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obsessivevoidkitten · 1 year ago

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A Day In Blood-Swell Swamp

Yandere Frog Hybrid x Gender Neutral Reader (CW: Noncon, non-human genitalia, oviposition, general yandere behavior, misunderstanding, reader stuck in mud) Word Count: 1.7k (The yandere in this is a cinnamon roll. A real sweetie. Needed another one like him. He misread the reader's intent and is not at all a bad guy. Really hope you guys like him)

You were an artist on a mission. You were traveling all over your country to sketch the flora, fauna, and landscapes of various habitats. You had already visited several different forests and a couple of prairies.

Now you found yourself in Blood-Swell Swamp. The waters of the swamp were a deep red color. Many people in nearby towns were superstitious about the place and its odd colored water, but you knew it was just a combination of iron filled water and algae.

You rowed the tiny boat you had purchased and found a dry outcrop of trees overlooking the water logged scenery.

When you looked at the impressive sanguine waters and wetland forest sprawling out in front of you, you knew you had made the right decision.

You got out and tied the boat to a tree, the waters were still, but better safe than sorry.

Once you decided on a good spot to look at you pulled out your sketchbook. The first thing you sketched was a frog on a lily pad beside a blooming water lily. The next thing was a cluster of unique purple flowers.

After that you began the larger task of drawing the landscape as a whole.

You had just about finished when you heard a splash and then an enthusiastic male voice behind you.

"HI!!!"

You turned around and almost fell over. If the sudden presence of an unknown man behind you hadn’t been enough to scare you, the fact that he wasn’t human would have.

He was crouched down on very athletic looking legs, wearing nothing but a loincloth. He had long webbed toes and fingers that matched, though he only had four fingers. His mouth was a bit too long and his eyes were large and purple. He was a bit shorter than you but he clearly had a strong and compact body.

But the most odd thing was the color of his skin. He was a deep cherry red with the color transitioning into blue on his arms and legs past his elbows and knees.

His medium length black hair dripped as he tilted his head and spoke again.

“Hello? Are you okay? What are you doing?”

You collected yourself, still frightened by his appearance despite his so far friendly demeanor.

“Uh…”

“Are you okay??”

You flinched backwards as he stepped towards you. He stopped approaching as he noticed you were uncomfortable.

��I just… never saw a… what you are before…”

“Oh! Well I am a frogkin. I have seen a human or two before, but only from a distance.”

You were about to respond but he cut you off, he seemed to be really excited to have someone to chat with.

“My name is Cobi, what’re you called?”

You mentally scolded yourself for your rude and frightened demeanor and forced yourself to calm down and introduce yourself. You were in his territory after all, and he had been nothing but polite to you. You gave him your name and explained to him that you were an artist there to sketch the beauty of the swamp. You showed him your sketches.

“Oh wow, we don’t have any artists here. I have never even heard of sketches. We have some wall paintings in some of our huts, but nothing like this!”

The frog man was clearly impressed.

“Oh, I couldn’t live without being able to draw all the beauty around me. Hey, could I draw you? Just a quick sketch!”

If the skin on his face wasn’t already red you would have been able to see that he was blushing. If you drew beautiful things then that must mean you thought he was beautiful. The notion made his heart flutter.

“S-sure!” Cobi said in his ever chipper voice.

You spent some time sketching him, despite your original plan to get just a quick one in, he happily let you get a couple extra. One with him in the water and one of him crouched on a dead log.

When you finished your sketching you fished some sandwiches out of your backpack and offered one to Cobi. He took it and sniffed inquisitively trying to figure out what it was.

“It’s food, it’s called a sandwich.” You took a few bites of yours and then he took a few cautious nibbles before his eyes lit up and he stuffed the whole thing in his mouth at once. You had to stifle a laugh.

"Thank you, that was super yummy!"

Cobi was blushing more. You drew him because you thought he was beautiful. Attractive. And now you gave him food. Surely that meant you were interested in him right? People of the swamp didn’t just give food away! You gave food to those you liked. Friends, family, and potential mates you were courting!

Even if it was subconscious you probably were trying to court him. And he really wanted to explore the possibility of being your partner too, you were so kind and interesting.

But he didn't want to jump the gun and assume before he had a bit more solid evidence. So instead of asking or acting on what he felt all the evidence pointing to he just hung around and chatted with you a bit more while you finished your meal.

You finished your food slowly, enjoying your time getting to know the inquisitive frogkin. You answered all of his seemingly inexhaustible supply of questions.

When you finished and said your goodbyes he seemed sad, but you were a traveler. You couldn't really make lasting friendships. And then, when you started to get up, you fell right over your own feet. Your arm stuck in some thick mud with your face low to the ground and your ass pointed up.

And that was all the confirmation Cobi needed. Ass up and presenting. The universal signal to breed!

If you had been able to see his face you would have seen that he was flustered beyond measure. You were also far too preoccupied to notice what Cobi was muttering.

"Oh... well I thought that maybe you just wanted to c-court and get to know one another better... I thought.. I j-just um... well it's just that... I-I have never even done it before... but... it seems like you really want to..."

Despite it being a bit fast he supposed he had become quite smitten with you. And, well, maybe humans coupled faster than frogkin. And he really didn't want to hurt you or offend you!

"O-okay, I'll do it!" He exclaimed loudly.

You were finally almost out of the muck and were about to ask him what he was going to do when he suddenly pulled your pants down and slid his huge tongue right into your entrance. You shuddered in shock and ended up with both hands stuck in the mud.

"Wh-what are you doing!?"

Cobi wasn't paying any attention to your words, not as lost in his efforts to loosen up your hole in preparation for the main event as he was. He gripped your legs with his webbed hands as his tongue probed you as deeply as possible, kneading and throbbing and gently stretching out your insides.

The pleasure was indescribable. You wanted Cobi to stop, but time you tried to articulate a protest the only sound you managed to produce was a loud moan or gasp.

And of course the only possible reaction Cobi could have to that was to think that he was doing a great job making his new mate nice. And he wanted to feel good with you.

He removed the slimy tongue from your entrance and removed his loincloth. Cobi then aligned his engorged cock and drew circles against it with before tip before slowly sinking into your tight heat. He had held reservations about making love to you so soon into courting, but now that he was inside you the last of them had melted away.

"Oh, oh, ooohh, you feel so amazing! I-i think you were meant for this pretty artist~"

Much in the same way that your resolve had melted away under the burning flood of pleasure Cobi was drowning you in. Judging by how it felt it was no human cock. It was much longer, a little thicker, and felt a bit slimy. With every thrust you lost a bit more of yourself until you were moving back against his movements, desperately trying to chase the orgasm you were building up to.

You had just come here to help along your art and now here you were in the mud mounted like a bitch in heat and enjoying it. It would have been humiliating if you had the capacity to dwell on such matters.

There were more important things to think about right now. Like the cock breeding you. The feel of unnaturally heavy nuts smacking into you. The soft and attentive lips kissing up your backside, straining to reach your neck.

You arched your back as you had the most mind shattering climax of your life.

"I can't hold back anymore. You sketched for me. L-let me just paint your insides for you~"

And then you learned why his nuts felt so heavy as they slammed against you. As he filled you he deposited much more than just normal cum. Over dozens of small round objects flooded into you and adhered themselves to your walls.

"Wh-what the?"

Cobi plucked you out of the mud with ease and pulled you into his lap as he sat down, with his prick still buried snugly inside of you. He held you close to his sweaty body and caressed your belly lovingly.

Now that you had a moment to process your predicament and the events that had just transpired you were completely dumbfounded. One moment you were trying to get out of the mire and the next you were being fucked.

"I'm so glad you wanted to be mates~"

Your mind was reeling trying to come up with a response to such an outrageous claim. When had you expressed anything resembling such a des-

"Mmmm~" Instead you could only reply with a pathetic pleased whimper as Cobi began rolling his hips, grinding into you and very slowly fucking you for a second time.

"Don't worry, I have plenty more eggs just for my sweet artist~"

You could only lean back against him and drool as he wrapped his arms around you possessively and temporarily fucked your mind away once more.

#yandere #yandere terato #yandere teratophilia #yandere monster #male yandere #yandere boyfriend #yandere x reader #gender neutral reader #x reader #male yandere x gn reader #My ocs #My OC Cobi

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uravitypng · 18 days ago

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bird creature/hybrid keigo takami x chubby reader

KINKTOBER: breeding (+praise)

word count: 3.0k words / mdni ! 18+ / this turned into a full on fic and is pretty fluffy tbh <3 it has more plot than porn sdfgjhbmfbxfvcbsxn and i haven't read it through properly but ssshhhh

being kicked out of your party sucks, 'you don't fill the roll of beast tamer' or something, they've found someone more skilled and experienced so now you're stuck alone in the middle of a forest after accepting a quest which you currently regret taking.

it should be a simple herb collection quest but it's being more of a hassle than it's worth, you shred off the top layers of your clothes and tie it around your waist, dropping your sheep hide bag and gulping down some of your water. after a while you stumble across a clearing with a lake and it looks like you'll finally be able to have room to properly set up your tent.

you don't realise but you're being watched. golden brown eyes piercing down at you, watching you with hawk-eyed vision on high alert to his surroundings. you met him the following morning, as you were leaving your tent something suddenly blocked out the sunlight before landing next to you. a bird creature was in front of you or maybe he was a hybrid, you weren't sure but he was rather intimidating. this man has bright red feather wings with a huge wing span and sandy blonde and white small fluffy parts on his arms and chest covered with a brown flimsy tunic with a handsome human face with golden eyes and blonde windswept hair. you're already quite fearful but after you spot his talons that look like they could slice you in half you really start panicking.

you were able to calm down when he smiled and held out his hand, you flinched first but in his palms where berries. you know those berries, they were edible, very rare and very tasty. later you found out his name was keigo but everyone call him hawks, when he told you this he also told you that he wanted you to call him keigo. he has limited human speech and it was hard to communicate with each other but you both tried your best.

you don't know this but when you accepted the berries he gave you in his mind that made you his mate, it solidified it in his mind and he was very happy that you accepted his advances. he's your provider and he has to look after you. you don't know that he thinks like that though.

you should of left the forest weeks ago, there was no reason for you to stay... well apart from keigo. you knew he would stay in the forest it's his home, you couldn't ask him to go with you and why would he? 'i probably care about him a lot more than he does me, which is fine! he likely has plenty of friends and his own kind in the forest, i just miss company after what happened with my old party... i like his company.' you can't bring yourself to leave, not yet, even if that means you're getting close to the rainy season, and it's always dangerous to be out in the wild in the rainy season. it's so easy to wind up dead, your body never found either downstream or at the bottom of cliffs that people can't access.

"shit!" you were foresting for some berries when you felt a drop of rain fall on your head, that drop turned into ten, then twenty, then fifty, all in a matter of seconds. you nearly fell as you tried to turn back to the somewhat safer option of your tent but the ground below you quickly became mud and slippy causing you to trip, luckily you were able to catch yourself on a nearby tree before falling face first and getting back as fast but safely as you can.

you're soaked to the bone and as the tent finally meets your eyeline it's getting you to walk quicker. you hear something above and you look up the best you can, covering your eyes with your hand but still somehow some water gets in your eyes, looking above you see hawks flying to you. "keigo, what are you doing?! go home, get in the tent, get anywhere. i know it might be different for you, i know you're less fragile than me but it's still raining heavily. what if there's lightning!" you shout at him to the sky.

keigo lands down, water slashing you in the process and getting mud on your trousers. he's careful as he pulls you towards him, making sure his talons won't hurt you and you're pressed against his body, "come." you're confused and you try to move so you can reach your tent but as you look behind you your back straightens as you see your tent. you don't even know if you could call it a tent anymore. the wind has blown it so much that it's just broken cut up fabric tied down by one singular peg, the others already blown away. "come," he repeats himself and pulls you closer towards his warm body before flying away, you can't help but scream as you lift up off the ground and you swear over the rain you can hear keigo laugh. you always wondered what it would be like if he took you up in his wings to fly, you've always thought they were so majestic but you never envisioned it going like this.

it's hard to hear and talk over the heavy patter of the rain but you try anyway. "keigo where are we going?"

"home," he replies and you hear him loud and clear, you don't know if that's because he's louder than the rain or leaning close to you or if you hear it loud and clear because your heart is just beating out of your chest at the answer.

it seemed like a long while of flying but when you finally reached the floor keigo carefully landed and put you down. looking around to where you are you see that you're outside a cave but you don't know that you can call it a cave anymore. at a quick glance from the outside it looks like it was originally a cave but the opening is covered by rocks, wood and other building materials, keeping the inside warm and dry. there's a wooden door to the side and you think you can see a lock on it. the outside reminded you a lot of your childhood home but you can't pinpoint why. "come," he grabs your wrist cautiously with his talons and leads you inside.

a blast of heat hits you when you enter and you immediately warm up, even if it's just a little bit through your wet clothes. it looks pretty barren apart from some small trinkets along the wall and the bed is covered in blankets and other fluffy comfortable things, definitely more comfortable than anything you've been sleeping recently. you stay where you are not moving from the door, not wanting to get everything wet. keigo leaves but comes back a minute or so after with a towel for you and second one in his hand for him.

"thank you," you say quietly and shyly taking the towel from him. after doing your best to dry your hair and dry the rest of your clothes keigo leans down to your neck and nuzzles you while cooing, heat quickly rises to your cheeks and he pulls back and takes you further into his home before dropping your hand and he goes back into one of his back rooms.

you miss his hand in yours but when he returns he's holding a shirt, "for you."

