt the impact as we hit the ground, the fall taking the wind out of me. Chris's body landed on top of mine, and I let out a small groan of surprise and pain.

For a moment, we lay there motionless, both stunned by the unexpected fall. Then, I felt Chris begin to chuckle against my shoulder, his body shaking slightly.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice filled with laughter and concern. He pushed himself up onto his forearms, looking down at me with a sheepish grin.

“That was a bit of a rough landing, huh?” I managed to croak out between deep breaths, my body starting to throb with the first signs of a forming bruise.

His laughter continued, the sound muffled as he buried his head back into my shoulder. I instinctively tangled my fingers into his hair, the feeling of his soft locks providing me some strange comfort amidst the pain and the laughter.

I joined in, the absurdity of the situation and the relief that we weren't seriously injured propelling me into a bout of laughter.

Chris lifted himself slightly, propping himself up on his forearms to hover above me. He was grinning, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of mirth and affection. As he spoke, the words coming out with a hint of smugness, I couldn't help but feel my heart skip a beat, my hands still buried in his silky hair.

“See? I told you I'd fall with you,” he teased, his voice filled with laughter.

“You always have to prove yourself right, huh?” I managed to say, my voice a bit breathless. My fingers traced a path from his hair down to his cheek, the touch soft yet intimate.

He chuckled again, the sound sending a shiver down my spine. He was so close, so tantalizingly near, and yet still just a breath's distance away.

“Of course I do,” he retorted, his gaze never leaving mine. “Can't let you doubt my words, after all.”

There was something in his eyes, a mixture of playfulness and something deeper that I couldn't quite put my finger on. My fingers lingered on his cheek, the heat of his skin against mine making it hard to think straight.

“You're insufferable,” I muttered, the words coming out as a tease, but my voice betraying the tenderness I felt.

His smile widened, his face so close now that I could feel his warm breath against my skin. My heart was racing, the proximity between us sending tingles down my spine. I could feel the tension, the almost magnetic pull drawing us closer together.

“But you like it,” he countered, a hint of slyness in his voice. His eyes flicked down to my lips, just for a fraction of a second, but it was enough to make my heart flutter.

I swallowed, the words stuck in my throat as I tried to come up with a witty retort. But the closeness, the way he looked at me, the warmth of his body just a tantalizing distance away, it was all too distracting.

The admission escaped my lips in a whisper that was barely audible, the words soft and filled with an honesty I couldn't hide.

“I do,” I confessed, my voice a mere breath of sound. “It's one of my favorite things about you.”

Before I could second-guess myself, I cupped the sides of his face, and gently pulled him closer until our lips met in a deep, passionate kiss.

His lips were soft, warm, and moved against mine with a familiar ease. My fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as I responded with equal fervor and need. The kiss was tender and hungry at the same time, a mixture of passion and longing spilling into our connection.

I could feel the heat spreading through me, my pulse racing and my heart skipping a beat with every second our lips touched. The world around us faded away, leaving only the sensation of him and me, our bodies fitted together in this stolen moment.

The kiss deepened, our mouths molding together in a perfect fit. His body shifted, and I felt him prop himself up a bit, bracing himself on one arm, his other hand coming to rest on the side of my neck. The change in position brought him even closer, our faces a mere breath apart.

I felt the heat of his body hovering just above mine, the press of his weight against me sending my senses into overdrive.

With a final, lingering nip at my lips, he pulled back, leaving me breathless and wanting more. He stayed close, his forehead pressing against mine, the intimacy of the gesture making my heart flutter. I could feel the heat of his breath against my skin, his face so close that I could count each individual freckle strewn across his nose.

A cheeky smile played on his lips, the kind that was both infuriating and endearing.

I was still reeling from the kiss, my brain struggling to catch up to the rollercoaster of emotions. I opened my eyes, meeting his gaze, and managed to ask, “What?”

He chuckled, the sound low and deep. “Never thought our first kiss would be us laying on a skatepark concrete floor after we just fell,” he replied, that same cheeky grin on his face.

His words sent a wave of amusement through me, and I laughed, shaking my head at his audacity. “Shut up,” I playfully berated him, my hand clenching on his shirt.

Without giving him a chance to retaliate, I pulled him back in, capturing his lips in another kiss, this one a mix of passion and playful irritation. My free hand came up to cradle his cheek, the touch both possessive and achingly affectionate.

He responded instantly, his lips moving against mine with a fervor that matched my own. His tongue teased the seam of my mouth, asking for entry, and I granted it without hesitation. The kiss was a battle and a union, a messy, heated exchange of feelings that was both familiar and new.

His fingers pressed into my skin, anchoring himself to me as if he was afraid I'd pull away too soon. The world faded away, leaving nothing but the heat of his body and the taste of his lips.

I lost myself in the kiss, my fingers tangling in his hair again, pulling him closer, wanting every inch of him near me. My body was aflame, a thousand tiny sparks dancing along my nerve endings. Each touch, each press of his lips, was a promise and a plea all in one.

I wasn’t sure how long we stayed like that, drowning in each other, time ceasing to exist. But eventually, reluctantly, we had to break apart to gasp for air.

He pulled back slightly, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. The flush on his cheeks mirrored my own, his lips still a touch swollen from our kiss.

As soon as we both caught our breath, he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion, “How about some ice cream right now?”

I nodded, a wide smile breaking across my face. The idea of ice cream seemed like the perfect cap to this whirlwind of a day.

Chris pushed himself up, a mischievous glint in his eye. Then, he held out a hand for me to take, offering to help me up.

I took his hand, feeling the strength and warmth in his grip. He pulled me up effortlessly, and I found myself stumbling into him as my legs, wobbly from the fall and the kiss, protested against bearing my weight.

He caught me, wrapping an arm around my waist to steady me. I chuckled, leaning into him, the intimacy of the moment making my heart flutter.

He chuckled at my wobbly attempt to stand and held me firmly against him. I clutched onto him, feeling the heat of his body against mine, a stark contrast to the cool air around us.

“C'mon,” he said, a hint of laughter still in his voice. “Let's get you some ice cream.” He grabbed his skateboard with one hand and held my hand with the other, intertwining our fingers together.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

We ended up at a nearby ice cream parlor, the small, cozy interior providing a nice change from the skatepark. We settled into a booth, the soft, padded seats feeling luxurious after our hard fall.

Chris sat across from me, his skateboard propped up against the side of the booth, his foot tapping an erratic rhythm as he idly licked at his ice cream cone.

As he was lost in thought, he continued to absentmindedly lick away at his ice cream. And then, with a sudden jerk of his cone, a small drop of the cold treat landed right on the bridge of his nose.

I couldn't help but let out a laugh, the sight of him with ice cream on his nose both hilarious and ridiculously endearing. Without thinking, I reached across the table with a napkin and gently wiped the ice cream away.

He looked up at me when he felt the touch of the napkin on his face, a mix of surprise and amusement in his eyes. “What?” he asked, feigning innocence.

“You had ice cream on your nose,” I replied, still chuckling. “You're such a messy eater.”

As I sat there, watching him, a wave of comfort and familiarity washed over me. Growing up with Chris meant that we’d shared countless moments and created endless memories together. Though our friendship had evolved, one thing remained constant — the ease and freedom I felt in his presence.

I realized how much I’d grown to love our time together, the way he could make me laugh or the way he always seemed to know exactly what I needed, even before I did. The words “best friend” didn't quite cover the depth of my feelings anymore.

I couldn't help but admire him — his messy hair, the twinkle in his eyes, and the carefree smile that always seemed to light up his face. He was more than just a friend now; he was someone who made my heart race, who inspired both laughter and frustration, who brought out emotions and feelings in me that I couldn’t deny.

All I wanted was to be next to him, to share more moments like these — simple, mundane, yet incredibly special. He made me feel safe, carefree, and so very alive.

I silently pondered to myself, realizing a profound truth — Chris had become my drug. It wasn't the kind of addiction that was dangerous or harmful, but a beautiful one that made me feel more alive than ever before.

His presence, his touch, his laugh, his everything — it was a high that I couldn't, and didn't want to, come down from. He was my vice, my solace, my source of happiness, and I craved him more with each passing day.

The thought of being without him, of not having him by my side, felt like an unbearable withdrawal. I didn't want to be cured of this drug, I wanted to be more addicted, more attached, to have our lives so intertwined that the thought of separation was simply unthinkable.

As I watched him casually lick the ice cream cone, totally oblivious to the depth of my thoughts, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was the best kind of drug. The kind that made life sweeter, brighter, and more vibrant than ever before. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

The sweetness of the ice cream seemed to pale in comparison to the sugary rush he provided. My heart raced just looking at him, my gaze tracing over his features, each one so familiar yet still so captivating.

“Chris,” I murmured, not even realizing I'd spoken out loud until the single word slipped past my lips, like a prayer or a promise.

He looked up, eyebrows raised quizzically, a drop of melted ice cream hovering on his bottom lip. “Yeah?” he asked, his voice soft, yet laced with a hint of amusement.

I hesitated for a moment, the words I wanted to say stuck in my throat. How could I possibly explain the depths of what I was feeling? How could I put into words the mixture of happiness, fear, hope, and desire that he had awakened in me?

Finally, I sighed, settling back in my seat, knowing that I couldn’t yet tell him everything that was on my mind. “Nothing,” I said with a small smile. “Just enjoying the ice cream, that's all.”

He laughed at my response, a low, easy sound that sent a pleasant shiver down my spine. He was so comfortable, so natural, and yet somehow he was still managing to make my heart flutter just by existing.

He leaned back, mirroring my pose, his eyes never leaving mine. “You sure about that?” he teased, his voice laced with skepticism.

I averted my gaze, my cheeks flushing under his observant eyes. He could always see right through me, even the things I didn't want him to see.

“Yeah, I'm sure,” I replied, my voice a bit too brisk. “Just enjoying the ice cream.” I took a large bite, as if to prove my point, hoping he wouldn't press any further.

He didn't reply immediately, letting the silence stretch between us as he observed me quietly. Even without looking at him, I could feel his gaze on me, intense and curious.

After a long beat, he chuckled, the sound as addictive as his presence. “You know, you were never a very good liar,” he finally pointed out, the statement both teasing and serious.

I groaned, the sound an admittance of defeat. He was right, of course. Lying to him, especially about something this monumental, was futile. He knew me too well, understood the way I moved, and could read my emotions like a book.

“Fine,” I relented, meeting his gaze once more. “It's not just the ice cream I'm enjoying.”

His eyes widened slightly at my confession, the surprise apparent in them for a brief moment before it was replaced by a mixture of curiosity and satisfaction.

He leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on the table, his focus zeroing in on me again. “What else are you enjoying, then?” he asked, his voice a little lower, more intimate.

I swallowed, my heart skipping a beat at his proximity. His question, the way he was looking at me now, it made it seem like he already knew the answer but wanted to hear me say it anyway.

“You,” I said quietly, the word slipping out before I could stop it. “I'm enjoying you.”

His reaction was immediate and visceral. His eyes widened, the surprise evident in them before it was replaced by a look of pure, undisguised joy.

A slow, wide smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, “Is that so?” he asked, his voice tinged with satisfaction and something else, something deeper that I couldn't quite put my finger on.

