#enjoying the things we used to enjoy with fresh eyes and a careful appreciation for the past!!!

[glynjohnsfurcoat]

i do think a lot of the reason i buried and rejected my love of the who is fully due to shame but we don’t have to go there let’s not even dig into that

[juletheghoul]

The General

a/n: So, the Roman got me. It was to be expected, honestly lol. I am well aware we know practically nothing about this character but I couldn't help myself. I wrote reader as a slave here, if you aren't into that - no worries. This is un beta-ed, any mistakes are my own. Shout out to @foli-vora for letting me flood her with my thoughts and ideas and for helping me flesh it out🩷 Hopefully you enjoy!

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, some dirty talk, creampie, alcohol, master / slave dynamic (power imbalance) one creepy dude making a pass, Marcus calls reader Girl, reader calls Marcus Dominus, let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 1.6k

reblogs are appreciated

Series masterlist Masterlist next chapter; the baths

He comes through the tent flap late into the night, covered in blood, grime, and rage, and yet - you are there to greet him. The gods have seen it fit to bestow him with another day of victory, another day of life and with that life, comes his expectations of you.

You rush to pour the water you’ve kept hot at his fire into the basin he uses to wash, eyes scanning quickly for the clean linens he uses to cleanse himself of the gore of battle, and making yourself scarce once the basin is full.

He says nothing, but he has no need to. 

You watch from your place at the edge of his vision, every nerve and receptor in your body honed to anticipate his needs. 

His armor needs to be cleaned before first light, thank the Gods I didn’t fall asleep. I will need to mend the tear in his tunic as well–

His hand shot out, face up towards you, interrupting your mental tally of his state but your body responds quicker than your mind and you’re there in an instant, placing the clean linen into his dampened hand. Still, he says nothing. 

You move towards his table while he finishes, shuffling his maps and well laid battle plans with great care in order to set out the olives and cheese he likes, the crusty bread and the dark wine he prefers. 

“General.” The gruff voice at the tent flap scares you half to death, but you don’t cry out. You’re too well-trained for that. A few of his soldiers stand at the threshold. “We wish to share a cup, a toast to your victory.” They are eager, the red glint of blood still fresh in their eyes. 

He grunts in response, but gestures to his table before giving you a pointed look. You rush to fetch more cups, setting them down at the extra places at his table. They are all seated by the time you finish pouring for them, and with another glance from Marcus–your general–you move to fetch more food from his stores. 

They’re raucous, the heat of the battle still coursing through their veins. Where Marcus is focused on calming the blood, they are eager to stoke the fire. They are either oblivious to his dark mood, or unbothered by it. 

“More wine!” One of them cries out, despite the way the General’s jaw clenches. You hurry to comply, pouring into the younger man's cup without spilling. “You are lucky General Acacius, a pretty, young, thing like this waiting to warm your bed of a night,” he leers up at you, his gaze slipping across your body like eels in a bowl, “would you share your wealth, I wonder.” His other hand slides up the back of your thigh causing you to gasp, his touch wholly unwelcome. 

“If you would like to keep your hands, I suggest you keep them to yourself.” His voice cuts through the air, “Come girl, take my cup away. I have no taste for wine just now.” You move away from the unwanted touch and towards Marcus, avoiding his eyes to complete the task at hand. “Go now, all of you. I will see you in the morning.” He moves from his place at the table, and if the others are unwilling to comply, they make no mention of it. The table is clear by the time he comes back, absent unwanted company. 

He says nothing while removing his armor, but you rush to his side to assist anyway, carefully putting the pieces aside to clean. 

The mood shifts, and his gaze now bores into you, and your heart races to feel it. Where the other man's eyes made your skin crawl, Marcus’ eyes feel like a caress. You feel them on the slit in your tunic, where your thigh is exposed. You feel them on your chest when you turn towards him to help take his chest plate off. 

Goose flesh spreads like a stain across your skin, and your cunt weeps for him, betraying any thoughts that you might not want what he quite obviously wants to give you. The proof of it tenting his tunic when the leather Pteruges are removed.

Those brutal hands, the ones that’d been covered in blood and grime not an hour past, now grab onto your hips, the grip hard enough to bruise. The thin linen shift does nothing to insulate you from his heat, does nothing to dull the press of his want against your belly. Any doubts swimming in your mind about crossing this line with him–again–are silenced when the linen is all but ripped off, leaving you almost shivering in his arms. 

The arousal is something fierce, an entity all in its own and it responds to his brusque movements with a perverse glee. It sets your nerves alight, drips down onto your thighs as he herds you towards his bed mat. His intensity infects you, it strengthens your grip, you’d swear it sharpened your nails by the way you rip at the very tunic you’re going to have to mend.

You land on your back amongst his linens and he’s quick to follow you there. It takes less than a breath for him to shrug everything off, both of you as nude as the day you were born. 

“Open your legs.” His voice is gruff, and thick with want, the same want that smears fat pearly drops against the skin of your thigh. 

Your nipples harden, drawing both his eye, and his mouth as you hurry to comply. He bites, pulling a gasp from your lips. His tongue quickly soothes it though, this is his pattern, an addictive balance of pain and pleasure. First one breast, then the other gets his attention, but only briefly, his desire burns too brightly. 

You only manage to pull his face up to yours before his cock finally slips into your wet heat, feeding a gasp directly into his mouth when you take his kiss with a force to rival his own. 

The size of him always shocks you into silence. He isn’t the first man to have you this way, your chastity had been gone long before you came into his service; you were glad of it to feel the way he molded you to accept him though. Now, and every time he’s been inside you. 

His stroke is brutal, it’s hard, and rough and all but moves you higher onto his mat. It’s perfect.

Your knees hitch high onto his hips, just as he raises one knee to press against the back of your thigh for purchase and it pays off because he finds the spot that makes you keen. 

He lets out a breathy laugh, relishing the state of you and the euphoria of your climax is far too close to feel any shame. Instead your cunt floods him, the slip of him moving so noisy and vulgar and welcome and blissful it pushes you closer still.

“More, please—“ you moan out the words, the first words you’ve spoken to him since he’d returned from a day of violence and he corrects you even now. 

“More what,” he grunts, anger and ecstasy shining on his visage, “speak correctly, girl.” His voice is clipped, his movements faltering and you know he’s close.

“More please, Dominus.” They’re a whimper, and he responds to them just how you hoped he might. He moves quickly and for a moment you can see how he’s earned his reputation, agile and smooth and within a moment he sits back on his haunches, pulling your hips up to meet his thrusts. 

You don’t know whether to scream, or weep, either way you thank the Gods for putting you in this man’s way. The pleasure is peppered with pain where his fingers dig into the meat of your thighs, and you know you will feel the ache of holding them open tomorrow, but it’s so hard to care when it feels so good.

The precipice looms, the shadow of the climax clouding anything and everything and when you reach down towards where you’re spread wide, it only takes a couple of quick, wet circles at your clit to float away.

He groans, hips stuttering and you know you’ve taken him over the edge with you, you can feel the evidence of it painting your insides. His eyes glaze over as he watches himself fill you to the brim, slack-jaw and drunk on his orgasm and your flesh on display for him. 

“I expect you to remain full of my gift-“ his tone is filthy, lust and victory of a different kind on his features as he grinds himself deeper, “until I take you again.” He hisses the last few words out, pulling his softening cock out to inspect his mess. “Am I understood?”

“Yes Dominus.” The words are sweet as summer fruit on your tongue, eager to please him.

He smiles, but it’s predatory and it makes you clench around nothing, your body betraying your words when you feel his spend dripping out in front of his eyes.

He tsks, pushing it back in with thick fingers.

“You are well aware I don’t tolerate such insolence.” His eyes narrow, but his mood is still playful, removing his fingers from your cunt, only to stick them in your mouth. “Now, get some rest. I expect you up at first light.” He speaks with absolute authority as you suck his fingers clean, and nod.

------

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[moonstruckme]

hi mae!! how are you?

i recently burned my thigh with my iron curler and it formed a big scar. it started slowly bubbling up and i accidentally popped it like 2 days ago so now i have fresh skin open 🥲 it’s extra sensitive and i have to patch it up. and when i let the wound breath it HURTS 😭

i was wondering if you could write about this with emt!marauders? or maybe just james? idk lol whatever you feel like writing it about.

AND IF YOUVE WRITTEN ABOUT THIS ALREADY, MY BAD 😃😭

Hi lovely, I'm good! I'm really sorry this happened, it sounds awful!! Hope it's feeling a bit better by now <3

cw: severe burn (no details)

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 786 words

“I don’t think we should do this.”  

“I mean,” says James, sitting patiently opposite you on the bed, “I don’t love it either.” 

“Then let’s not,” you bargain.

 He gives you a sorry smile. “What do you think we should do instead, angel?” 

You take a deep breath. “Leave it,” you say on the exhale. “It’ll heal eventually. Or it won’t, and the bandage will become my new skin. I could be fine with that.” 

“I’m somewhat attached to your real skin.” 

“We all have to make sacrifices, James.” 

Your boyfriend gives you an amused look, but there’s worry beneath it. You feel guilty for putting him through this. It’s bad enough that he has to change your bandages for you because you’re too squeamish to do it yourself, but now you’re also making him convince you as if it were his idea. 

You blow out a long breath, tilting your face up toward the ceiling. “I can’t see it.” 

“You don’t have to,” he reassures you. “You can close your eyes, baby.”

“How bad is a little infection really?” you ask, but you’re already laying back, succumbing to the plushness of your pillow. 

“I had a dog bite get infected once,” James says, pulling your leg into his lap. Strong, gentle fingers on the underside of your thigh. “I didn’t enjoy it.” 

“You got bitten by a dog?” You turn your head to see him, but he shoots you a look and you sigh, covering your eyes with your hands. “When was that?” 

“When I was little.” One of his hands stays cradling your leg, but you feel the fingers of the other probing carefully at the edges of your bandage. Apprehension climbs up your throat, mingling with the ache of affection that’s already there. You appreciate how delicate James is with you, peeling the bandage up gingerly by one corner instead of ripping it off like some might. “It wasn’t really the dog’s fault, it was just spooked and I didn’t know enough to stay away.” 

You hiss as the bandage sticks to a tender bit of skin, and James coos an apology, stroking the unharmed skin beside it soothingly. Then the whole thing comes off, air hitting the wound and making you tense all over. 

“What happened with the bite?” Your voice is somewhat strained. 

James hesitates. “There was a lot of puss involved,” he says. “You won’t want to hear the details.” 

“Mm, thanks.” 

He chuckles. You can hear him twisting the cap off the antibiotic ointment. Your fingertips press harder into your brow bone. 

“You alright?” he asks softly. 

“Mhm. I’m ready.” 

You still gasp through your teeth when the ointment makes contact with your skin, and James grips your leg more firmly to keep you from flinching away. 

“Sorry,” he hisses, working fast as he can with gentle, caring fingers. “Sorry, baby.” 

“Not your fault,” you squeak out, keeping your own fingers pressed tightly over your eyes. “Thank you for doing this.” 

James doesn’t seem to want to accept your thanks, and you let the silence sit. When he’s done, you both sigh. 

“Thanks,” you say again. For good measure. “Couldn’t have done it without you.” 

“Definitely not,” James agrees. “I’ve no idea what we’re going to do when I’m hurt someday and neither of us can look at it.” 

You drop your hands from your eyes and sit up on your elbows, careful to look only at James and not down at your leg. It’s not hard. He’s a lovely sight, even with that sympathetic pinch to his mouth and worry tightening the muscles around his eyes. You reach for his hand, and his expression lightens. He wipes his fingertips off on his jeans before giving it to you. 

“We’ll have to call Remus,” you say, squeezing his fingers. 

A laugh startles out of him. “I thought you were going to say you’d put your squeamishness aside for me. Or that it wouldn’t be gross because you love me, or something.” 

“I would if it were true,” you reply, “but I’m afraid I won’t be much help if I’m gagging over you the entire time. I’ll hold your hand while we both don’t look, though.” 

“Mm, fair enough.” He scoots closer on the bed. His hand finds your opposite hip, rubbing a slow back-and-forth. “And you’ll distract me with kisses while I’m nursed back to health?” 

“If it’ll help.” Your voice is soft. “Though I should point out that I haven’t received any kisses.” 

Twin dimples appear on either side of James mouth as he leans over you, careful to avoid your hurt leg. “Patience, angel,” he murmurs as his lips brush yours. “I’m not done with you yet.” 

[eufezco]

SUMMARY - you're a little jealous of Tess.

a little smut at the end(?? english isn't my first language <33

"You know it's very obvious, right?" You heard Frank talk behind you. Even though Bill and Frank insisted that it was not necessary for you to do the dishes, you insisted on helping them. They prepared this delicious meal for you three and there was no way you were leaving without doing something for them in return. In front of you was the window from which you could see Tess and Joel still sitting at the table. The day was sunny and Joel's golden skin was glowing in the sunlight. You tried to concentrate on scrubbing the plates but you could feel his eyes on you and you couldn't help but look at him back. Tess was talking to him while he finished eating.

"Don't tell her that when it's not, Frank." Bill joined you two in the kitchen.

"No, but it is, Bill. It's in the way you look at him, you know? Your eyes do that thing and your lips curve up a bit. Not in like a big smile but in like an I'm-so-in-love-with-you one."

"It's not obvious, Frank's just dramatic. Don't worry."

"I'm just saying it's noticeable."

"What are you even talking about?" You dried your hands and turned around so you could see them both.

"You and Joel." Frank stated.

"He wants nothing to do with me, okay?"

"Oh, so he knows."

"I wish he didn't, but yes, he knows."

"Why?"

"Frank-"

"I tried to kiss him."

"You did what?"

"Oh, fuck."

"It's her fault! She likes him too and they're like super close but he only sees her as a friend. If he wasn't so worry about hurting her feelings, I could have him. He told me that." You turned around to the sink again. You grabbed a glass and started scrubbing violently. Your eyes moved from the sink to the window and back, the smirk Joel had on his lips while talking with Tess was getting on your nerves.

"So he feels the same way about you."

"At least he did a week ago. I found her in his bed a couple of days ago. She was fucking big spooning him, Frank, can you believe that?"

"Oh, absolutely not."

"I'm sure it's not only about Tess." Bill intervened in the conversation.

"What do you mean?"

"Tess told me he lost people. He's obviously scared of forging a bond with you beyond friendship because he doesn't know what tomorrow may be like and if he could lose you as well."

"Shit... how do you know that? Did he tell you?"

"He knows because he was just like that." Frank answered for him.

You sighed. "I'm so jealous of you two."

You went back to the yard and sat with Tess and Joel at the table. They were discussing whether they should agree to do business with Bill and Frank. You couldn't care less about what your two friends were talking about. You threw your head back and closed your eyes, hearing their conversation but mostly enjoying the fresh air of the sunset hitting your skin. You were the one that connected over the radio with them. Luckily it was Frank the one that got your message, if it was Bill you wouldn't be sitting there, with your stomach full of the most exquisite food you'd ever tried and feeling the freshly cut grass under your feet.

"I am spending the night here."

The two of them stopped talking. Tess looked at Joel to see his reaction and Joel shook his head immediately. "The three of us are going back to the QZ."

"No. I'm staying here. FEDRA won't know that I'm gone, I don't have work tomorrow."

Joel threw a quick glance at Bill and Frank inside the house. He had been very hesitant the two times you'd met with them, still not trusting enough the two men to leave you alone with them. Even though he knows that you'd spent hours talking with Frank on the radio. You rolled your eyes when you realized it was because of them. "Oh, come on."

"No. No 'Oh, come on.' You're coming with us. Tell them we really appreciate this nice meal, everything was delicious but we should leave before it gets dark-" He said as he got up from the table. Tess was quick to lay one of her hands on top of Joel's. She called his name and he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and sat down on his chair again.

"Stay here with her. I will go back to the QZ." Tess knew that it was impossible to change your mind. She was already trying to find other options that would please Joel. That was much easier.

"I have work to do in the morning."

"I'll cover you. You'll be fine."

Joel huffed, looking at you and running a hand through his face. You smiled at him, victorious, but he was upset at your attitude. You truly did not see how dangerous it was, not only for FEDRA to find you out of the QZ, but also for you to stay at some random dudes' house?

"Let us know over the radio when you arrive."

"This is so nice. We could never go back to the QZ." You said letting yourself fall onto the bed and sighing. Joel closed the door behind him and left his gun on the nightstand, a place where it would be within reach in case he needed to use it. He sat on the bed, starting to question why he didn't drag you back to the QZ. "I'm serious Joel, we could stay here. There are enough houses, you can choose the one you like the most and we could-"

"Have you lost your fucking mind?" You held your body up with your elbows and your eyebrows came together after hearing Joel talking to you like that. He turned his body slightly towards you so he could make eye contact. "Sometimes I don't know if you mean what you say or if you just spit out every fucking thought that goes through your head."

"What is this all about? Why are you so determined to go back to the QZ? Is it because of her?"

Joel huffed and got up from the bed. "You are- This is unbelievebable."

"Or is it because you have so much to lose there? It would be a pity if you did not come back, Joel. Everyone would miss you so much."

Joel ran his hand through his face out of desperation. He paced around the room while you talked. You rolled your eyes, letting your body fall on the mattress again. "So it is because of her."

"She's my family! Of course it's because of her!" He yelled at you, approaching you with a threatening attitude. You got up from the bed and as angry as he was, you asked him.

"And what am I? Am I not your family?" You clenched your jaw.

Joel chuckled and massaged his temples. "I didn't say that." Anger quickly crept back into his body, one of his fingers pointed at you, and his other hand rested on his waist. "You do not get to twist my words in that way!"

"Seriously, Joel? That's the only problem you see here? Because the real issue is that you don't have enough balls to tell her the truth and that's the only reason why things are working this bad for us!"

"Oh please, if you could act like a fucking adult for once in your life and have a little empathy..."

"I can't do that! I just can't do that because if I don't think of myself who will? Will you do it? Because we have already seen that you won't!"

He couldn't believe what you were saying. Joel closed his eyes while you talked and clenched his jaw to the point it hurt. "I think about you! You are my priority! Every hour of the day, you are my priority! From the moment I open my eyes in the morning until I go to sleep at night-"

"You're always so worried about how she may feel about us, but what about me? How do you think this situation makes me feel?"

"I'm pretty sure it makes you feel the same way it makes me feel."

You huffed a laugh and then you rolled your eyes at him. You walked past him to leave the room. "No. You are not going anywhere. I'm not done talking." Joel grabbed your arm and kept you from opening the door. His grip on your arm brought you face-to-face with him. He wanted to keep arguing with you, he still had a lot of things to say, but at that moment both of your breaths were deep as a result of the agitated discussion and they mixed to the point of becoming one. Joel cupped both of your cheeks and crashed his lips into yours. Your back hit the door, causing Bill and Frank who were on the other side listening to jump backward.

"Oh, fuck..." You sighed and your hands caressed his broad shoulders and slid down to his chest. He was beautiful, your hands couldn't get enough of him. After caressing the freckles that decorated his skin and the scars on his chest, your hands moved to his belly and quickly slipped into his pants. Joel gasped against your lips, and a playful smirk appeared in yours right before he kissed you again to quiet his own sounds.

"We should-" Frank said after being able to hear the wet sounds of the kiss and your sweet hums through the door.

"Yes." Bill agreed with him inmediatly.

The next morning you woke up between Joel's arms, your legs tangled with his and Joel's gentle breathing enticing you to stay in bed instead of going to have breakfast. You shifted in place, careful enough to not wake him up. You slid his big t-shirt over your head and stole from him the pajama pants that Bill and Frank had lent him.

Frank's eyes sparkled as soon as he saw you enter the kitchen. "You have to tell us everything right now." He moved back a chair so you could sit next to him while Bill placed a cup of coffee on the table in front of you and you smiled at him in gratitude. You bit your lower lip, trying to hide how happy you were and Frank huffed a laugh "You bitch. It was good."

You nodded, taking a sip from your cup. The smile never leaving your lips. "It was amazing. He is so rough yet so soft, just like I told you I thought he would be. His hands are- ugh, so magical, and his lips are so good that I can still feel them. And his d-"

"We don't need all those details, thank you." Bill rushed to say, sitting at the table with you. Interested in what you were saying but not that interested.

"Oh yes, we need them." Frank huffed another laugh, seeing your devilish expression wanting to go on with what you had started.

"No, you don't." Joel's said entering the kitchen with his deep morning voice.

[bisexualiteaa]

Domestic Serenity

Soft Cooper Howard (The Ghoul) x Fem reader

Synopsis: You and Cooper return to your settlement you set up, it being the closest thing you could call a home on those harsh days in the sun and from the rad storms. After too many close run it’s lately out in the wastelands, Cooper comes home from the market to appreciate the closest thing you guys have to a post apocalyptic little slice of domestic life and show you how much he cares about you.

CW: Smut MDNI! Slight OOC Cooper, slight deviance from the show, oral (fem receiving) dirty talk, established relationship, unprotected sex, p in v, irradiated cream pie, p0rn w/o plot, reader has a southern accent, Cooper being a perv, Cooper makes a few crews jokes and one liners to reader

AN: so I’m relatively new to Fallout lore and such, but the hubby and I finished the Fallout TV series a week or so ago and like most others, Cooper Howard’s got me in a grip tighter than his lasso. 😮‍💨 Please be gentle, I pulled a little from Fallout 4 and the TV series in a meshing that I thought felt right. This is briefly proofread but I’m still new to all things Fallout but I hope I did our cowboy justice and I hope y’all enjoy!