"me?" you point to yourself and he nods. "i don't know if it will fit, i might be a bit small." you tell him but he looks back at you with an easygoing smile that puts you at ease. you know it probably won't fit right, you're not exactly small but you don't have much choice with how wet your clothes are. "thank you," you return his smile. you feel small under his gaze as he looks at you, it seems like he has no plan to leave you alone to get changed or look away. "um, okay, i'll-" you turn away from him and lift up your top. when you take it off and start to fold it keigo holds you from behind, wrapping his arms around you, his wings softly fluttering. you get flustered and wonder what you should do, this isn't normal human behaviour but keigo isn't human maybe this is completely normal for him, although he's never done this before, but maybe he knows how cold you are.

"k-keigo i need to put this on, i'll get cold." he's slow as he takes his hands off you, making you shiver in the process. you quickly get changed pulling on the top that you've been given and pulling down your trousers. you were right about how it doesn't fit you but at least you're dry. the top is thin and covers up to your mid-thigh, the fabric tight along your waist, stomach and breasts but it's still comfortable. you turn round to look at him and twiddle with your thumbs, he smiles at you again and rubs his face against yours, making your cheeks heat up.

"drink?"

"huh?" you ask slightly distracted by how intimate this is.

"drink? keep you warm." he gestures to you and then gestures to another room. you nod your head, not knowing what drink you're saying yes to but happy to be warm and experience what drinks keigo likes and drinks, it might just be tea you'll have to wait and see.

you feel a bit uncomfortable just standing around and you don't notice any chairs so you perch yourself on the bed, hoping keigo won't mind. when keigo comes back he's wearing different clothes and he's holding two mugs, you smile at him and you notice he doesn't smile back. 'did i do something wrong? he's not smiling. maybe i was wrong about him not minding about me sitting down on the bed, i should of just stayed standing up.' keigo is holding onto the mugs so tightly that his hands are turning white. "i'm really sorry keigo, i didn't mean to make you angry," you rush out as quick as you can, hurrying to get up but as you start lifting off the bed two feathers rapidly leave keigo's wings and pins you down to the bed by the top you're wearing. you've never seen him do that before so part of you is thinking about how impressive it is, the other part of you worried and confused hoping he'll forgive you for whatever accidental mistake you made.

keigo places the cups down on the side. "i'm sor-" before you can finish your sentence, he moves on top of you, making your eyes widen, at that moment you see his eyes, heavily dilated looking down at you tenderly but hungrily.

"do you like?" he asks stroking your chubby cheeks.

"like?" you ask confused.

"nest." he kisses your nose.

you're not one hundred percent sure what you're saying yes to but you think he's talking about what you're laying on and you do like it, it's warm and cosy and you could stay here for ever. "i like it very much. i could stay here forever."

keigo trills when he hears you say that, "did a good job?"

you never thought keigo would be one for seeking approval but you suppose everyone does. "amazing job." you nod your head and lift your hands up to his wings and run your hands through them making him shiver. after all that's happened you're still surprised as he gently bites your lip, a silent request for you to open your mouth and you grant him access, parting your lips, keigo taking the lead controlling the movement as your tongues intertwine and you kiss. you have no idea how much time goes by, so caught up in the moment, it could of been three minutes or thirty for all you know, all you know is how good everything feels.

as you move apart you open up your eyes to see him smirking at you, your cheeks are hot. he kisses the corner of your mouth and squeezes your plush thighs before gently trailing his knuckle up and down your inner thigh, slowly inching up your, his, top. keigo brings both his hands to your outer thighs and slivers up the rest of the top until he sees your hips, eyes practically glowing as he nuzzles your neck again.

at some point while all of this was happening he started rubbing his hard dick along your thigh, getting precum everywhere, you had no idea when was able to take off his clothes.

this time he uses his talons as he rips up your underwear leaving you bare and maybe you should be scared of how close his talons were to you but you weren't. he uses his knuckles again and brushes along your opening, he thrills when he feels how wet you are and before you even realise it he's slowly pushing himself into you. he sees you wince and kisses all along your neck and pauses for a second, then continues just as slow as he was before not wanting to hurt you. when he's fully in he waits and kisses you all over, touching all over your body, your hips and stomach especially, groping and squeezing. keigo feels you start relaxing around him and starts moving, slow thrusts in and out of you, not wanting to hurt you.

keigo's thrusts start to speed up uncontrollable as he kept feeling you clench around him and how wet you are, almost feral, animalistic. a white creamy ring forms at the bottom of his dick and he becomes more and more feral. you moan loudly and bury your head into the soft blankets and materials. "feel so good!" you cry out mumbled against the pillows. you ball your fists up into the covers, holding onto them tight and keigo goes harder.

"you feel good too. i'll keep making you feel good," he leans down to your ear and kisses your cheek. you nod your head even though it wasn't a question and keigo's eyes dilate even more than they have been. he touches you very gently, circling against your clit and kisses your pulse point, delicately sucking a mark on your neck. his pace stays the same, still fast. your back arches and you feel the coil in your stomach winding up more and more, so close to snapping. you whine as the coil in you snaps and you cum, body tight in an arch before shaking.

keigo smirks as he watches your body fall and go limp. he picks up your legs and folds you in half, gripping hold of your thighs tightly and his pace increases so fast that it leaves you breathless, your body bounces and he watches you ravenously. "gonna give you my seed, gonna make you a pretty mummy." keigo chokes a groan and holds onto you tighter. you should be trying to move away and tell him no but you don't, instead you clench tighter around him and nod your head rapidly in desire, you've never wanted something so badly. warm ropes of cum spills into you filling you up. keigo smirks and peppers your face with kisses.

"keigo have you seen how messy tsunagu's clothes are! it's a nightmare washing them all the time!" you complain scowling as you pick up your youngest sons shirt.

keigo chuckles and comes up behind you wrapping his arms around your waist, kissing you behind you ear, "he's such a troublemaker." you shiver as you feel his breath against your skin and his voice so close to you, he smirks.

it's been five years since you first stepped foot in your home, it's been five years since you and keigo first had sex. in those five years a lot has changed, your relationship included. you and keigo have no problem communicating anymore, both now speaking the same language with keigo learning how to write and read everything too. you have two boys together and they're wonderful. you got married and it was one of the happiest days of your life. you've practically abandoned human civilisation, by your own choice. occasionally you'll go into town if you need something but you stay in the forest most of the time. you've met keigo's friend and they all call him hawks, even the ones he's known since children. you asked him why he told you to call him keigo when you first met especially since everyone calls him hawks and he told you it's because he knew as soon as he met you that you were his mate and you would spend the rest of your life together.

"i know a way to calm him down." you hear the mischievous tone in his voice.

you play along, "oh?"

"i think he needs to be a big brother." he pulls you closer to him and rubs your soft stomach.

grinning wide, "really?"

keigo hums and kisses your neck. "yeah birdie, a little one he can help and look after will keep him out of trouble." he nuzzles against you and plays with your stomach. he turns you around to look at him, holding onto your hands and smirking. nonchalantly asking, "what are we aiming for this time? a girl or another boy?" he taps his finger to his chin, "i'm thinking girl."

"i'm thinking a girl too," you smile fondly and kiss his nose. keigo's wings flutter out when you kiss him and you giggle.

"i'll lock the door."

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headspace-hotel · 5 months ago

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here's one of my favorite places, the ephemeral creek Sometimes it is flowing and sometimes not

Here are some aspects of creek

As you can see, the creek bed meanders. a squiggly creek holds more water than a straight one within the same distance, and creates all sorts of cool effects as erosion nibbles at one bank and deposits pebbles and mud on the other

When the water starts to go around the curve, it hits the bank and erodes underneath the tree roots, creating a little overhang where creatures can be shaded from the sun. But then once the water is all the way around the curve and loses its momentum, sediment settles out of it and makes a gently sloping beach

As you follow the creek bed it squiggles all over the flood plain and splits up and joins together, forming a tangly mess of creek beds that form an interesting and playful wetland area

Every so often along the mostly dry creek bed, there is a pool filled with water! It is much deeper than the rest of the creek.

How did that happen? Well you can see in the pictures below that something (whether a living tree root, or a bunch of dead tree branches and debris) blocked off the creek, it made the mud and pebbles pile up instead of washing further downstream. The creek bed above the blockage became much taller, which when the creek was running, made a waterfall. My idea is that the waterfall eroded into the creek bottom with greater force created by the increased height, which carved the pool deeper.

Because there are so many deep pools, the creek is like a string of pearls where each pearl represents a tiny pond. The tiny ponds hold the water in even when it hasn't rained in a long time. This makes it popular with animals whose tracks you can see in the mud

There are signs of life everywhere, let's turn over a rock and see if we can find some...

#creek #nature #ecology #ecosystems #animals #wildlife

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anipgarden · 1 year ago

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Things to Do that Aren't Related to Growing Plants

This is my second post in a series I’ll be making on how to increase biodiversity on a budget! I’m not an expert--just an enthusiast--but I hope something you find here helps!

Some of us just don’t have much luck when it comes to growing plants. Some of us simply want to aim for other ways to help that don’t involve putting on gardening gloves. Maybe you've already got a garden, but you want to do more. No problem! There’s a couple of options you can look into that’ll help attract wildlife in your area without even having to bring out any shovels!

Provide a Water Source

Oftentimes when I see ‘add a water source’ in informational articles about improving your backyard for wildlife, it’s almost always followed by an image of a gorgeous backyard pond with a waterfall and rock lining that looks expensive to set up, difficult to maintain, and overall just… not feasible for me. Arguably, not feasible for a lot of people. And that’s okay! There’s still ways to add water in your garden for all kinds of creatures to enjoy!

There’s tons of ways to create watering stations for insects like bees and butterflies. A self refilling dog bowl can work wonders! Add some stones into the receiving tray for insects to land on or use to climb out, and you’ve got a wonderful drinking spot for all kinds of insects! You can also fill a saucer or other dish with small stones and fill it, though it’ll likely need refilling daily or even several times a day during hot times.

I've seen people online use all kinds of things to make water features. Some go with terra-cotta pots, pebbles, and a cheap pump to get a small and simple fountain. Others use old tires, clay, and a hole in the ground to create an in-ground mini pond system. If all else fails, even a bucket or watertight box with a few plants in it can do the trick--though do be wary of mosquitoes if the water isn’t moving. In situations like these, a solar-powered fountain pump or bubbler are great for keeping the water moving while still making it a drinking option for wildlife (it not even more appealing for some)--and these items can be obtained fairly cheap online!

Bird baths are an option as well--a classic way to provide for birds in your area, they can be easy to find online or in a gardening store! The only downside is that a good, quality bird bath can be pricey up-front. However, a nice stone bird bath should last a long time, be easy to clean and refill, and be enjoyed by many birds! I’ve also seen tutorials on how to make your own with quickcrete! Bird baths will be a welcome sight to birds, as they provide a space for them to drink and bathe to regulate the oils in their feathers for flight and insulation. Putting a stone in the middle will also help insects to escape if they fall in, and provide a place to perch so they can get their own drink. You’ll want to change the water and clean the baths regularly--as often as once a week, if you can manage it.

If possible, it’s highly encouraged to fill and refill water features with rainwater instead of tap water. Tap water is often treated, so instead of using hoses or indoor kitchen water, collecting some rainwater is a great alternative. Collecting rainwater can be as simple as leaving cups, bins, or pots outside for awhile.

Butterflies and other creatures will also drink from mud puddles. If you can maintain an area of damp soil mixed with a small amount of salt or wood ash, this can be fantastic for them! Some plants also excel at storing water within their leaves and flowers (bromeliads come to mind), making them an excellent habitat for amphibians as well as a drinking spot for insects and birds.

Bird Feeders and Bird Houses

Some of the fancy, decorated bird feeders are expensive, but others can be pretty low-cost--I got my bird feeder from Lowe’s for around 10 dollars, and a big bag of birdseed was around another 10 dollars and has lasted several refills! If you don’t mind occasionally buying more birdseed, a single birdfeeder can do a lot to attract and support local birds! If you’re handy, have some spare wood, and have or can borrow some tools, you may even be able to find instructions online to make your own feeder. You may not even need wood to do so! Even hummingbird feeders, I’ve found, are quick to attract them, as long as you keep them stocked up on fresh sugar water in the spring and summer!

An important note with bird feeders is that you have to make sure you can clean them regularly. Otherwise, they may become a vector for disease, and we want to avoid causing harm whenever possible. Also keep an ear out and track if there’s known outbreaks of bird diseases in your area. If local birding societies and scientists are advising you take your birdfeeders down for awhile, by all means, do it!

Bird houses are naturally paired with bird feeders as biodiversity promoters for backyard spaces, and it makes sense. Having bird houses suited to birds in your area promotes them to breed, raise their young, disperse seeds, and generally engage in your surrounding environment. Setting them up takes careful selection or construction, preparation, and some patience, but sooner or later you might get some little homemakers! Keep in mind, you will need to clean your birdhouses at least once a year (if not once per brood) to make sure they’re ready and safe for birds year after year--you wouldn’t want to promote disease and parasites, after all. But they could be a valuable option for your landscape, whether you purchase one or construct your own!

Again, do make sure you're putting up the right kind of boxes for the right kinds of birds. Bluebird boxes are some I see sold most commonly, but in my area I believe they're not even all that common--a nesting box for cardinals or chickadees would be far more likely to see success here! And some birds don't even nest in boxes--robins and some other birds are more likely to use a nesting shelf, instead! Research what birds live in your area, take note of any you see around already, and pick a few target species to make homes for!

Solitary Bee Houses

A bee house or bee hotel is a fantastic way to support the solitary bees in your area! For a few dollars and some annual cleaning, you can buy a solitary bee house from most big box nurseries. Alternatively, you can make one at home, with an array of materials you may already have lying around! You can even make them so that they’ll benefit all kinds of insects, and not necessarily just bees.

Though you don’t even necessarily have to break out the hammer and nails, buy a ton of bricks, or borrow a staple gun. Making homes for tunneling bees can be as simple as drilling holes in a log and erecting it, or drilling holes in stumps and dead trees on your property. You might even attract some woodpeckers by doing this!