I nodded, my courage growing with his reaction. Seeing him so happy, so clearly thrilled with my admission, made it easier to keep speaking my mind.

“Yes,” I confirmed, my own smile mirroring his. “You're the best part of my day, Chris. Always have been.”

He stared at me, the intensity of his gaze making me feel both vulnerable and safe at the same time. He seemed to be processing my words, each one sinking in and being stored away in his memory.

Finally, he spoke, his voice gruff but filled with a raw honesty that sent a shiver down my spine. “You have no idea how good it feels to hear you say that,” he said, his eyes locked on mine.

“I mean it,” I said, my voice quieter now, a little shaky. “You're everything I want, everything I need.”

The words hung between us, heavy with the truth they held. In that moment, I felt the weight of our history, the long years of friendship that had led to this point. He was my best friend, but he was also so much more.

He reached across the table, grabbing my hand in his, his fingers lacing through mine. His grip was firm, but it was also warm, his thumb rubbing small, gentle circles over the back of my hand.

He didn't speak for a few moments, seemingly lost in thought, before he finally murmured, “I think I need you more than you need me.”

The simple declaration pierced my heart, my breath catching in my throat. It was as if he had seen straight into my soul and was now reading my unspoken thoughts out loud.

“That's not true,” I protested, my voice a mere whisper. “It's me who needs you.”

I tightened my grip on his hand, needing the physical touch to ground me. My heart was beating wildly in my chest, each thump a reminder of the emotions coursing through me.

“You've done so much for me,” I said, my voice quieter now, more vulnerable. “You've helped me more than you know. My mind, Chris...it's always been filled with you.”

He looked at me, his eyes studying my expression intently. I could see the disbelief and disbelief warring within him, as if he was struggling to believe what he was hearing.

“Always?” he echoed, the word coming out almost reverently. “You've always thought about me?”

I nodded, the confession spilling out of me now. “Always,” I whispered, my voice a little shakier. “Whenever things go wrong, when I need an escape, you're the first thing — the only thing — I think of. It's always been you.”

His eyes widened at my words, the gravity of them seemingly sinking in. I could see the emotions flickering across his face — shock, surprise, happiness, but also a hint of guilt.

“I had no idea,” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. “I didn't know I meant so much to you.”

He chuckled, a bitter, self-deprecating sound. “I’m just a dumb skater with no future,” he echoed, his voice low and laced with a hint of insecurity.

I instantly shook my head, my grip on his hand strengthening. “No,” I said firmly, my tone unyielding. “You're so much more than that, Chris. You're a life saver, someone who's always been there for me no matter what.”

I could see the doubt in his eyes, as if he still couldn't quite believe me. He was so used to thinking of himself, to dismissing his own value.

“I'm serious,” I pressed on, refusing to let him undermine his own worth. “You might think you're just a skater, but you're my best friend, my rock, the one person I can always count on. That's worth more than any future or career.”

He was silent for a moment, seeming lost in thought. I could see the wheels turning in his mind, as if he was processing my words and trying to accept them.

Finally, he sighed, his gaze meeting mine once more. “You make me sound like a superhero or something,” he joked, though his voice still held a note of vulnerability.

I let out a soft, amused chuckle. “Not a superhero,” I corrected, a small smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. “Just a regular guy who's too stubborn to accept how important he is.”

Chris let out a soft, amused chuckle. “Alright, alright,” he said, his tone lighthearted but carrying a note of seriousness. “Let’s get you back home. You gotta start packing”

I nodded, feeling a pang of disappointment that our time together was coming to an end. But I knew he was right — it was getting late, and I had a lot to do before tomorrow.

I started to slide out of the booth, my legs a little wobbly from the emotional roller coaster of the evening.

We exited the ice cream parlor, the cool night air hitting us like a wave. Chris held the door open for me, his hand resting on the small of my back us he guided me outside.

The walk back to my house was quiet, the only sound in the deserted street the soft crunch of gravel under our feet. We didn't speak, the silence between us comfortable and familiar.

Every now and then, I would steal a glance at Chris. He seemed lost in thought, his eyes fixed on the darkened street ahead. I wanted to ask him what he was thinking, but I knew better than to interrupt his musing.

Instead, I focused on the closeness between us — the way his fingers occasionally brushed against my arm, the way his shoulder would graze mine as we walked. It was a simple gesture, but it spoke volumes.

As we drew closer to my house, the silence broke as Chris spoke, his voice soft in the quiet night. “You nervous about tomorrow?” he asked, his tone casual but his eyes full of concern.

I nodded, a wave of anxiety suddenly washing over me. The thought of my parents' reaction had been lingering in the back of my mind all evening, but I hadn't allowed myself to dwell on it too much.

“Yeah,” I admitted, my voice a little shaky. “I'm just worried about what they'll say.”

Chris stopped walking, causing me to halt as well. He turned to face me, his eyes meeting mine in the dim light.

“You know, you don't have to do everything your parents want,” he said, his voice firm. “You're old enough to make your own choices. You don't deserve to live in a household that makes you unhappy.”

I stared at him, his words hitting me hard. He was echoing a thought that had been forming in the back of my mind for so long, but I had never allowed myself to acknowledge it, let alone act on it.

“I know…but they're my parents,” I protested, the words sounding weak even to my ears.

He let out a huff of frustration. “Just because they're your parents doesn't mean they get to control your life,” he retorted, his voice a little sharper now. “If they don't care about your happiness, then why should you care about their opinions?”

His words stung but also awakened something within me. I was so used to living my life according to my parents' expectations, trying to please them, that I had almost forgotten about my own happiness.

He must have seen the doubt in my eyes, because his expression softened as he continued. “You deserve to be happy, Y/N,” he said, his voice gentle now. “You don't have to sacrifice your dreams and desires for someone else's vision of your life.”

He took a step closer, closing the distance between us. “Come on,” he urged, his voice low and earnest. “Move in with us. You'll see how it feels to be free, to make your own choices and create your own happiness.”

I stared at his outstretched hand, my heart racing in my chest. This was it — a choice, a decision that would change everything. I took a deep breath, steeling my courage, before reaching out and placing my hand in his.

The moment our fingers touched, a jolt of electricity seemed to pass between us. It was a silent agreement, a pact sealed with a simple gesture.

I was choosing my own happiness, choosing him.

We walked the rest of the way in silence, our hands still intertwined. The quiet of the night was interrupted only by the soft crunch of gravel under our feet and the occasional rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze.

I stole a glance at Chris, who was staring straight ahead, his profile illuminated by the dim moonlight. His face was set in a serious expression, but his grip on my hand was warm and firm, a silent reassurance that I wasn't alone in this.

We stopped in front of my porch, the light from the house casting a soft golden glow on our faces. Chris turned to me, his eyes meeting mine in the semi-darkness.

“I'll be here in the morning with Matt,” he said, his voice a whisper. “Just pack some clothes and whatever you need. We can go shopping for whatever you’re missing.”

I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest. This was really happening.

He leaned down, his hand moving behind my back to pull me closer. Our eyes met, a silent moment of connection, before he leaned in and pressed his lips to mine in a soft, chaste kiss.

My hand came up to rest on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath my palm. I let the moment stretch on, savoring the feeling of his body pressed against mine.

Chris stepped back, giving me one last, lingering look before he turned and made his way down the street.

I watched him go for a moment, the sound of his skateboard wheels against the pavement echoing in the quiet night air. Then I turned and quietly made my way inside, my mind already racing.

With a sense of determination, I headed straight upstairs to my room, focusing on the task at hand. Packing.

➤ A/N: Long story sorry!! (took me 4 days to finish)

➤ TAGS: @st6rify ✮⋆˙ @jetaimevous ✮⋆˙ @certifiedstarrr ✮⋆˙ @slvtf0rchr1s ✮⋆˙

── .✦ MASTER—LIST ⭑𓂃 | PART 2 HERE ! <soon

#★┊[𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒.𝐒] .ᐟ 🦌₊˚⊹#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturiolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x reader #chris x reader #chris x you #chris sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #fluff #freshl6ve

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mrs-kodzuken · 1 year ago

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Teen Pregnancy ♡

Pairing: Kōtarō Bokuto x fem!reader

WC: 1.8k

Genre: angst to fluff

CW: fem!reader, pregnant!reader, teen pregnancy (please don’t get pregnant at a young age if you can try!), angst to fluff, reader thinks it’s sickness, injured!bokuto, obviously implied sex since reader is pregnant

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

I wiped my mouth with the back of my shaky hand as I just got finished puking into the toilet. This happened for the third time this week, but I hadn't gone to the doctor because of Bokuto.

He had, unfortunately, sprained his ankle while trying out a new skill during volleyball practice. The doctor said that he wasn't supposed to play for a week and to lay off it for it to heal.

As usual, that really made Kōtarō go into emo mode. Akaashi had managed to pull him out, but his bad mood hadn't gone away all week.

Me being his girlfriend, I took up the duty to help him around, even if I wasn't feeling well myself; I care about his well-being more than mine anyway.

After I brushed my teeth, I noticed a pale-ish look to my skin tone. Maybe I should make an appointment with the doctor's, I thought after grabbing my school bag.

Dark gray clouds swirled in the sky as the cold air nipped at my skin, releasing a shiver from my body.

It was probably going to rain, or worse, snow.

Being in the month of December, that was quite likely to happen. I arrived at the front gates of school, and

Akaashi had taken it upon himself to help get Kō here in the mornings.

I quickly hurried to his classroom, which was class one. I saw him pouting in his chair with his crutch leaning on the side of his desk and his hair slightly down. I sighed and moved near him.

"Good morning baby, how're you feeling?" I asked, trying to shift my problems out of my head and focusing on his.

"I want to play volleyball." His pout is not going away. Kōtarō always had an endless hunger for the victory of volleyball. I mean, that is why he is one of the top five best athletes in Japan.

And a small sprang could really do some damage to the poor boy.

"I know you do, but just bear with us for the next couple of days, and then you'll be back to smashing those balls on the court." I tried cheering him up a bit before I had to leave.

I heard the warning bell signaling that class would be starting soon, so I leaned down to give Kō a peck on the forehead before I left.

"I'll see you later, Kōtarō."

But when I started walking, I felt my bladder almost exploded. I had used the bathroom when I first got up this morning before my puking session, so I wasn't sure how I already needed to pee.

I hurried to the nearest ladies bathroom and relieved myself. While I was washing my hands, the bell rang for class to start.

What made it even worse was that my class room was upstairs since I was in class 5. My shoulders slumped as I walked even slower up the stairs.

It was only morning, but traveling up a staircase had worn me out.

I entered my class with the rest of my classmates staring at me, and my best friend's eyebrow quirked up as if to question why I'm late.

"You finally come to class, miss." My teacher said irritatingly as I took my seat, which was in back, after I mumbled a small apology.

Soon, the teacher droned on about something that I wasn't too bothered by. I sat my head down on the desk and decided to take a little nap to pass the time.

I felt someone shake me a little bit as I pushed their hand away.

"Do you want to eat lunch or not?" was the voice belonging to my best friend as she awaited my answer, which was a bunch of words mumbled together.

"By the way, why were you late this morning? You're never late, like, ever." She questioned me as she sat in front of me with her bento box, deciding she was going to eat here with me in the class.