You were doing laundry for the day in your house, or better yet, what you could call a house these days, at the little settlement you set up for you and Cooper to live, and some houses for a good few other people you’d met along the way to make it into a nice small town. There was plenty of food to go around from the growing gardens, fresh, clean water, some electricity to keep the gates protected from raiders and things of the like, but also for some street lights at night. It was like a nice little slice of life before the war, or the closest you could get to it anymore anyway, it was peaceful.

It was a particularly sweltering hot day outside, hotter than usual as the sun beat down on the sand, and your skin when you’d step foot outside for even just a few minutes. “Shew, it’s hotter than hell outside” you exclaim, feeling the rush of the hot air that funneled in when Cooper set foot through the door. You were thankful to have chosen a pair of shorts and a tank top to wear out of your small selection of other clothes when you woke up this morning. “Don’t half mind it. Means I get to watch you pad around the house in them lil’ shorts you got on” Cooper said as he shut the door finally, then dropped his saddlebag and things off at his feet, having just come back from a run to the market to grab the essentials like RadAway, Rad-X, Stimpacks and some other chems and things here and there to keep handy for when you both set back out on your travels. You heard his boots clomp heavily against the floor as he drug himself inside, his eyes traveling your figure as you were washing some clothes in a wash bin, watching you bend over and your ass shake a little when you would scrub hard enough at some stains. He gave a crude whistle at the sight, one you were used to him using as a form of expressing that he liked something, making a small grin stretch to your lips. “Somethin’ tells me you’d make one hell of a sexy housewife” he said, coming behind you and tapping your ass playfully to get you to stand back up. You gave a chuckle before swatting at his hands as you turned to face him, making him only grin wider. “Don’t threaten me with a good time. Although I’d miss wanderin’ the desert with you and all the shit we get up to” you said with a grin, putting the rag you had in hand over your shoulder as he stepped closer. “Like annoyin’ the piss outta me and stealin’ my kills?” He asked playfully, putting his hands gently on your hips to pull you into a kiss. You giggled in response as you put your hands against his chest to keep him close. “You love watchin’ me kill things with that big ol’ gun’a mine” you said in between kisses, making him hum in agreement with you, or maybe it was a groan at the thought because you were right, the sexiest thing to him was seeing you with a gun in hand, cocking it back after taking down raiders, roaches, scorpions, or whatever your target may be, with the confidence you do. He loved the excited “oh yeah!” Or “booyah!” You’d say to yourself afterwards too in celebration before you’d both rummage through whatever it was you downed. “Oh I absolutely do. Like it even better when it ain’t my bounties you’re droppin’ there, lil’ missy” he quipped, making you giggle again as he tapped your hip with his gloved hand before parting from you to let you get back at what you were doing. Also to watch you bend over some more, can’t restrain a dog once it’s loose. “Just be a quicker shot honey bun, then it won’t be a problem!” You joked, twirling the rag that was over your shoulders in your hands to wind it tight before cracking it against his ass, making him turn his head to look at you from over his shoulder all slow and intimidating like. “Oh it’s like that now, is it?” He asked, turning towards you some more, making you flash him a wide, deviant smile, knowing exactly what you did and that you’d likely be paying the consequences for it here in a few seconds. “Maybe it is! Whatchya gon’ do ‘bout it?” You asked with a widening grin the closer he got.

Before he gave you an answer, he picked you up, placing you over his shoulder with ease. You yelped playfully as he did, still sometimes surprised by the strength he carried before laughing as you started to wiggle in his grasp. “Fix that lil attitude of yours ya got goin’ on” he said, tapping his hand against your ass again, making you only laugh more as he started to walk out of the kitchen away from your chores. “Cooper! I was in the middle of somethin’ there, put me down!” You ordered through your relentless giggles as he continued to walk, almost slow at this point to torment you. “No can do sweetheart. Not ‘til you’ve nicened up” he said as he brought you to the bedroom and threw you on the bed but not too harshly. Just enough to see you bounce and hear you laugh. “I was in the middle of laundry! Your shirts’ll get all starchy an’ stiff if I don’t do it a certain way” you said, sitting up some and getting ready to get up but he sat down with you, which stopped you. He gave you a grin as he looked at the way your thighs were squeezed by the legs of your shorts, and how short they were sitting on you. “My shirts ain’t the only thing gettin’ stiff, I can tell ya that much” he said, making you swat at him once more as he gave a raspy laugh at your blush and facial expression in reaction. “You fiend. You ever thinkin’ with that head on your shoulders? Or just the one in your pants?” You asked with a smirk, knowing all too well the answer to that question, not that you minded one bit either. “I think we both know they’re about the same, I ain’t ever seen you complain about it” he said, making you chuckle as he leaned in and pulled you into another soft, loving kiss that you knew was going to lead to something much more. “Not one bit” you replied between kisses as his hands rested on your hips once more, giving you a nice squeeze while also doing what he could to keep you as close as he could get. He always had his hands on you in some way, sometimes in a suggestive way, but most times in a protective manner. He had to show the others and everyone out there in the commonwealth that no one fucks with, or gets between him and his girl. “C’mon take a break, laundry can wait. I ain’t seen you all day” he said, and he always did have a way with words that made you weak. “Only if ya promise me you won’t get mad if your shirts get stiff” you said, making him laugh. “I don’t give two shits about how them shirts feel, I just need you” he replied, making you smile as that happy twinkle came to your eyes, and gosh how they lit up every time you saw him. “Then I suppose the laundry can wait” you said with a soft giggle as he started to climb over top of you as you laid back against the bed again. Your hair fanned out around you against the pillows like a halo, your eyes half lidded as you looked up at him expectantly with those siren eyes he swore turned his mind into a frenzy. You smiled up at him with those pretty white teeth before he kissed you, feeling his hands wander your frame over your tank top and moving downward as your arms looped around him to pull him closer.

Your one hand removed his large hat, placing it off to the side as the kiss grew more heated, your tongues tangling in a fight for dominance with one another, a battle which he won. You moaned into it as one of his hands slipped beneath your tank top, surprisingly free of his gloves as he groped one of your breasts, tweaking your nipple between his forefinger and thumb. “Let’s get this off’a you” he said, bringing your tank top up and over your head then tossing it to the side to be forgotten until later, trailing his kisses down your neck to your chest that now laid bare and exposed to the air. You were always a sight to behold to him, no matter how many times you had sex, or how many times he’d just seen you naked or even half naked, he considered himself lucky that you chose him. When he looked at you, everything felt right in the world again, even out in desolate wasteland. When you looked at him, you looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky, like he was your whole world, and he was. “My beautiful lady” he complimented before taking one of your nipples into his mouth, working his tongue and thin cracked lips along it as he toyed with the other in his fingers, being sure to give them both the love they deserved. You moaned as he did, your back keening up off the mattress some at his touch. It had been a while since the last time you two had a chance to have sex, so needless to say you were more than receptive to his touches. You shut your eyes as your head fell back against the pillow, soft moans leaving your throat as he switched treatments, leaving behind nice little hickeys as a reminder of who you belonged to. You bit your lip and casted your gaze down onto him as you felt his lips begin to trail down your chest to your stomach, before he was resting between your legs. “Much as I like these, don’t think you’ll be needin’ ‘em right now” he said, unbuttoning and sliding his fingers into the waistband of your shorts before tugging them down and off from you, tossing them aside as haphazardly as he did with your top. His eyes delighted him when he saw you lying before him in lace, a commodity that’s damn hard to come by these days, making him whistle before making another sound of satisfaction at the sight. “And you were just gonna let this stay hidden? You’re like unwrappin’ a present” he said, making you giggle as he was careful with them as he slid them off you, but tossed them aside all the same. “You’re enough to make a man like me go feral darlin’, ya know that?” He said, making you chuckle once more. “Gettin’ you t’ act a fool is my favorite pass time” you replied, making him chuckle before he placed one of your legs over his shoulder, laying teasing butterfly kisses to your inner thigh that trailed slowly down to your aching cunt.

“Thought I’d pick up some RadAway while I was down at the market today for ya, that way I can give ya what you’ve been wantin’” he said as he sheathed himself fully inside, giving you a moment to breathe and accommodate to his size and the intrusion. You gave a happy little gasp that made him give a dark chuckle in response. “How romantic” you said teasingly but you were truly warmed by it, a bright smile on your face that joined with the blush that came from him already prodding at the apex of your cervix. “Anythin’ for you sweetheart. Besides, be a real shame if this sweet ass a yours looked like mine because of my doin’” he said, making you laugh. “Oh hush you, you’re mighty fine in my book” you said, pulling him into a soft sweet kiss. “For a cowpoke anyway” you added to tease, earning a sharp snap of his hips against yours in retaliation, making a loud moan leave your lips. “Wanna try that again, darlin’?” He asked, making you blush a bit brighter. “Was just kiddin’, shit. But if that’s what I gotta do t’ get ya t’ be rough with me, might just have to get on all them nerves of yours” you responded, making him smirk down at you, god he loved that attitude and humor you always about you, it’s one of the things that kept him going through all this. “If you want rough, all ya gotta do is ask. Fair warning, I don’t play nice when I do” he said, snapping his hips once more to hit deep inside of you, making your back arch up off the mattress once more. “Fuck, don’t want you to play nice. Want you t’ fuck me like you hate me” you said, making him chuckle as he quickly pulled out, making you whine at the loss of contact before you were abruptly rolled onto your stomach and his hand reached into your hair to pull your body into a harsh arch. “That dirty mind and mouth a yours’ll be both our undoin’ sweet cheeks” he said, bullying his way back into your pussy, starting a harsh pace that had your eyes rolling back as his hips slapped against your ass harshly. “You and I both know ya wouldn’t want me any other way” you quipped, making him chuckle as he yanked your hair to pull you back some more, earning a loud moan from you. “Look mighty tasty like this, I could just eat you alive” he said in a low growl, his lips and teeth sinking to your shoulder, leaving a bruise and teeth marks behind, marking and claiming you as his. He felt the way your walls squeezed around him as you whimpered pathetically with his bite, and the way you grew wetter as he did. “Fuck…Cooper” you moaned, making him chuckle as his hands gripped your hips, watching as you moved your hips back and met his thrusts hungrily. “Sure is a pretty sight, seein’ you split open on this cock. Hungry little thing, swallowin’ me the way you do. Tell me who this pretty pussy belongs to” he said, making you grin proudly at his praise. “‘s all yours baby, only for you” you replied as you felt the bed start to rock back and forth and heard it creaking beneath your bodies as he found that spot inside you liked so much. For as hot as it was outside, you two fucked like it was the only way to keep warm. “Damn straight. Fuck…” he groaned, enjoying the sight of your ass jiggling each time his cock entered then reentered you and the sounds you made when it would happen. “So close…please, don’t stop” you begged, knowing full and well he never had any intentions to, but the words flew from your mouth as if they were the only thing you knew to say. You felt one of his hands leave your hip, coming to reach and rub tight circles against your clit, making that coil in the pit of your stomach wind tighter. “Cum for me baby” he said, working you closer and closer to your peak that was just around the corner, all you needed was one last push and he knew it, he could feel it with the way your walls hugged him.

He bit down on your shoulder once more, making you moan as you toppled over the edge. Your walls clenched around him tightly, earning a groan from him as your cunt spasmed and milked him for everything he could give you. Your mouth laid open in a wide O shape as your back arched, keeping him deep inside of you as his release creeped up on him from yours. He let out a deep, feral growl as he came inside of you with his teeth sunk into your perfect skin, missing the feeling of what it was like to empty himself into someone again. You hummed contentedly as you felt him fill you up, a pleasant tingle running through you as he laved over the teeth marks with his tongue. “You alright, sugar? Wasn’t too rough with ya, was I?” He asked by your ear, littering your skin with kisses as one of his hands rubbed soothingly up and down your side. You gave a giggle. “You always act like you’re gonna break me” you replied, making him chuckle. “I just might if I ain’t careful, certainly ain’t known for being a softy for others sweetheart” he said, making you chuckle as he pulled out of you slowly, trying his best not to hurt or overstimulate you both, allowing you to turn around and look at him. “Maybe I’d like it if ya did, but no you didn’t go rough on me. Was perfect, as always” you responded flirtatiously but with a sweet smile, making him chuckle dryly once more. “Good, I’ll always take good care of my girl” he replied, leaning down to kiss you softly before grabbing a rag and wetting it to help clean you up. As he came back and spread your legs, he watched his seed leak from you, moving down your thighs. He gave a crude whistle. “Now that’s a sight” he said with a mischievous grin, making you roll your eyes with an entertained smile as he helped clean you up, laying a kiss to your inner thigh. “At least give me a little recovery time, I ain’t got that stamina you got yet” you said, making him laugh as he disposed of the rag and climbed back into bed with you. “And don’t worry, I had my Rad-X for the day. Though I gotta say, that’s a feeling that’s totally worth a little radiation sickness if ya ask me” you said, both of you giving a chuckle as you kissed him softly once more, your hand resting on his chest as you did. “Well, just t’ be safe, I got RadAway. Some for me to keep me from turnin’ feral and rippin’ you to pieces, and some for you for those nights you crave that sweet feelin’” he said, handing you the IV bag of yellow liquid from off the bedside table. “What would I ever do without you?” You asked, hooking it up to the rack and putting the IV in to allow it to take effect. “A whole lotta nothin’ good I imagine. Probably spend a whole lotta nights hoping them dainty little fingers a yours can achieve anything close t’ what I give ya every night” he teased with a grin, making you roll your eyes with a laugh but he wasn’t wrong.

His hand came to yours, pulling it to where your fingers would intertwine with his, something he always did when you used needles and medicines on yourself as a gesture of comfort. He pulled his inhaler and a vile of RadAway from his duster that lay on the floor as you let the bag drip slowly. He took a hit off of his inhaler, giving a contended sigh as he leaned back against the pillows and let it work its way into his system. He looked over to see you, admiring him like he hung the moon and the stars in the night sky. He gave you a sweet smile, one pulled deep from his heart as you leaned your head against his shoulder. One that said the three words he’d been struggling to try and tell you after all this time being together, a loving look in his usually dark, haunting gaze. “I love you” he said, making you look up at him in astonishment that he’d finally come around to saying it. You smiled at him, that same sweet smile he saw the first time he ever sent a flirty word your way, the same smile he’d come to absolutely adore seeing stretch to your cute face every time you saw him. “I love you too, Coop” you replied back, easing the tightness in his chest as he awaited your response. He gave you a relieved smile as he kissed your head, slinging his arm around you to pull you into his side and hold you close.

The moment was sweet, quiet save for the sounds of your joined breathing and heartbeats but peacefully so. You both stayed like that for a good while, the bag of RadAway already run down to nearly empty. That peace was disturbed when you realized you still had some chores on your list left to do for the day. “Shit, I still got laundry and shit to do” you said, sighing as you realized it and tipped your head back with a groan, removing your IV and bandaging up your arm, getting ready to get up and go back to it. “Hold it there, little lady” Cooper said, getting up and putting his briefs and pants back on. “I gotchya. You rest that pretty head a yours while I take care of it, ‘kay? Let that stuff work its way in ya” He said, making you look up at him. “You ain’t gotta do that Coop…” you replied, making him shake his head at you. “Shh, shh, shh. Don’t you move a muscle there, pretty lady. I got it” he urged, kissing your head once more before placing his hat back on his head, grabbing his shirt from the floor and throwing his duster over his shoulder. “‘s a good look on you” you said with a half lidded smile, your eyes raking his form as he turned and looked at you, shooting a grin your way. “And that is a good look on you” he replied, tipping his head to gesture at you who still laid in bed naked, hair slightly messy, a few bite marks and hickeys littering your otherwise mostly unblemished skin. You gave a grin and a giggle as he stood there, a calculated look in his eyes as he looked you over, resting himself by his arm along the doorframe. “I think I can live without a couple extra shirts” he said, tossing his shirt across the room without a care for where it landed, dropping his duster along the chair in the room. “What are you…Cooper!” You yelped playfully as he climbed back onto the bed, a hungry look in his eyes as he climbed over top of you. “Chores can wait a day, I need you sugar” he said, leaning down and slotting his lips against yours, pulling you into a soft, sweet kiss. “I need this” he added genuinely, his tone soft and loving as he pressed his forehead to yours while he held one of your hands in his. “Been enough days out in that shit hole wasteland that got me scared I was gonna lose you, and that’s somethin’ I just can’t have. So I wanna enjoy this, this little slice of paradise we got right now, with you” he said between soft, loving kisses, making you smile as you gave in and kissed him back. Laundry could wait for another day, he was right, times like these were hard to come by. Needless to say, no other chores got done that day, but it was certainly a night neither of you would ever forget.

[eevees-hobbies]

Hello! 1. your writing is AMAZING and 2. Sorry for this long request.

Can I request experienced!Reader x virgin!Sakura smut (or you can make it that he doesn't have that much experience as the reader). Sakura and the reader have always done things like heavy makeout sessions and him receiving bjs. He starts to feel bad because he hasn't eaten her out yet and he doesn't want to disappoint her, she always tells him to take things at his pace and that she will always be there for him when he's ready to take things further. So he asks the guys for advice on how to eat her out and then during movie date night at her place he's acting more flustered/nervous than usual and she notices. He then confesses that he wants her to feel pleasure to and that the reason why he hasn't done it yet is because he doesn't want to disappoint her but he wants to try and eat her out. You can have them go all the way after or just leave it at that. I'll be happy either way😊😊. Thank you in advance!!!

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for your kind words! This was fun to write and I hope you enjoy this. I’ll always enjoy writing for Haru, so this request was very much appreciated.

Synopsis: Sakura loves the fuck out of you, so maybe that’s why he’s asking his friend, Hayato Suo, to help him get better at initiating oral sex. Totally normal things happen to an orange, but it’s all worth it in the end, right?

Content Warning:  experienced!FemReader x inexperienced!Sakura. defiling of fruit, sexual education in a public place, pray (and perform a wellness check) for Suo’s girlfriend, dirty talk, insecure Sakura, harmless teasing, use of pet name baby girl, cocky Sakura makes an appearance at the end (because I can’t help myself), I curse a lot in my writing, cunnilingus, fingering, brief p in v. I’m on my usual bullshit, but at least the writers block is gone! Minors Do Not Interact.

Word Count: 3.1K

Story banner by me. Dividers by Firefly Graphics. As always, likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated!

“The first time we held hands, I thought my head would explode.”

“I see. Go on…”

“The first time we made out, I….” Sakura looks away, a crimson blush making its way past the collar of his white tee and up his neck. “I could hear my heart beating in my ears or somethin’ cliche like that.”

Suo couldn’t help but feel the corner of his mouth twitch upward at his inexperienced friend’s confession. Still, he knew better than to poke at Sakura. He was attempting to be supportive, and supportive friends don’t tease their friends during bouts of insecurity—much. When Suo had received a text message from Sakura the night before indicating that he had an urgent request, he knew he had to temper his usual faux-cheerful demeanor and provide his friend with whatever he needed.

But he wasn’t expecting this conversation.

Sakura shifts uncomfortably in the booth across from Hayato, his eyes now darting down to his knuckles, which always seem permanently purple and red with bruises and fresh knicks. “And the first time she….you know…”

Suo’s eyebrow quirks up, expecting Sakura to elaborate further, but he doesn’t. To prompt Sakura to continue, Suo clears his throat and carefully navigates the next sentence, “I don’t really know what you mean, Sakura. Care to be a bit more specific?”

Sakura lets out a frustrated scoff, but he knows that if he wants Suo to help him, he’s going to need to give him details—details that he had fully intended to always go to the grave with.

“The first time she gave me head…”

The cup of tea that Suo was bringing up to his lips shakes ever so slightly, but he offers a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes and provides a supportive nod. 

“Oh?”

Sakura sighs, figuring it’s too late to hold back now; he dives into the issue, ready to be judged at best, and laughed out of the restaurant at worst. “The first time she gave me head, I swear to fuckin’ god, if there is a god, I fell in love. But she’s always….doing stuff to me, and I haven’t done much for her.”

Suo nods, places his cup of tea down, and looks thoughtfully at his friend. “Sounds like you’d like to return her…kind gestures.”

Sakura runs a hand through his hair and nods, “Yeah, that’s it. I want to do stuff to her instead of her doing stuff to me, but I don’t know how to-”

“Initiate?”

“Sure.”

The silence that settles between the two is deafening. Sakura shifts uncomfortably in his seat, and Suo can’t help but look at his friend with sympathetic eyes. Usually, he’s the first one to tease Sakura, especially involving his relationship with you, but this feels different. Suo’s eyes wandered to an orange currently serving as a garnish on the small plate of untouched Omi Rice Sakura had ordered. “May I?’

Sakura shrugs, unsure what he plans to do with a piece of fruit. Doesn’t he see that he’s in crisis and Vitamin C can wait?

Suo grabs a knife and cuts the citrus down the middle, exposing the soft center. Discarding one half, he holds up the other to curious, dual-colored eyes. “Do we need to go over the basics of female anatomy? Like the labia and clitoris?”

Sakura sputters as he hears his friend say words he’s only heard you—his girlfriend—say. His eyes dart to the nearest escape route, but Suo's firm kick under the table brings his attention back to the scene in front of him. Sakura looks away in frustration and gives a curt nod, indicating that, at the very least, he could point to certain parts of your body and identify them.

He wasn’t THAT far gone. 

Suo nods, “Well, I’d say the battle is half-won, then. Let’s talk about what women like, shall we?”

Suo brings a finger up to the center of the orange where the small opening glistens with droplets of juice that are now dripping languidly down his fingers. The scene before Sakura is practically obscene, and the irony of Suo using fruit for his sexual education lesson that looks similar to your intimate area does not fly over his head, even though he wishes it did. 