Providing Nesting Area

There are tons of different kinds of bees, and they all make different kinds of homes for themselves. Not all of them make big cavity hives like honey bees, or will utilize a solitary bee house. Bumblebees live in social hives underground, particularly in abandoned holes made by rodents--some others nest in abandoned bird nests, or cavities like hollow logs, spaces between rocks, compost piles, or unoccupied birdhouses. Borer, Ground, and Miner bees dig into bare, dry soil to create their nests. Sparsely-vegetated patches of soil in well-drained areas are great places to find them making their nests, so providing a similar habitat somewhere in the garden can encourage them to come! I do talk later in this document about mulching bare soil in a garden--however, leaving soil in sunny areas and south-facing slopes bare provides optimal ground nesting habitat. Some species prefer to nest at the base of plants, or loose sandy soil, or smooth-packed and flat bare ground. They’ve also been known to take advantage of soil piles, knocked over tree roots, wheel ruts in farm roads, baseball diamonds and golf course sand traps. You can create nesting ground by digging ditches or creating nesting mounds in well-drained, open, sunny areas with sandy or silty soil. However, artificially constructed ground nests may only have limited success.

Providing Alternative Pollinator Foods

Nectar and pollen aren’t the only foods sought out by some pollinators! Some species of butterflies are known to flock to overripe fruit or honey water, so setting these out can be an excellent way to provide food to wildlife. You may want to be cautious about how you set these out, otherwise it can help other wildlife, like ants or raccoons. Butterflies may also drop by to visit a sponge in a dish of lightly salted water.

Bat Houses and Boxes

Big or small, whether they support five bats or five hundred, making bat boxes and supporting local bats is a great way to boost biodiversity! Not only will they eat mosquitoes and other pest species, but you may also be able to use the guano (bat droppings) as fertilizer! Do be careful if you choose to do that though--I’ve never had the opportunity to, so do some research into how strong it is and use it accordingly.

Provide Passageway Points

If you want your area to be more accessible for creatures that can’t fly or climb fences, allowing or creating access points can be an excellent way to give them a way in and out. Holes in the bottom of walls or fences can be sheltered with plants to allow animals through.

In a somewhat similar manner, if you’re adding a water fixture, it’s important to provide animals a way to get into and out of the pond--no way in, and they can’t use the water. No way out, and they may drown. Creating a naturalistic ramp out of wood beams or sticks, or stepped platforms out of bricks, stones, or logs can do the trick.

Get or Keep Logs and Brush Piles

I’ve already mentioned logs a good handful of times so far in this post. To be used as access ramps, or as nesting areas for solitary bees. But they have value as much more than that! Logs on the ground provide shelter for all kinds of animals, especially depending on size--anything from mice, reptiles, and amphibians to things like turkey vultures and bears will use fallen logs as shelter. Inside of a decaying log, there’s a lot of humidity, so amphibians are big fans of them--meanwhile, the upper sides of them can be used as sunning platforms by things like lizards. Other animals can also use the insides of logs as nest sites and hiding places from predators too big to fit inside. Fungi, spiders, beetles, termites, ants, grubs, worms, snails, slugs, and likely much more can be found inside rotting logs, using the rotting wood as food sources or nesting places. They can then provide food for mammals, amphibians, reptiles, and birds. They can also be regarded as a landmark or territory marker as wildlife get more familiar with your space.

So how do you get logs for cheap? Try Chip Drop! I talk about them more in a future post, but you can mark saying that you’d like logs in your drop, so they’ll give you any they have! In fact, you may even get a drop faster if you're willing to accept some logs. You may also be able to approach arborists you see working in your area and ask for logs. There may also be local online listings for people selling logs for cheap, or just trying to get rid of them. If there’s land development going on near you, you may be able to snag logs from trees they cut down to make space. Do keep in mind, you don’t need to have huge gigantic logs laying around your property to make an impact--even small logs can help a lot.

If possible, creating and leaving brush piles on the edge of your property can be a great boost to biodiversity--even if you may not see the wildlife using it. They’ll provide shelter from weather and predators, and lower portions are cool and shady for creatures to avoid the hot sun. The upper layers can be used as perch sites and nest sites for song birds, while lower layers are resting sites for amphibians and reptiles, and escape sites for many mammals. As the material decays, they also attract insects, and as such they’ll attract insect-eating animals too. As more small animals find refuse in your brush pile, their predators will be attracted to them as well. Owls, hawks, foxes, and coyotes are known to visit brush piles to hunt. Making a brush pile can be as simple as piling branches and leaves into a mound, as big or as small as you want. You can even use tree stumps or old fence posts near the base, and keep stacking on plant trimmings and fallen branches. Do note that you don’t want to do this near anything like a fire pit.

Don't forget, with all of these, your mileage may vary for any variation of reasons, so don't worry if you can't take all of even any of these actions! Even just talking about them with other people may inspire someone else to put out a bat box, or leave a few logs out for wildlife!

That's the end of this post! My next post is gonna be about ways to get seeds and plants as cheaply as possible. For now, I hope this advice helps! Feel free to reply with any questions, success stories, or anything you think I may have forgotten to add in!

#biodiversity #solarpunk #environmental stewardship #gardening #outdoor gardening #(i know this is literally the Dont Gotta Garden post but these could also be excellent additions to a preexisting garden so)#ani rambles #out of queue #the biodiversity saga #here in the tags to once again emphasize your mileage may vary with all of these #my mom is scared of bats theres no way in hell shes gonna let me put up a bat box #but I have been able to put out a shallow bird bath and a little solarpowered hummingbird bath fountain #do what you can! every bit counts! You may be able to do something that I or your neighbors can't!#for example my nextdoor neighbors have literally no trees in their backyard where the hell would they put a bat box #meanwhile i have trees in my backyard but still can't put up a bat box. maybe the neighbors next to me could!#similarly brush piles are a no go for my family but someone somewhere else could set one up!#i am rambling in the tags now uh long story short do what you can don't stress about what you can't

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year ago

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Hiya!! I’m obsessed with your writing. You’re my favorite writer on here, I dream of your stories!

Would it be possible to request (either with Ghost or Price, I love them both equally) something like they were young love but he breaks up with reader cos he wants to keep her safe and thinks he knows what’s best for her. Then during a mission gone wrong, they need a safe house but somehow the enemy found out all the locations of their approved safe houses. He remembered her place is close by and tries his luck. Maybe she gets mad at him for making decisions for her or maybe he learns about her difficult past that happened without with. But with a happy ending? ☺️

Only if this inspires you! Thank you again for sharing your beautiful writings!

If You Bite My Hand Again

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: How dare he show his face to you after all of these years. How dare you still find it in yourself to love him.

WORDCOUNT: 6.6k

WARNINGS: Heavy angst, abandonment, arguments, mentions of death, blood, insinuations of torture & mental illness troubles, Simon's comic backstory, hurt/comfort, sort of suggestive?, anxiety attack, somewhat happy ending, etc.

A/N: This was really fun to write, lol, enjoy Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You never should have met him. In fact, it seemed like the universe had been adamant to make you not run into each other on that chilly October morning almost…well…it has to be more than thirteen years ago, now. So long.

As you head to your kitchen and glance at the clock, the hands point to a perfect three-fifteen—an hour of pitch-blackness and whispering winds that dash past the musty glass of the windows. The thump of your footsteps blocks out the heaving sigh that falls from your mouth; rubbing at your eyes like a cat as great bags sag from tired flesh.

The dreams weren’t uncommon.

Simon still reigned supreme in the conjuring of them, ingrained into the sinews and pulled thin by a hand constantly working them—knitting a sweater of memories addled with age. Moth-eaten.

As you snap on the light of your tiny and run-down kitchen, the bulb fizzing and the dishwasher still emitting that squeal as it always does, you think about him before grabbing a glass. Water hits and fills the thing up as your eyes blankly stare, fatigued but yet never more awake.

The tremors in your hands persist.

You never should have met him.

—

Your feet take you to Primary, laces a mess atop your little shoes caked in mud and grass—you’d chased after a butterfly through the front yards, getting caught in your neighbor's bushes and having to slip your way out before she could rampage outside with her broom.

It was no surprise that your face was lit with a bright smile, eyes shining like fire that your teachers had given you a special name for—“Ember.”

The very thing that could start a blaze over and over again as long as it still was alight.

Laughing and peeing out leaves from your hair; flattening out your uniform, you stride with pride ingrained into your body. Well, you did before you heard the soft sniffling coming from down the alley.

Halting, your ears perk at the sounds, smile freezing as you blink quickly. Looking to your left, you lock onto the hunched figure of a boy.

Perhaps only a year or two older than you, you stare in curiosity as he consciously paws at his cheeks, walking out of the alley in broken and odd strides. His uniform is ruffled, wrinkled, but not in the way yours was.

He must have fallen and hurt himself, you reason with a child-like frown pulling on your lips. Blinking at his blond hair, you get a glimpse of red-rimmed brown eyes.

The boy halts, looking at you widely, fear and pain emanating from his expression. You’re the first to speak, brightness still in your eyes but a deep innocence that comes with youth. All you saw was a boy your age in pain—that was strange to you. You knew what getting hurt was like; you fell and scraped your knees often, or hit your elbows on corners. Sometimes you would cry from that…did the same happen to this boy?

“You’re crying, aren’t you?” Brown-Eyes stares, hurriedly pushing at his face to wipe tears but only succeeds in making his face red from the material of his uniform. “Did you fall down? I do that pretty often—it’s okay, my Mum says you’ll be better after a hug and a kiss!”

You smile and stand straighter.

“I,” the boy begins, sniffling. “I didn’t fall. I’m not clumsy.”

You tilt your head, confused. “Well…then why are you crying?”

“That’s none of your business!” He snaps, brows pulled in as he comes forward on the sidewalk. Your face twists as you huff in annoyance.

“My Mum says to treat everyone nicely. That wasn’t very nice.”

“I don’t bloody care, do I,” you’re sent a scathing glance as he passes. “I didn’t ask for you to speak to me. Leave me alone.”

Naturally, you follow after, cheeks gaining heat.

“You’re being mean! Apologize!”

“Would you run off already?!” The boy shouts, and perhaps something fires in that small brain of yours—a thought and a semblance of self-realization at the shame that emits from his tone. A tight squeeze of vocal cords.

He was ashamed. Ashamed you’d caught him. Seen him.

Your feet slow back to a stop, watching him hurriedly continue on and hearing the quiet gasps of breath. After a moment, you grit your teeth and run the distance; seizing him around the middle in a hug of stubby fingers and tightly closed eyes.

The boy startles, body hardening and a cry escaping his lungs. “Get off of me!” He shouts, hands snapping down to yours and digging under your hold.

“No!” You call, stubbornly. “My Mum says that hugs make everything better—”

“Stop talking about your Mum!” The boy stomps his foot to the ground, chubby cheeks turning crimson as he tilts his head back to look at you, tears still dripping off his chin.

A stiff silence falls but like a green branch on a tree, Brown-Eyes’ form twitchingly loosens, his prying hands softening as you hold tight—digging your nose into his spine. He minutely flinches, but you only hug him more.

You’re both late to the building, and your teachers are going to give you scoldings. But right now, on a chilled October morning, you hug this strange, crying boy and blink your fiery eyes up at him.

After he relaxes fully and the sniffling stops, you let go and smile brightly again, looking up into his open expression of innocent confusion. Whatever had happened, he must have fallen pretty hard, you thought, pulling out another leaf from your hair. You giggle and hand it over as a gift.

The boy hesitantly picks it up and looks at it before turning back to you.

“Call me Ember.”

A pause. A hesitation. But your eyes shimmer and he relents with the memory of the hug in the front of his mind. Such a strange encounter.

He speaks, looking away from you with flushed cheeks, muttering out as his tear streaks dry.

“...Simon.”

You walk together the rest of the way.

The reality was, if you had gotten caught by your neighbor, had snatched that butterfly—had even stayed in those bushes for three more seconds, you would have missed him. And if Simon hadn’t run out of his home crying, he never would have locked onto the burning reality that was with you.

—

You put the glass to your chapped lips and take a long sip, throat bobbing as you take down the liquid with tears burning your eyes. Blinking rapidly, you swipe at the water at the sides of your mouth and shake your head, sighing.

“Why can’t you leave me alone?” Your voice bounces off the walls, peeling paint and moving the dust stuck atop the fridge. “Damnit, Simon.”

Today was worse than the others—everything building and stacking like some castle of misery and pain; windows too narrow to let in any light and your form stuck in shadows longer than an endless rope. There were just so many things that suffocated you now.

And in the endless nights, the brain desperately looks for comfort.

You hate that it only comes from the memories of him.

“I have to go to work tomorrow.” Your subconscious reminds you as you blankly stare out the window above the sink, seeing the streetlights and the cone of warm light—it flickers every so often, a blinking taking place like the eye of a large, brutish, wolf.

Work, then the grocery store, then back home to eat a tasteless dinner and fall back to sleep. An empty house with empty walls and empty memories.

Your hands put the glass in the sink, coming back up to rub and dig into your eyes until the itch behind your flesh stops. A thump of a low pulse is felt in the thin skin, orbs of your optics moving before you pinch into the bridge of your nose and drop them with a slap of a hand to the counter. A harsh breath exits your mouth, but it’s quickly strangled away into a sound of ragged shock.

Outside, under the light, the silhouette of a man leans heavily on the pole, feet shaking under him and face pressed into the shadows as his shoulders heave. You stare, wide-eyed, as your heart jumps to a rapid pace.

“What the fuck?” Your mouth utters, watching the man push off the light and stagger with a heavy limp and a jerking body of immense stature. Whoever this guy was, he was out of his mind—and coming right for your front door. You startle to go and secure it, feet slapping the ground and face twisted.