"I had used the bathroom after meeting with Kō and ended up late. I just don't feel good." I said, looking up at her, then at her food.

Suddenly, a thought struck at me, "And I forgot my lunch." I groaned and sat my head back down.

"I'm so sorry (Y/n). I really don't want to make everything worse, but our teacher assigned us a project that's worth ten percent of our grade, and it's due Friday."

Today was Wednesday, and I felt like crying at the thought of doing a school project. "Great, just great. great, great, great." I hit my head on my hands with every word I spoke.

"You don't sound great."

"I'm not great, (B/f/n)." I put my head in my hands and sucked it up, trying to focus on anything else besides the hunger in my stomach and the nausea that came with it.

"I'll be fine; lunch is almost over anyway. Do me a favor and wake me when the bell rings for dismissal." She nodded and packed her bento box away as people started to fill the classroom.

I also forgot my hoodie, so I laid there on my cold desk, shivering just a bit.

As promised, (B/f/n) woke me when class was finished. I headed outside towards the gym, knowing Kō would want to stay and watch his teammates play, even if he couldn't.

The sky had actually become really dark as little flurries of snow fell down. This was bad weather, especially with Bokuto being in a crutch.

I sluggishly walked into the gym, knowing that it would take a lot of convincing for me to get home.

As usual, he was sitting on the bench watching his teammates play with a grumpy facial expression.

I sighed and sat down beside him, wanting nothing more than to be embraced by his arms.

I laid my head on his shoulder and carefully watched out the window as the snow continued to fall.

Only two hours had passed, and it was pitch black outside, not to mention it was freezing too.

I had been trying to convince Bokuto to go home due to his injured leg. I knew I had been pestering him, but in the end he would give in and let me help him walk home.

What I didn't expect was for my plan to backfire on me.

"Goddamn it, do you have to be so fucking annoying all the time?" He snapped his head towards me as I froze; I could tell everyone else in the gym did too.

My heart was stuck in my throat as I gave him a weak apology; I didn't bother grabbing my bag. Held my head down low as I hurried out of the gym as the temperature dropped, making my skin freeze.

I couldn't see due to it being pitch black, but I still kept on, my legs never stopping. The only thing warm were my salty tears, which never seemed to stop rushing down my face.

I wasn't sure where I was, so I tried to slow down my pace as I slipped on ice, and my head rammed into a wall. The pain almost immediately giving me raging headache as I pressed a hand onto it.

I slowly slid down the ice-cold brick wall, not having the energy to move anymore.

My day was so fucking shitty.

Slowly, my arms wrapped around my limp body to suffice as something to cover me from the snow that still continued to fall from the sky.

Before I knew it, my eyes closed due to the pain in my head and my arms were wrapped not only around my body but my stomach.

"Kō." was the last thing my voice could manage out before I slipped into unconsciousness on the ground.

Muffled voices in a room awoke me with the annoying sound of beating. I felt warmth surrounding me and bandages on my face as I opened my eyes.

I squinted at the bright lights that were on the ceiling. I slowly sat up and looked at everyone in the room around me.

It was a hospital room and the annoying sound was my heart.

My parents, Bokuto's mom, Bokuto, and Akaashi, were in the room with me. I looked down at my lap, not liking how all the attention was on me at once.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Bokuto open his mouth as if he were to say something but shut it when the doctor came into the room.

"Hi, mom, dad. If you don't mind, I'm just going to check up on your daughter," she said as she rounded my bed.

"Hello sweetie, how do you feel?" She gathered a flashlight and a clipboard, ready to write.

"My head hurts." The voice that came out was all scratchy and low. It seemed to make my mom lean more into my dad, as if to hide her tears. The doctor handed me a cup of water.

"Well, you did hit it pretty hard. Are you warm enough? I can add another heated blanket if you want; make yourself comfortable. We still need to check if the baby is okay." She reached for another blanket as I froze.

"Excuse me?" My voice came out slightly panicked.

What baby?

"Don't worry, we already told your parents, so you don't need to worry about that." She concluded with a comforting smile.

"No, no. What do you mean? I'm not pregnant." I said, I was confused; I'm pretty sure I wasn't pregnant. Or at least, I think.

My eyes immediately reached Bokuto's sorrowful ones.

"Oh my god." I covered my mouth with my left hand as my right one went to my stomach. I couldn't believe what was happening right now.

"Oh. Mom, dad, and other mom, how about we give these two a few minutes to talk?" She politely said, giving Kō and I some time to discuss this.

Silence fell over the now empty room; Bokuto was the first one to speak up.

"(Y/n), I'm sorry for acting like that. I just wanted to play volleyball so bad, but that doesn't excuse my actions. When the guys found you and you were shivering uncontrollably and bleeding, I didn't know what to do.

“On top of that, you were out there with.. our baby in you." After he had finished, tears fell from his somber, golden eyes.

I reached a hand to his face and wiped a tear away while he leaned into my hand.

"Kō, I forgive you. But a baby? We're still in school, and you have your volleyball career that you plan on pursuing, and I still don't know what I want to be." I nervously stated, my eyebrows furrowed with worry.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. We'll work through it together, okay? We'll be the greatest parents ever." He gave me the smile that I missed the most.

And that reassurance was all I needed to process that we could handle this together.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

a/n: this is from my book “Haikyuu x Reader One Shots” on Wattpad! I hope you enjoyed and let me know if you have any requests!

the header is made by me, please like/reblog if used <3

#bokuto koutarou #bokuto x reader #haikyuu bokuto #hq bokuto #bokuto fluff #bokuto angst #bokuto koutaro x reader #bokuto koutaro x y/n #bokuto kotaro #haikyuu pregnancy #bokuto x pregnant reader #hq fluff

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mcdonaldsnumberone · 2 years ago

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LOVE ME HARDER!

you swear your favorite color has nothing to do with kaiser. but unluckily for you, the boy’s fallen madly in love with you and has somehow convinced himself that he can connect the dots to make you fall madly in love with him. when you meet his flirting with a tough front though, kaiser has a secret weapon up his sleeve (or under his uniform collar).

gender neutral reader

content warning(s): reader’s favorite color is blue, kaiser’s tattoo isn’t super visible with his uniform in this fic

You loved blue.

You still do. And for the foreseeable future, you weren’t going to ever stop loving the color. It was a color so dear and special to you, and as much as you loved all the other colors, there was something indescribable about the blue hue.

It was everywhere. The color of the sky. The ocean. The small Google Docs icon while you scribbled down notes on your computer. A stray car in the distance while you crossed the road. It was the color of loyalty and knowledge, the cool tones even embodying the mystifying feeling of melancholy. And, if you allowed yourself to get a little pretentious and philosophical, probably the color of the universe.

What a dignified color. You would never stop loving blue. Not ever. Certainly not now. And you would never extinguish your love of the color because of a man.

But boy, was someone making it difficult.

You always heard him before you saw him: the rumble of footsteps, Ness gushing incoherent praise, the shrill trill of German words hanging in the air. Like an overture before a grand opera, except those thirty seconds were the only prep time you’d get to turn on your heel and book it out of there if you didn’t want to say hello to your biggest headache.

“Oh, daaaarling! There you are! Hey- Don’t run away!”

An outstretched pair of arms materialized on either side of your body, and you let out a loud yelp before you were pulled backwards into a tight hug. You screeched like a feral cat, clawing helplessly at the air while a loud haughty laugh rang out against your eardrums.

It was only when you turned around that the sense of hearing gave out to the sense of sight. Beautiful strands of blond-blue hair swept across your eyes, the twinkle of his golden locks not too unlike the catlike gleam in his pupils. Speaking of his eyes, you hated the stupid bastard for how much blue he had on him and more importantly, how good it looked. Even the smug azure of his crinkled eyes made you stop breathing for just a split second, and your lips parted unconsciously as your hatred momentarily dissipated into wonder at the delicate hue.

“Staring at me? Awwwww, do you think I’m handsome? Of course you do. You wouldn't be so starstruck otherwise,” he chuckled. You instantly snapped out of your stupor, and you twisted your face into a disgusted frown.

“Take your hands off of me, you idiot,” you snarled. “I’m not in the mood to talk to you.”

“Oh? Perfect. I think that’s perfect timing to talk to you.” Kaiser kept one arm slung firmly over your shoulders, expertly placing himself at your side. You dug your heels into the ground and kept your place whenever he tried to edge you closer to his torso, egging you to relax into his touch. “Busy being a little color nerd again? I think it’s adorable that you’d pick your favorite color after me-”

“-I did not pick my favorite color after you,” you huffed. You crossed your arms, and you glared directly up at him (this time, you took extra care not to get lost in his eyes). “Do you really think I don’t have a personality or something? To pick a favorite color after a man?”

He shrugged. “Hey, I’m a pretty charming guy, if I do say so myself. Just now, you couldn’t keep your eyes off of me. I’d say I wear the color well. Say, if I swapped my red eyeliner out for a blue one, would that make you stare at me even more?”

You wanted to push him off, but you knew better than to engage a professional athlete in a half-wrestle-half-run-for-your-life-thing. “In your dreams. You’re an atrocious mix of colors.”

“Sure.” He easily brushed your words off. He broke out into his usual smug grin, chuckling at you as if he were a cat toying with a mouse. If he could, you swore that he’d gobble you up in one bite and leave no crumbs. “But I’d say blue is totally my color.”

Red hot annoyance flooded your body. This was so unlike you, to be moved to such anger that you’d be thinking of any color other than your favorite cyan hue, but something about this man made you want to beat him to a bloody pulp until he truly was nothing more than a mix of crimson and black and white broken bones.

“Blue is MY color!” You grumbled. “I liked it even before I met you! Hell, I probably understand it better than you do! Dipping your hair in Kool-Aid and being born with blue eyes doesn’t automatically make blue your color! It’s my favorite color, and me liking it has nothing to do with you! Not everything revolves around you, Kaiser!”

You fumed at him, having blurted out all of the tension mounting inside of your chest. You stood there, wanting to claw off the weight of his arm across your shoulders. You wondered if Kaiser would yell back at you, if those beautiful sapphire eyes of his would narrow into small slits before he’d wind up for the pounce, if he truly would swallow you up into a void of blue nothingness just to prove you wrong.

But instead he threw his head back, and he laughed heartily.

“You’re too funny for your own good.” He pretended to wipe a tear from his eye with his other hand, and he barely held himself together long enough to look at you. “The world? Revolve around me? Maybe to all those other stupid commoners. Those brainless fools need a stunning star to guide them. To give them any purpose in life.”

You grimaced, skin crawling with disdain as he yanked you closer. His free hand caressed the outline of your cheeks and jaw, and you let out a small “eep!” as he hooked his fingers under your chin to gingerly lift your face to meet his. You held your breath as the German prodigy leaned in, until the silhouette of his peach-pink lips were much too close to your mouth for your liking.

“But, darling… Oh, my sweet, stupid darling…” His voice was far too smooth for your own liking. Like the lining of a regal blue mink-fur lined cape, the kind you’d see in a 1700s painting of a king, the edge you get from swallowing down a mouthful of ice water. He looked too pleased with himself, having you ensnared perfectly in his arms like this. The thick tension that hung between the two of you felt like poisoned honey, and he shook his head at you mockingly. “If anyone were to pay attention closely, they’d know that the script is much more different for you than it is for those everyday fools.”