As Suo points to the plump center, his finger gently strokes the small hole. “Some people immediately think it’s a good idea to force their fingers in with little thought to foreplay, but that’s crude, hostile, and not the trait of a good partner. In fact, bullying your fingers in could very well hurt her, so I personally like to take a few hours to get my girlfriend aroused.”

Hours?! Sakura doesn’t think he can come near being the type of libido-beast that Suo is. He briefly gives a silent prayer for his friend's partner but leans in nonetheless to listen intently.

“Now, the tip of your tongue can be rather overstimulating at first, so remember that the clitoris deserves to be kissed, too. Your lips are your ally.”

Sakura swallows thickly as he tunes in and watches his friend defile an orange in Cafe Pothos. As his cheeks burn, his fingers twitch, and his cock hardens as Suo goes into great detail about how much pressure the clitoris can take. Sakura can’t help but think that he must be absolutely, horrendously down bad for you to deal with this shit.

“I can’t BELIEVE she was Lady Whistledown this entire time!” 

You reach for the remote to select the next episode of Bridgerton, but a lack of response from Sakura, who is sitting on the couch next to you, causes you to look over. You can sense that what you just said didn’t register because he seems lost in thought, his thumb placed between his upper and lower canines as he chews on the skin aggressively.

“Kitten?” You turn your entire body to face him, worry already etching across your face. 

His eyes look up at you, and the faraway look quickly dissipates as he gives you a grunt.

“You’ve been distracted all night. Should we head to bed, or can we talk about it?” You offer him a gentle smile, hoping the bond you share will be stronger than any secret he may be keeping from you. You watch as he visibly swallows, his adam’s able bobbing as he turns to you, and he lowers his now mangled thumb to rest in his lap. The way he avoids eye contact, the way the air now feels somewhat stale with unspoken words, has your breathing slowing and you preparing to hear the worst. 

“Let me…eat you out.”

You blink once, twice, and then several more times as you stare at each other. You place a gentle hand on his knee, and your confused eyes meet his vulnerable ones. “Sakura, what the absolute fuck?”

He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. You can see a pout practically form on his lips as he fights the urge to end the conversation. But Sakura is a man on a mission, and he continues. You have to lean in to hear what he mumbles but as his mouth moves, you realize you heard him clearly the first time. “You give me head almost every day. I’m tired of not reciprocating.”

Everyday, Sakura? Let’s be real. Sure, you like giving your boyfriend head but your jaw isn’t permanently attached to his cock. You give him a blank stare before responding and trying to keep your voice light and without a hint of sarcasm–and god, you REALLY want to be sarcastic right now but you’re a good girlfriend.

“Sakura, our relationship isnt about keeping score, especially in regards to our intimacy. I don’t count how many blowjobs I give you,” you pause as you realize you just spoke a lie. “Well, maybe I do count, but only because I have an ego, and I’m trying to beat a number I set in my head.”

Sakura’s eyes squint and he holds back the urge to ask further questions about your perverted personal goals. “That’s so weird. Anyway, it isn’t about any of that. I want to do it. I think about doing it a lot.”

You tilt your head to the side, your ear facing him a bit more because did your boyfriend, the one who was emotionally stunted when you met him, admit to fantasizing about you? “You think about eating me out? Say more, please.”

“Fuuuuuck, why are you so-. Fine! I think about it when you’re on the couch with your legs spread–I mean, sure, it isn’t lady-like–but it’s hot and I think about just getting on my knees and…”

“I might pop you for the lady-like comment but I’ll refrain because you made me tingle.”

“Shut up and…spread your legs.”

You purse your lips, stifling a giddy giggle at your boyfriend using his stern voice. You shimmy out of your sleep shorts and throw them haphazardly to a corner to be forgotten about until who-knows-when. 

Putting on a brave front, and as though he’s done this many times before, Sakura rises from the couch and perches himself between your legs with his knees firmly placed on the plush rug on the floor.

You bite your lip—his gaze is unyielding and smoldering. You aren’t surprised at how hot your face is getting under his stare; it’s almost enough to make you clamp your legs shut and call the whole thing off, but you couldn’t if you wanted to as his hands, which are placed firmly against your inner thighs, grip you like you’re being held open in stirrups. 

“It's nothing like an orange…”

“A what!?”

Before you can say anything and before you can back out, Sakura is leaning forward, his breath is hot and fanning against your labia. For some reason, you need to look anywhere but at the top of his head as his tongue slips past your folds and swirls small circles around your clit. His hesitancy is palpable, making you a bit insecure until he pulls back, an earnest but determined look in his eyes, “Am I doing ok? Does this feel…right? I’m trying to imagine an orange, but it’s completely different.”

Weird recurring comments about oranges aside, you realize he’s not hesitant because of you. He’s hesitant because he’s worried that he isn’t doing a good job. He’s hesitant because, above all else, Haruka will always desire to impress and please you, and anything less is unacceptable to him. His inexperience has always been a non-issue for you, but to him, it’s a crutch and another way he feels like he doesn’t deserve you. 

Your gaze softens and you give him an encouraging smile. “You’re doing amazing, Kitten.”

The corner of his mouth twitches upward and with a dignified nod, he dives back between your thighs. Your praise fuels his desire to please you—and that fire burns bright, and the cautious licks before are replaced with suckles and tongue swipes that are far more confident. 

Your head falls back to rest against the cushiony headrest of the couch. Your hand finds the back of his head and pushes him in further, encouraging him to get lost in you and risk drowning. Sakura doesn’t mind the threat of suffocation as he considers it a worthy way to go. Still, he thinks you’re getting a little too cocky, and humbling you is his favorite pastime, so the gesture earns a playful nip to your thigh from Haruka, which in turn makes you giggle.

“Can’t you be serious for once? I’m trying to eat you out down here.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, Kitten.” Despite your snarky come-back, you give him an encouraging moan that’s brought upon by open-mouthed kisses against your clit. Sakura willingly entwines his long fingers with yours, his thumb tenderly stroking the inside of your palm.

His other hands grips the plush of one of your thighs and pushes them forward, pressing them against your stomach and allowing himself the unbridled access he craves to get as deep as his tongue will reach. His licks become far more aggressive as he takes the time to map out your cunt through eager exploration. He commits every one of your sinful moans and gasps to his memory and revels in the way in which you get increasingly louder for him. 

Each one of your cries makes his cock twitch, and he finds himself having to adjust himself in his jeans. The scent of you, the sound of you, is simply intoxicating. You, to Haruka Sakura, are everything and then some. Your pleasure is his pleasure and he’s going to take that fact out on your cunt which is growing increasingly more sloppy just for him. 

Something that felt intimidating only hours ago now feels natural to Sakura as he drags his tongue across your clit, smirking as he feels it swell and twitch under the assault of his muscle. 

“You’re dripping for me. We might need a new couch after I’m done with you.” 

You can’t help but roll your eyes because fuck, why is he so-oh! Yeah, that’s the spot. You nod in agreement as you spread your legs wider to give him better access. “Y-yeah, a trip to IKEA is definitely in the future, I think.” Without little to no warning, he pushes two fingers into you so deeply that his knuckles kiss your entrance. Haruka’s fingers curl, and the sound of him twisting them inside you makes a lewd, wet sound, the kind that would make anyone blush. 

The pads of his fingers rub against the bundle of nerves deep within your aching sex. Sakura lets out a satisfied grunt as he strokes the spongy bundle of ridges. He doesn’t need an orange to see that this is what you like, all he needs to do is look down at the way your toes curl or watch as your eyes roll back and you bite into the plush of your bottom lip.

“Holy fuckin’…just relax for me. Don’t act like we haven’t been here before, at least.”

You let out a pathetic whimper, the sensation of being filled up almost threatening to push you over the edge, and he fucking knows it. He’s doing this on purpose, stroking you like this, making you more sensitive than you already are as you drip into the palm of his hand.

You look down to give him a glare, but you can’t help the squeak that leaves your lips—his intense gaze is set on you and threatening to light you ablaze. He stands up so that he’s kneeling over you, his face mere inches from yours, as he continues to push and pull his fingers in and out of your fluttering sex. 

“Look at you….a fuckin’ mess. Look me in my eyes while you use my fingers to get off.” His eyes are scanning your face in predatory reverence, they flicker down to your lips as you let out a low guttural moan. “That’s it, baby girl. Cum for me.”

Your heart palpitates dangerously as he uses a pet name that feels so intimate you want to melt into the couch. Your bottom lip quivers as you begin to buck your hips to meet the motion of his fingers, but it’s hard to keep up when he’s finger fucking you like he owns every inch of your cunt.

“Tch, what are you trying to prove by holding out?” His lips ghost against the sensitive skin of your earlobe, his tongue darting out to lick and suckle at the sensitive flesh. 

“You’re practically milking my fingers right now. You like every single inch that I give you, don’t you? You get so hungry for just a touch.” His voice is husky, his words only making you ache and arch more as the cocky, ex-Bofurin leader goads you on.

His mouth finds its way to the curve of your neck as he presses his lips against your quickened pulse. The proximity and gesture feels tender until you feel his teeth sinking into your skin, sending a delicious, searing pain shooting through your very being. “Cum like a good girl so I can bend you over this fuckin’ couch.” His voice is hoarse and coursing with his desire for you, and he’s not asking you to let go for him, he’s demanding it.

Your face, despite being contorted into pleasure, heats up because who the fuck talks like that? 

Haruka Sakura does. 

You groan, pressing the palm of your hand against the nape of his neck and pull him forward so you can give him the physical and verbal praise he seeks–your moans fill his mouth and your hips grind against his hand to roll out your orgasm in desperation. He eagerly presses his palm against your clit, adding more pressure to the sensitive bud that takes your breath away as he continues his curling, pushing, and pulling of his fingers.

You let out a final moan into his mouth and the smirk that forms on his lips as they press against yours does not go unnoticed. You haven’t realized it, or maybe you have, but at that moment, you created a monster. He now knows you better than he ever did and will use it against you every chance he can. He may be unable to commit to hours of foreplay, but he can guarantee that every second in which he’ll have you spread open for him will have you looking at him exactly as you’re looking at him right now. He’s committed to your pleasure moving forward and makes absolutely no apologies for it. 

“Theeeeere she goes. Now was that so hard?” Your half-lidded gaze meets his arrogant and pleased one as he pulls away, his hands already moving to unbutton his jeans. “Guess I’ll start to keep a number in my head to beat now, too.” 

You don’t have time to react before he’s turning you around and positioning so that you're offering yourself up to him and he’s adjusting himself between your spread legs.

And Sakura is truly pleased with himself as he places a hand on your lower back to steady you as he slides into your welcoming warmth. His eyes roll back because you fit him sooooo fucking well. Like a goddamn glove, and fuck, you feel even better with his saliva dripping out of you. 

Who the fuck needs store-bought lubricant when you could just produce your own with spit? Moving forward, Sakura fully intends to put Astroglide out of business. 

As the loud squelches and airy sounds of his cock spreading you in half fills the air, Sakura reflects on how he got here. 

He can’t help but give a mental thanks to the orange that made this all possible–and he guesses, also Suo, but mostly the orange.

[tarotofzhivamoon]

Masterlist • P@tr30n • Personal readings

Pause and take a big breath in, then choose the pile you feel the most drawn to🦋

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Pile 1

It took us a while to fall in love, to let each other open up to this possibility that maybe we are meant to be together because old habits kept coming back, they kept influencing our ability to open our hearts and they hindered this beautiful fresh start of a new beginning for us, as we came into this with suspicious and cautious eyes. I must say I lacked experience in relationships, it took me a while to understand how I am supposed to show up for you, how to actually be able to make you part of my routine, but it’s all so clear now that I can push past the limitations of my past. My heart is open to you, it is open to love and inside of me there’s a constellation of feelings that I feel for you because you just bring out the best in me, a part of me that I never really knew existed. I have tried to hide behind the shadows of my defense mechanisms, of every behavior, thought and action that I took with the idea that I needed to take care of myself and preserve who I was in case someone else wanted to conquer me, take everything and leave me with nothing but with you all of my defenses dropped. I can’t think clearly when you’re around, I can’t even describe the things I am feeling when your soft skin touches mine but I know that I am surrendering to you; you can have all of me, you can take over everything I am because I completely trust in you that you do not want to change me, I trust that you love me just for who I am and that whatever you’ll take, whatever I will give you, you will also give back to me so that both of us can grow beautiful gardens within us that are watered by our gentle, pure love. I want everything with you, I want to see the end of my days next to you, I want to start my mornings and end my nights with you here, with a kiss, a touch, a smile and other tokens that symbolize the absolute love we have for each other.

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Pile 2

I have walked alone for years and years, always leaving parts of me everywhere I went, something that people could remember me by or it maybe was because I had lost so much of myself in that relationship of place that I didn’t know what was mine to take. I have always been one to want this world to become a more loving place for everyone, I understood and observed others, saw their pain and I took it on me to the be the person that is always there for them because I thought they needed me, even though I was also hurting on the inside and no one actually really saw me. I didn’t want to fall in love ever again, I wanted to be on my own because I felt that I had a bubble of protection around me that no one would be able to break if I didn’t let them get too close to me, I just didn’t want to surrender to such a powerful, yet possibly extremely hurtful experience if it wasn’t meant to work out; I didn’t want to take that change at being heartbroken anymore because I felt like if it happened it would have turned me into this cold hearted monster that had no empathy, no understanding and no love to give, only madness at a world that seemed to be against me and never showed me the love that I needed and wanted in return. I have been in my own world, my own safe space, like a little scared rabbit I would hop in and out of relationships and places the moment I started to feel vulnerable and threatened, nobody was really able to catch me and to show me the love, show me the way back towards a part of me that I actually lost in the process of trying to protect my heart. You were able to make me want to stay next to you because you have been so gentle with my heart, you have actually a better understanding than me about the things that I was going through because you’ve been through similar experiences but you still turned out differently, those experiences actually transformed you into being even kinder, even more loving and your energy has showed me the way back to myself.

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Pile 3

I threw logic out of the window with you, I didn’t need it and I don’t think I will ever need it because I knew that I needed to let my heart guide me to you and guide me with my relationship with you. I manifested you, I spent entire days thinking about you and wanting you to find your way into my life so that I could experience this type of psychedelic love with you, one that lifts me up to the sky on soft clouds and makes me feel lighter than ever, like I have no other worry in the world. Your love is spiritual, I do think and feel as though you have a spiritual purpose in my life, this romance isn’t simply practical, it isn’t a simple “this is what I need to do, this person is good for me”, it’s more than that, it’s deeper and besides that feeling that you are the one for me, there is something that doesn’t really make sense. And it’s beautiful that it doesn’t make sense, because we are nothing alike, we see the world differently, but we want the same thing which is love and growth. My prayer has been answered when you came into my life, romance found its way into my life in the most elevating way and I knew right from the start that I was going to marry you because it was the only path our connection had as an option. I’m here to work hard for you, I’m here to work hard for our relationship because I know that the effort I put in matters and I know that it makes a difference towards actually achieving the beautiful things that we both want out of this connection. I know that both of us are going to be successful because everything we need is right in our hands. I know that sometimes these feelings can get overwhelming and sometimes too much, even if it is love, can do great harm if it transforms into smothering and being too present, I am guilty of that, I’m guilty of wanting to spend all of my time with you, guilty of doing everything with you but I also know that we should maintain this sense of independence for us to be able to do things outside of the relationship too because it’s healthy.

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Dividers by Kawaii-Lau on Tumblr

[angelbaby191]

The Little Things

Katsuki Bakugou x Reader Oneshot

The sun was setting over U.A. High School, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. You found yourself on the rooftop, enjoying the cool breeze and the peaceful ambiance after a long day of training. Your mind drifted to thoughts of your day. Thinking of ways to improve. Always the over achiever.

“Oi, what-cha you doin' up here?” Katsuki's voice interrupted your reverie.

You turned to see Bakugo approaching, his usual scowl softened just a bit.

“Just taking a break. Needed some fresh air.” You smiled softly, turning back to gaze at the sunset.

He huffed, crossing his arms. “You should be trainin', not slackin' off.”

You smiled, playful.

“And what, may I ask, are you doing here? Hm? Miss me?”

“You wish.” he muttered, though a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“I just wanted to get away from everyone for a minute.”

You could relate to that. Sometimes, the chaos of the training grounds was overwhelming.

“Fair enough. Want to join me?”

With a grunt, he sat down beside you, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. For a moment, you both sat in silence, watching the sky change colors.

“You’re really good at what you do,” Bakugo said suddenly, breaking the quiet. “I mean it. Yer improvin' a lot. Stop workin' So hards yeah?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. You and him both knew you'd keep working harder.

“Thanks, Kats. Coming from you, that means a lot.”

He shrugged, looking away, but you could see the faint smile gracing his usually gruff face.

“Just statin' facts.”

You nudged him gently. “You’re always so hard on yourself, you know? You should take a moment to appreciate the progress you’ve made too.”

“Yeah, well, I ain't one to sit around and pat myself on the back.” he replied, but the tone was less defensive this time.

“Maybe you should start. You deserve it.” You said, shrugging. Your eyes meeting his.

He paused. “Maybe.”

“Katsuki. I'm proud of the improvement you made. You ain't much of an ass anymore.” You playfully nudged his shoulder.

He turned his gaze back to the horizon, the corners of his mouth twitching up. “You ain’t so bad yourself, ya know.”

You laughed, unable to help it. “Wow, are we exchanging compliments now?”

“Don’t get used to it.” he shot back, but there was a playful edge to his voice.

As the last rays of sunlight dipped below the horizon, Bakugo pulled a small container from his pocket. “Here. Brought snacks.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “You brought snacks?”

“Yeah, what about it?” he replied, slightly defensive. “I can be thoughtful.”

You chuckled, taking the container and opening it to reveal homemade rice balls. “These look great! Did ya make these?”

“Don’t act so shocked,” he grumbled, a bit of pride creeping into his tone. “I can cook. t’s not a big deal.”

You took a bite, savoring the flavor. “This is delicious! You really should show off your cooking skills more often.”

“Yeah, well, don’t go tellin' everyone,” he said, smirking playfully. “I don't need everyone askin' me ta make them shit.”

As you both shared the snacks, the atmosphere felt warm and light. The banter flowed easily between you, and you found yourself laughing more than you had in a while.

A comfortable silence enveloped you both, the kind that spoke volumes. You knew that beneath his rough exterior, Bakugo had a heart that cared deeply, and you felt grateful to be someone he let in.

As the stars started coming out, twinkled overhead. You leaned a little closer to him, feeling content in the moment. Bakugo shifted slightly, his shoulder brushing against yours.

[penvisions]

gone to the dogs {chapter 4}

Pairing: Boston QZ! Joel Miller x Reader ; brief mentions of Boston QZ! Joel Miller x Tess Servopoulos

Summary: Unexpected glimpses of your past allow for your softer side to be exposed. But it won't be the thing that alters the dynamic between your trio. No, you have something else planned for that.

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, canon typical gore, outbreak fic, age gap (only by about ten years), angst, dark fic, dark joel miller, mean joel miller, joel miller is uptight, degrading language, sexual language, sexual proposition, violence, heated interactions, descriptions of a minor assault, adult language, fighting, argumentative language, mutual disdain, sexual content, implication of sex work, unprotected piv, sexual acts, reader is snarky, reader gets violent, major injuries, dismemberment, reader meets joel toe-to-toe with insults and it's amazing, both reader and joel pov, lemme know if there are any i missed!

A/N: ARE Y'ALL READY, but seriously, i hope y'all enjoy this chapter *minor spoiler but reader's singing voice is very much akin to ruby leigh from the voice contestant show

ao3 link || series masterlist || joel miller masterlist || ko-fi

It’s early morning, when Tess seeks you out. The sun barely coming up and showing its form over the horizon, the sky swathed in deep oranges and golden tones that remind you of seasonal fruit.

Frank is sitting with you already, coffee brewed fresh and sweetened with frozen ice cubes of coffee creamer and sugar. A surprise you hadn’t anticipated but greatly appreciated as the man beside you refilled your cup time after time to ensure it was never truly empty. Conversation had been light, on the back porch where you had curled up in the wicker loveseat to try and get the weight off of your body for a few hours.

As soon as she shuffled through the door, Frank removed his hand from where it was tangled with your own and said he would get started on breakfast. Wanting to ensure you, all three of you, had a full stomach for the journey back to the zone. His way of taking care of you where you’ll let him, even now in the end of the world.

“Look, I know it may seem like I was playing some game yesterday…” The older woman breaks the silence, knowing your mind must be turning and overturning the events of the last few days.

“Just wanted to know I was meant to be playing along.” She’s not cautious, but there’s a tiredness and stilted manner to her sitting down in one of the matching wicker chairs. The cushion and pillow in the seat do little to comfort the unease you can see in her body. It’s as if she hasn’t slept, or that her sleep was restless just like your own despite the safe environment and almost now foreign amenities.

“I was being genuine with them, Frank…he’s reminded me of who I used to be. As I’m sure he has with you, especially sharing a past I’m not going to ask after. It’s your business and that’s your prerogative.”

“Sent your guard dog after me to listen into my conversation with him, not sure I really believe the sentiment.”

“Cane, you know as well as I do that he does what he wants.”

“Doesn’t take away from the fact that he reports back to you. Acts as if you two are the ones who run things. Conversations I’m not a part of.”