“What the fuck?!” Gasping, you re-check your locks and frantically look for something else—the stool where you place your keys meets your eyes. You grab it and place it as a barrier to the handle, tilting it on two legs and blinking quickly as whatever sleep-sheen that had been in your gaze leaves in one swoop of adrenaline.

Grunting wafts in from under the door, haggard inhales and a sudden slam of a body hitting the door. You stifle a scream and back up quick steps, slapping your hands to your mouth.

Sure, you might live in a shitty neighborhood, but no one had ever tried to just straight-up break in high or drunk off something. Your mind slashes to the knives in the kitchen drawer as the wall shakes again—something sliding down to the ground and a grunted whine.

Just before you run off, you hear it. An utterance; a disruption of airwaves. A whisper, a plea. Your brain ceases to function with one foot back the way you came, hand on the frame with the knuckles tight.

In one instance it all comes to a screeching halt.

“Ember…”

Who called you that anymore? The rare instance where you’d meet your classmates in the world they would mutter it; also be asked a few questions before they went on with their lives. You pause in your panic, slowly gazing back at the barrier and the stool like you’d just discovered you’re under the sights of a sniper.

There’s a sliver of something that inserts itself into your brain. Fear or hope, you can’t tell. But that can’t be right.

He left.

“Ember!” You flinch, the deep Manchester accent grating your heart into shreds. No. “It’s me!” He says, followed by a horribly gritty cough.

There’s a weak thump against the door, mumbled curses, and growls as if a wild animal mimicking human speech. You almost wished for that, considering you now knew the exact person behind the door down to his atoms. The brown of his eyes and the way his cheeks looked as they were stained with tears.

His laugh. Simon’s voice. Everything.

Simon.

You’re rushing to rip the stool away with a clatter and a jerk as it hits the far wall, undoing the locks with shaking hands as you grasp the handle and wrench it sideways.

His form slams to your feet with a loud grunt as the door hits the wall.

“Fuckin’ hell! Mind your bloody—!” Whatever he said was lost to you as you stare at the bloodied form of the man you had thought you’d seen the last of. Tactical gear, terrifying skull mask, black on black with weapons galore. But that voice told you all you needed to know.

Simon Riley is alive and very much breathing.

The same boy you still loved.

The same boy who’d broken your heart.

—

After October the years with Simon seemed to strengthen. You always walked together in the mornings—or, at least, you always waited for him. The dawn of your friendship strengthened and hardened to an unbreakable amount of mid-day rays; vast and sunny.

When he was sixteen he asked you to be his girlfriend, hand in his pockets and ache on his chin as he grunted out broken sentences. Stuttering and awkward. You’d smiled with your bright eyes and giggled before kissing his cheek—feeling his sigh and him melting into you with a grin of his own, unable to meet your eyes for a moment.

Later, when he said he’d wanted to leave his apprenticeship at the grocery’s butcher shop and join the Special Air Service, you’d been along for the ride—anything to get him away from his father and brother. You knew what was going on, even if he was still so hesitant to allow you any glimpse of his home life.

When he’d shy away at the Halloween decorations of skeletons as if the skull would jump off the page and tense at loud cheering, you knew. You did what you could, but there was only so much for you to suggest or say without him shutting down.

When you’d offered your flat as a safe space after graduation, desperate to help your Lover, he’d stared and blinked in shock; tilting his head at you before smiling softly and taking you into a hug. Wherever he went, he knew he’d always have a place by your side.

So, throughout his leaves of absence from the military, he’d come home to you—bruised and tired, but still the same Simon you fell in love with. You’d cook for him, tease at his shaved hair as he gave you those puppy-dog eyes, and talked him through your classes at University.

You would fall asleep on his chest, feeling the hard strength he was gaining and the way he held you tighter than he ever had; conscious of himself but not wanting to part with you.

The love the both of you had was akin to a blaze of fire, and you often found Simon simply staring into your eyes in times like those—watching silently and rubbing his thumb along your spine until your face burned.

He was always so gentle despite everything; you loved his perseverance, his drive to be good despite nearly every factor telling him he couldn’t be. Slowly but surely, he was forging his own life.

In 2003 he managed to take a break from the military to get his family straightened out. His brother, Tommy, went to rehab—Simon stayed with his mother and a year later he kicked his father to the curb and out of his and his family's life entirely. Finally free.

You managed to meet his lovely mum, still so bright, and even interacted with Tommy once he got out; went to the younger brother’s wedding in ‘06 and met Beth, his wife. When you saw Simon’s mother and the way she carried herself, you knew where your Love got his pride from. The two were so alike it was a sight to see.

While it may not have been conventional by any standard, Simon proposed to you in the back garden of Tommy’s cheap wedding venue. Alone, so as not to cause a scene. Willow trees and a small stream of water. Fireflies. The words ring in your soul with every waking moment, and they will stay there until it all goes silent with the grip of death.

He didn’t want to use his mum’s ring—the one that holds so many bad memories for both parties. He’d used the gold from it though. Went to a man who bled him dry for money to have it re-cast.

It was simple. A small, glinting, ruby pressed in the middle.

“It was always goin’ to be you, Ember, yeah?” he’d muttered in his deeper voice, formal attire holding you both tight. “So…don’t make me beg too much, Sweetheart. You know the old lady’ll kill me if I get stains on my suit.”

“Beg?” You responded, tears in your eyes but such a wide grin on your lips. The stars above you twinkle like the pupils of your eyes—the same burn still trapped. “Oh, Simon, come on, now.” He connects his forehead to yours, hand still in the middle of you and presenting the accumulation of all of his love. The other wraps your waist.

He was shaking slightly.

“I would never make you beg for my love, Brown-Eyes.”

You both share a breathless chuckle and lock lips, smiling like fools as he sighs into you.

In a happy world, that would have been the beginning of a perfect life. A happy house. A happy wedding. Happy deaths.

But something went wrong on one of his deployments.

Missing for months, he came back…wrong. With a fiery temper and sharp snapping words—wounds on the outside as well as inside. His eyes were feral, like a dog held back by a broken chain carting around its feet.

Simon never spoke about it—the missing days. The weeks. The months.

You broke yourself over it, trying to help but not knowing what would make it better. Some days there were flickers of soft expressions, but it was as if he were dragging himself up from a pool so deep it was bottomless to show them to you. Simon rarely smiled. He rarely sent an affectionate glance.

He didn’t let you touch him.

And then he called the entire engagement off with a letter on your counter only holding four words.

‘Don’t look for me.’

And then Simon’s mum, Tommy, Beth, and his nephew had all died. Been killed. And you were just supposed to move on? Live with that? There were times when you had breakdowns so bad you couldn't leave the house for days—the house that Simon and you had bought together.

All of those years.

All those vows and shared nights.

And he disappeared on you.

—

You have him sitting on the couch, watching silently from the chair across the room as he finishes wrapping his leg with the bandages from the first-aid kit you’d provided.

More like chucked at his gut.

No one had said a word, and the air was as tense as a noose—choking any oxygen that traveled into your throat. Simon was getting blood all over your flat cushions, the crimson saturating the fabric as you sit rail-rod straight, hand clenched on your thighs.

Simon’s avoiding your eyes.

“Take off the mask,” you hiss, pupils slits. If he wasn’t going to address it, then you were. Simon freezes, not breathing as his hands fall stationary around the bandages.

“I’ll be fine in a while—”

“Take off your fucking mask, Simon.” You can’t help the way you snap, face burning with shame and hate. How dare he show up now, after all of these years of mourning him and the relationship you’d built as kids. Simon wasn’t just your boyfriend—your fiancé—he was your best friend.

And all he’d done was left you a four-fucking-letter note before leaving you behind.

The geared man sighs silently, and you see his shoulders sag. His grip travels up as he straightens his spine in a fluid motion, pain medication working through him in waves of numbness.

His brown eyes bore through you as if he were a ghost. Under the fabric, his mouth thins. “Ma’am.”

Even his voice is older. More dead. How could this be your Simon?

Your heart bruises your ribcage as he grasps the top of his skeletal mask, gloved fingers peeling back the sown layers until you get the full image of a man more damaged than before. You have to stop yourself from sobbing right then and there; your throat going dry.

So many scars. Milky white and spread vastly—they weren’t pretty. Up his cheeks, down his brow line; even at the corner of his mouth and seeping down his neck. A crooked nose with damaged cartilage. Strangling a gasp, it comes out as a great expelling of horror, eyes going wide with shock.

You hate how you want to rush to him, take his face in your hands, and try to brush them away as if marks on paper. But you don’t make any such movements beyond a hunch of your shoulders.

“Not pretty, eh? Guess I should’ve warned you.” Simon rubs at his forehead, blond locks, hanging around his temple, and the black of face-paint stuck in his sockets. “Didn’t mean to fuckin’ drop in like this, Ember. Bloody bastard thing for me to do.”

You flinch at the name, looking away as you’d been peeling back his skin with your eyes. “What are you doing here, Simon?” Anyone with a brain could hear the cracking hardness in your words. Face blank.

He studies your features, taking in the changes and the bleakness of your expression. Brows furrow slightly before they go back to a state of nothingness. Simon glances around the room, finding the condition of things concerning but doesn’t show it.

“Nothin’ you need to worry about comin’ back to you, Sweetheart. Just work.”

“It is when the bastard who abandoned me shows up years later, bloody on my doorstep. Stop acting so self-righteous,” you growl, snapping, “I should toss your arse outside and let them have you. And don’t fucking call me that.”

Silence descends, and your words echo. It’s like now that he was here everything hurt ten times more than when he wasn’t.

“I never wanted us to end up like we did—”

“Bullshit!” You’re on your feet and stalking to him, pointing with your finger as he hurriedly stands up as well and looks down in shock as you press your digit into his bulky vest. “You shut your mouth, Simon Riley, and you let me explain something to you.”

He keeps silent, mouth parted and scars shifting around his stubble. His hands slightly held out at his sides and hovering over your hips—not touching you but there just in case. Simon’s brown ords are carefully widened at your tight exclamation. The sound of his clearing throat enters the living room before you speak again.

“I waited for you, hoped and prayed that you would show me at least a,” your throat bunches, but you push through. “A modicum of respect and show your stubborn self up at my door with apology flowers and a guilty smile on your lips. You know who took care of your family's burial plots, you fucking piece of shit,” his eyes flinch closed a bit, turning his head down as his breath hitches. “Me! You fucking disappeared!”

You know you shouldn’t be yelling, shouldn’t be pounding on his chest with a fist as if he was a door and you the knocker, but, dammit, it’s been years and he just shows up? Like this? Ten times the size he was—scarred and torn to shreds; laced with muscles and an expression of vacancy. Simon holds to your words, hanging off of them with a down-ward turned chin and eyes that lock with yours through pale lashes.

“Maybe I-I did, o…or pushed some things that I shouldn’t have,” you hold back your tears, but your voice still wavers, tapering off like a line without a hook, “but I didn’t deserve that, Simon.” The first traitorous sob breaks through. “I didn’t deserve that.”

His eyes shatter into a myriad of kaleidoscope bits and pieces, brows flicking from one point on your face to another in quick slashes of guilt. But he still doesn’t touch you. Not until you tell him it’s what you want.

Simon opens his mouth but closes it just as quickly, unable to find any words that would even matter. You let your tears slip down your cheeks, dribbling off your chin. The man’s chest hurts, pulse thumping to mirror yours.

“I waited for you and you broke me,” you whisper, mouth twisting with odium towards the man under your fist. “I wanted a life with you, Simon, no matter the trials.”

“I didn’t mean to…” The man trails off, clenching his jaw. You scoff, backing up a step and pressing your palms into your eyes.

“But you did.”

“I had to keep you safe, Ember.” Simon’s fingers twitch outward, eyes frantically moving around as you sniffle and shakily walk away to the kitchen. He follows, desperately on your heels as your spine bows forward with resounding cries of anguish. “I...I wasn’t right in the head, I need you to understand I didn’t want this! I never wanted to fucking hurt you!”

Your hand connects with the junk drawer, tearing it open and digging a hand inside as he pleads with you to listen.

“If I didn’t leave I was worried I’d do something—!”

“Then you should have trusted me!” Your hands rip out the ring held on a small leather strap. The ruby glints where it always sits, held in tarnished gold. You chuck it at his chest and suck down breaths so you don’t pass out. “I would have listened! Gotten you help! We don’t abandon the ones we love, Simon! Not us!”

Simon catches the object by slapping a hand to his chest, pinky finger latching through the leather cord before he jerks his limb back up. When he looks at the ring, he goes utterly still, gazing back up at you slowly.

“We were supposed to be different,” you sob, trapping it behind your hands. He’s shaking, brows tight and lines along his face as he brings a free hand to run through his locks, gripping the strands for a moment and pulling. “Simon,” you say again, and he looks back at you with glossy eyes. “We were supposed to be better.”

“What did I do to you to deserve that,” he stares, his jaw is loose and he can’t stop clenching and unclenching it. You can see his heart working through his breast. Bloodied. Beaten by fists and slashed with knives. “What did I do to you?”

“Nothing,” he gasps, taking a step forward. “Fuck, Ember, you didn’t bloody do anything to me besides love me.”

You sputter out, “Then why did you leave me here alone?” Your knees buckle and he darts forward, catching you under the arms as you wail out, shoving on his waist, “You never should have come back. Never should have come back.”

He lets you push him off; lets you back up to the counter as Simon tilts his head higher to stave off the tears in the sides of his eyes. He’d known coming here was a bad idea, for lack of a better word, but after the Op went bad and all of his safe houses were compromised, he didn’t have a choice. It wasn’t to say he didn’t regret his actions in the past with you, or that he didn’t punish himself for them, yet at the time it was the only thing he could do to give him the sense that you would be better without him. Safe.