“Don’t lump me in your weird fantasy.” You blinked at him defiantly. He pursed his lips slightly, but Kaiser didn’t waver even once.

“All I want to say is that there’s nothing wrong in admiring beautiful things. If you like blue that much, nothing wrong with admiring the blue on me, is there? It’s unhealthy to deny yourself the things that you love so much.” He let you go finally, and you practically leapt out away from him. “If you don’t want to throw yourself at my feet and beg to play the role of my dedicated love interest, that’s fine too! Although, I don’t see why you wouldn’t want to. Anyone would be honored to have my attention the way you do.”

“You’re a self-centered prick. I don’t want to give you any more attention than what I’m already wasting on you.”

“That’s what I’m saying! If you let down your high walls and properly let yourself admire me for the beautiful, charming, handsome guy I am, then it wouldn’t be a waste of your time.” He expertly flicked his hair over his shoulder, winking at you as some of the strands tumbled down his collarbones and back. As atrocious of a haircut as it was, you did have to admit that the color of his weird gradient was very pleasing to your eyes.

But you’d rather eat knives than admit it out loud.

“You’ll have to try harder than that. Anyone can dye hair,” you muttered, thoroughly unconvinced. “And before you ask, I’m not interested in staring at your eyes either. Blue eyes mean nothing to me. And I can always go buy color contacts off the internet and stare at those instead if I really want to.”

“Boo! That’s so boring! Wouldn’t you want a real living person? Someone with personality?” He pouted.

You rolled your own eyes. “Yeah. Someone that doesn’t have a stick stuck up their ass.”

Kaiser pressed his lips into a line, suddenly lost in heavy thought. He knew your patience was already running thin with him, and while it was frustrating that the typical antics he’d lavish onto his fans wasn’t netting him the reaction he wanted from you, it still thrilled him the same. You were so tough to crack! He knew deep down that you had some heart for him and that you loved admiring beautiful things! And was he not the most beautiful thing of them all? He was skilled, talented, the kind of guy anyone should be flattered to have. All he needed was to convince you with something unique, something that no other groupie or fan of his couldn’t have, and maybe that would be the key to luring you over.

To turn that burning red hatred of yours into a calm, placated blue interest.

“Well, what if I give you something truly special then? If I could show you something that you have to admit is beautiful, would you admire me then?” He offered tentatively. You sniffed, keeping your head held high, but he took your silence to mean that it wasn’t a complete refusal.

He broke out into the biggest grin you had ever seen. Your confidence wavered slightly at his smug smirk, and nervousness prickled over your skin. You held your breath as Kaiser slowly raised his hand to his neck. Two fingers hooked onto the golden collar of his Bastard Munchen uniform, which covered a generous portion of his neck.

He yanked down.

A flash of deep, royal blue stunned your vision, and your eyes instinctively widened. Kaiser tilted his neck to the opposite side, making sure you could catch a proper glimpse at the part of his throat that was normally concealed by his uniform. You felt like something inside of your brain had violently hit the brakes the moment the color hit your eyes.

Roses.

Beautiful, beautiful blue roses.

You’re automatically entranced by them. They’re tattoos, each expertly painted on his skin with a careful hand. The black outline makes the rich hues pop even more against his body, and while you tiptoe forward to catch a better view, you can only make out the better part of one of the bigger roses. The rest are covered by his uniform, and you can see the hint of inked thorns traveling away from the flowers and towards his arm.

Kaiser instantly caught the shift in energy from you. He wisely kept his mouth shut, but some prideful part of him was celebrating inwardly. He let you step closer to admire the handiwork on his body, your curiosity delighting him to no ends.

You wanted to touch them. To touch him. Oh, you could imagine the feeling of soft rose petals under your fingertips while you were utterly mesmerized by his tattoo, almost forgetting that it was just an inked drawing rather than real flowers.

“Well? Isn’t it lovely?”

You flinched, snapping back to life. Dumbfounded, you were at a loss for words. It was completely unlike you to not have some kind of mean comeback to snark at him with, but the secret weapon Kaiser had on hand was too much. His tattoo had overwhelmed you in a heartbeat, the artistic touch only making you want to see it again.

But unfortunately for you, he adjusted his uniform back into its regular position with a cruel smile. “See? I knew you’d like it. Do you want to look at it again? Oh, I know you do. C’mon, tell me. Tell me you want to see it again. It’s not like I’m going to refuse.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, and very hesitantly, you swallowed back your pride. “Can… Can I see your tattoo again?”

“With pleasure, darling.” He cooed. He paused for a moment, and he pulled you closer towards him. You gulped nervously when he peered down at you, clearly savoring the victory he had earned by pulling wool (or in this case, a lovely tattoo) over your eyes.

“But why don’t I take you to my room instead? I’ll take off my shirt for you. That way you can see the entire thing. And then you can fawn over me properly. You just said you wanted to see my tattoo again. Those pretty roses,” he leaned in, tempting you over and over with the fleeting memory, “Those pretty, pretty roses that are in your absolute favorite color.”

You were torn, and Kaiser reveled in that tormented expression of yours.

He held his hand out. “No need to be shy. Let me show you all sorts of beautiful blue things, my darling.”

#blue lock #bllk #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #michael kaiser #x reader #my writing #this is me totally not self projecting (insane abt the color blue)#also please genuinely check out the song i picked out for this fic #the lyrics make so many color references n i genuinely think its so like . fitting for kaiser #esp the lyric when woodz says #'anyone can have a passionate red love'#'but between us its blue so make it more more blue'#I PROMMY IT MAKES MORE POETIC SENSE IN THE OG KOREAN BUT ITS SUCH A GOOD LYRIC TO ME #there is rot in the brain #also if u make any inappropriate jokes ill literally kill u

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iwrite-sinsandtragedies · 5 months ago

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Day 3 — Poppy ₊˚✧ ﾟ

Submission for @olba-week-event

MC: Ai/Sky

I wasn't actually going to do day 3 because I couldn't come up with an idea that didn't have Cove in the spotlight 😂 but inspiration hit me at the last minute so this one was a bit of a rush job, my apologies. On the plus side, Ai's little sailor onsie will forever give me life so that was a delight to work on. She had huge aspirations to become one when she was a kid - always wanted to be on a ship and had a lot of sailor themed things in her room (even tried to stow away on a ship once and actually succeeded, but only for a day before someone found her out LOL, the moms were not pleased). As you can guess though, meeting Mr. Shark-man Holden and his sea themed son was the highlight of her youth 🤣 she's had many long and very serious conversations with Cliff about buying a boat. She used her serious voice and her serious face and everything! Cliff could barely resist! He almost caved when Cove came in for back up but the moms brought up the stow away story and that sobered him up pretty damn quick LMAO Now, on a more personal moment here. My stepdad likes to retell this story of how we first met, whenever he's in an emotional enough mood 😂 I was a very impulsive kid (putting it mildly) and I didn't know him at all but, despite that, the first thing I did was run right up to him and hug him around the legs and say "Hello!" with my big smile and he had no idea what to do because he was used to people not being like that with him at all. Yet there I was, already liking him, not knowing how big of an impact that was going to have on him. He retells this story maybe once or twice a year and there's just something so genuinely soft and sweet about watching a 50 odd year old man still get moved to tears, years later, as he says "You chose me." like it still baffles him even now - especially when you know he's the type of man that doesn't rely on support or comfort from other people, but takes that comfort from you - the child he chose too.

Cliff feels like he's that type of man to me, tbh 💖 Maybe it's because I understand his background so easily or because he's always doing things that I recognise as responses to that background, but he reminds me a lot of my stepdad and a lot of myself too honestly. So, a big big Big part of me just loves the idea of this stubborn, independent, self made man who is always putting the comfort and happiness of others as his top priority also getting so damn emotional when he gets to sit down and do normal happy family things with the kids that love him so dearly as well. Like, I just want this man to look around at the people in his life and know, deep in his heart and soul, that they want him to be there 🥺 maybe his parents didn't, but they just missed out on everything that he had to offer honestly. The family he has now knows his value and it's not in what he's willing to do, but simply in him being who he is. That's worthy of love.

Anyways 😂 I could probably ramble on about Mr. Cliff Holden for hours if I'm not careful. So, I'll just leave this here and continue loving my two ocean boys unconditionally, as they deserve! 💖

#OLBA Week #OLBA Week 2024 #olba #our life #cliff holden #our life cliff #ol cliff #our life cove #cove holden #olba mc #mc china #our life beginnings and always #iwrite art #iwrite rambles #found family #ol:ba #olba prompt

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lendeah · 1 year ago

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My first fanfic post! Hope you enjoy it, and feel free to share any requests💌

THE GRAVE SCENE™️

Summary: You know the summary😈 A reimagining of the infamous grave scene.

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Tav

Word count: 4.9k

Warnings: + 18, NSFW, dom!Astarion

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ

The morning after the battle with Cazador, the heaviness in my limbs felt like weights, my muscles aching and sore from the physical exertion of the fight. But it was the weight on my heart that was truly crushing, each beat feeling like a burden too heavy to bear. Astarion wasn't in the camp, as he had rushed out after killing his former master, needing to be alone to process the turmoil within him. The image of his primal screams as he repeatedly buried the blade into Cazador's chest was burned into my brain, haunting me with every breath. As I watched helplessly with my companions, Astarion was torn apart piece by piece, both physically and emotionally. I knew that sound would haunt me in my worst nightmares for years to come.

At that moment, my fingers longed to reach out and comfort him, but deep down I knew it would be more for my own benefit than his. So I remained still, my hand held tightly by Shadowheart's as I had to witness to the man I loved being ripped appart. I didn't shed a tear when Astarion screamed at me in rage and pain, didn't cry when he refused to come back to camp that night. But as soon as the moon rose high in the sky and everyone else fell asleep with somber looks in their eyes, I allowed myself to finally break down.

I sobbed and screamed into my pillow, releasing all of the pent-up emotions that threatened to consume me. My heart felt heavy with grief and guilt. I had been so caught up in trying to protect everyone and defeating Cazador, as well as our other enemies that I didn't realize how much Astarion was struggling with his past. I should have paid more attention, should have reached out to him sooner. His hunger for power was no secret to me, but as he begged and cried in front of me, I almost caved. Even though I stood by my decision of not helping him ascend, a part of me felt guilty for taking the choice away from him, much like how Cazador had done.

The sun had long since set and another day had passed, but still I remained in bed, cocooned in my sheets with only the sound of my own sobs to keep me company. The weight of the world seemed to press down on me as I lay there, until with a heavy sigh, I finally mustered the strength to sit up. With trembling hands, I wiped away my tears. It was time to face Astarion, to offer him whatever comfort and support he needed. Even if it meant braving his anger or facing his rejection.

The darkness of the night surrounds me as I step out of my tent, the moon casting a pale light across the campsite. I can see Astarion's tent in the distance, a small flicker of light coming from inside. The only sound is the soft crunching of leaves and twigs under my feet as I make my way across the place. My hands tremble slightly as I reach out to pull back the flap of Astarion's tent. When I take my first step inside, I notice it is lit by a single flickering lantern, casting shadows on the canvas walls. The dim light revealed the scattered remnants of broken objects, and in the center of it all, I can see Astarion sitting cross-legged on a bedroll, his eyes red and puffy from crying.