“We all run things, the three of us.” You’re glad for her roundabout honesty, though you know that it’s natural for rifts to divide people, for them to seek out those they are more comfortable with. That talking with someone you feel bonded with, a partner, a friends, is a part of life. That they both must have conversations going over things just as you do with her, though not as frequently.

“Yeah, looks like it from the outside, doesn’t it?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that you two have gotten very comfortable with the way things are in the zone-“

“No more comfortable than you made yourself in my bed the other night.” Her eyes meet your own in a silent challenge, will you lie and cover up the fact you shared Joel’s bed, or will you be honest with the woman who does so on a regular basis. You don’t know Joel as well as she does, but he doesn’t strike you as the type to seek out attention or affection from other’s behind someone’s back. A cheater, he is not, though he has done many questionable things to survive. She doesn’t seem upset, at least outwardly, though you know it must strike a cord near her heart. The way you catch her gazing at him sometimes tells you more of her feelings than she ever has. And for that, you cannot fathom lying.

“That was a lapse of judgement. It had been a shitty day trying to move what little product I had. He didn’t fuck me if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

“I don’t care if he did, that’s his prerogative. I don’t own him, I don’t control him-“

“Wouldn’t matter if you did, he needs to feel like he’s got someone to look out for and you’re it. He would do anything for you, does do anything that you ask of him now. It’s me he has a problem with and I’m not entirely sure why he laid with me the way he did.” You try to soothe her as best you can, as best as you’re able to in the situation. She must know what she means to him, or at least what he’s able to with the damage and destruction he’s surely endured.

“He doesn’t have a problem with you-“

“Save it, I know he does. I know you do too, blatantly throwing us under the bus to make us seem like untrained dogs who only snap and bite at those that near us.”

“That was more for him, than for you.”

“And yet you still said it the way you did. It wasn’t appreciated.”

“I didn’t intend for it to hurt your feelings, I apologize if it did. I really am…appreciative of the way you’ve allowed us both to fold into your zone.” It’s obvious, the appeal she’s trying to make to you now. The same woman who had been at the table yesterday. A glimpse of who she used to be, but it bothers you how you can’t tell if she’s genuine or not, if it’s the same play you had been orchestrating with her the past couple of months.

“You came into my home to try and get intel on me before usurping me. Of course you’re grateful I folded you into the scene. You wouldn’t have had anything otherwise.”

“Not nothing, no. But I do realize it would’ve been less if you were getting a portion of the cut of everything we got on both sides.”

You only hummed in response. Aware that this conversation was taking turns you’d rather not delve into at the moment.

“We’ve all gotten comfortable, me included, you’ve given me the room to do so. But I talked to Frankie, he’s willing to convince Bill to agree to it. You’ll lead this one, you did find it after all and there’s no reason for my knowing him to effect that.” You don’t have to fear for someone lunging at you in the dark, for someone using a trade as a rouse to lure you alone to take advantage. Her intelligence and Joel’s strength have allowed you breathing room in the months of constant worry after your brother’s death.

“Joel will need to really be on his best behavior. He’s got his teeth bared because Bill does.”

“Then reign him in.” You meet her eyes, the worry you house at the rise of conflict that is all too real aimed her way but ever present in the way you didn’t have to say anything else. She nods once as you lifted your mug up and took a sip of the wonderful coffee Frank had been kind enough to keep full. “Mind him and lead by example. I will as well.”

“He doesn’t think poorly of you, if he did, he wouldn’t be insistent on joining you beyond the walls.” It’s hard to know how to respond, it’s almost default to fling insults with the older man, to taunt him and see if he rises to the bait, something he does in return. But despite it all, you would defend him should he truly need it and you only hoped he would do the same. You doubt he would die for you, but that was such a rare devotion these days.

“I suppose not, but…should anything happen he will still work with you. He…Joel is someone who needs someone by his side whether he wants to admit it or not. Like you said. And you would be good for him, protect him as he protects you. It’s…good you were willing to work with us.” It’s implied, the connection you both have with the man even if it feels different, looks different. The way she wishes for you to recall that should something happen to her. Infection, sickness, a trade gone wrong, a trigger-happy soldier, anything. She wants to ensure he won’t be alone.

“I swear to you, should something happen, I won’t throw him to the crowd waiting to tear him apart.”

“Thank you.”

“Tess, just- I have a feeling the scene is going to get worse before it stabilizes again. The cartons of cigarettes Frank is going to give us will help but, other things are bound to dry up.”

She’s quiet for a beat, taking in the way you reach for your mug. She’s watching you as much as you’re watching her. It’s not a stalemate, it never is between you two. She knows your penchant for comments on how things are going, the ways your mind works and overworks. Concerned about details and the intricacies of things whereas she’s focused on the entire scene or play. It’s a match, which allows for all things to be considered, working well with each other in the past year. She has to be aware of that, at least, even as tensions rise and perspectives are beginning to warp and shift.

“Cane, this- opportunity to do trade with an outside source, it could help prevent scavenges into the decaying city. You know as well as I do that things are getting harder and harder to find as time goes on. Hell, it’s already beginning to thin.”

“It is…” You agree solemnly.

It’s when you’re in the shower again, before you change into the clothes you had showed up in, that Joel seeks you out. Now washed and dried, folded atop the counter waiting for you. The door opens and closes without the call of a voice but you can hear the distinct steps of Joel as he stand in the middle of the bathroom. Hear the way he’s breathing a little harder than normal. You’re about to ask him what’s wrong when you hear the hush of fabric and see the outline of him through the plastic shower curtain move to pick up the dress you had been wearing.

“Dress was nice.” His voice is low, a quiet rumble that washes over your skin much like the shower, though goosebumps sprout up despite the heat of the water.

“I’m not in the mood for games, Miller.” Sighing, you reach for the shampoo, the scent of sandalwood and amber wafting in the steam that fills the room.

“I’m bein’ serious. Looked good on you. Different.” The effect his words on you, his attempt at an actual conversation is one of heat blooming in your middle. He’s so goddamn handsome and it’s a shame he’s such an asshole, molded by the circumstances of the fallen world. He seems to take your words in stride, his mood nothing but calm as the shower continues to rain down on you.

“Everything seems to be different these days.”

“Can be a good thing, sometimes.”

“Can be.” You watch through the clear curtain, dappled with beaded water. He’s shrugging out of his dark green button up. The fabric hushing as it reveals his skin to you for the second time. His chest is dusted with dark hairs, the silver threading through it catching the sunlight filtering into the bathroom.

“Don’t mind, do you?” The clink of his belt and the unzipping of his pants.

“Not particularly, no.” He’s already stepping into the stall, his broad body taking up what little room was left and crowded the space. But it doesn’t feel like he’s cornering you, it feels almost…intimate in the way that his eyes are taking in the form of your body slick from the water and foamed up bubbles trailing down where they drip from your hair. “Just didn’t think you’d be the one to seek me out next.”

Tangling his fingers into your hair, he dips your head back to wash the shampoo from the long tresses.

“There was no need for me to be so…biting last night. I don’t know how to do the whole- talking thing these days. And you have to admit, we don’t do much of that with each other already.”

“They’ll work with us, Frankie is a good man.” You reach for the shampoo again, reaching up with the thick liquid cupped in your hand to lather it into his bowed head. His hair is as soft as you always thought it was, thick curls dark with the weight of the water saturating it.

“Sharing a past with him helps, otherwise it would be a tense and slow start.” His hands are anchored on your hips, fingers digging into your skin as you don’t dare to look down where you feel him soft against your thigh. The admittance of presence helping isn’t lost on you. He’s not one for praise and it’s intense with how close you are in the stall. You hear the apology for his previous words on the matter in his new ones. Though you are unsure if he believes them, you feel the need to but it is hard to tell as his skin touches yours and ignites your blood. “Tess may have set this whole thing up and he may have convinced Bill for the trades, but you are an asset.”

You hold your tongue, the question of ‘an asset or the orchestrator’ drowning from your mind as he noses along your collarbone, ducking his head further to allow you to wash the suds from his curls. As soon as he looks back up, you’re reaching to brush the water from his eyes, his brows, his scruff, watching the way it sticks to his silver threaded hairs and the memory of it against your skin makes pleasure and desire pool in your core.

His hands are turning your willing body around, and he’s firm where he bumps against the back of your thighs, the plush of your ass as you face the wall. And now you feel crowded, as he presses his front to your back, the way he hinges your hips to meet him, for the way he slips into you in one smooth motion for the first time.

But it’s not a bad feeling, it’s comforting being shielded from the rest of the world in this little stall, his body hiding you away and comforting you all at once. It’s a dangerous thought, even as it’s punched out with your heavy breath carrying a moan as he begins to thrust against you. Heat overtakes your senses, from the pleasure rippling through you to the flushed skin pressed to you to the still running stream of the shower. It consumes you even after you peak, after you feel Joel’s own sear into the backs of your thighs, panting breath matched by him as the moment winds down.

“You didn’t tell him your brother wasn’t alive. Just told him you found him.” He breathes into your shoulder, facial hair brushing over your skin to send tingles down your spine. It’s quiet, the way he seeks an answer instead of demands one.

“He doesn’t need to know.” Is your own whispered response, unable to rise to his words with a truth of your own, a vulnerability.

“Thought he was your friend.”

“He is, but he’s…he doesn’t need to know how things really are. He wouldn’t have let me leave.”

“You say that like he has control over you.” His hands are no longer gripping tight, caressing instead along your sides, feeling the dips and valleys of your body with no intention other than to touch. The urge to return the softness twitches your fingers where they are still planted along the wall for support.

“He doesn’t. But if he asked, I would listen. Because I respect him. Mutual respect.”

He parrots the sentiment back to you, as his large hands grip your waist once again to turn you around face to face. There’s something glinting in his eyes, behind the dark brown of them slowly. “An interesting thought.”

“It is.” You nudge your nose against his, breathing him in, the scent of you both mingling in the air.

And he’s suddenly slotting his mouth against yours, droplets raining down over you both as you surge up to wrap your arms around his shoulders, returning his kiss with earnest. It’s so different from what yo expected kissing him would be life, it’s not rough or biting, it’s almost heartachingly soft in how he pulls you close and touches his lips to yours again and again.

“He’s just so hard to read sometimes, you know? Like…I don’t mean to get too personal considering we just met but,” Tess’s voice carries from a room downstairs, the one you had been given the night before, the one you hadn’t been able to lay in and remain for the entirety of it. She had ducked into it with Frank after breakfast shared at the dining room table. While the eggs had been powdered, the meet hadn’t been and the taste lingers, mingled with that of Joel.

“You can talk to me about anything, the same sentiment for Cane applies to you. We all need friends these days, people we can turn to.” Frank’s comforting voice is genuine as you step closer to the open door without trying to alert them of your presence. Tess hardly opened up about herself, let along about the dynamic between her and Joel. All you ever got out of Tommy was that they were bonded in a way that he understood, shared losses, shared pasts. They would and have killed for each other.

“Well, I’m not quite sure what’s going on, relationships were hard enough before and now…”

“It’s hard for men like Bill and Joel to be honest with what they want, to let their guard down in different settings. You shouldn’t fault yourself if he was too on edge to be with you last night.”

“It’s not that exactly. It was more like he implied he was done with that entire part of…whatever we are.”

“Maybe he’s going through something he hasn’t told you about. He seems like a pretty private guy even if he does have someone like you to talk to and in his life.” Mind reeling, you recall the way Joel had spoken to you the other night. The implication of his words, of his wants, of who exactly he had his eyes on. And then this morning when he had all but rolled over to show you his willingness to give you credit and praise your work.

‘Don’t want Tess.’

‘Mutual relief.’

‘Then clear my head, be a good little lap dog for me.’

Your blood boils, bubbles thick in your veins despite the rather calm and sensual acts you had just shared with the man in question. The worry of him moving on from the woman at his side to yours, where there is more opportunity, more to be gained, more power to be had with the smuggling scene. It’s hard to read him, whether he is truly making a play, a switch. The idea that he is losing interest in Tess in favor or you too big a notion for there to not be anything else woven into the desire. Men tended to seek out those younger than them, though you didn’t think that was the only matter in this case. The thought sticks to the inside of your throat like fuzz, drying it up and making you clear your throat loudly as you approach the doorway head on. You’re determined to undermine it, should that be the reasoning behind his recent behavior.

“Frankie?” You finally step toward the doorway, brushing your hands down over the clean shirt to try and calm your nerves.

“Yes, darling?”

“Could I use your radio, there’s a call I need to make. To set up a smooth return to the zone for us.” You nod to Tess, who doesn’t meet your eyes. As Frank stands from where he was seated on the bed, he brushes a hand over your shoulder. He’s reaching for another box from the top of the closet, the shelf too high for you but easy enough for him. The box is labeled with your name, the real one and he takes a marker from his back pocket and crosses it out. Cane replaces it in that same, simple writing he’s adapted.

“Of course, I’m looking for something, but Bill can help you out.” Frank smiles at you, saying he’ll make sure to send an outfit back with all three of you, worried for the very real act of both Joel and Tess scrounging for their nicest pieces of clothing for the visit. First impressions still meant so much and sometimes it meant the difference between life and death these days. He was a good man, and you’re determined to ensure you can continue to find things he may need use of and build up your stocks should you need to trade for something far more valuable and harder to come by. He was a priority now.

One thing was for certain, you were done allowing Joel Miller to think he had more power than he did.

An asset.

It rings through your mind as you recall the way he approached you in the shower. In the touches burned into your skin, in the way his body moved against your own. He had been there, with you, after telling Tess no. That he didn’t want for the physical any longer with her and it’s dizzying. Trepidation simmers low in your abdomen, upsetting it as it twists the muscles and pulls them taut before they tremble. Akin to the pang of hunger but much, much stronger.

It was your zone, your connections, your reputation that allowed for the smuggling and scavenging to bloom opportunity and trade. You had worked up from literally nothing, having been forced into the zone under false pretenses. The network established by you and your brother after some time, scooped up by the jaws of another hungry dog searching for the next meal to feast on. Only this one wasn’t a simple meal that would fill your belly for a night, it was one that would bring meals day after day and you were done sharing it. Done feeling like an afterthought to the man who was Tess’s counterpart.

The radio is far more advanced than the one set up in the zone, the one that Abe was lucky enough to set up outdated and one of the more military focused models. The soldiers knew he had it, it was hard no to squash the thin string of hope it allowed for all the occupants to stoke as they tried to search for loved ones and family even so long after that first horrific day and all the others that followed.

Bill walked you through how to navigate the signal waves, how to tune it just right to get the ones wafting weakly from direction of the zone. He was still on guard, the gun holstered at his side and his gauging eyes still present. But you felt at ease with him, he was an extension of Frank. He was a good man, that much you were sure of, that much you knew. Frank would be well protected and provided for here, allowed a space to cling to the good parts of who he is. He wouldn’t have lasted in the zone, let alone the pretenses in which you had found yourself able to enter the zone.

“Echo 4236, do you copy?”

“Copy for Echo 4236. Rely your message.”

“This is Ammo 1342, I have an order for you.”

“Ready to receive order, proceed.”

“I need you to hit Building 42, Apartment 19 and 20.”

“Ammo 1342, isn’t apartment 20-“

“It is, proceed. Stash the contents in Building 56, Apartment 14.”

“Copy that Ammo 1342.”

“Echo 4236 signing off.”

Bill is watching you closely, one brow arched as he takes in the smirk on your lips.

“Working together means you guys contact Tess, heed her wills to trade.”

“So, you’re allowing them to think this is still the fruits of her labor.”

“For now. When the time comes, I’ll cut them out and let them be in charge of this trade and only this trade.”

"Just be careful." The sentiment behind his words is not lost on you.

“Before you go,” Frank is guiding you by the shoulders toward the front room the second you visible coming up from the steps of the sub-basement. Bill following behind at a slower pace, content to let Frank do as he wished, the barely contained excitement and sly smile on his lips telling the other man he was happy. The piano comes into view, set up already, dusted off and smelling of lemon oil cleaner.

“Frankie, no.” You don’t even give the man a chance to say anything, the book of sheet music open and waiting.

“Cane, please. It’s been so long since I’ve heard it done justice. Bill does his best, but…too low a tone for the song. This’ll be the last thing I ask of you to recall from our past and if you truly don’t want to, I’ll concede.” As he speaks, the others are walking into the room. Bill, followed by a curious Tess and tense Joel. The word ‘no’ in your voice summoning him where he had been on the back porch with Tess talking over the most likely items to get on the list Frank had written up.

You looked from the piano to him, trepidation obvious, as if the piano were a coiled snake waiting for you to step closer to strike you down. But he looked so soft, so much like the man you remember sitting and painting with for hours in a comfortable silence, the one who had always allowed you the room to create how you wanted.

“Just this once.”

The wooden seat is firm beneath you, and you roll your shoulders a few times, cracking your knuckles to loosen your body up. Taking a deep breath, you glance up from where your hands are hovering over the keys to the music written out. You don’t need it, of course, it was Frank’s favorite song. One you had sung to him at every opening hour of a show in the gallery. The first few pushes of the keys feel unfamiliar, but muscle memory takes over quickly and you’re licking at your bottom lip before parting them.

“Love will abide, take things in stride,” Your voice is smooth and soft, growing emotive and soulful, as it fills the silence of the room and intertwines with the notes of the piano. A hint of twang in your tone as the lyrics pull it from deep inside you, where you buried it long ago. You close your eyes, feeling the sting of tears as the last seven years flash in your mind.

“Sounds like good advice,” You belt out, pitching your voice around the words, allowing for them to surge and swell. “But there’s no one at my side. Cause I’ve done everything I know to try and make you mine. And I think I’m gonna love you for a long, long time.”

You don’t dare to turn around and glimpse the expressions on everyone’s faces, the song filling you up with something you had long forgotten. Your voice carries through the second verse, the third, and then the last cords of the song are echoing in the air as you lift your fingers from the keys. The final note wavering off and silence reclaims the room.

It’s the last thing before you all make your way outside, the sun bright and the breeze cool. Bill is walking alongside Joel, Tess up ahead with Frank. You linger, eyeing the canvas and paint accumulated in boxes around the porch. An agreement made between to the two men who reside here. One giving into the other’s indulgences in only the way a loved one does for their affections.

Rationale and reason for keeping such things for better uses, a means of survival should it come to that lost in the wake of making someone happy.

“Cane, I’m- I’m just so glad that you’re okay.” Frank is suddenly pulling you into an embrace, his hands cradling the back of your head as you instantly return it. His chest is warm where you bury your face into his shirt, just feeling him for a moment, basking in the touch of another you once spent so much time with. “Please, don’t be a stranger. I may not be able to come to you, but you come to me or radio should you need anything.”

“I’m happy you’ve found your person, found a little slice of what life used to be here. The zones, they aren’t, they aren’t a way to live.” As you pull back from him, you see the question in the depths of his eyes, obviously in the way he smiles sadly at you. He wants to ask you to stay and you almost want him to.

Your trio departs with a plan to contact in a week’s time, to set up the first trade of many.

It was obvious that your order had been followed through the second your trio had entered turned from the stairwell to the hallway. The doors leading into both yours and their apartment hang on their hinges, the wood splintered slightly as they wight down the remaining nails keeping them upright.

The second story just high enough to not give any clues away from the view of the windows on the streets. You had made sure to not include your signature of a paw print, not wanting to stir up trouble before felt the need to. The same one you had Tess and Joel stamp onto their portions of goods, always beneath the foil for cigarettes or the plastic bags of pills. Especially on the butts of guns save for the ones you all carried yourselves.

“Fuck, looks like we got hit!” Tess is caught off guard, rushing forward until Joel stops here with a forearm and a small shake of his head. He moves up ahead of you both, the gun tucked into the back of his waistband sliding into his palm as he pushes aside what remains of the doors to the two apartments you occupy.

“They got everything we had stashed away.” His voice is a low rumble, anger and frustration filling the picked over and damaged apartment. He’s already cleared it as you and Tess approach, moving onto yours to clear it as well.

“This is because you showed weakness by working in that whore house!” Joel roars, dark glare focused on you as he appears back in the hallway. A shove of his gun barrel against your shoulder raises your lips in a snarl of argument.

“What I do in my spare time has no effect on the business!”

“It does it people think you’re weak, submitting to them!” He digs the gun into your shoulder again, to punctuate his words.

“Then everyone would be going after you, with how obvious it is you drown yourself in pills and booze until you pass out every god damn night!” You smack the weapon away from you with enough force that he doesn’t do it again, instead it’s hidden back in his waistband. He’s anything but calm as he shouts back at you, no doubt the entire population of the hall is listening against their closed doors.

“That has nothing to do with anything!”

“Then neither does my sparse visits to work somewhere that actually puts food on the table! The people we trade with don’t go there.” You step up into his personal space, the tension in the air thick and so unlike the last time you had done so. His eyes narrow, the brown of then shielded by the darkness of his pupils and the dim hall. The lights have been needing to be replaced for ages, your men following orders taking out the few that had remained working to make the scene.

“If they don’t, then the people that work for them do and tell them.” He doesn’t back down, his chest nearly brushing yours as he breaths in deep.

“Alright, why don’t- why don’t we all just take a breath. We had a good past couple of days, we can’t let this bring us down.” Tess is suddenly between you both, a hand on each of you to further push you apart. But you’re done. Tired and feeling too much after seeing someone who you never thought you would again mentally draining. You’re stepping around them both, their eyes heavy as they watch you walk over to your door.

“Oh, I’m not down about anything. Shit happens. Sometime tried to clean me out the second I took over the zone, it’s part of the game.” With that, you manage to shut the door as best you could.