After everything that had happened, he wasn’t in the right state of mind anymore. You deserved so much better. But hearing all of this…

Christ, could he have been wrong? Everything blurred; hurt. Hearing your sobs was like a knife to his heart every time, digging and cutting with serrated edges at the veins and pumping muscle, carving away flesh to shed the pounding redness to light. You held that heart in your hand and in his he held the ring—the ring he’d given to you as a promise of love and honor.

A pact of loyalty.

Simon doesn’t even realize he’s crying until the blurring edges of his vision make itself known. His eyes bore harshly, prodding into you as he makes known what he’s been broken since he first locked gazes with you again. The man’s voice shakes, accent deep and tight.

He asks the first thing that comes to his head.

“What happened to your eyes?”

“What?” You ask, incredulously, brows furrowed as your hand digs into the counter to keep you upright. Simon stares deeper, the sides of his eyelids wrinkling with a not-so-hidden sheen of great concern. Unbearable pain.

“What happened to your bloody eyes?” Where had the spark gone? That flare that grew and spread like fire that was the entire purpose behind your name. An unconquerable ache for life.

You only watch him with a parted mouth and tear-stained lashes, sniffling. Simon tries again, taking a step forward on unsteady feet.

“Please, Sweetheart, d…don’t, don’t…” He can’t finish, the leather cord intertwined into his fingers as he comes closer. “Don’t tell me I took it away. Not my Ember. Not my Girl’s fire.”

Your eyes are so overflowed you can’t even see him as he hovers over you, fingers coming up to brush your cheeks as his mouth is open in hard pants of breath. “No, no, no. Fuckin’ bastard, not me. Not over me, please.” It’s like Simon’s not even talking to you but rather himself.

He mutters in fast sentences, eyes panicked. “You were supposed to be better off—‘posed to move on. Why didn’t you? Why didn’t you find someone else?”

“You’re an idiot, Simon. An idiot,” you sag into his neck, nose digging into his pulse as he quivers, legs having to reset themselves. His heat melts into you as your body gives out with a final sob, “It was always going to be you.”

His arms snap around you like a vise, dragging you into him as he breaks and stifles his whimper on your scalp, breathing right by your ear; gasping for breath.

“M’sorry,” he mutters, so silent below his sniveling stutters, “M’so sorry, Sweetheart. This is all my fucking fault.”

You shake into his chest, face nuzzling and desperate to smell his scent again—tired from all the yelling and fighting. It was still late, you still needed to go to work tomorrow…but Simon.

Oh, Simon. How could he be so…him?

Your sobs are quieter than his, tiny cries that make the man’s arms tighten around you every time. Hands coming up, you can’t stop the way you want to hold him; how you wish to keep him close to you and push him away all at once. How dare he?

How dare he still make you love him after all he’d put you through?

Simon sags to the floor with you in his hold, head bowed and trying to gasp down his vulnerability as tears stain your shoulder. It’s as if the realization that he’d made a mistake had broken him back down to when he was young, past hatred of messing up infesting his brain like maggots. A fear of it, even.

The man presses quick, panicked kisses to your neck as his breath hitches every other second, rocking you back and forth.

“Didn’t mean to do it,” Simon utters. “Didn’t mean for it to hurt you—”

He breaks off and you realize that despite the years Simon’s mind was still very much fragile when it came to home life. You blink and take a deep breath, unable to get out of his unrelenting grip.

Your hand travels up to find the back of his head, spreading through his hair and massaging his flesh. When things got bad you used to do this with him. Give the man something to focus on so he could pass through his hysteria quicker.

Simon’s ribcage bangs against yours, nearly hyperventilating with how he’s trying to hide his small grunts and whines.

“Simon,” you clear your throat, trying to calm yourself down as seriousness sets in your tone. “Simon, breathe.”

Your ears twitch, noticing him listen to you as he takes down a long gasp of air and breathes out in puffs on your neck—hot and humid.

“Ember…”

“Shh,” interrupting, you shush him in tiny whispers, still rubbing at his head. “Brown-Eyes, just sit here, okay?” You feel a jerky nod, his fingers squeezing your flesh off and on as he mimics your own lung pattern.

It’s a few minutes before he goes completely still again, and you feel the burn of shame from his face in your clutch. The relationship was strained—or whatever you could call this—but you never wanted to see him in pain. Never.

You knew he was better when he sighs deeply, completely going limp in your arms; great weight leaning into you as you lean back to the cabinets to help with the pure might of his physique. With a slow hand, you un-velcro his vest and his gear, letting it hit the floor with dull thumps and clatters.

He doesn’t protest, doesn’t move to help or hinder. You would give anything to know what he was thinking.

“M’sorry,” Simon whispers and you respond accordingly, softly.

“You’ve already said that, Love.” He grunts, taking in a long, deep breath.

“Need you t’know it.”

“...I do.”

“Okay.” You close your eyes and stave off your anger at everything happening right now. While it would feel better to yell at him until dawn, what would that even achieve? Everything had needed to be said, had been. And you’d never felt lighter than at this moment.

You knock your head against him, the both of you panting for breath and hands vibrating with leaving adrenaline. Sweaty and twitchy.

“You never should have done that, Simon.” Whispering, you sigh. “I needed you. I needed you here. With me.” He stays still, but you feel his lips press deeper into your pulse. You’re practically in his lap, back to the woodgrain.

In a moment of weakness, or pure longing, you pull his head back and situate your hands at his cheeks, looking over his scars and his broken skin as he lets you move him how you wish. His half-lidded, red, eyes stare—grip around you not letting up.

Simon doesn’t speak as, unprompted, you kiss the shattered bridge of his nose; you only feel the fluttering of his lashes as they tickle your cheeks.

“I was scared of myself.” He mutters. “After they died…” His family. “I didn’t want to put you in danger, Ember. Not you.”

“We would have figured it out, Simon. You know that, deep down, you do.” Brown eyes find yours as you tilt his head.

“You sure?” He asks, desperate for an answer even though he doesn’t know himself.

Thumbs run up and down his stubble. Your face creases, “...I don’t know. But we could have tried.”

Simon’s eyes close tightly, and his face tilts to press his lips to your palm, quivering breath exhaled with the strength of an open balloon. Your ring was still stuck in his digging grip, and it was never going to leave for the rest of the night.

“Yeah,” he whispers, gravely voice lax.

Studying him now, in this light, knowing he was so afraid of what he might do if he got into an episode, you were stabbed with agony in your heart. To be that afraid of yourself to that magnitude was nearly unimaginable to you.

Nearly.

“What now?” You ask lowly, the last remnants of tears drying as Simon opens his eyes slowly, looking back at you.

“Don’t know.” He admits. “I have to leave.”

“I have work tomorrow,” you relate. Your teeth find your lip, biting it.

A small awkward chokehold captures the both of you. The reality was that both of you were akin to strangers again—such was the curse of lost years and trials you’d faced along the way.

Brown-Eyes and Ember were dead, yet you still called their names like phantoms of sleek black fabric and chained recollections of a boy with red cheeks and a girl with muddy shoes. The walks to school were there, the dates, and the late nights spent in good company. Touches to skin and open-mouthed kisses. Fireflies that whizzed and the glinting of gold as wind ran through the willows.

Dark corruption stained the faint idea of happiness; of a good world. This was not reality. It was some joke of an existence.

If life were fair, Simon Riley would have never grown up in that house—his father wouldn’t have latched onto his brother and done dark deeds to wrap the little brown-eyed boy in red tissue paper and barbed wire. A present and sheen of mild sociopathy; separation of any pain or torment. A fighting boy. A boy born with blood on his hands and stuck behind his eyes every time he swung a fist.

It was a curse to love him. And it was a curse that burned your soul with his very name.

“Are you going to go?” You ask, eyes blank but yearning for what little comfort you can grab. It had been so long. Simon blinks, his head still in your hands; body not moving.

He knows he should. He isn’t sure if there’s anything left for him here or not.

Simon connects his head to yours and you still. “Do you want me to?”

“Do you love me?” You blurt, blinking at him and confused. Simon’s lips part. “Or if you walk out that door do I plan on never seeing you again?”

You're about to open your mouth and continue before his own slots perfectly against it.

You gasp lightly, taken aback but in no way opposed. He still felt exactly the same, flesh still tasting metallic and tinged with violence down to his DNA; raised with survival instincts as his greatest ally. Until you.

With you survival became secondary.

Your hands go to card through his hair, latching and lightly pulling as Simon’s body shivers; growling against your lips in a dance of heated flesh and damp cheeks. Hearts hammer with the restraint of years.

“I would never make you beg for my love,” he murmurs between lapsing passes of his mouth, open kisses and dark glances. “Tell me where you want me to be.”

You whimper against him and he goes back in, pressing the base of your skull to the cabinet as hands grip and slide, kneading your skin.

“Tell me,” Simon whispers. Pleads through grunts. “Ember, tell me.”

“Here,” you admit brokenly, pulling him closer to you as you’re lifted and placed on the countertop. “I need you here, Simon. I need you with me.”

Fingers capture your chin, keeping your head angled up as your eyes beg. Lips bush with every word, gazes wild as if two leopards locking jaws over a kill.

“Fight to get me back.” Brown sparks with purpose, a small puff of air hitting your mouth as eyes darken over. In this moment, you do not know if you’re dying or living. “Make it right.”

“Affirmative.” Simon moves his head back, taking your ring and looping the cord around his neck, he keeps it there as you watch, breathless. Your face creases with question. The man’s lips flicker when he sees this, coming back and grasping your hips as you instinctually latch to his waist.

“I’ll give it back when I’ve earned the right for you to be called mine again. Seems I have work to do, Sweetheart.” He kisses you once more, firm and true. “First, I’ll ‘ave to figure out if my Girl can get her spark back, yeah? I’ve proper gone and fucked it up.”

That night you lay in the heap of limbs and sheets that couple the both of you together. In the morning the questions would start, and Simon knew you’d take nothing short of the truth.

And he’d give you it. All of it.

Because Simon Riley knows well enough that you don’t go and bite the hand that feeds twice. Certainly not when it was you. Certainly not when it offers a love he would never hope to find again, in this life or the next.

So you keep the other close and sag into a deep slumber, not to wake for a long, long time.

And you’d both never slept better

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

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jolalibrary · 4 months ago

Text

take you to the hilltop, and tell you you're pretty

francisco morales x f!reader | my frankie masterlist

summary: you book a guided hike tour for one when on your trip, not at all expecting your guide to be so damn hot.

warnings: just fluff. hike guide!frankie. flirting. questionable preparation for a hike from you. wordcount: 2.8k an: written for @secretelephanttattoo's secret springs from the spin-that-wheel. i know nothing about nature or hiking, so, Vans would also be what i would wear.

You swear it should be illegal to be up at this time.

The alarm rudely yanks you from dreamy sleep, dragging you out of warm bedsheets and onto the cold wooden hotel floor before you groggily find yourself under lukewarm water that washes away the last remnants of sleep. Stepping out of the steam somewhat more awake and fresh than you’d anticipated.

The walk to meet him, though, is still a struggle.

Your overfilled water bottle sloshing around in your bag, likely flattening your store-bought sandwiches into pancakes as you turn from the cobbled street to the gravel parking lot, finding him—the guide from the photo on the website.

He’s waiting, leaning casually resting against the side of his truck, the dried mud flakes, dirt and dust, all standing out like badges of past expeditions.

Francisco, you hum to yourself. The name given to you on the email confirmation, along with the instructions and directions of where to meet.

Damn, he is cute. Cuter than the website has him looking—broader too.

You can’t help but smile when you approach, kicking at a stone, wincing from it and the bright morning light.

“Morning,” he calls out.

Squinting your eyes, you spot him lifting his aviators before he’s frowning, head tilting forward as though zooming—

“No.”

Snorting, you continue walking to him. “Good morning and nice to meet you too.”

“You can’t wear those.”

“Say it with more disgust why don’t you.”

Shaking his head, he scoffs again. “Where are your hiking boots?”

“Oh, those? They’re back at the hotel. Thought I’d wear these instead, make a blood vessel pop in your neck.”

“Do you know how far this hike is?”

Sliding your phone from your pocket, swiping up as the email illuminates, you smirk. “No. Because when you claim a hike guide voucher, it says all information related to your hike will be sent to you twenty-four hours ahead of your hike by your guide.”

His muttered curse proves he recalls as much. Removing his sunglasses, threading an arm through the collar of his t-shirt.

“You can’t do this walk in Vans.”

“Well, it’s all I have...”

Kicking off from his position, he shakes his head, opening the trunk of his truck, making more noises and emitting harsh sighs, before he’s holding a pair of boots and a small flask.

“Take them off.”

“Please.”

You narrow your eyes but comply, toeing off your shoe before pressing the back of the opposite, until you’re slipping out of one and he drops down to a crouched position as he hands you the flask. No words, no gesture, just a silent command as your hand snakes around the handle.

For his brutish movements with the flask, he’s surprisingly careful, cautious, with your feet. More than you’d have expected. Meticulous, easing, taking your ankle gently and sliding it into the boot, the breeze blowing his curls—showcasing the slithers of silver that wraps inside the blends of browns.

“How’d you know my size?”

Snorting, Francisco looks up as he laces you, as he pulls on each and makes you almost jolt. “The paperwork you filled out.”

It’s your turn to remember.

Shame floods your cheeks, not knowing where to look to look before you stare at the ground. Choosing to take in the little pellets of dirt that make up more dirt, rather than linger on the way his hair curls around his ears—how one needs tucking more behind.

Swallowing, you shake your head. Focusing instead on the flask warming your hand, trying to fill the void of quiet with any sort of comment back, but they’re all lost on your tongue, vanished from the back of your throat before hearing him. All low-voiced, almost gruff—speaking into your laces—about how they keep backups, just in case, bad weather, losses—

“People lose their boots?”