At first, I think he hasn't noticed me, but then he turns to me with a wistful expression "I should probably start getting used to the shadows again. Who knows how long I have left in the sun?" He says, his voice rough. The thought tightens my chest and I resist the urge to reach out and hold him

"Don't say that" I reply softly "we could still find a way to control the tadpole."

I take a seat beside him on the bedroll, being careful not to startle him.

"Maybe, but even if I could control it, it's a dangerous game. I'd spend every day waiting for something to go wrong." He says, his eyes filled with sorrow. "For the tadpole to find some new trick, reassert itself, and make me a slave again. Maybe never seeing the sun again is just the price of freedom." he finishes, his voice cracking with emotion. Seeing him so broken shatters my heart into a million pieces.

"I'll be with you either way." I reach out slowly, my fingers trembling as I grasp his hands, trying to convey my feelings through touch. "I hope you know that," I whisper, my voice barely above a breath.

He looks at me, his face softening as he takes in my expression. His guarded walls seem to crumble, revealing a vulnerability I hadn't seen before.

"I think I do." He says, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth ",assuming we survive, of course. Because a horrible death is always just around the corner with you." His lips curl up into a mischievous smile and his eyes sparkle with amusement. I can't help but grin back at him. His hand gently squeezes mine, sending a reassuring warmth through my fingers. We sit in comfortable silence for a few moments, enjoying each other's company.

But then, his face takes on a more serious tone. "There's... something I'd like to show you, if that's all right? Something out in the city."

I frown "What is it?"

"Something I haven't shown anyone else." he says with a shy secretive smile.

"Oh, how mysterious" I reply teasingly "Fine, I'll come," I say, making sure to play up my casual indifference.

We step out of the tent and into the night, as he silently takes me along the city, and I let myself be guided into the dark streets of Baldur's Gate. The city is alive, even though it's around midnight, streets buzzling with the sounds of merchants haggling, people drinking, and horses trotting. It's a stark contrast to the darkness and sadness that had filled the tent just moments ago.

He takes me through narrow alleyways and side streets, navigating through the crowds with ease, as if he has made this way many times before. Finally, we come to a halt in front of the metal fence doors of a... Cemetery?

His usual playful demeanor is gone. I can feel the weight of each step, every breath I take as I follow him deeper into the eerie silence of the place. The moonlight casts a ghostly glow upon the rows of tombstones, echoing through the stillness of the night. The graveyard is appropriately silent - there isn't a proverbial soul around.

I raise an eyebrow, looking at Astarion with confusion and skepticism "A little stereotypical, don't you think?" I joke, breaking the silence.

"Perhaps, but some things are classics for a reason." he replies.

As we walk through the space between graves, I can feel the weight of death around us. We stop in front of a worn tombstone, looking really neglected. My heart drops, as I comprehend the reason why we are here. I watch Astarion as he kneels down and wipes away the layers of dust and dirt, revealing the name more clearly. Astarion Ancunín.

"Nearly two hundred years and I never came back." he says, his voice heavy with emotion. "Not since the night I woke up down there. I had to punch a hole in the coffin and claw my way through six feet of dirt. Then when I finally broke the surface, retching up dirt and congealed blood, Cazador was waiting. From that day on I was his." His face contorts as he recalls the memory. "Until today." He ends, in a whisper.

I slowly place a hand on his shoulder, trying to offer some sort of comfort. "You were never his. Whatever he had, he took it by force" I say, looking deep into his red eyes.

"Maybe, but he did take it. There is almost nothing left of the person I was. Just a name on a rock" He adds with sorrow. "For nearly two centuries I stalked the Streets like a ghost while the person I was lays here, dead and buried. Now I need to figure out who I am, what I want." A small smile plays on his lips as he meets my gaze, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

"And, what do you want?" I ask, my heart fluttering with excitement.

He stays silent for a few seconds, and then

"You... I want you." he finally confesses, his voice raw with vulnerability. Another moment of silence follows "You were by my side through all of this. Through and pain and missery. You were patient. You cared. You trusted me when that an objectively stupid thing to do." He pauses, swallowing hard before continuing. "I feel safe with you. Seen. And whatever the future holds for me, I don't want to lose that."

My chest constricts at his words, my eyes watering a little. I had always felt a strong connection with Astarion, but hearing him express his feelings so openly and honestly makes my heart swell. Astarion's face is illuminated by the moonlight, his red eyes sparkling with emotion and his lips turned up in a small smile.

"You won 't." I whisper, my voice laced with determination. "Whatever comes next, I've got you." I say, as my hand reaches out to cup Astarion's cheek, feeling the soft edges of his skin.

"Thank you" he says softly, and after a beat, he looks at the gravestone again "Well, I should probably fix this"

The metal glints in the moonlight as he carefully carves a new date on the stone, marking the beginning of a new chapter in his life. Astarion kneels over the damp, musty earth, his eyes focused on the gravestone in front of him. The moonlight casts a soft glow on his face, emphasizing the lines of determination and sorrow etched into his features. As the vampire gets silently lost in his thoughts, I am struck with an idea, a simple yet touching gesture. I search around until I find what I'm looking for, and I pick a small flower from the ground. I slowly kneel next to him, and place it gently on the grave, adding a splash of color to the otherwise shadowy scene.

A small smile spreads across his face when he notices, "Cute" he says, the word rolling off his tongue like a caress. With a sigh, he follows "I've been dead on the ground for long enough. It's time to try living again" He turns his body to me, reaching for my hands and holding them tightly in his. "With everything that life has to offer"

My heart stutters at the implication of his words.

"Meaning...?" I ask, trying to sound coy. A mischievous smirk plays on his lips as he leans in closer and whispers,

"If a night of passion is on offer, I could be persuaded" His words send shivers down my spine, and I laugh, feeling a surge of desire mixed with anticipation.

"Sounds good to me" I whisper back, my voice filled with playful allure.

He brings a hand to my cheek, stroking it lightly, "You know, I didn't care for you when we first met. But I do now. Being with you is about more than lust or manipulating you into a tactical alliance." He pauses, steady gaze locked onto mine. "I love you." he breathes "I love this. And I want it all"

My heart is about to burst out of my chest, tears threatening to flow out of my eyes. There is only one thing I want in that moment, as I lean in slowly, my lips meeting his in a soft kiss.

"I love you too" I confess against his mouth. The moon shines down on us as Astarion's lips press against mine. It is a gentle kiss, filled with love and longing. I reach back, running my fingers through his white strands. My heart swells with emotion as I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer to me. Astarion's hands move down to my waist, pulling me even closer as our bodies melt together in the cool night air.

Our kiss intensifies, becoming more passionate and urgent. Astarion's tongue dances with mine, exploring every inch of my mouth. I moan into the kiss, feeling pure pleasure coursing through my body. Then, he lays back for a moment, and looks at me with a fire in his eyes I have never seen before. With a wicked smile, he pushes me down onto the dirt of his own grave, and my eyebrows shoot up in surprise. His red orbs flash with raw desire as he hovers above me. Astarion's lips descend upon mine again, my fingers finding their way into his curls again, his skin warm against my own.

The moon casts its silvery glow over us, illuminating our passion in the eerie quiet of the cemetery. Every sensation heightened, every touch more intimate, as we surrendered to the ecstasy of the night.

As Astarion's lips trail down my neck, and I shiver with desire, my heart pounding erratically. He kisses my neck, my collarbone, my chest - wherever he can reach, with slow, deliberate moves. He slowly pulls away, staring into my eyes with a fierce intensity, as his hand trails down my cheek, his fingers tracing the line of my jaw. Suddenly, I am aware of how long it has been since our last encounter, when he asked me to keep things non-sexual for some time.

"Are you sure about this?" I whisper , concern lacing my words "We don't have to rush it if you are still not ready".

His eyes darken at my words.

"I'm more sure than ever," he replies, voice barely above a breath. With that, he leans in again, his lips crashing into mine. I can feel the urgency in it, the hunger that courses his body as he claims me.

With nimble fingers, Astarion swiftly undresses me as if it were an art form. My heart races with anticipation as his eyes drink in every inch of me.

He lowers his lips to my neck, trailing soft kisses down my throat to my collarbone. I tangle my fingers in his hair, silently begging for more. But instead of his usual fangs piercing my skin in hunger, he showers me with gentle kisses, each one making me shudder. My skin prickles with goosebumps as Astarion's fingertips trace over every inch of my exposed flesh, sending sparks of pleasure coursing through me.

Astarion's lips trail down my chest, his hands exploring every curve and dip of my body. I can't hold back the moans that escape my lips as he kisses and nips at every sensitive spot he finds. He looks up at me from the spot between my legs, and I swear it's the most sensual sight I've seen in my life: his lips swollen and glistening with the taste of mine, his hair tousled and his cheeks flushed with passion.

"My god, you are breathtaking" I say under my breath.

He chuckles, warm breath brushing against my inner thighs. "I'm well aware".

And then he dives in. His tongue darts out to taste me, lingering on my most sensitive spots, swirling and teasing me to the point of insanity. I arch my back, trying to push deeper into his mouth as the pleasure builds, my heart pounding in my chest. I moan his name, the sound lost in the cemetery's silence. My body trembles with the pleasure, my muscles tensing and then relaxing, over and over again. I can feel Astarion's hands on my thighs, his fingers slowly massaging the insides of my legs.

"Astarion," I breathe, my voice barely audible over my own gasps and moans. "I need more."

He looks up at me, his eyes filled with passion and hunger. His lips curl into a smirk.

"How do we ask?" he says, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

With a wicked grin, Astarion lowers his head again, his lips brushing against me, tasting me, teasing me. I shiver with anticipation, my body responding to his every touch. I grip the dirt beneath me, as my heart pounds hard in my chest.

"P-please" I cry out.

Astarion's lips curve into a smirk at my plea, his fingers trailing down my thighs as he continues to kiss and nip at my skin, but not where I want him most. "Please what, my dear?" he asks in a low voice, his breath hot against my skin.

I bite my lip, trying to catch my breath as I struggle to form coherent words. "I...I want..." I stammer.

And then, he thrusts two fingers inside me. I cry out, my body jerking in response. Astarion's fingers move in and out of me, his thumb pressing against my clit in a slow, rhythmic motion.

"You meant this, right?" He asks, his voice low and husky. I can only bring my hands to his hair and give it a sharp tug in response. At this, Astarion lets out a low groan, his mouth working harder. His fingers continue to move inside me, his pace increasing as my body responds to his touch. I can feel myself getting closer and closer to the edge, my mind consumed with nothing but pleasure.

I arch my back, pressing myself against him, wanting more of him. Astarion's free hand moves up to cup my breast, teasingly pulling at my nipple and squeezing it as he continues to thrust his fingers inside of me. The combination of sensations is almost too much for me to handle, my head going dizzy and vision blurry. I can feel him everywhere.

"Please," I beg again, my voice hoarse with desire.

Astarion pulls his fingers out of me and I whimper at the loss of contact. But before I can protest, he guides me into a sitting position and kneels in front of me, slowly getting out of his clothes. I take my time to admire his lithe body, the planes of the muscles decorating his chest and stomach. He gazes up at me with darkening eyes before leaning in to kiss me passionately.