“Haven’t seen you in a while, was wondering if somebody finally put you down?” The hair on the back of your neck rises as your skin prickles. You knew someone had been following you but you hadn’t expected it to be the man you last laid with the day Joel had caught you nearly two weeks ago. He was never one for conflict or conversation, but today he seemed willing to partake in both.

“Not that I owe you an answer, but I was busy.” Your eyes trace the way he reveals himself from the stooped doorway, the building is abandoned and boarded up. Deemed toxic due to the damage of fumes from the bombing that is evident just outside the walls.

This part of the zone is dilapidated, most of the buildings had been homes or independently owned and run businesses, but now it was the slums. The pleasure house is only a street away but that hadn’t been your intention of coming down here. It had been to retrieve some of the goods ‘stolen’ from you, stashed in an old building very few knew operated as a base for soldiers to reside in for their drug fueled days off from patrol.

“Feel like you owe me a freebie.” He’s bold to step in front of you in that moment, the street empty at the hour that closes the day in the zone.

“Not on your life.” Sidestepping him, you don’t expect him to reach out. He’s strong, his hands clasping in front of you as his front presses against your back. He’s overly hot, the scent coming from his clothes rotten and you thrash in his hold.

“Get her gun!” He’s shouting and you realize he’s not alone. There are four others now surrounding you, having slunk out of the shadows and alleyways. Someone makes a grab for it, where it’s holstered on your hip beneath your shirt. The fingers that graze your stomach are marred with ash and dirt, something you hope isn’t smeared into your skin. The man isn’t very focused, his eyes dipping to catch the flash of skin as he does so and you kick out at his hand.

The gun is knocked away from you the second it hits the broken asphalt of the street, the only weapon left on you is the knife tucked into your boot. But your thoughts are scrambled as your sense of gravity wavers, body suddenly pulled forward. Your forehead knocks into the ground, and you groan out at the feeling of rubble digging deep into the skin there.

“You fuckers!” You shout, hands reaching for the concealed blade as you feel a body pin you down. You don’t manage much as they’re suddenly held down, as are your legs. The feeling of the man above you and four more holding you down kicks your instincts into overdrive.

Surging up as best you can, you knock your head back as hard as possible. The crack of it hitting the man’s face is loud as is his cry of pain. He’s knocked off balance and into the two men holding your legs down.

Careening forward, you bite into the hand of the person putting their weight on your hands, teeth digging and tearing as he tries to pull away with a scream. He’s down and cradling his mutilated hand as you stand and brandish the knife you’ve finally got in your grip. Spitting, chunks of bloodies flesh spray onto the ground and you wipe the back of your free hand over your mouth, only managing to smear the blood further.

It slices into the skin of forearms and cheeks as the three men try to get you pinned back down and under their control with their ringleader tries to stall the bleeding of his broken nose and the whitening of his vision.

The man whose hand you bit reaches for the gun and he fires a shot that has everyone ducking. His aim had failed to help his friends but worked to your advantage as one of the men cries out at the bullet now lodged in his shoulder. The scene freezes, everyone completely caught off guard and you take the moment.

You’re reaching for the gun as he sits shocked and still, the metal rattling from how badly he’s shaking. Quickly forcing it from him and aiming it point blank, he’s slumped over and no longer breathing as you round on the others and fire three more shots.

The man who started all this is pleading, snot and tears running along with blood down his face. He’s spouting nonsense words of apology and to please spare him, that he’s learned his place and he won’t ever try to corner you again. But you don’t care. This man, this piece of nothing man had tried to track you down, to take from you, to assault you, to demean you. The knife in your hand sings for more blood but you’re shooting at him where he stands hunched over and holding a hand over his face.

He falls, hands flying to where his thighs meet his body as he whimpers. The pain of being shot in the groin too intense for him to muster up a scream. You feel a twitch of your lips as you watch him writhe and moan about on the ground, surrounded by the other men. But it’s not enough to soothe you and you’re bringing the knife down harshly as he reaches out to you for help he would never receive. His fingers scatter, and you feel the ease of your anger.

“Don’t come at me again or I’ll take your life too.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are? Telling them to make payments to you but I still have to go and deliver the goods? Do you have any idea what that makes me look like?” Joel’s voice is loud as his door creaks open, not completely repaired but enough to work for the time being. Something about him needing to find a certain type of glue for wood before he would complete the task.

“Excuse me?” If the blood staining your clothing or the tangled mess of your loosened hair catches his eye he doesn’t show it. Not even the cut above your brow or the stain of blood around your mouth and chin gives him pause and you realize he’s drunk from that and the loosely coordinated way he approaches you.

“I don’t know who you think you’re talking to but now is so not the time, Miller.” You warn, adrenaline still coursing through your body and making you shift on your feet to face him. His steps are loud, the effects of whatever he took showing.

“You listen to me, you little-“

You use the arm he reaches out to grab at you and haul him over your shoulder. The breath in his lungs wooshes out at the contact of his back hitting the floor hard. Before he even has the chance to realize he’s been downed, you’re straddling his stomach and holding the still bloody knife to his throat. He’s more aware of himself as you meet his eyes, the pressure of the blade sobering him up almost instantly.

“You wanna see how I left him, you wanna see what I looked like putting the last fucker down that dared to come after me. Dared to put his hands on me when I said no. Bleeding in the street without his fingers or his dick?” The thump of the man’s detached fingers onto his chest pull his eyes down and away from your own. They widen slightly at the sight of them, the white of the bones you severed stark in the fixed light of the hall. “Try me, Miller, try me and find the fuck out.”

He’s silent, eyes wide and mouth clamped shut. Chest heaving as he takes in the way you’re completely serious and focused on him. The knee you’re digging into his crotch painful for the force behind it and you see fear flash in his eyes. You take it in stride, feeling far more powerful than you had in months.

“That’s what I thought, go sleep off the pills you downed and report back to me tomorrow with payment or replacement.” He grunts as you shove off of him, his body stinging where yours had been on him, his neck feels cool where a few drops of blood form on the shallow cut where the knife had been.

The door shuts behind you, lock clicking in place. He stays there on the ground, heart beating wildly in his chest and his eyes take in the cut off extremities you had thrown at him where they had slid to the floor of the hall. His stomach lurches at the thought of the other one you had mentioned and he’s surging up to empty his stomach onto the faded and worn carpet.

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@survivingandenduring *shoutout to @the-mandawhor1an for beta reading and @joelmillerisapunk for letting me scream with them while this chapter got finished and edited, thank you so much bbs!

[the-littlest-lily]

30 Days of G/t Self Care

I'm not fully sure where this idea came from, but here we go! I do enjoy a fun little daily challenge, and like most things my mind went to “but how can I make it G/t?” And here we are! Just in time for the new year, a 30 day self care challenge but… sizey. I wanted to make an actual calendar thing, just in time for the new year (though it can be started at any time, it's not specific to January). Check the days off, spread them out over a longer time, pick out just the ones that speak to you, whatever you want to do 😊 Here's the guide to go with it.

Day 1. Set aside a few minutes to take some deep breaths and focus on the present moment. To help ground yourself, perhaps wrap yourself in a blanket and imagine you are in a large, lovingly grasping hand, or hold a small item and imagine it's a tiny friend.

Day 2. Revisit some nostalgic G/t media. What first got you into this? Let yourself reminisce and remember why you love this in the first place.

Day 3. Make G/t art. It can be anything! Drawing, writing, crochet, pottery, you name it. No need to hold yourself to a certain standard or show anyone else, just take some time to be creative. Even if you don't deem yourself an artist, give it a shot and see if you enjoy it!

Day 4. Relax with a word search puzzle. I made a G/t themed one for you right here!

Day 5. Try out this journal prompt. If you could be tiny/big at will, what types of things would you do to relax? How might you extrapolate from this and apply it to your real life?

Day 6. Stretch your body today. What imaginary setting could you give yourself to make it G/t? Are you surrounded by gigantic furniture in your mind’s eye? Perhaps the yoga video on your phone helps you pretend you have a tiny instructor?

Day 7. Listen to some G/t music. This could be anything, from sizey music videos to songs with sizey lyrics to the Arietty soundtrack.

Day 8. Practice gratitude by listing out all the little things you're thankful for. (See what I did there?) Add some big things to the list for good measure.

Day 9. Practice stepping out of your comfort zone a little bit by talking about G/t, out loud if you’re able. Whether it's discussing with a friend (you brave soul), recording yourself on your phone (you can immediately delete it), or just mumbling to yourself in the shower. Maybe you’ll realize you want to make a G/t podcast and we all win!

Day 10. Here's a little creative prompt. Arrange everyday items to make a G/t scene (use toys, miniatures, or even fashion a tiny person out of paperclips or paper). Take a picture, share it if you like!

Day 11. Create a cozier space today to enjoy your G/t content. Grab some blankets, make yourself a snack or some tea, light some candles, whatever sounds nice to you. Sometimes it's making a mundane moment special!

Day 12. Make yourself something healthy to eat. While you prepare it, imagine how different the task might be to carry out if you were very big or very small. Maybe even have some fun making your snack in miniature too.

Day 13. Try out some affirmations today and see if you can make them both sizey and relevant to your life. Ideas of mantras could be “I am allowed to take up space,” “I choose to appreciate the little things today,” “I will achieve great things through small steps.”

Day 14. Go out into nature for some fresh air. Lean in close and pay attention to the small details, perhaps imagining a shrunken version of yourself or a small friend exploring.

Day 15. Challenge yourself to learn a new skill today to bring your Gt ideas to life. Maybe it's learning how to code, or making your own VR avatar, or learning a new art tool or technique. It's finally time to watch that tutorial you've been saving! 

Day 16. Pull out your dream journal, or start up a new one! Maybe we’ll figure out the whole lucid dreaming thing and come close to experiencing Gt, wouldn't that be the dream~ If this doesn't resonate with you, maybe start a journal to jot down your Gt daydreams instead!

Day 17. Relax with a crossword puzzle. I made a G/t themed one for you right here!

Day 18. Try to cross a few to dos off your to do list someday. Make it more fun by adding in some joke tasks in there, like “leave out a snack for the fairies” or “prep for borrowing trip tonight” or “meet with giant friend for coffee.” Maybe even schedule some real life Gt tasks - such as “work on chapter 2 of (Gt story you're writing)” or “plan a VRC hangout”.

Day 19. It's time to dress the part! Is there any way you can dress up or accessorize yourself in a sizey way? Maybe you have an oversized hoodie, or a necklace of a tiny Eiffel tower, or an old shirt with Tinkerbell on it. Did you know you can actually buy Arietty’s giant hair clip thing? Or if this better scratches your creative itch, maybe your objective is to make tiny accessories for a toy or figurine.

Day 20. Take some time to rest. Just allow yourself to lay down in a quiet, cozy setting for at least a few minutes and have some dedicated G/t daydreaming. 

Day 21. Try out a new exercise routine and use your G/t imaginings to make it more fun. Watching a new workout video? You’re a giant visiting the gym and that's your human instructor on the screen. Spontaneous dance session in your room? You're a fairy frolicking in a field of enormous wildflowers. Going for a swim? You're actually crossing a vast ocean, or maybe a small glass of water.

Day 22. Check out a new G/t story. Not a big reader normally? Just give it a shot!

Day 23. Give yourself a pamper night, whatever that means for you - face masks, cucumber water, a warm drink, candles, the works. Pamper night (face masks and stuff)

Day 24. Make or buy something for your G/t interests (miniatures or toys, “max”iature like a giant flower pillow, fairy-themed stationary, make a giant paper mache strawberry, etc)

Day 25. Relax with a coloring page. You can use any of your favorite artist’s lineart (just make sure to get permission and/or proper attribution if you want to post it). Here's an example option from me.

Day 26. Make a list of all the things you love about G/t. It's always nice to remember the various ways this interest might benefit our lives.

Day 27. Motivate yourself to try out a new hobby by making it G/t. Take that pottery class you've been meaning to take and make a giant acorn-shaped mug. Get into cosplay so you can dress up as a borrower. Dabble with watercolors and you may end up becoming a G/t artist. Study a new language and enjoy new sizey media you couldn't understand before. Whatever speaks to you! 

Day 28. Do a favor for your future self and make a self care kit for when you're having a hard time. This could include a journal or affirmation cards, or perhaps some grounding items like fidget toys, stress balls and mints. Add a little something G/t in there too. Perhaps some kind of miniature with an interesting texture, or a fidget toy in the shape of a person, or a stuffed animal of a giant ladybug to hug. 

Day 29. An act of kindness can do wonders for our mental health. Send someone in the G/t community a kind comment today, whether it's a long-time friend, someone you just met in a Discord group, or a comment to your favorite G/t artist. 

Day 30. Reflect on all the activities you’ve tried during this self care challenge and journal about it. What have you learned about yourself? What might you incorporate more into your self care routines going forward? Pat yourself on the back for investing some time and attention into yourself - you deserve it!

[calypso707]

hey i adore your writing!

i was wondering how astarion would take care of his s/o who suffers from migraines and severe photosensitivity. my friends always call me a vampire because of it so i thought it’d be a funny dynamic 😆

this one is actually funny because i suffer from migraines as well, so here we are! I don't know if I'm proud of what I've written, but it was fun to do! enjoy! ❤

OS - Astarion x gn drow reader : Simple things.

Living on the surface had proved more complicated than the Underdark. Being born, growing up and spending a significant part of your life in the darkness had certainly had its advantages, but now that you were living on the surface, you realised just how different things were. Whether it was people's lifestyles or all those bright colours. So yes, there were bright colours in the Underdark, but they were often signs of danger, such as explosive mushrooms or plants releasing deadly spores.

You may have been used to the dark and could see in the night better than your companions, but constant exposure to the sun had its drawbacks. So, sure, it was nice to feel the light warming your skin, you could now appreciate things like the colour of the sky, listen to birdsong or even hear the sound of the wind, but your eyes still couldn't handle so much brightness. And on top of that, you had a tadpole in your skull that was not only making its own little nest but was also giving you migraines on a regular basis.

But you still tried to stay positive, because thanks to all the adventures you'd been through, however farfetched, you'd met your current companions, who had turned out to be loyal allies and faithful friends.

And above all, you had met Astarion.

A magnificient two-century-old vampire.

It was almost poetic, two beings of darkness who found themselves having to survive under the sun. So what was it between you two? It was a tricky question, but you cared about him as much as he cared about you, and knowing that was more than enough. Though, Astarion was handling the conditions and opportunities this adventure offered him better than you were. He had always loved sunbathing as soon as the first lights appeared. You enjoyed them too, but in small doses.

While you were enjoying a moment's respite from this chaotic and probably deadly mission, you had given yourselves a break and were strolling through the alleys of Baldur's Gate. Astarion was describing the things his former master, Cazador Szarr, had made him do, a certain bitterness in his voice. You tried to concentrate on what he was saying, but the sun was at its zenith, there were no clouds in the sky to dim its brightness and you felt as if your eyes were burning and your skull was splitting in two.

"Are you even listening when I am talking to you?", grumbled Astarion.

"Sorry… Can we take a short break?" you asked, using your hand to shade your eyes as you looked at him.

"My dear, are you sure that you are not a vampire?" said Astarion with a smirk.

"Hilarious" you sighed.

You took a few steps into the shadow under a stall on the main street leading to the Wyrm's Rock fortress. Astarion was looking at you with a slightly concerned expression; he seemed to be thinking.

"Hm.. I think I have an idea. Stay put." It was almost an order.

Before you could reply, he was heading off into "Carm's Garm" shop. You wondered what had gone through his mind. You decided to wait for him and you leaned against the stone wall behind you, watching the passers-by go about their business, carefree. You listened the trout seller shouting about how fresh his fish were and the wholesaler who was delighted with his harvest.

Long minutes passed, during which you examined everyone who passed in the street. You didn't hear Astarion come back, and you were startled when he cleared his throat once he was beside you. You looked at him and noticed that he was holding several hats under his arms. You tried to hide your smile but it was complicated.

"Let's see…" He put the pile of accessories at his feet and picked up a first hat and placed it on your head. It was a sort of pointy wizard's hat with hideous embroidery that went all the way around, and before you could even give your opinion, Astarion took it off, shaking his head and frowning. "Awful"

He then picked up a sort of adjustable steel helmet, and didn't even take the time to let you try it on before he tossed it aside, doing the same with a brightly coloured top hat. Finally, he took a simple brown hat with silver wings embroidered on the stiff leather and placed it on your head as gently as possible. The brim of the hat was wide enough to keep your face in the shade.

He stood back and examined you for a few seconds, his index finger resting on his chin: "Hm.. I think this one will do, darling. Of course, I still am the fashion icon of our group, but I can assure you you are not far from it now."

You readjusted your hat slightly and took a long look at him, biting your lower lip to hold back your smile. You were pleasantly surprised by his gesture and his words made you chuckle. Astarion moved closer to you and put his hands on your shoulders, pressing them lightly as you put yours against his chest.

"I am impressed, so you are able to do sweet things." you said.

"Sweet? What an idea" He grinned before tilting his head to the side, a thin smile on his lips. "It just should not be so unbearable to enjoy the simple things of life."

And he was right.

═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═ ═

thanks for reading this OS, i hope you liked it!

don't hesitate to read my other writings on Astarion! ❤

Astarion x gn druid tav : On your skin.

Astarion x gn tav : No place for love.

Astarion x gn tav : A thousand thanks.

Fiction - Astation x fem!tav bard : Fruit of The Poisonned Tree

[sequinsmile-x]

Where You Go - Chapter 2

She isn’t sure what does it, whether it’s the condescending tone in her mother’s voice, or how she can hear her aunt laughing in the background, but she’s lying before she can stop herself.

“Actually, I am seeing someone."

AKA - the one where Emily asks Aaron, her best friend (who she happens to be hopelessly in love with) to pose as her boyfriend at her cousin's wedding, and things change between them forever.

-x-

Hi friends,

Thank you so SO much for the reaction to chapter 1 - genuinely a little blown away.

They are going to get much, *much* stupider before they figure it out, and I hope you enjoy the journey <3

As always, please let me know what you think - it means the world!

-x-

Warnings: full list of tags can be found on the Master List

Words: 5k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

He’d always known she came from money, but he’s still surprised when they pull into the driveway of the estate where they were staying for the weekend. 

“They’ve booked this entire place?”

She chuckles at the disbelief in his voice and pops another piece of candy in her mouth as she sits up straight, no longer slouching in the passenger seat. 

“Oh yeah,” she says, blowing out a slow breath as she rolls her neck, her body stiff from the 6-hour drive, “Aunt Charlotte and Uncle David always want the best for Tiffany.” 

He hums as he continues to drive towards the mansion where the wedding is being hosted. Emily had explained that the entire place had been rented out - every room booked and being used for Tiffany and her soon-to-be husband’s guests. 

“Haley and I got married in church and then had the reception at a rec centre,” he says and she turns to look at him, unable to stop herself from smiling, the happy wistful look on his face when he thought of Haley one she thought he’d never get back, “We were fresh out of college, it was all we could afford.” 

“It still looked beautiful,” she says, thinking of the photo album she’d seen one night as Aaron showed it to Jack, the large book open on the little boy's lap as he ran his tiny fingers over pictures of his mother, “And it wasn’t all for show like this weekend will be.” 

He hadn’t missed the tension in her that had only increased the closer they got to their destination, a tightness in her shoulders that only her mother could bring out of her. Before he picked her up this morning, the passenger door stuffed full of packets of candy he’d gone to the store to buy for her, he’d wondered if he was doing the right thing, if he could cope with being so close to her for two days before they went back to their normal distance. The moment he saw her, all uncharacteristic nervousness and rambling appreciation for what he was doing, he knew he didn’t care about himself - only her - and he didn’t want her to face this alone. 

“Thank you for driving the whole way,” she says, smiling softly as they park up. He chuckles, winking at her in an attempt to soothe her.

“I don’t seem to remember you offering to switch at any stage,” he teases, his smile only getting wider when she scoffs at him, “Plus, what is it Garcia called you that one time - a passenger princess?” 

She rolls her eyes but can’t stop the laugh that escapes as she unclips her seatbelt, “This is all very rich coming from the man who wouldn’t have handed over the keys even if I asked.” 

He watches as she looks back at the estate they are staying in, and her smile fades, slipping off her face as they watch other guests mingle. 

“We could turn around,” he says and she looks at him so quickly he thinks it must hurt, “Say we had a case we couldn’t get out of.” 

She doesn’t think she’s ever been more in love with him and it takes her a moment to get over it, to swallow everything she can’t let herself feel back down, the lump of it painful in her chest, “That’s sweet but, at this point it’s going to be easier to stay,” she replies, her hands tight in a ball on her lap so she doesn’t reach out for him, “Thank you for doing this.” 

He shakes his head, “You can stop thanking me. This is what we do for each other. We…” he trails off, unsure how to put it into words, and he clears his throat, “Show up.” 

It didn’t feel like enough to explain what they’d become for each other, a back-and-forth that they’d unknowingly started when he showed up at her door and asked her to stay after she’d quit to protect him.

“Yeah. We do,” she says, her tongue sticking out to wet her lip, “We should get going.” 

They get out of the car, but he moves quickly, at the trunk and hooking both of their bags over his shoulder before she’s even got her door closed. She raises her eyebrow at him when he shakes his head as she tries to take her bag from him

“You wouldn’t want them to think you’re with someone you isn’t a gentleman, right?” He asks, a smirk on his face she finds as irritating as she does attractive, and he nods towards the small group of people nearby, including her mother and Aunt Charlotte, out of earshot but close enough it’s clear they are watching them. 

She huffs, “I suppose not,” she says, her hand dropping to her side, “Last chance to back out.” 