Snorting, he looks up and somehow, unknowingly, you forget how to fucking breathe. Wearing the evidence of it too. Almost parading that you’re so single that a mere five-minute interaction has you almost ready to declare this a date only for him to then fuck with your emotions even more by smiling.

The soft kind that spreads into his eyes and makes them warmer—make his eyes more doe-eyed, round, all warm brown with flecks of caramel.

“Be surprised on some of these walks.”

Now, he’s tapping your booted foot, moving to the other, and you’re just watching. Ogling, admiring. Your tongue thickens in your head as you curse the gift voucher, as you both love and loathe that you’re ridiculously single because you’re out of practice.

“Ready?”

Nodding, you pull yourself from your thoughts, offering him the flask.

“It’s for you.”

“Oh.”

Picking up his bag from close to his tyre, he shoots you a smile. “It’s an early one. Thought you might appreciate the extra helping hand.”

Then he shrugs. As though the act is nothing, almost meaningless.

“Come on,” he says, snapping the clasp on his bag over his chest—somehow making himself appear even more broad than you know it is.

You have to admit, the view is pretty—and you don’t just mean him.

The landscape is breathtaking, a thing you almost admit when the two of you come to a stop to eat. But, then you find him staring, watching, as though seeing it through your eyes is a thing he both craves and needs.

Somehow, even with how good the hike has been, you don’t wish to relent that just yet. Don’t wish to let him know he was right, that your earlier grumbling about nature just not being for you had very much vanished now you could appreciate it like this.

Francisco, or Frankie, is funny.

Sometimes not always obviously, more in a dry way that takes you a second before a scoff merges with a breath when you try to keep up with him. Drips and drops of him slipping out as you purge him for information, weaving and needling him until he cracks open and spills everything.

It passes the time, the sun rising in increments through the trees before the two of you come to the clearing you’re paused at.

“Shit.”

“What?”

Shaking your head, you zip up your bag, tears pricking at your eyes as you stare off at the rolling hills.

“You not eating?”

“No,” you say, “Not hungry.”

Clearing his throat, sighing. “Water bottle leaked?”

“How’d you fucking know?”

He laughs and it echoes. Vibrating out of him as you stare at him almost dumbfounded, his shoulder pressing more intently against yours as his hand clutches his chest, head thrown back, eyes crinkled shut as the laugh begins to tickle one from you too.

It’s loud—his laugh. But not in a way that’s annoying or too much. But one that you could bet on recognising from a room away, maybe even over the water and clearing if it was as quiet as it is now. Your eyes flick over him, taking in the wiry hair around his jaw, and the curls that wrap around his ears.

“Alright, alright,” you prod, his laugh dying, throwing a fake roll of your eyes when you feel him watching.

“You’d be surprised how many have the same thing happen.” His hand vanishes, digging into his bag before he retrieves more foil-wrapped food coming out with it. “Here.”

“You always share your food with those you take on a hike?”

Elbowing you lightly, your fingers unfolding the foil as you grin. “No.”

Smirking, gaze flicking over him. “Are you making an exception in nature?”

His eyes glint, the corner of his lips rising into his cheek. “Don’t tell the trees.”

Before you take a bite, hovering it close to your lips, you look at him, finding him already watching you from the corner of his eye.

“Your secret is safe with me, Frankie.”

“You owe me.”

Is he flirting? You wonder, adding a snort. “Oh well, you let me know how I can repay you.”

You don’t miss the low way he shyly mutters that he will, or how it seems to make you press your thighs together on instinct.

On the descent, you learn more about him under trees that cast shadows and through wildflowers of pastel shades.

Frankie used to be a pilot. He’d needed a fresh start, a new beginning, found one here as a tour guide. He likes dry nuts but not in baked goods and he prefers his coffee dark, more often without milk.

You notice, some of the things he spills fall from him with jagged edges, as though much of it has been a well-kept secret. A thing he’s kept close to his chest, somehow crumbling under your earlier questions to now openly just sharing.

When the two of you come to another pause, you almost gloat at it—go to ask him if he’s usually this talkative, or if you’re special. But the words fade, dissolve, right on your tongue when you learn what it feels like to have his chest pressed to your back. When you discover how broad he is, solid. How he’s ridiculously warm as he points over your shoulder to a clearing, as the other hand rests on your waist for stability, giving some indication and story about what is so important about where you’re stood.

But you can’t hear him.

Too busy, too focused on how good he smells for saying you’ve been hiking for hours—and how inappropriate this might be if he’s just doing his job.

Because there’s a distinct musk scent that’s sliding into your nose, all but woven itself in woodiness, an earthy almost peppery scent that seems to smother over any scents of nature.

“—it’s one of the prettier spots on the trail. So, thought you might like it.”

You’re prettier, you think.

Sighing with your thoughts until you hear him cough, clearing his throat.

It isn’t an intention to turn to face him, to find yourself up close, but you do. Eyes fixed on his, chest pressing to his chest as you take a nervous swallow.

“Did I…”

“Say that out loud?”

“Shit.”

“Hey, it’s fine,” he reassures, hand scratching at the back of his head.

Something thrums, a second pulse beating between your thighs when he drags the tip of his tongue across his lower lip.

“I did mean it—that you’re prettier.”

And fuck, even his shyness is endearing on him. Rosy pink spread out across his cheeks, even over the bridge of his nose. A mumbled thanks leaving his lips as he continued to linger on your face, not turning away, not giving any signs that you’d overstepped too much.

“Anyway, what’s your favourite spot on the trail, Frankie?”

His mouth opens, words set to spill, but they’re swallowed, hidden. Figurative walls come down before he blinks and looks around, weighing his options as he takes another glance at the watch on his wrist—the practical one. The one you assume could get wet, could hit against a rock and even be set on fire and would still work.

“I can show you?”

“If… you want to?”

He cocks his head, slides his jaw. “I’ve got nowhere else to be today, do you?”

With a smile, you shake your head and you swear his eyes smile, even before his eyes do.

It turns out Frankie’s favourite place on the trail is a little coffee truck with table and chairs overlooking a cliff edge with greenery, crystal waters and what you suspect is a rocky bit of beach.

“This isn’t a usual spot on the trail, is it?”

Blowing on his cup, he shakes his head, lips sliding perfectly into his cheek.

“I’m going to start thinking I’m special, Frankie.”

He shrugs, placing his coffee down on the wooden table before tracing his thumb over his lower lip. “Your voucher has expired now.”

“Oh, so this means I have to amble back by myself or?”

Shaking his head, leaning his forearm on the table, fingers inching closer to yours. “No. It means I can say that maybe you are. Special, that is.”

Heat floods your cheek, kisses the tips of your ears, as you whisper an oh. Your heart thumping a little, quickening in your chest, staring at him as you try to take a measured breath—to think of something, anything, to say—

“Anyway,” he says, and you wonder if it’s a nod to your earlier slip-up, “You think you’d do another? Hike, I mean?”

Taking a sip from your drink, scrunching your nose at how warm it is—the steam tickling your lip. “Maybe. Not sure they’d be as informative as you.”

“Yes, I think many wouldn’t be able to go, trees, water, don’t slip and watch out for boulders.”

Smiling, you shake your head. “You did have to hold my hand when we walked over that edge, not sure another guide would do so with as much patience.”

His eyes glisten, stare momentarily dropped before it’s back on you with the warmth of a thousand suns. “Couldn’t let you fall.”

“Because it’s bad for your rep?”

He takes a sip of his coffee as he smirks.

You take the moment to blow on yours, inhaling the scent of it, somehow finding it’s not able—even with how strong it is—to know the scent of him from your nose. Not even as the tip almost touches the steaming liquid.

“Hey, you think you’d be okay to walk with that?”

Squinting, hand coming up over your brows so you can see him as the sun peers from around the trees. “I think I can manage. Or, I’ll try not to force you to grab my waist to keep me steady again, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

It’s his turn to snort before he slides his sunglasses from his nose, offering them out to you.

“Frankie, you don’t have—”

“If you burn yourself by slipping on a rock, I’m liable.”

Taking them, placing them on your nose and pushing them up, you stare at him through them—finding him smirking, taking another sip.

“I thought my voucher had expired.”

He says nothing, just shoots you a smirk.

You’d never admit it, but you’re disappointed the journey from his spot to his truck is short. The coffee in your cup is now just mere dregs, his own gone before the two of you had even begun your descent back, and his sunglasses are tucked into the collar of his tee again.

Lingering, hovering, you watch as he removes his bag—having unclipped it from over his chest—placing it down as he fusses for his keys before his truck beeps and he’s back in the trunk.

“So, do I give you your five-star review here or do I wait for the email?”

He laughs from inside the vehicle, the tinted glass hiding whether he’s grinning or if he’s shaking his head as you undo both laces and slide your foot from one boot as he emerges, placing your shoes back on the ground close to you.

“Seriously,” you continue, motioning to return the boots and put your familiar ones back on, “I had a nice time.”

“Told you nature wasn’t all that bad.”

Snorting, you hand him the boots back, trying not to react when you feel the current in your fingers when he brushes yours. Trying not to show that your heart skips a beat when you flick your gaze up and find his already on you.

“Hey. So… I don’t usually do this.”

Pulling your hand back, you slide it around your bag strap, shifting on the spot—feet happily wiggling back in your Vans—as you blank your face, smear innocence over it. “A line so many people say.”

His lips curl, teeth biting as he takes a breath. “Do you think I could see you again? Not on a voucher.”

Smiling, letting it open out as your lips part. “Can it be inside?” Shrugging, he nods. “Then, yeah. I’d like that.”

“Good. Cool.”

“Oh, just so you know, Frankie. I leave in six days.”

His brows lift, creasing his forehead as you watch him swallow. “Oh, right.”

“So, what I mean by that is, if you want to see me again, maybe… it can be tonight?”

Your stomach knots. Nervousness barrages in your veins as you try to keep your eyes up, your back straight—ignoring the way your pulse now pounds in your chest, in your throat, in your ears.

Because you don’t do this either.

Tightening your grip on your bag, taking even breaths as he slowly, but surely, beams.

“I know a place.”

“Inside, right?”

Rolling his eyes, smirking—the sign of a dimple threatening to show. “Not exactly, but it’s a bistro.”

Stepping forward, all caution thrown to the wind, you press a kiss to his cheek—soft, gentle, almost a blink and you’ll miss it. “I think I can do that.”

Pink smothers his cheeks, his hand almost rising to touch where you’d kissed before he drops his hand and flexes it. “Do you… you think I could pick you up from your hotel?”

Nodding, and swallowing, you smile. “Okay.”

#frankie morales fluff #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #francisco morales x reader #francisco catfish morales #francisco morales #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier #frankie morales x reader fluff #francisco morales x reader fluff #frankie morales x f!reader #francisco morales x f!reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfic

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nsharks · 10 months ago

Text

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part seventeen —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 2.3k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

Ghost wasn't bluffing about the rain.

The next two days are spent with a punching bag under a neverending drizzle. Well, a duffle bag filled to the brim with who-knows-what, hanging from a tree as your skin smacks into it repeatedly and wet hair sticks to your neck. According to Ghost, you hit about as hard as Blue does, and there's no point in sparring until that changes.

He demonstrates before finding a comfortable tree to lean against and watch. The first few tries feel awkward until he reminds you to hold your stance. Once you dig your feet firmer into the mud, you start to catch on. You try to copy his movements. Knees, hands, elbows, feet. The rain soaks through the gauze on your hands, bunching it up, and the bag stings your unprotected fingers so much that your pinky starts to spasm.

You are struggling to hold the canister of water without wincing when Ghost appears behind you, grips your wrist, and says, "Why didn't you say anything?"

You pull away and tuck your hand to your breast. "It's not that bad."

His eyes sweep over the length of you before subtly narrowing. "You're bleeding. You should have said something."

When you glance at your fingers, you realize that he's right— the skin is split and oozing, but the rain waters the blood down to a light shade of pink. "Sorry, I guess. I didn't notice."

A callused finger reaches over to brush your knuckles before flipping your hand over, palm up, and tapping the heel of it. "Hit here from now on. It's less soft."

"Noted. Thanks."

Blue warms a bucket of water and soaks your hands that night. You listen to the sound of rain drumming against the plywood as you pray for it to stop by the morning, but of course, there's no one listening to you up there in the clouds because, by the time Ghost gets you up again, it's only gotten worse. Mist shrouds your ankles and the trees crackle and moan. He takes you back to the clearing and you know you won't be dealing with the duffle bag today.

"Let's see what you've learned."

He shucks off his jacket and you do the same despite the brisk temperature. Left in his shirt and sweatpants, the sheer size of him appears even more daunting. The black fabric soon becomes wet and sticks to his well-defined muscles, resembling a second skin. Ghost inclines his head and looks at you expectantly. Your heart races but you meet his stare, breathing deeply.

This time it's you who lunges first.

A swift kick to his ribs shoots the familiar burst of adrenaline through your veins.

The flicker of confidence makes you greedy and you try it again, but he wrenches your ankle away and twists you into submission, pulling you flush to his chest.

His breath hits your neck and warmth, not rain, prickles the skin. "She didn't hesitate. Good. But moves like that leave your stance vulnerable."

With a shove, you are released, and then he wipes the floor with you. Again. Everything turns into a blur of movement. The ground squelches beneath you. You try to focus more on offense, but the rain clumping your lashes and the way he darts so quickly makes that near impossible. Frustration builds in your chest the longer you two go at it. It is as if the past few days have done little to nothing.

A bruising blow to your stomach almost makes you slip, but he catches you by the sleeve and draws you close, leaving you face-to-face. His eyes burn a trail over your forehead down to your nose and lips as you pant heavily, then snap back up to yours.

"What happened to your confidence? Where is the girl who kneed my dick?"

You swallow and blink hard as you meet his thick gaze. "She's trying... but she's wet and can hardly see."