His hands roam over my body while our tongues dance together in a heated frenzy. I can taste myself on his lips and it only adds to the intensity of the moment.

He pulls me into his lap, and when I lower my gaze, I see that I wasn't the only one affected by his ministrations. His arousal is evident against my thigh, and a shiver runs through me at the thought of what's to come.

My hands glide over his strong shoulders, running to his back, feeling the ripple of his muscles and the scars beneath his skin as he continues to explore every inch of my body. His breath hitches, latching his mouth to my neck and sucking hard. Then, he reaches my breasts, taking one of them into his mouth, flicking his tongue over the hardened nipple while massaging the other with his hand. I moan loudly at the sensation, arching my back to offer more of myself to him. Astarion's hand travels down my stomach and between my legs as he continues to suck and tease at my hardened nub. His fingers trace over my folds before delving inside once more.

I gasp at the feeling, pleasure coursing through me as he sets a steady pace with his fingers. His mouth now moves to my other breast, giving it just as much attention while still pleasuring me below. The combination is almost too much for me to handle and body trembles with ecstasy as Astarion brings me closer and closer to release.

But just when I think I can't take it anymore, he removes both his mouth and fingers from me. When I look back at him, his eyes are hooded with lust, and he has a devilish smile over his lips, showing his canines.

I whimper "Stop teasing".

Astarion chuckles at my plea, his eyes dark with desire. "But teasing you is so much fun," he says, his voice husky.

I pout at him, but deep down I know I am enjoying every moment of this game between us.

"Fine" he says finally "No more teasing", and he smirks again. Then he grabs my body effortlessly and turns me into his gravestone on my hands and knees. "Hold on tight, sweetheart," he commands with a mischievous glint in his eye. Goosebumps spread across my entire body, but I can't decipher if they are from excitement or fear. As I place my hands on the tomb, I feel the coolness of the stone against my skin, it's rough edges. I lay my eyes on the new carvings, the name in it, a bittersweet irony washes over me as I realize that this place, where he took his last breath, is now a site of new beginnings and life, and the profanation of his tomb doing nothing but stir me on.

I feel him position himself behind me, his hands roughly grabbing my hips and pulling me back against him. The tip of his erection presses against my entrance, and I can't help but shiver in anticipation.

I feel him leaning above my body "Are you ready?" he whispers in my ear, his breath sending shivers down my spine.

"Yes," I breathe, my voice barely audible. I'm still trembling with desire, but I'm ready for him.

With one swift movement, Astarion thrusts inside me, filling me completely. My breath catches in my throat as he fills me with his thickness, and I moan out loud in pleasure and pain. He pulls out almost all the way, then thrusts back in, deep and hard. My hands grip onto the gravestone, my nails digging into it as I try to hold on to something, anything, to ground myself.

"Harder," I plead, my voice shaky.

Astarion obliges, his thrusts becoming faster and harder.

"You like that, don't you?" He groans.

I can feel every inch of him inside me, stretching me and filling me completely. Astarion's hands move from my hips to my breasts, squeezing and massaging them roughly. I arch my back, pushing myself against him as he hits just the right spot inside me and I whine loudly. Astarion's pace starts to become erratic, his breathing heavy against my neck. His hand reaches between my legs again, massaging my clit as he continues to thrust inside me like crazy. The combination is mind-blowing and I can feel myself feeling so close to ecstasy. By now, I'm sure I am drooling over the ground beneath, but I can't bring myself to care.

"Come for me," Astarion growls, his voice low and commanding.

With his words pushing me over the edge, I explode in a wave of pleasure, screaming his name as I ride out my orgasm. Wave after wave of pleasure courses through my body, making me shake like crazy, and I know if I wasn't grabbing the stone, I would be on the floor by now. Astarion's hands are caressing my back as I come down from my high, and I feel him hard inside of me still. For a second, I think this is going to be it, but Astarion isn't finished yet. He eases himself out of me, his touch gentle as he lays my body down on the cool dirt beneath us. His lips meet mine once again, but this time the urgency is mixed with tenderness and a hint of vulnerability. Astarion pulls away slightly, his breath ragged as he stares into my eyes, his while curls tickling my face.

"You're mine," he growls, his voice barely a whisper.

I look into his eyes, filled with love and passion, and I know without a doubt that I am his. I smile up at him, reaching to stroke his face.

"Yes, I am" I say, my voice just as soft.

He slowly pushes inside me once more, grunting and keeping our eyes locked. My body is sensitive after my first orgasm, and I let out a hiss in response.

"Say it" he grunts "say that you are mine".

My breath catches as Astarion continues to thrusts into me, the overwhelming sensations of pleasure overcoming any lingering sense of sensitivity.

"I am yours," I pant, my voice filled with devotion and longing. A slow smile spreads across Astarion's face, and he leans down to capture my lips in a passionate kiss. He then lowers his mouth and sucks hard on the skin below my ear, and I know I will arrive bruised at the camp. The thought of our companions knowing should ashame me, but it only excites me. Being marked as his.

"Mine" he repeats, and with a feral growl, Astarion thrusts into me with renewed vigor.

My body responds, arching and undulating beneath him, my nails dig deep into the flesh of his back, marking him as mine as well. He grabs my hands, intertwining our fingers as we move together in perfect harmony. His movements become slow and deliberate, the moment turned intimate.

"I love you," I whisper, my voice hoarse from the intensity of everything.

Astarion's eyes lock onto mine, and I see the depth of his love and devotion for me there. "I love you, too," he says. Astarion's movements become more desperate as he chases his own release, but never breaking eye contact with me, like he wanted to memorize every detail of my face, to etch it into his memory forever.

As he feels himself nearing his climax, he reaches down and grabs the back of my thighs, pulling me even closer to him and teasing where our bodies are connected. The sensation of his rough hands on my skin sends hard shivers of pleasure up my spine.

"Look at me," he commands, his voice gruff with desire. "Look at your master".

The word makes something primal awakens in me, leaving me dizzy with desire, as I look up to meet his gaze. Astarion's eyes are locked onto mine as he drives himself deeper inside me, our bodies rhythmically colliding with a loud smacking noise that fills the silence of the graveyard.

"I love you," he groans once again, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

I can feel my own climax building, my body responding to his every thrust. The sensation of being filled by Astarion, knowing that he is mine and I am his, is unlike anything else in the world.

"Come for me, darling," he groans, his eyes never leaving mine.

With one final push, I feel myself shattering into a thousand pieces, my orgasm washing over me like a tidal wave. I cry out his name, my voice echoing through the ancient ruins around us. Astarion's own climax hits him like a freight train, his body convulsing as he pours himself into me. I feel his seed filling me, and a wave of warmth washes my body as I revel in the sensation.

For a moment, I simply lay there, basking in the afterglow and the feel of his sweaty body pressed against mine. Then, slowly, I gently run my fingers through his hair, smiling tenderly at him. He trails soft kisses over my shoulder, leaving goosebumps over my skin.

"I'm yours," I whispered, my voice barely above a whisper. "Forever."

Astarion shows a delighted smile that radiated from deep within him, and he pulls me close.

"Thank you" He whispers hoarsely.

I furrow my brows and look up at him. "What for?"

He looks down, and I think I see a hint of embarrassment color his cheeks "For being with me, despite everything." he says "For loving me even if I'm nothing more than a spawn"

I give a soft kiss to the skin below his throat "I don't love you for your power, Astarion" I say softly "or your beauty or your abilities. I love you for you, because you deserve to be loved"

He seems to get a little emotional at that, but only holds me closer to his body and keeps caressing my back.

After a few minutes in comfortable silence, he leans down and whispers in my ear, breath warm against my skin. "I didn't know you could be so obedient"

I turn my head to look at him, a mischievous smile forming on my lips. "I didn't know you liked me being obedient," I reply, teasingly.

Astarion chuckles and pulls back slightly to look me in the eyes. "Oh, sweetheart," he says with a smirk. "There are so many things you don't know about me."

Without warning, Astarion pulls out of me slowly, and with a satisfied grin, he helps me to sit up and leans in to kiss me tenderly.

"As much as I enjoyed this new begginings graveyard fretting, this place is giving me the creeps" He says, looking around at the dark and eerie background. "Let's go home”

We gather our clothes and begin to dress, but not before we take a moment to relish in the warmth and safety that we found in each other. As we walk away from the ancient ruins, hand in hand, we can't help but smile and think to ourselves that maybe, just maybe, we found more than just a new beginning in the depths of that old, dark place.

#bg3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 tav #bg3 fanfiction #astarion baldurs gate #astarion ancunin #astarion fanfic #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate fanfiction

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imtrashraccoon · 12 days ago

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I'm kicking myself for not finishing this sooner but I did enjoy doing some research for it. I also got to thinking about future ideas for after this fic is done. If anyone's interested, I will ramble about them.

@owl-bones

First, Previous, & Next Day

Bad Sansuary II: Horror - Stars

Word Count: 1,296

You sat in silence as Maul ate the food you had brought him, only getting up to briefly add more wood to the fire. The last thing you wanted was for the blaze to go out and leave you in the dark. When you sat down next to him again, you wrapped an arm around his back, slowly rubbing circles into his tunic.

You really weren't the best at comforting people. It was one thing to go through the motions and another to actually help someone feel better. You supposed it would make no difference to the three emotionally constipated skeletons that you lived with though. If they didn't like something you were doing, they were usually pretty quick to let you know.

This mission seemed to have gone from bad to worse. First, you and Reven hadn't found anything in Newridge. Then, you had spoiled any further attempts to investigate further, and now you had just learned that whatever was wrong could influence people's minds. You didn't know what to do next and yet, until the others returned, you were forced to wait. Knowing what happened to Maul could possibly happen to you as well was anxiety inducing. At least you weren't in much of a position to actually hurt anyone, but as you had learned tonight, you were now also more vulnerable to being hurt instead.

Donovan would probably freak out when he learned what had happened. You had already been dreading when you would inevitably tell him about what had happened in the city, but he would be even more concerned that one of his own men had turned on you. However you told him, you would have to be gentle to hopefully keep him from acting too hastily. None of what happened was Reven's or Maul's fault, but your soulmate was quick to anger, especially over perceived threats.

Letting out a sigh, you looked up at the sky, mentally noting that it was clear for the first time in days. Hundreds of stars sprinkled the black veil above, almost like the first flakes of snow to fall, and for a moment, you felt rather small in the world. Those stars had been there for thousands of years before you and would be long after you passed. Did your problems really matter in the grand scheme of things? Despite everything that had happened, you and your friends were still alive, so what more could you want?

Seeing movement from the corner of your eye, you noticed Maul had finished eating and, noticing your gaze, had looked up at the stars as well. You couldn't help but smile at the look of wonder on his face. His "pupil" expanded, much like a cat's, and he let out a soft exhale which you found rather adorable.

You looked up again before he noticed you had been watching him. Donovan was more knowledgeable on constellations and their meanings, but you still recognized a couple, particularly the Warrior and the Great Dog. You still remembered the day your father had pointed them out in the sky and explained the stories behind them. Even if the stories had been made up, you always thought they were interesting and they reminded you of simpler times.

"Hey, Maul?" you asked after a few minutes of silence.