He steps towards her, missing how her breath catches in her chest as he looks over at Elizabeth, and he places his arm around her, his hand landing in the curve of her waist. He tugs her closer, desperately trying to pretend his palm didn’t fit perfectly in that space, his thumb catching under her ribs and his little finger against her hip.

“Never.” 

___

She can barely concentrate at the rehearsal dinner. 

All she can think about is Aaron’s arm slung across the back of her chair, how his fingers would occasionally graze her bare shoulder when he moves. If she didn’t know she was as excellent as she was at hiding her feelings, if she hadn’t literally been trained how to, she’d be worried that she’d immediately give everything away. 

Her mind keeps flicking between the gentle way he’d been touching her all day and the queen bed in their room. She hadn’t thought about it until they arrived, something she chastised herself for, but she knows she can’t say anything about it without raising suspicion. She’d seen the look on Aaron’s face too, his eyes ever so slightly wide as he dropped both of their bags down onto the bed, a comment about how they’d figure it out later hanging in the air between them. 

He makes her jump, his hand on her knee under the table when she’s too distracted by him to hear the waiter ask her if she wants more wine. He immediately withdraws his hand, an apology in his eyes as if he didn’t even realise he’d done it. She reaches out for his hand on the table and squeezes it, linking their fingers together as she tells him it’s fine, that he hadn’t overstepped, with nothing more than a soft smile and her warm skin against his. 

“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were seeing anyone,” Elizabeth says from across the table, making Emily curse, not for the first time that evening, whoever put the seating plan together. 

“Well,” Emily replies, reaching for her wine, feeling emboldened by the slight buzz from the alcohol and the fizz in her skin wherever Aaron touches her. “We don’t talk all that often, Mom. Should I have sent an email?” 

Aaron coughs to cover a laugh, and he runs his thumb back and forth over the pulse in her wrist, and she only realises right then that she’d never let go of his hand. 

“It’s funny,” Elizabeth says, a look on her face that lets Emily know whatever she was about to say was the complete opposite of funny, all of her focus on Aaron, “I saw you at Del Mar a few weeks ago,” her smile turns wry, “I was going to say hello but I saw you were with someone. I only saw your date from behind,” she flicks her eyes to Emily, “If I’d known it was you I would have come over.” 

Emily feels Aaron get tenser, the heat radiating off the arm he has slung over the back of her chair getting closer as he shifts a little in his seat, at the mention of what must have been one of his last dates with Beth before they broke up. She knew this was a test, an attempt from her mother to poke holes in the story she didn’t entirely believe, and it was one Emily was more than willing to take. 

She leans closer to Aaron, flashing him a reassuring smile as she makes a point to reach for his hand behind her, linking their fingers together as she tugs his hand over her shoulder so she’s now holding both of them. She desperately tries to ignore how right it feels to be boxed in by him this way, how his fingers seemed to slot perfectly between hers. She tries to memorise it, wants to remember how it felt to do something as simple as hold his hand for the rest of her life, doesn’t want this taste of what could have been to fade. 

“We love Del Mar,” she says, squeezing his hand, “Don’t we honey.” 

He snaps out of whatever trance he’d been in and he nods, squeezing her hand back, an apology he doesn’t need to give her shining in his eyes. 

He smiles as he looks at Elizabeth, making a point of saying something he knew was true even if the context was a lie, Emily’s sweet tooth the only reason he kept peanut butter cups in his office, half a pack of them still wedged in his car door. He wonders how well Elizabeth knows her. If she knows Emily had a love of chocolate that rivalled that of his young son, if she knew she hated pens with blue ink to the point she once told him off for signing off paperwork with one. He wanted nothing more than for it to be his place to make sure Elizabeth knew that he knew who Emily was, that he loved her for who she was, not who he wanted her to be. 

“You can’t keep Em away from the dessert menu. No matter how much Tapas we order.” 

Elizabeth lets the point go after that, which Emily is grateful for, and the rest of dinner goes by without incident. As soon as the drink reception starts, Aaron goes to the bar. Emily loves that he knows her well enough that he doesn’t even ask, a soft smile on his face as he steps past her, his hand skimming over her lower back as he goes. 

She barely has a moment alone when Tiffany walks over, throwing her arms around her like it had been weeks since they’d last spoken, not years, “Emily, it’s so good to see you. I meant to call after…well everything,” she says, coming the closest anyone had so far to mentioning her return from the dead, “But you know what life is like.” 

Emily hums, not sure that your cousin faking their death was normal in most people’s books, but she lets it slide, “Of course, It’s good to see you too, Tiff,” she says, hugging her for a moment before stepping back, “Thank you for inviting me, this is already a beautiful weekend.” 

She waves her off, “Oh of course. We have got to talk about that boyfriend of yours,” she says, casting a glance over her shoulder, “Aunt Lizzie said he’s your boss?”

Emily clenches her teeth and suppresses a sigh, unable to help but wonder how many conversations there had been about her and Aaron that she hadn’t been privy to since she told her mother he was coming.

“Yes, we met at work,” she says diplomatically, unable to stop herself from smiling when she looks over and he’s looking at her already, “He’s amazing,” she says easily, because it was true, “Anyway, you should tell me about Andrew.” 

Tiffany immediately beams at the change in subject, “Oh, well he works for Daddy…” 

She forces a smile and makes eyes at Aaron across the room, silently asking him to get back here and he nods, turning back to the bartender in an attempt to hurry him along. Emily huffs out a breath, barely paying any attention to Tiffany’s self-involved rambling, and she crosses her arms over her chest as she looks back and forth between her cousin and the back of Aaron’s head. 

“Oh my god, what’s that?” 

It takes a moment for Tiffany’s words to register, and when Emily looks at her she realises she’s staring at her chest. She looks down and she feels the life drain out of her, the brand mark Ian had left behind peeking out from the top of her dress, pushed up by her crossed arms. She barely thought about it these days through sheer force of will. She didn’t want to give it the power it had over her in the beginning, didn’t want it to symbolise what Ian had intended it to. She hadn’t thought about it when she’d packed the dress to wear this evening, and all of a sudden all she could think about was if the dress she’d brought for the actual wedding would show it too. 

She clears her throat, hoping her voice doesn’t shake as she pulls the dress up just enough to cover it, “Oh, it’s nothing,” she says, smiling at Tiffany, hating the intrigue she sees in her eyes, a reflection of when they were girls together, when they would get up to mischief in hallways that were used to serious people in pressed suits.

Tiffany leans in, her voice low as if she’s conspiring, not picking up on Emily’s resistance to talk about it, “Did he do that?” 

Emily knows that Ian had taken some kind of mythical place in her family’s lore, the man so bad she’d had to fake her death after he’d come damn close to actually killing her, and she hates it. It makes him bigger than she wants him to be, large and somehow more ghoulish than he’d been when he was alive. 

She clenches her teeth, her lungs burning as she struggles to breathe, “Yes. He did,” she says simply, looking over at Aaron again, her eyes meeting his as he turns away from the bar, a drink in each hand, and she smiles tightly at Tiffany, already walking away as she carries on, “Excuse me.” 

She needed air, she needed to get out of here. She needed to remind herself that she’d somehow survived. As she steps outside the cold air is briefly overwhelming, forcing more air from her lungs as she stumbles ever so slightly, catching herself on the wall for a moment before she walks forward - putting enough space between her and the ballroom until she can deal with it again. 

She’s barely alone for a second when she hears his voice, a blessing and a curse all wrapped up into one because of course he’d check she was okay.

“Emily?” 

She turns to face him, the smile she’d been using on her family all day painted across her face, “I’m okay, I just needed some air.” 

He briefly considers leaving her to it. Considers handing her the champagne he’d got her and heading back indoors even though he can see through the lie, can see the fake smile and the shining eyes that she is so desperately trying to hide. He can’t bring himself to leave, something about the nervous energy flowing off of her like a fine perfume enough to keep him rooted to the spot just a few feet away from her. 

“I saw you talking to Tiffany,” he says, stepping closer only to put the glasses of champagne down on the table between them, cigarette butts he’d assume were hers if she’d been out here any longer strewn across it, “Did she say something?” 

She sighs, and whilst her instinct is to lie, to brush it off, she doesn’t. She fights against it because she can see that he cares, that he’s trying to be the friend she finds herself needing more and more these days. 

“She…” she clears her throat, looking down at the ground to break eye contact, “She saw the scar on my chest. She asked about it and in a very roundabout way she asked about Ian,” she laughs humourlessly, “And I know it’s something people will ask about, but for the first time in a long time I chose outfits for this weekend without thinking about it…and now it’s all I can think about.” 

He knew about the clover, she knew that, so she didn’t have to explain any further. He’s silent and when she looks back up she half expects him to be staring at her chest, his gaze fixed on the dress that she was holding in place, her hand unable to move, but he’s looking at her face, his lips pressed together as he decides how to reply. 

“Do you want to go back to the room?” He asks, the randomness of it slightly disarming at first, but she finds herself nodding, wanting nothing more than to just hide for the rest of the evening, but she hesitates, her hand pressing further into her chest. He takes off his suit jacket and offers it out to her, “Here you go,” he says, his lips turning up into a soft smile when she looks at him like he’s crazy, “It will cover it until it’s not the only thing you’re thinking about anymore.” 

She huffs out a breath and she shakes her head, “Aaron…” 

“Come on,” he’s still holding the jacket, a hand on each of the lapels as he encourages her to turn around, “Plus, it’s cold out here. What kind of fake boyfriend would I be if I didn’t offer you my jacket?” 

She knows what he’s trying to do and it warms her from the inside out. If it was anyone else she thinks she’d refuse, even if it was an actual partner, but there’s something about him offering to help in this way, when she knows he understands how it feels to grapple with a body changed by something he had no say over, that she can’t turn down. 

“Well,” she says, nodding as she turns around, “We can’t have people thinking you’re a bad boyfriend.” 

She closes her eyes as he slips the jacket onto her arms, the mix of the smell of him wafting from the material and the way his fingers graze over her shoulders as he settles it onto her briefly overwhelming. A flash of the affection she wanted from him all the time. 

“Exactly,” he says, grateful she’s got her back to him, that he has a moment to gather himself, the feel of her bare skin against his as electrifying and tortuous as it had been all night. “You ready?” 

She turns and he tries to ignore how good she looks wearing his jacket, the sleeves of it going past her hands and the hem almost mid-thigh. When he blinks he can picture her in nothing but one of his shirts and it’s too much, forcing a shiver out of him as he looks at her again. She frowns. 

“If you’re cold-”

“I’ve got it under good authority that I’m a walking furnace,” he says, cutting off any attempt to give the jacket back as he stands next to her, linking his arm through one of hers, “I’ll make it to our room.” 

She nods and lets herself be led back into the ballroom, taking the opportunity to slip back into their roles as she wraps her other hand around his tricep, all but hugging his arm to her side. They let her mother know they are going to bed, and Emily takes a moment to assure Tiffany she’s fine when she attempts a clumsy apology, saying that she was tired from the journey that morning, the lie easy and sweet as it sits on her tongue. 

It’s only when they make it back to the room that Emily considers that they’ll now have to deal with the one bed issue. When the door is locked behind them, their linked arms uncurling the moment they are behind it, she huffs out a breath as she looks at the bed. 

“I can sleep on the floor,” Aaron offers, his expression kind as she’d ever seen it, “If that makes you more comfortable.” 

She shakes her head, “No,” she says, the gentle weight of his jacket still pressing on his shoulders, the lines already so blurred from the half a day they’d been here that she can’t bring herself to care that she’d inevitably be hurting her own feelings by having a taste of what it would be like to sleep next to him, “We’re both grown-ups. And I don’t want you to hurt your back,” she winks at him, “As long as you promise - no wondering hands.” 

His eyes go wide and he splutters, a sound she’s not sure she’s ever heard from him before, “Emily, I’d never-”

“Aaron,” she says, reaching out and placing her hand on his arm and squeezing, the shift of his muscles under his skin making her stomach flip, “I’m kidding. You’re probably the only actual gentleman I know,” she assures him and he nods, laughing weakly at his own blustering, “I’m getting the bathroom first though.” 

He nods, oddly grateful for a moment to himself, to recalibrate after the strangely domestic feeling that had settled over them, “Of course.” 

He sits on the bed as he waits, the sound of her getting ready for bed floating in from the bathroom, muffled slightly by the door. He smiles as he hears her humming to herself, something he’d found out she did whenever she did almost anything outside of work. He feels familiar love for her blooming in his chest as he allows himself to imagine a life for a moment where this was his soundtrack every evening as they wound down the day together. 

When the door opens and she steps out he’s taken aback by her natural beauty, the softness that came with just being Emily and not Prentiss or whatever her family expected of her. He’s grateful that he’s seen her like this before, that countless evenings in his apartment with Jack where she’d worn sweats and baggy t-shirts, with no make-up and her hair piled on her head like it was now. It means he’s prepared, that he doesn’t stare at her for too long or make her self-conscious on an evening when she already felt on edge thanks to a thoughtless comment from her cousin.

“Do you feel better?” He asks as he stands up, grateful taking his jacket back from her, folded over her arm - a far cry from her own clothes balled up in the crook of it.

She nods, “Yes, thank you,” she stands there for a moment, not able to read the look in his eyes and hating that she can't, “Your turn.” 

He smiles and steps past her into the bathroom and she blows out a slow breath. She climbs into bed and waits for him, only realising she hadn’t checked what side he preferred when he steps out a few minutes later in his pjyamas, a wry smile on his face.

“That answers that question,” he says, but before she can offer to swap he’s climbing into the other side of the bed, “I prefer this side anyway.” 

She presses her lips together to stop herself from smiling, furious at herself for the girlish reaction that made her stomach flip at that admission, “Lights off?” 

He nods as he settles into bed next to her, both of them careful to stick to their sides as the room falls into darkness and silence

“You’re not like any of them,” he says after a few seconds, clarifying when he realises he’d verbalised half a thought, “Your family. You’re not like them.” 

She hums, her smile sad in the darkness of the room. There’s something safe about it, about laying next to him, both of them achingly aware of the other just a few inches away, their bodies stiff and tight as they desperately try not to touch each other, even though all it would is one of them reaching out their hand.  She isn’t sure if it’s the comfort of him being so close, or that she can pretend for a moment that she’s alone, but she finds herself saying something she’s never told anyone. 

“I used to pretend that I was adopted. I’d lay in bed and wish my real family would come get me, and that I’d have maybe a brother and a sister and parents with normal jobs,” she smiles wryly as she tilts her head towards him, searching for his face in the dark, “But I undeniably look like my mother,” she laughs humourlessly, “And I have my dad’s nose.” 

He smiles, swallowing back the desire to tell her she’s beautiful, the words stuck against his ribs as he forces them down, knowing it’s not his place to tell her that no matter how much he wants it to be. 

“Do you miss him?” 

She presses her lips together as she turns to face him again, his face clearer now her eyes had adjusted to the dark, “My dad?” She asks, and he nods, “I do. Or I miss what we could have had,” she smiles sadly and shrugs, “I was in college when he died and…we were never that close. I hoped one day we could be but we never got the chance.” 

He can tell by the way she drifts off, how her voice catches in her throat a little, that she feels exposed. He hates that she feels that way. After everything they’d been through he wanted her to know she could trust him with anything, that he would never judge her. They knew the worst parts of each other and were still here, still clamouring to learn more and he doesn’t think he’s ever had that with anyone - even Haley. 

He clears his throat, determined to make her more comfortable, “I can understand that,” he says, turning to look at her, lost in her eyes that somehow seemed deeper right now, as if the darkness of the room was bleeding into them, “My dad he…” he clears his throat again, his jaw briefly tight, “He wasn’t a good man. At all. And it almost made it worse when he had good days - because it meant he was capable of being the father I wanted him to be,” he smiles wryly, shaking his head at himself as he rests his head back against the pillow, staring at the ceiling as he says the last part, something he’d never dared to utter out loud, “The father I want to be to Jack.” 

Emily didn’t have to be good at her job to know that Aaron had grown up around violence. It was written across his skin, in the fine print of how he acted, how he would switch from being careful to risking his safety in a heartbeat. It was in how gentle he was with Jack, how he’d press Batman bandaids against grazed knees with care so tender it made her ache. Skin that had once broken open over his knuckles, torn apart by bone and tooth as he beat a man to death in front of her, stretched white as he put his hands over his son’s on the handlebars of his bike, words of encouragement flowing out of him so easily he didn’t resemble the man who’d once barely spoken to her when they first met. 

She can’t help but reach over, her hand wrapping around his over the covers as she pulls it from his chest. She links their fingers together and squeezes, her expression serious when their eyes meet. 

“You’re an excellent father, Aaron,” she says, running her thumb back and forth over the heel of his hand. He smiles tightly, and it’s enough to tell her that he doesn’t entirely believe her, “I’ll tell you that every day until you believe me,” she smiles wryly, “Or at least until you tell me you believe me to get me to stop.” They both laugh and it eases something in her chest. She feels drawn to him, shifting her upper body just enough to press her cheek against his shoulder, hungry for more physical contact after being pressed up against him most of the day, storing as much of it away as she can before the weekend is over, as if she’s saving acorns for winter. “Jack is so lucky to have you.” 

He hums and breathes her in, hesitating for a moment before he rests his cheek on the top of her head, letting himself pretend for a moment that this was his life. That he fell asleep like this with her every night. He hears her suppress a yawn, but he doesn’t move, content to lay in this awkward half-embrace as long as she is happy to. 

“We should get some sleep,” he says, and she nods, yawning again.

“Tomorrow is going to be a long day,” she grumbles, making no move to shift away from him, the comfort of being this close drawing her in, an addiction she isn’t entirely sure she’ll be able to give up in approximately 36 hours. 

“Night, Em.”

She’s already sleepy, pulled into it by the comfort she thinks follows him everywhere and the fantasy that she could have this forever, “Night.” 

She falls asleep first, her hand loosening its grip on his as she drifts off but not slipping free, her fingers still linked through his. He dares to turn his head just a little, not wanting to risk waking her, and he kisses her forehead, his nose briefly buried in her hair before he rests his cheek there again, a soft smile on his face as he closes his eyes.

When he falls asleep he dreams of a life where he could have this for more than a weekend. 

-x-

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[sagesolsticewrites]

Yes, Captain

John Brady x Juliet Thompson (OFC)

a/n: in honor of Ben’s post on his Instagram story yesterday… that cheeky lil shit was saying " I am the captain now" and all I could think was "yeah you are 😩🫡" here’s a thing I’ve been working on for longer than I care to say lmao

word count: 3.5k

warnings: mature content (fingering, oral [f receiving], unprotected P in V sex [wrap it before you tap it!], use of titles [Captain]), generally just John Brady being feral for his wife and Jules being feral in return 🤭 enjoy~

@winniemaywebber @ginabaker1666

Masterlist

“Honey!” Juliet calls as she scrambles to get the essentials into her purse, “Are you almost ready? We should’ve left—”

The reminder that they’re already running late for a 100th Bomb Group reunion dies on her lips as John steps out of their room in his crisp, clean uniform, medals and ribbons shining on his Class A.

“I’m coming, sweetheart, I’m coming,” John Brady assures his wife as he adjusts his tie, hat tucked neatly under his arm, “Is my tie straight?”

She can only nod, eyes wide as she takes in the glory that is her husband in uniform. It takes her a moment to remember how to speak— can you blame her?— but eventually a soft, appreciative “You look very nice, Captain,” slips out, a heated undertone weaving through the words, lingering on his rank.

She’s learned to read him very well over their months of marriage, and so she can see exactly what kind of effect her words have on him as he takes a shaky breath in and out, deft fingers fumbling with the knot of his tie.

Juliet can’t help but grin, a thrill running through her at the effect she has on him, until his hands are on her waist, pulling her close.

“You look lovely, Jules,” he says lowly, “But if you knew how much I wanted to rip this off of you…” His voice trails off in a warning as his fingers trace over the deep red fabric of her swing dress, and her breath catches, her knees turning into jelly as his lips just barely brush over hers.

“But I know we’re already running late,” he continues, all business as he pulls away save for the teasing glint in his eyes, “So that will just have to wait for when we get home.”

Her jaw drops as he slips his keys and wallet into his pocket, turning expectantly to her as he waits by the door.

“Johnny, that���s not fair,” she whines even as they step out into the warm evening, his arm draping easily around her shoulders.

“I’m afraid I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about, my love,” John grins, opening the passenger door for her to slide onto the bench seat before slipping over to the drivers side, “Now let’s go, I’m sure the ladies are waiting for us so you all can start your gossiping.”

“I never gossip, John Brady, and I have absolutely no idea where you got that notion,” Juliet says primly, the effect utterly ruined by the grin on her face that tells him she has plenty to tell her friends once they arrive.

“Oh! And did you hear—”

Whatever Jo heard, Jules will never know, because her husband chooses that exact moment to make eye contact with her from across the room and very deliberately adjust his tie, a dangerous heat simmering in his blue eyes that makes Jules grip the bar she’s leaning against just a bit tighter to hide the sudden weakness in her knees and down the rest of her drink in one gulp. 

Lord, this man was going to be the death of her. She had felt his eyes on her all night, anticipation straining between them like a string stretched almost to its breaking point.

She waits patiently for a break in the conversation to flag down the bartender for a refill when someone in a familiar dress jacket sidles up next to her, pressing a fresh lemon drop into her hand. 

“For the pretty lady.”

She turns, smiling at her husband.

“Thank you, Johnny.”

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he says, pressing a kiss to her cheek. He brings his hand to rest at the small of her back as he effortlessly joins the conversation while Juliet sips at her drink, his hand subtly drifting lower and lower as the night goes on.