"Better than being dead." You place your hand atop his callused one and try to pry it off, but his grip tightens. "Stop holding back again."

Tension holds your teeth together. "Just because I wasn't a military sergeant like you doesn't mean I'm holding back."

"Lieutenant."

"What?"

"I was a lieutenant, not a sergeant."

"Does that change my point?"

His brow quirks and his hand drops. "You have quite the attitude when you're not scared of me."

The stinging air turns your cheeks pink. "I was never scared of you."

"Blue's next lesson should be teaching you to lie better.”

Something about his tone causes a twinge in your chest. You back up and ready your fists. "Oh... Is she good at that?"

He stalks you with slow steps that scuff over the mud. "Pretty good at it. Though, she forgets who her old man is sometimes."

"What do you mean?"

"You think I didn't notice?"

Your mouth runs dry. Unspoken truths hang in the air; the antiseptic, the food she snuck. "I don't know what you're talking about."

His eyes roll to the side. "Relax. I would've killed you the moment I noticed if I wanted to."

"Why didn't you, then?"

A glint of—something—passes through his eyes. "Perhaps I thought you could be useful. Turns out I was right. Now—" He changes the subject. "Don't hold back or you can enjoy the shed tonight."

All the color drains from your face. "What? You... you can't do that."

"Why not?"

Your voice sharpens. "Because you made a fucking promise to me, Ghost. You said you keep your word."

His broad shoulders give a lazy shrug. "I do, but you thrive when you feel threatened. Thought you could use the motivation."

Anger curls your lips. "That doesn't mean you can just—"

Mud. Mud everywhere. Freezing, sticky mud cushions your fall as he hits you without warning. You gasp. A flash of a memory shoots through your spine; the way he pushed you to the ground that first time you met. The crack of your bow. The helplessness.

You ignore the ache as you push yourself to wobbling feet. It as if every hit from him makes itself known. Your anger deepens and you launch at him without thought, snarling. Your ankles hook around his torso as you grab hold of his wet shirt and cling to his back. One of your arms clamps over his neck and squeezes while the other blindly scratches at any piece of him you can find; his collarbones, the bridge of his nose, his scalp.

A few heartbeats pound before he throws you back into the mud. This time, he joins you. Salty sweat and the taste of coppery soil brush the seam of your mouth as you wrestle beneath him. It turns messy, your hair tangling with knots and pine needles, but you don't have it in you to care. You spit in his face and dig the heel of your boot into his back, riding up his shirt.

"Ah. There she is." His voice is rougher and only the slightest bit winded.

The fight you give is silenced when he pins your hips down with his and grabs one of your wrists. The other you quickly slip under your back, out of reach. Again, he has you pinned, and that pisses you off even more.

"Fuck you," you snap breathlessly. "Get off of me."

"Bold choice of words to say to your landlord."

The rain seems to fade into the background and all you can see—feel—is him. It should terrify you, the pressure of his body, but your mouth opens again on its own accord. "Bold choice getting me into this position again. I guess you don't want any more kids."

A sharp exhale leaves his nose and you think it might be his version of a laugh. "Thanks for reminding me." He brackets your knees with his, rendering them immobile. "Now what?"

Now what. The mix of adrenaline and anger rushes between your ears and that thing you've relied on to survive for so long—instinct—decides for you. Your free hand scoops mud and smashes it into his eyes, stealing his vision. The time it takes for him to wipe it away gives you a shot at his face and you take it without abandon, slamming your hand hard into his nose. You can practically hear the crack. Blood blooms through the white of his mask.

Your irises unfurl. "Shit. Ghost. I—"

He sits up and you scramble away on your butt. Like a tide, your emotions wash away and leave your face flushed. When he peels the balaclava over his nose, a trail of blood trickles down his lips and chin. He pinches the tip and flicks a clot of it to the ground.

"Is it— Did it break?"

He touches the bridge. "Minor."

"I'm..."

The uncontrollable shaking returns to your hands, snapping his gaze to them. "Did they open up?"

Confused, you glance at the red skin across your knuckles before shaking your head. "No. I... I used the heel. Like you said."

"Good." A grumble of thunder brings his eyes to the sky before he stands up, mask still hiked over the bloody lower half of his face. He offers you a hand. "Smart use of the environment. Think we're done here."

It takes a long moment before you place your hand in his. The energy has swept through your body, leaving you numb, and there are no more sharp words left to share. With the grey sky, it is impossible to tell the time, but you figure it must still be early morning because Blue is not awake by the time you and Ghost return.

He is equally as filthy as you. Dark earth cakes the entirety of his body. He swipes his boots outside and you wordlessly do the same before following him into the quiet cabin. Everything is still except for your heart. It struggles to find a normal pace again.

"Let me look at it," you offer quietly.

He doesn't object, taking a seat at the table. The only evidence that the physical activity has affected him is the uptick in heat that rolls off his body. You move clinically to stand between his knees and ignore the awkward feeling that settles in the silence. You feel strange after getting so worked up. Like you don't know how to act. If you were confused around him before, you are more so now, so you focus on what you do understand— that his nose is most definitely broken.

For the first time, it is you looking down at him.

"I'm going to touch it."

You will the trembling in your hands to stop and brush a fingertip along the bridge. His nose is strong. So is his jaw. An old scar indents the left of his mouth, deeper than the one on your brow. This isn't the first time you've seen part of his face— he does, in fact, have human needs like food and water—but the first time you've touched it. His skin is as warm as you remember. The tender swell in the bridge of his nose makes his eyes close for a moment.

"How's it feel?"

He throws your words back at you. "Just peachy."

"Right. Um, have you broken it before?"

"Of course."

"I'm sorry," you finally say, but he seems far from interested in your apology.

"Don't be. I said not to worry about hurting me."

"I know, but that doesn't mean I enjoy doing it."

"Liar." He calls you out in a soft murmur. "It felt good, didn't it?"

It... did. Possibly even cathartic. The release of emotions is not something you allow often, but hitting Ghost in the face mimicked the exertion of chopping wood only tenfold. Carefully, you nod. "A bit."

"More than a bit."

"Fine," you concede breathily. You avoid his eyes and look over at the wall. "It felt really good." There is a pause before you look at his nose again, clearing your throat. "It's minor enough to just let heal, right?"

His brows lower. "I thought you were the nurse here."

"Nursing student," you remind him, teeth grazing your lip. "I don't remember getting to this lecture."

"Fucking hell." He inhales deeply through his mouth, lowering the fabric back down, before saying, "Just go bathe, Twix."

"What about you?"

"I'll go after."

You nod but linger for a moment in his presence. "Ghost." Your fingers curl at your sides. "Don't ever do that again. Don't ever threaten me with something I have earned."

Making a demand of him is so utterly foreign to you that the words taste strange. The whites of his eyes slide up to yours and something you don't recognize passes through them. "Duly noted." His brows lift. "Don't hold back again."

You exhale. "I won't."

It is at this moment you notice the appearance of Blue in the hallway, still dressed in an oversized shirt that acts as her pajamas. She looks between the two of you, rubbing her eyes, before narrowing them and pointing an accusatory finger. "I told you guys to tell me when things got more interesting."

You repel from between his knees like a magnet, facing her.

"It wasn't that interesting. Don't worry."

#simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #fanfiction #zombie apocolypse au

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honeydippedwaffles · 1 year ago

Text

Smallest Drop

Summary: Tav overhears Astarion complaining about their situation and decides to do what she can to make it a little better for him and she ends up surprising him in the process.

Tav isn't referred to by name. There might be a part 2 if this is well-received.

Content Warnings: She/Her Tav

Word Count: 1.8k words

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

It started when she overheard a passing comment from behind her, grumbled in response to something Lae’zel said.

From the earliest parts of the day, they’d been making their way through difficult terrain; surrounded by thousands of bugs and mud up to their ankles. She’d tried not to complain about it though Astarion never shared her focus on quiet suffering and he had a fair point.

Though they’d managed to set up a fairly comfortable camp outside the grove – not wanting to impose nor deal with the druids for too long – they hadn’t really found any chance to properly bathe since their abduction.

The late afternoon glinted into her eyes as an idea presented itself.

She slipped away from the group almost excitedly to find the abandoned house where she’d spied it not long ago. After making sure it contained no nasty surprises, she’d left. It didn’t really have a roof and the majority of it had been burned down by some form of magical fire but most importantly, it had a tub.

One night together shouldn’t have made her so weak for the elf but despite all his sweetened words and falsities, he captivated her attention. She knew he meant little by it but sometimes those words made her days brighter regardless.

And she wanted to return the favour given how the muddy path came from her badly thought-out route.

The river running close by provided her with clean and cool water, not the easiest to move in large amounts but still able to fill the tub. It didn’t leak (a minor miracle) and she managed to use a little more of her already-exhausted magic to get a few charms warming the water up.

She smiled at her work proudly and left the charms to do her work while she made her way back to the grove to get some soaps.

Her shoulders shook a little as she eyed her small surprise. Proud and excited, she now faced the greatest of tasks.

Encouraging Astarion to actually step away from camp.

“No, thank you,” he said, dismissed her with the casual wave of a hand. “I’ve had quite enough traipsing through the forest for one day. If you want to continue finding every possible swamp insect to attack you, you’re welcome to be my guest.”

She sighed. “But I have something to show you. It’s a surprise.”

He smiled, strained. “My, aren’t you a desperate little thing. Maybe I’ll join you a little later in the night but for now, I’m afraid I don’t have the energy or the interest.”

“No, it’s not…” she groaned. “It’s just a bath, alright? I overheard you complaining about being dirty earlier so I found one for you.”

“Did you now?”

“Yes. Come along. Those runes aren’t going to last forever and I know you’re going to fuss about the water temperature.”

Astarion chuckled and she immediately knew he didn’t believe her. “I appreciate the creativity, darling. Really, I do, but you’ll find direct offers are far more effective on me.” He leaned closer and she became suddenly aware of how many eyes watched them from around the camp. “But if you’re really going to such lengths, I’m not going to deny you forever.”

Flushed, she stepped away and ducked her head. “Fine. I’ll use it myself but you better not complain once more about it.”

She ignored the slightly concerned expressions of her friends as she stormed back into the tree line by herself. Why she even thought he’d appreciate it… she shouldn’t have even bothered offering it to him. She really needed to be more selfish if she wanted to not get turned down by the vampire spawn again.

It stung more than she expected it to, even if she wasn’t offering anything more than an actual bath.

She brushed her fingers over the surface of the still-warm water when she got there and sighed. It still felt like a waste, even if she used it. Amazing how homesick she’d grown for her house when stuck out in the wild with nothing more of comfort than a single bedroll.

Maybe she should have stolen one of those beds from the goblin den they cleared.

The floor creaked and her hand flew to her weapon, spun around only to find a very arrogant elf who appeared annoyingly surprised.

“My, so it wasn’t even a ploy alone,” he said. “You genuinely managed to find a bath. I respect your dedication if nothing else. There are certainly easier ways of seeing me undressed.”

She rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the water. “I was trying to do something nice for you but as you’re not interested, feel free to return back to camp.”

He stepped close enough to brush his fingers against her cheek. “Whoever said I wasn’t interested?”

“You did. In very direct words.”

“Well, things change. I’ve decided you’re quite right. It’s been far too long since I got to wash and you’ve been so sweet, setting it all up for me. I couldn’t be rude and turn you down right now, could I?”

Cursing the elf beneath her breath for his indecisiveness, she moved to walk past him. “Enjoy.”

Once again, she surprised him and Astarion took a second to respond, calling to her as she reached the edge of the charred flooring.

“You’re not joining me?”

She looked back at him. “Am I meant to be?”

“Why, yes. I can hardly be expected to do things like washing my hair all by myself. What if I get lonely or attacked?”

She frowned at him but he kept smiling at her in the same insistent way he did when he wanted something. The corner of his lips pulled up as though he knew a joke and didn’t want to share it. She couldn’t help herself but relent under his burning gaze; he’d done the same thing when she’d agreed to let him drink blood from her throat. Perhaps she should be concerned with where her willpower went when it came to this man.

“Alright,” she said. “I’ll help with your hair if you really need.”

“How fun.”

He insisted on being as distracting as possible when he got undressed. His constant glances at her met nothing in return but she couldn’t help glancing at the scars as he lowered himself into the tub.

Their ridges made her uncomfortable. Not knowing what it said frightened her for Astarion’s safety rather than her own.

Nothing good ever came from runes carved into flesh.

“There’s no need to act so shy, beautiful. You’ve seen me in far more compromising situations than this.”

She wouldn’t call their night together compromising but she ignored the comment regardless. His soft sigh of relaxation as he settled into the water worked wonders for clearing up her irritation.

How he managed to be so magnetic astounded her. She found a spot to sit behind him and slowly, gingerly, began to help him with his hair. Despite being ridiculously soft considering how long they adventured in the wilderness, it needed some careful care and attention.

She took care to stay gentle when she found where tangles turned into knots and worked them free without pulling. He gave a small hum when she had to give a soft tug and she took it as an okay to use a little more force.

“We don’t have much to work with but I did manage to get some things from the grove,” she said. “It won’t be up to your standards but I don’t think anything really is.”

Cagey about his past, all she knew surrounded the small snippets he gave her when upset or ranting. She doubted he’d ever had much time to fuss over which hair products he used, too busy watching over his shoulder for a constant threat. He still did so now when he thought nobody could see. His meditation never held him deeply as sleep took her.

“Regardless of whether or not it’s professional, I won’t complain about your skills with this.”

“Skills at detangling your hair?”

“At winning my favour.”

She frowned a little and focused on the white locks where they curled between her fingers. “I’m not only doing this because I want to impress you.”

“I’m sure you have other motivations,” he hummed, teasing. “But you know you’re more than welcome to join me whenever you’re ready. You chose a good-sized tub for both of us.”