The giant of a skeleton hummed in response, not taking his eyes off of the sea of lights above.

"You mentioned someone named Orien earlier. Can I ask who they are?"

When he didn't answer, you started to wonder if he had even heard your question. You glanced over at him, only to see that his expression had turned grave. His bonebrows were furrowed and his hands were clenched, his claws threatening to tear through his roughspun pants.

"my younger brother," he finally murmured.

You moved your paw to his shoulder, resting it there for a moment. "It sounds like you care a lot about him."

He nodded, dropping his gaze to the fire rather than look at you. "...yes, we were very close."

"What was he like?"

Maul was quiet for a few seconds. "he was kind and always did what he believed was right," he finally said. "he was...braver than me... had big dreams of bein' admired by everyone."

You nodded slowly, "He sounds wonderful."

"he was the best."

"I never had any siblings growing up," you hummed. "My parents were both soldiers, although my mother retired to a non-combat related position to raise me. I wouldn't say I had a bad childhood, but there was definitely the expectation that I follow in their footsteps one day."

He looked over and gave you a small smile when you met his gaze. He held out his hand, giving you an expectant look until you placed your smaller paw in his palm.

"good soldiers follow orders as they say," he hummed, giving your paw a gentle squeeze.

You chuckled, squeezing his hand back. "You too, huh? What rank were you?"

Maul scratched his skull thoughtfully. "lieutenant general...orien reached field marshal..."

You let out a low whistle. "Impressive. I was at best light infantry but I reported directly to the Captain General. Maybe I would have been promoted at some point, but I'm not sure I would have been any good at commanding troops."

"it was for a time," he remarked. "but all good things come to an end..."

You frowned and looked up at him. His bonebrows were knit together and you noticed he had a far away look on his face. "Hey, you don't have to tell me if it's too much, okay?"

He squeezed your paw in response and shook his head. " 's fine, i don't mind sharin' with a friend..."

The realization that he trusted you enough to share something personal like this from his past was rather touching. You gave him a gentle smile and nodded. "Just don't force yourself."

"ever heard of the horrur kingdom?" he asked.

You nodded again. Who hadn't heard of it? When you were a child, the Horrur Kingdom had been a valuable ally of the Klasical Kingdom, until their king was overthrown by a power hungry general of course. Any aid that was offered was refused by the general king and the kingdom was essentially locked down so that no one could leave. Over the years, some citizens managed to get out and word soon spread of the horrific conditions inside.

A severe famine had set in not long after the coup and lasted for years afterwards so that many died of starvation. Those who remained lived in fear of the tyrannical leader and her rules. Executions were commonplace, mostly for those who resisted at first, but soon extended to anyone who broke even insignificant laws. The tyrant queen was eventually killed, but by then, only a few citizens remained and they soon fled to surrounding kingdoms.

"Yeah, I grew up while the Thorn Queen was in power," you confirmed.

Maul nodded and took a shuddering breath. "she was once...a friend, and my brother and i were loyal to her..." He paused before continuing, "when she took over, we were given new positions... she made me the chief executioner."

"Oh...so you saw the worst of it then..." you murmured, covering your muzzle with your other paw.

"i only did what i was told. so did orien, until he couldn't... the queen didn't like that and i tried to save him..." Maul motioned to the large crack in his skull before adding, "it didn't go well..."

"That's awful, I'm so sorry you went through all of that," you murmured, giving his hand another squeeze.

"i... i don't remember what really happened after that..." he muttered. "can't remember much until lord donovan found me actually..."

#badsansuary #raccoons drabbles #undertale #horrortale #the dark fortress #a sight for sore eyes #horror sans #reader #gender neutral reader #horror sans & reader #platonic relationship #i finally got to include maul's backstory #or at least most of it #he's to only one to have a good relationship with his family actually #i love him so much

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deuxcherise · 8 days ago

Text

Early Birds

C/w: Unhealthy behavior, probably OOC Kamisato Ayato, yandere Kamisato Ayato, Thoma & Kamisato Ayaka friendship, tsuntsun! fem! reader, couple hijinks A/n: So it suddenly occurred to me, as I was looking up how tall the Kamisato house is in-game for the first time, that I didn’t think there was a Kamisato house in game for some reason. Like I knew there was a house, but somehow I didn’t realize that there was actually precise model of it in game for some reason. So the west wing thing and all of that, uh... imagination *makes a rainbow*. Anyway, we continue from last time in which your hubby decides to showcase some more of his yan side, like a blooming bright red spider lily. :3 Masterlist

The life of a Holy Dog from their birth is well defined. They must serve their country and play the part they've been assigned.

The sunlight shines brightly through the curtains of your window.

There was not a single day in your childhood that wasn’t subjected to the relentless forge of discipline. Every skill you've learned— honed to perfection. From the delicate crafts of diplomacy to the brutal precision of combat, not a single weakness was spared. Born to stand among them, possessing strength, beauty, and loyalty— there was no other choice than to embody excellence in every thought, every breath, and every strike you made or will make. Anything less would've been, frankly, unacceptable.

Kokekokkooo!

The rooster is especially loud. It must be morning.

You lay on your futon, staring up at the wooden ceiling of your canopy bed, with a blank expression. Just as the morning sky is starless, your mind is going horrendously rampant with mindless things.

Ah, I need to get up now, but I don't want to eat breakfast with that guy. Not because my heart keeps pounding when I’m near him or anything like that. I don’t even like him like that. But I have to, because if I don't, he'll report me to the Elders. Not that I care that much but I think I need to care because my life and reputation is on the line. For the sake of the Holy Dogs. But then I've already skipped dinner last night so that’s already ruined. And I need to eat, but I absolutely do not want to have breakfast with that guy-

But above all of that, there is one thing for certain, and that is that you will absolutely not leave your bedchamber today. For anything.

“Lady Kamisato? Permission to come in?”

You slowly but surely sit up, letting the blanket fall from your chest to your lap. You pivot your head like a haunted doll towards the door of your bedchamber. “Come in,” you command.

A maid with neatly tucked blue hair underneath a maid's headdress comes in, holding a tray of morning tea.

Your Lady-in-Waiting.

Also known as your Sister-in-Law.

“L-lady Kamisato, are you alright?” she nearly shrieks, placing down the tray on a nearby table to kneel near you, hands shaky as they reach for you.

The shock of yesterday’s revelation and last night's lack of sleep must be showcased on your face, probably in the form of dreadful dark circles under your eyes and dry lips. You give her the weakest smile you can muster with your tired doll-face while your mind is blaring her actual identity front row and center. “I am. I simply… didn't get enough sleep last night, that's all. But thank you for worrying about me.”

“I… I see. But of course! That's what girl friends do!”

Your eyes go wide.

She catches herself and taps her fingers together bashfully. “My sincerest apologies. I know we're only Lady and Lady-in-Waiting, but even so, I… I do care about you. Like a girl friend would… My apologies, I’ve overstepped myself!”

I think another high-ranking wife wouldn't take these words from a Lady-in-Waiting kindly, even from a Sister-in-Law in disguise, you think blankly, as you adore her cute personality, despite her lies.

“You can call me (Y/n), if you'd like?” you offer.

She looks up, sparkles in her eyes. “Really?”

You nod. “And I shall call you Ayami. Is that okay?”

“Yes! W-well, shall I help you get ready for the day, (Y-Y/n)?” she asks giddily, gathering the tray. “Call it a feeling but I think today’s breakfast with Lord Kamisato will be quite special, since I hear he has something planned.”

“Oh.” You snap back to reality. “Unfortunately, I must refuse,” you say, turning your head towards the window. “I do not wish to attend breakfast this morning.”

“Ehh?” She almost drops the tray. “Are you certain you’re not feeling ill?”

“I…” You turn away, unable to face her disappointment. “I simply wish to have breakfast by myself today. There are matters in my mind that I must sort out before interacting with anyone. Even my husband.”

“I see… Then, I shall have your breakfast delivered here.”

“Thank you, Ayak- Ayami.”

“Yes, La- (Y/n).”

-----🐈-----

The disguised young miss carries the tray out of your bedroom, feeling excited as she walks down various hallways. Just as the one and only esteemed housekeeper walks by, they stop, facing opposite directions.

“There is an issue,” Ayaka whispers, pinching her headdress downwards.

“With the Lady?” Thoma inquires.

“She does not wish to enjoy breakfast outside of her bedroom.”

“Did she say why?”

“She said she had things on her mind.”

“Did you try to convince her?”

“She looked ill. But I have a plan.”

“Ah. Shall I have him join her instead?”

“Good. Yes. And we shall send breakfast to her room as well.”

“Got it.”

“Mm.”

The two schemers part ways. One towards his lord and the other towards the kitchen to notify the cooks of changes.

-----🐈-----

Unlike most dogs, most cats are known for being quite finicky creatures. Buy them a whole exquisite furniture piece worth thousands of mora, and watch them run towards the plain old box that the item arrived in.

Chirp! Chirp! Chirp!

You pet a lone birb who decided to rest upon your windowsill.

You can't quite shake off the oddest feeling after your Sister-in-Law left. She sounded like she was planning something, with that glint you spotted in her eye and the way she worded things.

Whatever may be the case, after a moment or two you decided that the room was far too stuffy for your liking. Besides, if you are going to avoid your husband, you might as well see if you can sneak into the kitchen and grab yourself something to eat.

Dressed in comfortable outside attire, you balance a foot on the windowsill, hands gripping the sides of your window as you peer down to the ground.

The Kamisato house isn’t all that tall, averaging in height as with many other houses of high-ranking clans, however only an untrained fool would dare jump from the second floor.

Fortunately, you are neither a fool nor an untrained lady. And so, you jump.

Thud.

You land with your feet on the ground without kicking up any dirt or dust. Success! you think, as you pat down your body to make sure of your physical status.

Crack.

You flinch and immediately pivot your head away in the opposite direction of the person standing just a couple of meters from you. You can practically feel those scary purple eyes. Shit.

“Is there any good reason that a wife refuses to look at her husband?” your husband inquires sternly, with a hint of strained amusement.

You lick your lips, straightening your posture as you continue to look the other direction. “I can think of plenty,” your voice clips. “Not that she is obligated to say.”

“Hm. Do you not find it pitiful?” he asks, though his voice doesn’t seem somber at all. “A husband who isn’t able to see the face of his wife in the morning can only become a late sleeper. All duties delayed.”

You suck in and gently nibble on your inner cheeks. “Yet, such a husband is up and awake now before breakfast. Therefore, it seems unnecessary to burden him with pity.”

“I suppose so. A husband, who waits by his wife’s window, only to be greeted so coldly, is already much too pitiful.”

He came to see me? This early?

Ba-dump.

“Hmph. Well, since he has seen his wife now, surely he has other duties to get to?”

“That is true,” Ayato hums. “But you are mistaken. I have yet to gaze upon my dear wife’s face, for she is turned away from me.”

You sigh and turn back around begrudgingly, meeting the terrifying darkness in his eyes, coupled with an unmatching fake smile. You replace your fearful expression with your own doll-face. “T-there.” You wince from your stutter. “You have seen it. N-now, we shall part ways. You, to your duties. And I, to mine.”

He closes his eyes, as if calculating something, and then opens back up, cleared of all darkness. Sparking like clear water. “Hm, I suppose we shall.”