As she sets the empty glass down on the bar, John catches her gaze with a regretful look.

“Sweetheart, I hate to do this, but… do you think we could slip out a little early? I’ve got a bit of a headache.”

“Oh honey, I’m sorry,” Jules pouts, doing her best to ignore the warm hand resting sinfully low on her back, “Yes, of course let’s get you home.”

They bid a quick farewell to their friends and the rest of the 100th crew— the knowing smiles of Olive, Val, and the rest of the girls going unnoticed as they hurry out— and as soon as they’re out of sight Juliet tugs him into a fierce, heated kiss.

“You,” she gasps into his mouth, “are an absolute menace, John Brady. Faking a headache, really?”

“Who, me?” He grins as he pulls away, hands remaining firm on her hips for the moment to hiss in her ear a teasing “Never.”

A soft, desperate sigh tumbles from Juliet’s mouth as John’s lips brush against the sensitive spot just below her ear.

“Johnny,” she breathes with a gentle, insistent squeeze of his arm.

He pulls back to meet her gaze, pupils blown wide and growing wider at her next words.

“Take me home.”

He ushers her to the car faster than she could’ve imagined, pulling her close so she’s pressed flush against him the whole drive home. John takes every shortcut he can remember at startling speed, though most of Juliet’s attention is on his hand resting possessively on her thigh, tracing patterns indecently close to her core but never touching it.

She’s pulled into the house as soon as the car is parked, John’s hands firm on her hips as he presses her back against the door.

“Johnny—”

She’s cut off by his lips crashing onto hers, stealing the air wholly from her lungs.

“Do you have any idea,” John’s voice is ragged as he drags hot, open-mouthed kisses across her skin, “what you’ve been doing to me all night?”

All she can do is let out a desperate whimper as he continues unraveling her.

“You in this dress,” he growls, bunching the offending fabric in his hands as he presses every inch of himself against her, and she lets out a ragged gasp as the heat building in her core intensifies, “Having to act like I didn’t want to drag you back home the second we got there, couldn’t keep my eyes off you the whole time…”

His mouth lands roughly back on hers, and Juliet reciprocates with equal enthusiasm as she clumsily fumbles with the buttons of his Class A jacket.

Her squeak of surprise is swallowed as John effortlessly lifts her into his arms, his mouth never leaving hers as her legs lock instinctually around his waist, her favorite red heels tumbling noisily to the floor at the action. He stumbles up the stairs, one arm supporting her while the other splays across her back, nimble fingers blindly undoing the buttons of her dress. Juliet’s hands slide up to bury themselves in his hair, nails raking sweetly across his scalp as her husband makes a swift ascent to their bedroom.

She’s pressed up against the wall in short order with a muffled gasp of his name, her feet settled back on the ground at the squeeze of John’s hands at her hips.

The sight that greets her as he pulls away is one that won’t be leaving her mind anytime soon.

Her husband’s pupils are blown wide, sweet blue eyes nearly black with desire, chest heaving, pulling air in through deliciously kiss-swollen lips that are now smeared with Juliet’s red lipstick.

“You look stunning, sweetheart. I don’t think I told you that enough tonight,” John murmurs tenderly, a timbre that has Juliet’s heart melting, then shifts into a low, heated tone as his hand slips around her back to continue his work with her buttons, “But this dress needs to come off now.”

She reaches back to help as he makes quick work of the fastenings, her dress and half slip soon pooled around her feet. Juliet steps out of them and nudges the clothing to the side, butterflies flurrying in her belly at John’s appreciative gaze dragging over her figure.

“See something you like?” She teases, fingertips gliding softly up and down his forearm.

“You know I do, Jules,” her husband breathes, yanking her close as his head dips towards her, his lips skimming across her cheeks to press a path of slow, hot kisses down her neck.

Her breath hitches as his lips move lower, dragging over the hollow of her throat, her collarbone, just brushing the edge of her brassiere, her head falling back against the wall with a soft thunk that’s just on the edge of her awareness.

Looking up at her through his lashes to scan for any hesitation, upon seeing none John makes quick work of her brassiere fastening, letting the fabric fall to the floor as his eyes soak in the view. The groan that leaves his mouth at the sight is nothing compared to the feeling of his mouth finally on her, tongue swirling hungrily around her nipple as she takes the Lord’s name in vain several times over, her husband’s name tacked on in a whimper at the end. His mouth drags over her for what feels like hours, leaving no inch of skin untouched as he carefully kisses his way down her stomach. Having carefully slipped her other undergarments off, his fingers linger delicately over the gap of skin just above her pantyhose, unclipping the thin fabric from her garter belt before carefully rolling it down and discarding it, repeating the agonizingly slow action on the other side.

Once both of his wife’s legs are revealed to him, John kneels between them and presses a gentle kiss to Juliet’s right knee, brushing a path up her thigh, soft whimpers and pleas tumbling from her lips as he works his way towards her core.

The pleas become louder and more frequent as he turns his attention to her other leg, repeating the process before pausing at the apex of her thighs… if only to tease her for a moment.

A whimper of “Johnny, please” tumbles from Juliet’s lips, a plea to get him to do something, anything to relieve the ache building in her core.

She lets out a cry as her pleas are answered, and…

She doesn’t mean to let it slip, truly. It was something she called him only in her head on especially lonely nights when he was away, and she had never really planned for him to know about it. But now she’s feeling positively drunk on the sight of John Brady in his dress uniform, silver bars shining on his collar, sinking to his knees in front of her, the intoxicating mix of her husband’s lips worshiping every inch of her skin, the soft mumbles of praise falling from his lips, and the careful control he’d nearly lost once they’d arrived home making her skin tingle, and it’s as she finds purchase in his hair to tug him closer that it spills out.

“Oh god, Captain—”

There’s a sharp inhale from between her legs, the proximity of it to a very sensitive part of her making her jolt as John freezes, dark blue eyes darting to meet her green.

Slowly, he leans back just enough so she can see his face, his expression unreadable.

“What did you call me, angel?”

Juliet’s mind is going haywire, alarm bells ringing as she imagines every worst possible scenario resulting from her stupid slip up.

“I—”

“Say it again.”

Wait… what?

Her confusion and overactive mind must be crystal clear on her face, because John swoops in to distract her the best way he knows how.

He brushes his lips softly against her hipbone, scattering kisses all over her pelvis as he lifts his fingers to drag them delicately through her folds, angling to hit all the spots he knows she likes.

“Say it again,” he murmurs lowly against her skin once he’s got her writhing underneath him, two fingers pumping slowly in and out, a dark twinkle in his eyes, “or I stop.”

“Captain,” she gasps, feeling herself near that familiar precipice, “fuck, Captain please—”

His fingers crook just enough at just the right angle to have her gushing over his hand, her knees going weak underneath her.

There’s a moment of heated silence, blue and green gazes locked as Juliet catches her breath, a soft, helpless sound slipping out of her as his fingers slide out of her and into her husband’s mouth.

She’s frozen there until John speaks again, a low, dangerous tone she’s never heard before.

“On the bed, sweetheart.”

On wobbly legs, she does as he asks and perches on the edge of their ivory floral bedspread, eyes wide and heat building anew in her core.

The ache between her legs intensifies as her husband takes his sweet time carefully draping his jacket over the chair at Juliet’s vanity, making sure his eyes are locked on hers as he loosens his tie and tugs it off, his musician’s fingers making quick work of the knot and moving swiftly to the buttons of his shirt.

Once he’s stripped down to his undershirt, he makes his way over to his wife, gently prying her legs apart from where she’d pressed them together in an attempt to soothe the ache between them. Two fingers come up under her chin to tilt her gaze up, but she doesn’t feel him anywhere else, even as her body unconsciously arches towards him, needing his touch on every part of her.

A soft, trembling “please” slips out of her, barely a breath, but it gets a slow smile out of him.

Juliet feels fingertips skimming up her side and suddenly she’s being gently guided onto her back, his lips bumping just once against the corner of her mouth as he murmurs against her, “Let me take my time, darling.”

And take his time he does, his mouth dragging over her skin at a snail’s pace as the ache between her legs grows.

“Johnny,” she whines impatiently, grinding her hips against nothing as he hovers just out of reach, lips pressing a slow path down the valley between her breasts, “Please, need more—”

Her plea turns into a despairing wail as his mouth leaves her entirely.

“Try again, sweetheart,” he says lowly, “Otherwise I start all over.”

Her mind is terrifyingly blank for a moment, and then—

“Captain,” she sighs desperately, “please.”

She can feel his predatory grin against her skin as his lips return to her, the murmur of “good girl” sending a fresh wave of heat through her core.

Her breathing becomes heavier, the sighs and soft moans more frequent the lower her husband’s mouth travels. Her hands fist into the bedspread as his lips brush her lower belly, her hipbone, skimming down to her inner thigh, and she fears she may actually tear a hole in it if she doesn’t get what she needs soon.

Leaning her head up slightly to watch, the planned plea dies on her lips as darkened blue eyes lock on hers. With a wink, he maintains eye contact for as long as he can, then her mind is overtaken by relief as his mouth finally reaches her.

“Oh, god—”

He makes short work of making her fall apart on his tongue, large hands pressing down on her hips in an attempt to keep her still as she bucks into his mouth. His tongue drags hungrily through her folds, the occasional gentle suck at her clit drawing out incoherent gasps of “yes” and “Captain” and “right there” from Juliet’s lips, the words running together into a wordless cry as she reaches her second orgasm of the night.

Gasping, Juliet returns to her body, a shudder running through her as something brushes just outside her core. Tilting her head up, she realizes it’s still her husband, mouth glistening as he presses a series of kisses to her inner thigh, her hipbone, working his way back up her body until he captures her lips in a sloppy, heated kiss.

A moan erupts from her throat at the taste of herself on his tongue, the sound promptly swallowed by John’s eager mouth on hers. With fumbling fingers, Juliet tugs his undershirt out from the waistband of his slacks, her hands slipping under it to blindly map out the expanse of his back.

John reluctantly pulls his mouth away from hers, lips kiss-swollen and shiny as he reaches to tug the white fabric over his head, tossing it to some unknown corner of the room. He slides off of Juliet to undo his belt, giving her time to appreciate the view of his muscled torso as the belt joins the clothes scattered about the room, his slacks hitting the floor soon after along with his boxers.

Juliet catches her lip between her teeth, her eyes dragging hungrily over every new inch of exposed skin. It’s nothing she hasn’t seen before, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t utterly melt at the sight every time. 

There’s a glint in John’s pretty blue eyes as he moves to hover over her once more.

“See something you like?” He murmurs, mimicking her own words from earlier.

Juliet tugs him down for a hungry kiss, her breath hitching as his hips settle snugly against hers.

“Yes, Captain,” she grins against his lips, rolling her hips in a practiced motion against his own.

“Shit, Jules,” John gasps, huffing out a laugh. He pulls back just enough that their noses brush, maintaining eye contact with his girl, “You ready?”

At her eager nod, he shifts his weight onto one arm, rewarded with a stuttering gasp as he drags the head of his cock back and forth through her folds, a delightful high-pitched sound escaping his wife as it bumps her clit once. It catches at her entrance and, with practiced ease, he slowly presses into her, Juliet’s head falling back with a moan as she adjusts to his size.

He waits for her nod to begin rocking his hips back and forth, slow thrusts that allow her to feel every inch of him, that soon have long, breathy moans falling from her lips.

“M—” 

Whatever his wife was about to say, it’s cut off as another moan spills out of her.

“What was that, honey?” He gasps, bumping her nose with his.

It takes her several tries, but eventually a plea of “more” tumbles from her lips, a whine of “faster” on its heels.

John grins, “of course.”

Meeting her eyes, John’s hips snap into hers with military precision, the utterly perfect staccato rhythm of his thrusts drawing out cries of “yes, oh my— right there, don’t stop—”

He lets out a sharp gasp of his own as Juliet’s nails rake down his back, building towards her third orgasm of the night.

She tightens around him, nails digging into his skin as she reaches her peak, his rank tumbling from her lips in a broken moan. John follows suit not long after, his hips stuttering against hers before spilling into her with a groan muffled in her neck.

They stay there for several long moments, feeling the rise and fall of her chest against his as they catch their breath. Her husband pulls back to meet her gaze, falling in love with her all over again at the sight of her dark curls splayed out atop the bedspread, the rosy flush in her cheeks, the satisfied glow in her sparkling green eyes.

He dips down to capture her lips, muffling the whine that escapes her as he slides out.

“You alright, sweetheart?” He pants softly, brushing a damp curl from her forehead.

Her gaze is so fond he feels his heart might burst as she replies with a smile, “I’m perfect,” adding teasingly, “Captain.”

He chuckles, brushing a kiss to her cheek as he moves to stand, making his way over to the bathroom.

“Hey, you started that.”

“So I did,” She’s beaming as he emerges from the en-suite with a warm, damp washcloth, though it falters slightly, “You’re sure that was okay? I know it was kind of a surprise—”

“It was,” he acknowledges, moving gently between her legs to clean up the result of that particular surprise, “But I promise, sweetheart,” — there’s a glint in his eyes as he meets her gaze — “it was a very good surprise.”

“Well,” her smile turns the tiniest bit shy, “I’m glad.”

She takes the cloth from him, sitting up to toss it into the hamper before standing, incredibly aware of her husband’s gaze following her.

“I’ll be right back,” she assures him with a laugh as she slips into the bathroom, emerging fresh faced and makeupless, her hair tucked up into a silk scarf.

She joins her husband under the covers, both forgoing pajamas for the night in favor of the skin-to-skin contact Jules tends to crave after lovemaking. She lets out a contented sigh as her husband’s arms wrap around her and pull her close, pressing a kiss to where she can hear his heartbeat under her ear.

“Goodnight, Jules.” He murmurs into the crown of her head, squeezing her the tiniest bit tighter for a heartbeat.

“Goodnight, Johnny,” Juliet murmurs, eyes already drifting closed.

The "I love you’s” are unspoken, but no less true as the Bradys drift off to sleep in a sweet tangle of limbs.

[pagesfromthevoid]

Cowboy Like Me | d.d. | 6

Din Djarin x princess!reader

Word Count: 2.4K

Warnings: Nothing really, honestly. Din is a simp still

Author’s Note: I got to use my favorite fic trope in this chapter :^) gif source is unknown so if you find it, tell me!

Series Masterlist | Talk to Me!

The Sanctuary

“We need to restock on supplies,” Din explained as they entered the atmosphere of Sorgan the following morning. 

If she questioned his excuse to land, she didn’t say a word about it. She just nodded, tucking her feet under herself in the seat of the cockpit. 

He tried to get her to go to bed in the hull the previous night, but she insisted on staying up there with him and Grogu. Even if they sat in silence –her reading with the kid in her lap –it was a comfortable silence. He enjoyed just having her there beside him. If they wanted to talk, they could…but they didn’t have to. And Din appreciated that more than she would probably ever understand. 

With the newfound knowledge of why she left, Din was determined to keep her as far from Silas Credence as he could. The helmet hid his anger well, and he was thankful that she could not see how genuinely livid he was about what had happened to her. It didn’t matter that he didn’t know her well –no one had the right to touch her like that. Which settled the dilemma he had been facing since he met her: he wouldn’t be delivering her. 

Maybe he was developing a habit of keeping quarries instead of collecting their bounty.

The credits didn’t matter anymore –though he wondered if they ever really did. She was willing to give him everything she had, and on that first day, he had considered taking less than what her mother had offered. If they really mattered, he wouldn’t have even paused to entertain the idea. 

No, the credits didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was her.

“Where are we?” She asked as the hull opened, revealing the greenery of Sorgan. 

Din liked it here. It was peaceful; quiet. He would have stayed if he wasn’t a Mandalorian; if he didn’t live a life that constantly put people in danger. He had almost left the kid here; if it wasn’t for Gideon and his desire to capture Grogu, he would have. Deep down, Din was glad he kept Grogu with him. Even if it meant keeping the child from living a normal life, Din cared too much for the foundling to give him up again.

“Sorgan,” he offered as an explanation, stepping off the ship and into the fresh air. 

She was hesitant, one strap of her bag held tightly against her side. Smiling softly under his helmet, even if she couldn’t see it, Din offered his hand for her to take. Maybe she knew he was smiling; maybe it was clear in his body language –it didn’t matter, really –because she returned the smile as she took his hand to exit the ship. 

As the door of the ship closed, they stood there for several seconds with her hand still in his. Perhaps he imagined it, but he swore he felt her grip tighten just barely before she released his hand. However, she stuck close to his side as they made their way back to the village he had helped train so long ago. 

“How did you know to stop here?” She asked as they walked, looking up at him. In the morning sun, she practically glowed; it took far more willpower than he had not to stare at her. 

“I came here with Grogu a while back,” Din explained, trying to keep his eyes on the path in front of him. “They needed —,”

“Mando! Mando! It’s us! It’s Stoke —,”

“And Caben! Oh, stars —it’s great that you’re back!”

Two men hopped off their transport, tripping over themselves with excited grins on their faces. She looked between Din and the two men, brow raised as she tried to hold back her amused smile. 

“Friends of yours?”

Din simply shrugged as Grogu giggled in excitement, recognizing the two krill farmers. “Just in time. We need a ride.”

Both farmers looked between each other, bright smiles on their faces still, before they motioned for Din and her to join them on their transport cart. He climbed aboard first, motioning for her bag. Once that was handed over, he reached out once again for her hand, intending to help her up. While he didn’t think she couldn’t manage it herself –she was clearly capable of more than she let on –he wanted another excuse to touch her. Even if it was just her hand.

As he pulled her up, however, the droid controlling the transport lurched forward –throwing the two off balance. Din fell backwards onto the cart, unable to catch himself. However, because he instinctively reached out to steady her, she fell forward and landed on top of him. His hands gripped her hips without much thought, and her hands braced against the armor covering his chest though. 

For several moments, the two were tangled together on the back of a transport cart in the middle of the woods. Her eyes were wide as she stared up at him, and Din swore he could feel the warmth she radiated through his armor. Though, maybe the heat was just from him. Her fingers slid just barely up his chest plate, brushing against the fabric that was exposed just below his neck. The touch was light, accidental, but Maker –it was enough to stoke the fire inside him into an inferno.

“You two good back there?” One of the farmers asked –maybe Stoke; Din couldn’t focus on the voice to figure it out. 

“Y-yeah,” she stammered out, making the first move to pull away. His grip tightened just slightly –just enough on her that it was noticeable, he was sure –before he released her. She stood on shaking legs, regaining her composure and her balance, then extended her hand to him.

Din took it, pulling himself back up. However, this time, she dropped his hand almost immediately and looked away from him. If he turned on the heat signature tracking in his helmet, he could be certain it was because she was flustered. But he didn’t need to –because he felt the same. The way she looked at him –eyes full of stars and surprise, pressed against him –he knew she felt it too. There was no way she couldn’t.

*****

The village people greeted Mando with genuine excitement, with the children immediately rushing to take Grogu to play. She was pleasantly surprised at such a warm welcome, and she couldn’t help the smile that remained on her face the remainder of the day. They were a simple people, content in their farming and their livelihoods. 

It reminded her of the moisture farmers on Senex, when her father would take her with him to interact with the people of her planet. Her father –Leox of Senex –made a point to meet anyone and everyone he could, wanting to be the people’s senator the best he could. It was always an important lesson when she went with her father; she became a staple in his travels through the villages and towns. And she loved that time with him dearly, because it was always him and her. Her mother rarely joined them, insisting that it wasn’t necessary. She learned a lot about her father on those trips; and even more about her mother in between the lines.

As far as she was aware, people liked her father quite a bit. When he passed, they mourned and thousands of people attended the funeral. More people offered her condolences over her mother, though her mother felt rather removed from the whole ordeal regardless. Silas Credence had offered his apologies, kissing her hand with a superficial smile, that day.

She wished she had known then what was planned for her.

But that didn’t matter anymore. She wasn’t home on Senex. She was on Sorgan, with a Mandalorian and his little green child, and a small village who were genuinely delighted to see them. The food was good, the weather was lovely, and she could stretch her legs out in front of the fire without fear. And truly, she could not ask for anything nicer before he inevitably returned her.

“Omera has an actual place to sleep this time around for us,” Mando announced as he sat beside her at the fire pit. “Last time, we slept in a barn.”

“A barn still wouldn’t have been the worst place I’ve slept in the last week,” she reassured, though she couldn’t look at him.

After their fall that morning, she couldn’t focus when she was around him. The feel of her body pressed against his was ingrained into her memory now. Even through the armor, he was solid and warm, and when he squeezed her hips –Maker help her, all she wanted was to stay there forever. She was certain he had done it on purpose –there was no reason to tighten his grip on her for any other reason than desire. 

“The kid is back there now, asleep,” Mando continued, leaning forward towards the fire. “When you’re ready, I’ll show you where to go.”

She nodded, pushing herself off the ground with a satisfied stretch. He watched her while she lifted her arms over her head then stood himself. As they moved through the village to their lodging, she wondered when he last slept in a bed. It must have been before she arrived; she couldn’t imagine he slept in the cockpit of the ship all the time. And she thought about if he took his helmet off to sleep –he had to, right? It would have been uncomfortable otherwise. 

He wouldn’t be able to while they were on Sorgan, of course. Unless there were separate rooms and he locked the door…but she didn’t want to be separated from him. The cockpit and hull were barely twenty feet apart; a separate room felt like miles. 

“What are the sleeping arrangements?” She asked, looking up at him finally. They were so close, arms brushing just barely as they walked.

“You take the bed; I’ll be on the floor.”

“You don’t have to keep doing that,” she pointed out, frowning as they approached the small hut. A drape covered the entry, but that was all. “I don’t mind sleeping on the floor, nor do I mind sharing a bed if that’s what it’ll take to get you off the floor.”

She stepped inside, setting her bag in the corner by Grogu’s pod, which was closed and locked up safely. Mando followed close behind, setting his pulse rifle beside the bed.

“Fine.”

Truthfully, she wanted to assume he wanted to share the bed; it was big enough for two. But she didn’t want to offend him; didn’t want to make a fool of herself if she was reading too into his treatment of her. So she took a pillow from the bed as well as one of the many blankets provided and tossed them to the floor.

“What are you doing?” Mando asked, having sat down on the bed to remove his boots.

“Making my bed.”

He was silent for a moment, then stood again. She watched him gather the pillow and blanket back up and throw them on the bed, then motioned for it. She swallowed hard, trying to calm the sudden nerves that were sparked by his silent statement. Heart beating fast, she made her way to her side of the bed and sat down to remove her boots. Neither of them had sleepwear as far as she knew, but she would be fine to sleep in her clothes. Though, she needed to wash them sooner or later.

When she pulled her legs up onto the bed, criss-crossing them before her, she watched as Mando started to remove his armor. It was a slow process –the straps, the buckles, the gauntlets all took time to take off –but by the time he slid his boots beneath the bed, he was left in only his flight suit and helmet. 

She couldn’t help it –this was more than she had seen of him in the days they had spent together. And more so, it might be the most she’d ever see of him. His back was to her, setting his armor nearby for easy access, and her eyes roamed over his back. Even through the material of the flight suit, she could make out his shoulder blades and muscles, contracting and moving as he continued prepping for the night. When he turned, facing her finally, she gave him an appraising look –still unable to help herself. 

“When was the last time you took off your armor?” She asked, uncrossing her legs to pull her knees under her chin. 

“Yesterday.”

“No you didn’t,” she argued, brow furrowing as she watched him curiously.

“When I used the ‘fresher, yes.”

“Oh.”

She hadn’t considered him showering –yet now she was imagining him in there, water cascading over the planes of his back. There wasn’t enough of him to imagine, of course. She didn’t know what his face looked like, or his hair color. What did his eyes look like? Were they cold, like he tried to act? Or were they warm, like he really was?

When he finally sat down beside her on the bed, she said, “Can I ask you something?”

He glanced over at her, nodding once.

“What color are your eyes?”

He stared at her silence, as if considering his answer. She wondered if she was even allowed to know that; maybe he was going to lie to her.

“It’s okay if you can’t tell me. But you have to answer another question for me.”

“Ask your other question,” he murmured, looking away for a moment. “Please.”

She watched him still, unable to control the disappointment that bloomed in her chest. But she understood; it wasn’t fair of her to ask. 

“Are you still going to deliver me to my mother?”

Another bout of silence spread between the two, and she suddenly panicked, fearing that everything she felt was one sided and unrequited. That his treatment of her was simply a way to break down her walls and make her more pliable; less willing to fight. She felt tears pricking the corner of her eyes. 

But then, his bare hand took hers and she looked up at him. She hoped their eyes met; hoped she was looking into whatever warmth may be there for her. 

“No.”

———

Taglist (OPEN): @r4iner @sgt-morgan @mingeniee @darling1darling @teriolan-blog @venusfalling @double--take @sunshine96 @demisexuallover @mxtokko @ellesvoid @waddafaknik @c-ms1ut @kokoirne

[writeriguess]

The sun had long set over Washington, D.C., and the city lights cast a soft glow over the BAU headquarters. The bustling activity of the day had given way to a more subdued atmosphere, with the team’s work winding down and the office becoming quieter.

You had been working late, finishing up some reports and trying to get ahead on a few cases. The office was almost deserted when you finally set your pen down and stretched, feeling the fatigue of a long day settle into your muscles.

Just as you were about to gather your things and head out, the door to the office creaked open. Derek Morgan stepped in, his usually confident demeanor slightly subdued as he looked around the empty room.

“Working late, huh?” Derek’s voice was warm and familiar, a comforting presence in the otherwise quiet office.

You glanced up and smiled, feeling a sense of relief at his appearance. “Yeah, just trying to catch up. It’s been a long day.”

Derek walked over to your desk and leaned against it casually. “I hear you. It’s been one of those cases that just drags on. But hey, you’re not alone. I’m here, too.”

You looked at him, appreciating the gesture. “Thanks. It’s nice to have some company, especially after a day like today.”

Derek’s eyes softened as he looked at you. “You know, you work way too hard. It’s important to take a break every now and then.”

You chuckled, feeling a bit of the day’s stress lift. “I guess I do get a bit carried away sometimes. But it’s hard to stop when you’re in the middle of something.”

Derek’s smile grew, and he reached over to lightly ruffle your hair—a gesture both playful and reassuring. “Well, why don’t we take a break now? I’ve got a suggestion.”

You raised an eyebrow, curious. “Oh? And what’s that?”

Derek grinned, clearly pleased with his idea. “How about we grab a cup of coffee? There’s a late-night diner down the street that’s open 24/7. I know the owner, and the coffee’s not too bad either.”

You considered the offer, feeling the promise of a relaxed break from the office grind. “That actually sounds great. I could use a change of scenery.”

“Perfect,” Derek said, pushing off from your desk and extending his hand toward you. “Let’s get out of here.”

Together, you left the office and made your way to the diner. The cool night air was refreshing, a stark contrast to the stuffy office, and the city lights created a beautiful backdrop as you walked.

The diner was cozy and welcoming, with a warm glow emanating from its windows. As you stepped inside, the aroma of fresh coffee and baked goods greeted you, adding to the sense of comfort and relaxation.

Derek led you to a booth and slid in across from you. “So, what’s been going on with you? How are you holding up with everything?”

You appreciated his concern and took a sip of your coffee before answering. “It’s been a bit overwhelming lately, but I’m managing. It’s nice to have moments like this to unwind.”

Derek nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah, I know what you mean. It’s easy to get caught up in the job and forget to take care of yourself.”

You smiled, feeling a connection with him that went beyond work. “I think we all need reminders to slow down every now and then. And having someone to share a moment like this with makes it even better.”

Derek’s gaze met yours, and there was a warmth in his eyes that made you feel appreciated and valued. “I’m glad we could do this. Sometimes, it’s the little things that make a big difference.”

The conversation flowed easily as you enjoyed your coffee and chatted about everything from the case you were working on to more lighthearted topics. Derek’s humor and genuine interest in your well-being made the evening feel relaxed and enjoyable.

As the night wore on, you felt a renewed sense of energy and connection. The stress of the day seemed to fade, replaced by the comfort of good company and meaningful conversation.

When it was finally time to head back, Derek walked you to your car, his presence a reassuring and steadying force. “Thanks for coming out tonight. It was good to catch up and take a break.”

You smiled, feeling a sense of gratitude. “Thank you for the invite. It was just what I needed.”

Derek’s expression softened, and he placed a friendly hand on your shoulder. “Anytime. You know where to find me if you need another break or just someone to talk to.”

As you drove home, you reflected on the evening and the connection you had shared with Derek. In the midst of the challenges and demands of the job, it was these quiet moments of understanding and camaraderie that made the journey worthwhile.

The night sky stretched above you, and you felt a renewed sense of appreciation for the people in your life who made the difficult days a little bit easier. And as you reached your destination, you knew that you would carry the warmth of the evening with you, a reminder of the importance of finding balance and support amidst the chaos.

[tinycoded360]

Sterling household--The Talk

Chapter 8: The talk

Milton's heart pounded nervously as he stood on Sterling's kitchen table, flanked by Cassia and Emma. Sterling loomed like a benign colossus, his presence still intimidating.

"Alright then," Milton began, his voice steadier than he felt, "let's talk about how we can make this work for all of us."

“Of course, but first, I have some things for you.” The tiny borrowers watched in confusion as Sterling turned to grab something from his counter.

The smell of freshly baked bread was distracting. Apparently, Sterling thought it was a good idea for them to snack and talk.

"Smells amazing, doesn't it?" Cassia whispered, her stomach betraying her with a tiny growl.

"Focus," Milton murmured, though even he couldn't deny the saliva pooling in his mouth at the thought of fresh bread. Granted, Cassia was perfectly able to make bread within the walls of their home, but it wasn’t the same as the fluffy bread that giants make.

Sterling chuckled, a deep sound vibrating through the air. "I hope you're hungry. There's plenty to go around." He set down a plate of freshly cut bread. Some slices had butter on them, and others did not. The bread was cut into tiny pieces so it would be easy for his tiny guests to handle.

Before Milton could make a move to sample the offering, Sterling spoke up again, his giant hand coming down close, startling the tiny man. “Wait one more thing, here take this, this is for you.” Pinched between the giant’s forefinger and thumb was a tiny tea cup—perfectly sized for the tiny borrowers. Milton stared in shock but reached for the cup. Sterling offered a cup to Cassia and Emma as well.

“These are for you, you can keep them, I bought them at a craft store, I thought they would be perfect for you. Oh! And these too.” Next Sterling handed each of them a tiny spoon, the spoon was close to their scale.

“This is amazing, Sterling. Thank you.” Cassia said.

“Why do you giants have tiny stuff like this? What’s the purpose?” Emma spoke up. She liked the tiny gift, but she couldn’t understand why a giant would sell and buy these things, if not for toys for their young, but these items seemed way to small for children’s toys.

“I don’t know……. I guess humans have always liked tiny things.” Sterling said with a shrug.

“But wait there’s more.” Sterling said with a grin. He brought over a pitcher of iced tea. He then took a pipette and suctioned some of the tea into it. He then held it over each of their tiny cups. He carefully served them some fresh tea.

Sterling sat down in his chair, holding a mug of his own; he took a sip of his tea and smiled down at them. “Ok, now we can start.”

Milton inched closer to the table's edge, his eyes locked on Sterling's face. "Sterling," Milton started, each word measured and deliberate, "We've come to appreciate... your kindness."

Sterling leaned in, careful not to make any sudden moves that might startle his tiny guests. "I'm glad to hear that, Milton. I've always enjoyed helping where possible, and I want you guys to stay."

Cassia, her hands clasped in front of her, added, "We can't ignore the risks, but we also see the benefits of living here, close to you." Her voice held a note of cautious optimism.

"Of course," Sterling nodded, "It's a delicate balance, isn't it?"

Emma glanced between Milton and Cassia before addressing Sterling with a hint of boldness. "It is. And we'll find a way to maintain that balance if you are."

Sterling's expression softened further, touched by the admission. " All of you were very kind to look after me when I was ill. I think we can be good neighbors or roommates or sorts, I’d be willing to work out an agreement of conduct.”

"An exchange," Milton proposed. "We help with small tasks, like pest control and small repairs to the house, and in return, we receive some food scraps and materials that would otherwise be wasted."

"Seems fair, but I think we can do better than that," Sterling agreed with a gentle smile. "I don’t want you guys to feel like you have to hide. I don’t see how that’s different than before?” “What, the only difference is I know you’re around?” Sterling asked with a frown.

“This is a lot for us. We’re not supposed to interact or talk to you like this.” Emma pointed out.

“I won’t push you past what you’re comfortable with, but I would want you all to be more comfortable, maybe interact more. I’d be willing to share more than just scraps.” Sterling pressed.

"Hmmm, okay, then. Look, Sterling," Emma piped up, barely containing the tremor in her voice as she glanced warily at the corner of the kitchen where Whiskers usually lounged. Currently, the cat was shut in Sterling’s room. "We need to talk about your cat, then."

Milton's eyes darted toward the ground, his body tensing at the mention of the feline predator. Cassia placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, her gaze fixed on Sterling.

Sterling sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I know Whiskers can be... problematic for you folks, but she's part of this household too. I can't just get rid of her."

"Perhaps we could arrange our borrowing times?" suggested Milton. "A schedule that lets us roam when she's confined to your room?"

"Or announce ourselves loudly," Cassia added with a hint of reluctance. "Though it feels like asking permission in our own home."

"Training her might be a safer bet," Sterling proposed, watching their reactions closely. "Properly introduce you to her, so she understands you’re family, not food. But of course, I’d be willing to set a schedule; we can write it out."

Cassia nodded slowly. " The schedule would be preferred, and I think we should do that first. But I’d be willing to try to be introduced to your—"

"No!" Milton interjected sharply. "I won't risk Cassia or the children. If we do that, I’ll do it first, just in case something goes wrong."

“Oh, I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise,” Sterling said as he leaned closer.

Sterling and Milton locked eyes, a silent battle of wills passing between them until Sterling finally chuckled. "I promise you won’t be hurt; I’ll be there every step of the way; it will be done under close supervision.”

"Good," Milton grumbled, not thrilled about this whole idea.

"Another thing," Cassia said before the mood could sour further. "Please, don't tell others about us. It's dangerous if more humans know."

"Of course," Sterling agreed solemnly. "Your secret's safe with me. And I'll give you a heads-up if I'm expecting company. You should have plenty of time to hide or return to your nest."

"Thank you," Cassia said, the relief evident in her tone. "It eases my mind knowing we won't stumble upon strangers."

"Before we continue further," Sterling said, shifting slightly, "I have another thing for you." He reached into a drawer and pulled out a small bundle wrapped in cloth. He unfolded it on the table with delicate care to reveal an assortment of miniature kitchenware.

Milton's eyes narrowed at the sight of the tiny pots and pans, more silverware, more teacups, plates, and plastic buckets—all perfectly borrower-sized. "We can't accept these; you’ve already given us a gift," he stated firmly, his pride as a provider prickling at the offer and the fact they didn’t get any gift for the giant.

Cassia's elbow nudged into his side subtly yet with intention. "Oh, they're wonderful," she exclaimed, her voice warm with genuine delight as she inspected the gifts. "We love them, don't we?"

"Of course," Milton conceded begrudgingly, though his gaze lingered on the items with a hint of appreciation. Sterling's lips curled into a pleased smile, his eyes brightening at Cassia's enthusiasm.

"Good, I'm glad," Sterling responded, watching them. "I hope they're... usable."

"Indeed," Cassia said, still admiring the craftsmanship.

After a moment of contemplative silence, Sterling's expression turned serious. "Listen, I've been meaning to ask—have you been cooking inside the walls? Using flame?" His tone was gentle, but concern etched his brow.

Cassia and Milton tensed simultaneously; the question felt like an intrusion, a spotlight on their hidden lives. "Yes, but we're always careful," Cassia assured quickly, her voice steady despite the sudden anxiety.

"Even so, I'd rather you didn't," Sterling insisted. "It's not just about being careful. Even tiny, controlled fires could lead to disaster."

"Disaster?" Milton scoffed. "We know what we're doing. It's not like we're reckless."

"Still," Sterling pressed, "what if there's another way? I could get you a miniature kitchen to set up here, on the counter. You could cook safely without worries."

"Out here?" Milton's voice rose incredulously. "You expect us to abandon the safety of the walls whenever hunger strikes?"

"Look, I—I thought it might be nice to share meals, but maybe that's too much," Sterling stuttered, his proposal hanging awkwardly in the air. "We can work out a schedule if that's better."

"Share meals?" Emma muttered under her breath, her skepticism evident even in hushed tones. "Like we wouldn't just take what we need anyway."

Sterling cleared his throat, undeterred. "I'll also leave a notepad out. If you need anything specific, just write it down, and I'll see what I can do."

"I’ll consider it. Could I pick the kitchen?” Cassia spoke up. She loved the idea of having something close to what humans got to enjoy.

“Of course!” Sterling said with a relieved smile.

“Okay, well, we can give it a try to see if that works,” Cassia declared, ignoring her husband's grumpy expression.

"Agreed," Sterling nodded. "You'll have free access to the kitchen. Anything you need."

"Generous offer," Cassia said with a small smile, glancing up at Sterling's towering figure. "Thank you, really."

"Of course," he replied, his voice softening. "Anything for my little housemates."

"Right," Sterling said, refocusing the group's attention. "One last rule I'd like to put in place. My bedroom and bathroom are off-limits. You'll just have to ask me if you need something from those rooms."

Milton nodded, his expression serious as he considered the giant human's request. "Understandable. Your privacy is important."

"Very well," Emma agreed, her eyes flickering to the other borrowers. "We'll respect your spaces. Let's sort out these schedules then."

"Great," Sterling replied, relieved. They discussed times and routines, ensuring their paths would cross safely and predictably.

Once they agreed on a schedule, Sterling reached into his pocket and pulled out a small object. "I've got one more thing for you. It's a smartphone—a basic one, but it should do the trick."

"A phone?" Milton's eyebrows shot up, incredulity etched across his face.

"Yes," Sterling beamed, placing it gently on the table before them. "It's pre-paid. You can call or text me if there's an emergency or even if you just need to ask about something."

Cassia leaned forward, her eyes wide as she examined the device. "This... this is too much, Sterling. We can't accept—"

"Please," Sterling interjected, pressing his palm against his chest. "It would give me peace of mind knowing you could reach out if needed."

"Thank you," Milton said gruffly, clearly moved despite his reservations. He was thinking about how they’d have to give something to Sterling in return; the giant human had already given them too many gifts. He could not stand to be outdone in this way.

Sterling picked up the phone and showed how to use it. "Here's how you turn it on, and here's how you make a call. I've saved my number under 'Giant'—it seemed fitting."

A chuckle escaped Cassia's lips, and even Emma allowed herself a small grin at the nickname.

"Let's test it," Sterling suggested. He dialed his own number from the phone and let it ring. His pocket buzzed, and he showed them the incoming call. "See? That's you calling."

"Technology," Milton muttered, still eyeing the phone with a mix of suspicion and fascination. Their most common technology was wiring and lights in their tunnels.

"Can we send messages, too?" Cassia asked, her curiosity overriding her initial hesitation.

"Absolutely," Sterling confirmed. "I'll leave it here by the notepad—you can grab it whenever you're ready to take it back to your nest."

"Stellar," Emma said, and though the word was flippant, her tone carried genuine appreciation.

"Thank you, Sterling," Cassia said again, her voice warm. " Although, Sterling, there's one more thing," Cassia interjected, "I want you to properly meet our children."

"Of course!" Sterling’s voice boomed enthusiastically, a giant grin spreading across his face. His eyes sparkled at the prospect of meeting the little ones he’d only glimpsed during hurried rescues from mischievous escapades.

"Come on up, loves!" Cassia called out. Four tiny figures emerged from the shadowy crevice in the wall, cautiously approaching the table. Agnes, her hair tied back in a practical braid, climbed the dangling rope with ease of experience, her little brother Finn clinging to her back, his eyes wide with wonder and trepidation. Pippin and Lila followed their big sister.

Sterling watched, spellbound by their miniature bravery, resisting every paternal instinct to scoop his hands underneath them for safety. Instead, he remained still, but his body was ready to lunge forward to catch them if they slipped.

"Hello, Mr. Silversmith," Agnes greeted, her voice steady despite the rapid thumping of her heart.

"Hi!" chirped Finn, his small fingers tightening around his sister's shoulders.

"Please, call me Sterling," he replied gently, careful not to startle them with the volume of his voice. "And who might this brave knight be?" he nodded towards Finn. He’d only seen the tiny boy once after rescuing him from his cat.

"I'm Finn!" the boy announced proudly, puffing out his chest as much as his piggyback position would allow.

"Nice to meet you, Finn. And Agnes, it's a pleasure to see you again."

Agnes nodded, her cheeks flushing with bashfulness.

"Can I have some bread?" Finn asked, his gaze darting to the plate of food.

"Of course," Sterling chuckled.

"Yeah!" Finn exclaimed, sliding down from Agnes's back to enjoy the warm food. Milton moved to help his youngest with his serving.

Sterling's eyes then landed on the other two children.

Cassia stepped forward. “This is Pippin, and this is Lila.”

“Hello there, it’s very nice to meet you?” Sterling smiled at the two tiny children.

Pippin shuffled his feet. “It’s nice to meet you too; thank you for letting me go last time.”

“Of course, little one. Here, go help yourself to the bread,” Sterling replied. He could tell the tiny children were still nervous around him, and he hoped his offering would put them at ease.

Sterling watched in fascination as the tiny girl, Lila, approached his hand. She placed her tiny hand on his finger. To his surprise and delight, the tiny girl started to climb into his hand. She stood on the back of his hand. Balancing and giggling as she went. Sterling held perfectly still, not wanting to knock the tiny girl down. He could feel her tiny feet padding softly against his skin.

"Are we like mice to you?" Lila asked, her voice teeming with curiosity.

"A bit," Sterling acknowledged with a teasing grin, "But much cleverer and certainly more talkative."

"Can I climb up your arm?" Lila inquired, peeking up through long lashes, her adventurous spirit shining through.

"Maybe," Sterling hedged, shooting a quick glance at their parents. "With your parents' permission, of course." He was surprised at how quickly this little one was warming up to him.

"Let's stick to the table for now," Milton interjected. It didn’t sit right with him to see his youngest daughter using the human as a jungle gym. She shouldn’t be this at ease with him.

Lila pouted but listened to her father. She hopped down from the giant hand and ran over to her father, asking for some yummy bread.

After the borrowers had their fill of bread and the adults had hashed out their agreements, they said their goodbyes, packed their gifts into their packs and headed back inside the walls. Sterling leaned down, handing them their new phone to take back with them. Sterling was amused that it took all three tiny adults to drag the electronics back with them. 

Author Note: Below is an example of some of the gifts Sterling gave them. The figure is just a reference model for size comparison. 

Chapter 9