You hesitantly nod and then begin walking away, only to hear soft footsteps behind you, matching yours. You look behind you.

Ayato smiles at you, innocently, at the same amount of distance as earlier.

… It couldn’t be, right? You return forward and continue for a few more steps, then you turn back.

Ayato is still innocently smiling, still at the same amount of distance behind as earlier.

Ah. “You should be attending to your duties, am I wrong?” you ask.

“That, I am.”

A small gust of winds blows past.

“And what exactly are you doing right now?”

“I am keeping my wife company, as any husband’s duty is,” he answers matter-of-factly.

What kind of crap is he talking about? Is he going to follow me all day then??? “That’s the first I’m hearing of such a thing.”

He shrugs. “For any other household, perhaps it isn’t. As for the Kamisatos, it is.”

“Ah. I see.”

You return facing forward, take a few deep breaths in preparation, and then immediately break into a run.

-----

In the future, many members of the staff and a few citizens will be able to recount the day Lord Kamisato was caught chasing after his fleeing wife around the Kamisato Estate. For what reason, they may never know. But they will say that it was quite entertaining, seeing the oddly ecstatic face of the normally recluse Ayato behind the frightened and horrified expression of a normally doll-like (Y/n).

Step step step step step step step.

“Why are you running?” Ayato asks as if taking a gentle stroll, close on your tail.

“WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?” you screech, out of breath as you continue to run as fast as you can.

Over bridges in the garden, from room to room, weaving through staff— and now even across the roofs— you somehow cannot shake him off. How does a man become so persistent???

Nearly exhausted, one of your feet accidentally slips on a loose slate of the roof, leading you to topple over.

“(Y/n)!” he calls out with panic.

Of course, while this is a little higher than earlier, you know you’ll manage to land on your feet someway or another, and you do— flipping onto a lower roof and then another and then finally landing on the ground with proper form.

You then jump through an open window of a room, enter another room, zoom across the hallway, and then finally find yourself in the kitchen, where you collapse behind some sake-filled wooden barrels in the storage room.

Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump…

Your beating heart pumps blood past your ears as you inhale and exhale deeply, silently and steadily. You rest your back against one of the barrels, letting the cool air of the kitchen dissipate your sweat.

Finally… got away… stupid Ayato…

You close your eyes and opt for a much needed nap, hoping no one finds you here for a while as you restore your energy.

-----🐈-----

“I… Did you see that…?”

“I… I did…”

The esteemed housekeeper and Shirasagi Himegimi, in her usual attire, stand out in the open, dumbfounded, mouth slightly agape.

Ayato hops down the roof, missing his wife as she slipped into the darkness by mere seconds. His face inhuman with anguish, until he spots the two individuals and replaces it with his typical fake smile in a split second.

“Did you, by any chance, see my (Y/n)?” he asks, calmly.

Thoma opens his mouth to answer, only to be elbowed in the gut by the younger Kamisato. “You mean Lady Kamisato? Unfortunately, we just got here. Although, it would be wonderful if I got to finally meet my Sister-in-Law,” Ayaka beams, giggling despite a dark aura forming behind her.

Crack.

Ayato tilts his head. “We both already know-”

“That she is not ready to meet me? Or anyone else at all. Yes, I am perfectly aware, Brother.”

Crackle.

Thoma recovers with hand on his stomach and blinks, wondering if the sight of lightning really shot through the two Kamisatos.

The weather is quite pleasantly sunny and clear in this colder season, and yet the atmosphere between the two siblings seem as turbulent as the hurricane season.

“Well, if you do,” Ayato says, “Do notify me. Right away.”

“If I do,” Ayaka replies, saluting her brother as he walks away to continue in his search.

…..

Ayaka looks towards Thoma with bloodshot eyes, grabbing his shirt. “I thought you said he liked her? The relationship between them is worse than I thought. What are we going to do? He looks like he wants to kill her!? There is no doubt I love my brother, but what is the meaning of this!? Huh? HUH?”

“C-calm down, Lady Ayaka,” Thoma assures her. “That's what I meant by his… obsession. But trust that he means no harm… I think…”

Ayaka lets go and finds serenity within her being. She closes her eyes, inhales, and exhales. She opens her eyes with newfound determination, placing her hands together. “It seems that we need to take more drastic measures,” she starts off. “We'll have to send them away from the estate.”

Thoma's eyes pop out in shock. “Lady Ayaka!? But New Years is coming soon and all the work that needs to be done-”

She holds a finger up. “Then we’ll send them shortly afterwards. Perhaps to an onsen?”

“Hot springs?”

“Yes! I read in books that couples sent to an onsen end up becoming closer after their trip. Perhaps that is what they need! And besides, those two have been stuck inside this place for much too long. They haven't had any alone time at all!”

“I… I guess so?”

Ayaka makes a fist with one hand and places the other over her chest, eyes sparkling. “If my memory serves, Brother and (Y/n) didn’t have a long courtship. That must be why they must be so awkward with each other. I’m sure that’s why she decided not to join Brother this morning for breakfast.”

“Is that… so?”

“I’m sure of it!”

Thoma plays with the back of his hair, his eyes looking towards the ground. “But…”

Ayaka looks at Thoma, curious. “What?”

Thoma shakes his head, determination filling his eyes. “Nothing.” He holds out a hand. “Let's prepare for that plan of yours.”

“Yes!” Ayaka grabs his hand in the continuation of their partnership.

-----🐈-----

The moment you open your eyes, you close them.

“Hm… I once heard of the story of a sleeping beauty… does my wife wish for a similar awakening?”

“Touch me and I’ll kill you,” you groggily mumble.

Crack.

Shit. I slipped up.

“Hm. Well, I finally found you,” Ayato says. You can hear him crouching down in front of you. “Shouldn’t I get a reward?”

You take a deep breath, allowing your eyes to crack open a bit. “What time is it?”

“It’s already night time.”

You click your tongue. “So I missed all of our meals for today?”

“You haven’t missed dinner yet.”

“I see…” you send him a glare, forgoing your doll persona entirely. “As for your question earlier, unfortunately, there are no rewards for chasing your wife to exhaustion.”

He softly laughs. “Need I remind her that it was she who started the chase?”

“Need I remind him that he didn’t need to follow her at all?” you shoot back with a frown.

He reaches out towards one of your ears and allows a piece of loose hair to drape over a curved finger. “Oh… but I am obligated to, as per our marriage vows.”

You lift an eyebrow, debating whether or not you should move your head from his hand. “Will you, in peaceful times, during sickness, love this person, respect this person, comfort this person, help this person, until death, do you promise to fulfill?” you recite from memory. “Huh. I don’t recall anything about chasing them to death.”

“But you are not dead.”

You open your eyes lazily and sarcastically respond, “I’m not?”

Crack.

“Besides,” he says, returning your hair. “I need comforting.”

…..

“From me?”

“Yes.”

All of the cogs in your head does it best to turn, but no matter what, his words seem to have crammed it all up. “Whatever for?” you ask, exasperated.

“Do I need a reason?” he mutters in a low tone.

You scoff, adjusting your sitting position and letting your head hang. “You seem to be quite comfortable already. What more can I give you?”

Crack.

He drops the fake smile. “(Y/n), be honest. Do you… hate me?”

Upon hearing this strangely direct question, you immediately sit up straight, wide-eyed. “No?”

Crack.

“Then… why do you run from me?” he asks, expression so downcast you can almost see a puppy whimpering in the middle of a downpour.

You almost want to rub your eyes. Instead, you purse your lips.

How exactly did you feel about your husband, one might wonder? To think such a question would come directly from your husband in this dark, candlelit storage room, surrounded by wooden barrels full of sake. Other than your own heartbeat and the echo of empty air, there is nothing else to fill your ears.

“I don’t know,” you honestly answer.

Crack.

I honestly don’t know, man! Stop scaring me with that weird cracking sound! Where is it even coming from???

He looks away, contemplatively, then meets your eyes, then looks away again. “You had a question earlier, of what I wanted from you?”

[“Why are you running?” Ayato asks as if taking a gentle stroll, close on your tail.

“WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?” you screech, out of breath as you continue to run as fast as you can.]

“Ah… that was…” you struggle to come up with words. “You were scaring me, so I…”

He cuts you off. “I want…”

Ba-dump.

“... to have dinner with you.”

…..

You blink. “Oh. That’s… That’s it?”

He nods, bashfully.

You keep yourself from scoffing at his strange antics. One moment he seems to want to kill you and the other he seems like the most naive man you’ve ever met. What a weirdo.

Haughtily, you poke him in the forehead. “Why don’t you ask me properly then?”

He brightens up, smiling at you genuinely while holding out a hand. “Would you like to have dinner with me?”

As if answering his question in earnest, your stomach growls, shooting heat straight into your cheeks. “S-sure. About time! ” you answer begrudgingly, taking his hand.

He chuckles lightheartedly.

-----

The surprise that was meant to accompany breakfast ended up being used for dinner.

All of your favorite dishes, all perfectly cooked, are displayed like jewels in a jewelry box across the dining table. Your favorite flowers decorate the room, hanging from garlands strung across the ceiling. The wicks of candles with your favorite scents are burning softly.

So this was what I could've enjoyed this morning… you think, as you munch on your food elegantly. Then again, I wasn't ready to see him yet…

“I believe it is about time we should discuss an important matter about our marriage.”

You look up from a bowl of marinated cucumbers on the dining table like a deer caught in headlights, the tip of chopsticks frozen in your closed mouth. “Hm?”

Ayato waits for you to take the chopsticks out of your mouth. “Our marriage,” he continues, eyes and tone eerily steady. “The matter of… marital obligations.”

Have I not been doing my duty? “I see.” You put down your chopsticks and bowl of rice neatly on the table. “What about marital obligations would you like to discuss, Husband?”

Crack.

It seems with food in your stomach, you are quite bold. And you have yet again donned your doll-face.

“It is regarding the separation of our bedchambers, (Y/n),” Ayato explains, a glint in his eye.

Your mask falters for a mere second, as an odd feeling comes about. “What about it is prompting a discussion?”

“As wife and husband,” Ayato interlaces his fingers. “I think it is about time we shared a bedchamber.”

…..

You blink, swearing all of the burning embers faltered for a moment. “Pardon?”

“Did I stutter, (Y/n)?”

“No, you did not.”

“Then you heard me?”

“I did.”

“Then?” he asks, darkness building up in his eyes.

You blink. Several times in order to not run away from this room. “I am… not refusing… nor am I entirely in agreement,” you carefully respond.

He looks away, regretfully. “Ah, my apologies. I do not wish to force this upon you as I see fit. I only wish to improve our marriage.”

You mentally release a sigh of relief. “It is the same for me. I intend to follow the wishes of my husband, should it benefit our marriage.” You then lift your cup of sake, inviting him for cheers.

He smiles brightly, lifting his own cup. “I see. Then we shall henceforth share a bedchamber. To our marriage,” he says, clinking yours before downing the shot of sake.

“T-to our marriage!” you cheer after choking down your own cup.

What have I done!?

#genshin impact #kamisato ayato #yandere kamisato ayato #kamisato ayaka #thoma #male x female #yandere #yandere male #yandere x reader #tsundere reader #reader insert #fem reader #deuxcherise writes

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