She ignored him again, instead focusing on working out a tight knot. Once done, she encouraged him to lean back a little so she could massage the soap gently into his hair, rubbing soft circles against his scalp until his eyes fluttered closed and the smallest hint of relaxation showed in his expression.

Good. He carried far too much tension and she stopped herself from continuing the slight massage down to where she could see the stress in his neck and shoulders. How uncomfortable it must be but she didn’t want to encourage whatever strange idea he had about this situation.

Still, even if she hadn’t planned anything, she couldn’t deny her attraction.

She wanted to press her lips to the pale skin of his neck and trace the path of the water droplets as they pooled against his collar bone. She wanted to trail her hands over his sides and pull him close.

She coughed to stop her thoughts before they ran too far.

If the parasite in her skull didn’t kill her soon, she may just die from the way this elf made her heart pulse unnaturally fast.

“Everything alright?”

He sounded… well, still as flirtatious as ever but more concerned than she thought he would. She snapped her attention back to him and almost lost herself in those stunning eyes.

If she wanted to, she could so easily fall prey to his sweetened words and he really wouldn’t mind. He would encourage it even.

She finished washing the last of the soap from his hair and stood up somewhat uneasily. Pride still shone in her chest as he sat up properly, appearing far cuter than she anticipated with his hair falling flat against his skin.

She saw the invite on his lips before he even said it. Watched him flick whatever switch he had to draw her in and she hurried to leave.

“I’ll see you back in camp, alright?”

His confused expression followed her as she stepped away from the building but he didn’t call her back. She found her way back to camp with a slight heave to her chest and a desperate need for a distraction.

Though she really should have thought it through before she asked Lae-zel to spar with her. The bruise kept her up for the entire night – long enough to realise he didn’t come past for a taste of her blood in the evening.

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate astarion #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader

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juletheghoul · 1 month ago

Text

soak

a/n: Another fantastic request that sent me clean into the sun. I love all the situations you want Marcus and his girl in, you are all feeding me just as much as I'm feeding you! Please enjoy this un-beta'd, barely edited request. All mistake and errors are mine! please enjoy

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, hand stuff (both female and male receiving), praise kink if you squint, talk of war (I think this could be considered hurt / comfort, since our boy needs a massage), master / slave dynamic (power imbalance) he’s still pretty possessive, Marcus calls reader Girl, reader calls Marcus Dominus - let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 2k (😅)

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist series masterlist

The moon was high, owls hooting as the Roman army was returning from another brutal victory. Soldiers entered tents all around, you could hear them and it was with a sinking heart that you waited for him–your general. You wrung your hands, rationalizing that surely he would take longer, he would see to last minute plans, he would have meetings with his Legates, he would take tally of numbers and be the last to seek rest.

You busied yourself with the water as you waited, boiling it to fill the massive tub he’d been gifted, a tub he’d never use. He saw it as an excess, a waste in times of war but the winces you’d witnessed in days passed spurred you on, urged you to fill it with hot, steamy water and prayed to the Gods that he’d see this in the spirit with which you did it and not as a gross overstep.

You’d just finished pouring the last, heavy cauldron full into it when the tent flap opened, signifying his arrival. You catch his eye and he frowns at the sight of the full tub, letting out a heavy, annoyed sigh as you approach him cautiously.

“What is the meaning of this, Girl? I did not command you to do this.” His tone is icy and you can feel the anger, the disappointment in his voice.

“Apologies Dominus, I know I took a big liberty and I accept any punishment you deem fit, but I have seen how you ache of late. I thought–perhaps incorrectly–that you would do well with a hot soak. I have put the good oils, the salt for your muscles and I would implore you to at least consider it before the water grows too cold.” You bow your head in deference, keeping your eyes on your feet as he stands there, silent.

He says nothing for a long moment, and you thought the overstep might have been too far, even for him.

“I will empty the tub and clean it, I beg of you to accept my apologies, Dominus.” You turn, crestfallen at your misstep to begin the process of emptying the tub when he stops you.

“No, forgive my dark mood, Girl. I am weary and you are right in your assessment. My back aches of late. This is probably exactly what I need.” His hand landed on your shoulder, a soft offering of peace.

“Help me to undress, I will take advantage of the warmth of the water.” he doesn’t smile, but there is a deep weariness on his face and you rush to comply. Once he is completely nude and moving to step into the tub you stop him.

“Dominus—if you would give me just a moment to get most of the mud off of you, we could keep this water clean enough for you to soak.” You rush, bringing his basin and he nods once, watching silently as you dip fresh linen and quickly wipe him down. Once you are done he finally steps in, sinking with a groan to stretch out his legs and lean against the end of it.

You keep the smile to yourself at the involuntary moan he lets out.

“I will prepare something for you to eat while you relax, Dominus.”

“Wait Girl, before all that, I would have you join me. Your healing touch would aid with my aches. Come.” He gestures to the water and you obey, your body responding to both the oasis you’ve cultivated, as well as the promise of his touch.

He slides forward once you are nude and you slip in behind him. He wastes no time in leaning back into your chest, pulling your legs to bracket his ribs while he sighs into the feel of your hands on his shoulders. The water is perfect, hot enough to almost burn, the sweet smelling steam instantly calming any and all nerves and the reassuring press of him make it hard to stay humble about taking this chance.

The sounds of the water softly lapping mingle with his low sighs when you use the strength in your fingers to work the knots out of his shoulders. His eyes close and you continue your work, moving to the pieces of his back that you can reach, his arms and his sides, your nipples harden at the moan he lets out when you massage his scalp.

“Gods above Girl, I am rethinking this whole campaign.” His hands slide up your shins, slipping softly across your knees before moving back down, a comforting sweep as you focus on cleaning his chest. “I fear I may get too accustomed to this treatment, who would want to leave this to fight a war?”

You smile to yourself, tilting his head back softly to rinse his hair.

“My heart fills with joy to know you are not angry with me for this Dominus.” You reach for a clean cloth just outside the tub and dip it into the water to scrub at his skin. “It hurt me to see you in pain.” Something about the water, about being wrapped around him gives voice to your feelings.

“I am ashamed at my earlier annoyance, this was very thoughtful, and much needed. I am blessed that you consider me thus.” He moves a little, slipping a little further up so your chin just sits on his shoulder, enough to watch what your hands do and when they slip low to what you can reach of his thighs, you graze his manhood.

With gentle hands, you cleanse him there, softly slipping across the heft of him before moving lower to hold the weight of his sack in your hands. He groans low when he feels you exploring him, turning his head to where yours sits on his shoulder to press his lips to your temple.

You take it as encouragement and wrap your hands around his cock, preening at the way it grows in your palms. You turn towards his face and press your lips to his, chaste and he reciprocates, breaths humid and mingling while you stroke him under the water.

He turns to watch your hands move, and you press your kisses to his neck.

Wordlessly, he reaches down and guides your movements, his big palm covering yours. You let him show you, while your other hand moves to fondle his balls, rolling them and giving them the tiniest squeeze. He lets out a filthy moan before stilling your hands completely and for a moment you fear you may have overstepped again.

“Apologies Dominus—“ he turns, stopping your apologies.

“I would switch places with you now Girl, much as I enjoy your hand, I do not wish to spill into the water.”

You stand at his urging, and he guides you to carefully climb in front of him. No sooner are you settled than his hands slide around to hold onto the weight of your breasts. His lips press against your shoulder as his hands roam, from sliding against your pebbled nipples, down to sweep across the soft skin of your belly and then up to rub at your shoulders much in the same way you had done to him.

It was shockingly welcome, to feel the strength in his fingers working away at your own aches.

“I am to be tending to you, Dominus-“ it comes out as a relaxed sigh as he digs at a particularly sore spot.

“Hush Girl, let me do as I please.” There is no bite in his words, and you smile to yourself as you melt under his touch.

After a while, his touch takes a turn and you feel him reach down to pull your legs up and over his thighs. He dips the tips of his fingers over the lips of your sex, spreading them open lewdly under the water. Your cunt blooms under his ministrations, even submerged he can feel the slip of your arousal coating his fingers as he hones in on the pert little pearl of you.

“How I miss this little cunt while I’m off fighting, do you know that Girl? Do you know how hard I fight to make my way back to this right here.” He spears his fingers inside, two, thick and full inside of you and you let out a whispery sigh at the feel of it.

Wordlessly he builds you up, working you open while you lay on his chest, his heartbeat steady and calm under your ear, his thighs firm and strong under your hands. His thumb joins the fray, swirling around your clit and it pulls a louder moan from you, one that makes him cover your mouth with his other hand.

“Hush Girl, would you have the whole camp hear you moaning for me?” His fingers speed up, giving birth to little waves that die at the edge of the tub. You breathed hard through your nose, heart racing to feel the way he controlled your body, the way his cock pressed hard and hot against your back. You could almost taste the salt as the water dripping from his hand crept into your mouth.

Your legs closed around his hand when you burst for him, ripe as a berry.

“That’s it, didn’t that feel good?” He pulls his hand away from your mouth, turning your face to kiss you while his fingers pumped through your flutters.

“Yes Dominus, you always make it feel good.” You turn a little in his arms to kiss him harder, to lick into his mouth and despite him not giving you leave, you move to straddle him. “I want to make you feel good now, may I?” You slip against him, your cunt sliding against his cock in the cooling water.

“Yes Girl, so long as you can keep quiet. I would keep those pretty moans for my ears, and my ear alone.” His hands grab at your ass and you nod while lining him up, sinking onto him with a little gasp.

Wordlessly he pressed his face against your chest, while wrapping his arms around your ribs, the muscles in his arms flexing, slippery and warm.

It’s a soft roll, low tide and a calm ocean the way you fuck him.

The water, the warmth, his reassuring hold, the sweet smelling scents, the campground full of soldiers separated from you by mere tents alone, all of these things add to the heightening of your senses. Something about the way you’d initiated this whole encounter, a bath he didn’t plan or want is the catalyst for the low moans he breathes against your skin.

You relish it, you crave it, you need it. Just as he wants the sounds of your pleasure to be his, you want his pleasure to be yours.

“Give it to me Dominus, please, I desire it, reward me-“ you tilt his face up, almost whispering the words into his mouth as you clench on the downstroke.

“It’s yours Girl, take it, it’s all yours—my good, obedient, thoughtful Girl, my favourite Girl, my only Girl—“ he buries his face into the crook of you neck and lets out an almost strangled sound when you feel it. His cock almost swells harder still for a moment before he paints your insides with his seed.

You clench around him, drawing out his pleasure until he hisses with a low laugh, grabbing at your ass in playful reprimand.

“You will be the death of me, Girl.” He smiles, tired and satiated as he adorns your neck with kisses, moving lower to take a nipple into his mouth.

“Shall I prepare your meal now Dominus?” You slick his hair back, moving the tendrils that had fallen into his eyes while he continues his worship of your breasts. He hums around the stiff peak, focused and for a moment you think he might want to wait until he can take you again.

“Something quick, we are not done yet, and the water grows cold. I would have you on your back next, Girl.” You cannot help but smile as you nod.

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #marcus acacius #marcus acacius x reader #general marcus acacius #general acacius #marcus acacias x reader #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius x female reader #marcus acacius smut #marcus acacius fanfiction #gladiator 2 #the general

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fluffyomorashii · 8 months ago

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I live across from a bar grill type restaurant so decided to walk over to have some drinks and bar food since I would be alone and something to do! It’s raining slightly but I just put on a hoodie and black leggings and jog across the street. No big deal! (|||⇁_⇁)

A little over an hour and a half passes and I’m two alcoholic drinks in (and they weren’t afraid to pack these drinks with Hella alcohol!!) I was well tipsy now and had to pee 30 mins ago, but seeing that home was literally a minute walk away I decided I’d like to pee in the comfort in my own home lol.

I pay and leave exiting the door and stop.. it’s not raining anymore it’s more like the fucking sea was falling from the sky, the wind was making it worse and so cold.. immediately all the water and the sudden cold temperature aggressively reminded me I really really had to pee.. I braced myself and put my hands in my hoodie pocket so stuff in between my legs, waiting for intense wave to pass

Once I had control I put my hood on and immediately started running across the parking lot running up to the sidewalk and immediately I’m soakedddd the rain was coming down HARD I could barely even see!! I had to stop at the sidewalk to wait for the cars to stop and it felt like my bladder was spiking filling up times 10.. I was I was shifting side to side my thighs pressed together, when finally, the red light came on, and the cars stopped.

I fucking flew across that road and passed the first house, and then there was my house right there!! Ignoring going the long way up the driveway I cut through the yard mud and water splashing everywhereee. I ran up the stairs to the small little square porch we have at our front door that thankfully had a small square roof over it. I took only a second to breathe then went right to action-

Scrambled to take off my muddy soaked shoes as I quickly reached into my pocket to yank out my keys- yanking my phone out accidentally and it fell to the ground bouncing, almost falling off the porch. I quickly cursed and crouched down to grab it, when I found myself awkwardly crossing my legs as I crouched pushing the heel of my foot into my crotch as I felt an intense pressure in my bladder.. (¬////¬)

I could tell I peed a tiny bit because I felt warm while the rest of me was cold, and that feeling didn’t help.. all the being drunk, rain splashing around me, being soaked, the cold giving me intense bladder warnings I couldn’t deal-.. I realized ..oh my God I can’t…I’m-..I’m gonna pee….

I shot back up and immediately a sudden fast pee stream noisily released, splattering quickly between my legs, mixing with the rain sound.. I was panicked by how fast the emergency to accident happened but also let out a shaky sigh as the intense bladder warnings slowly faded as my legs became warmer and warmer.

I looked up, and even though the rain was so thick I’m sure no one could see anything, I nervously turned away to face the door, and looked down watching the rapidly growing puddle slide off the porch and down the stairs.. when I was just left with a few trickles down my legs I slowly reached for my keys and unlock the door. Thankful I had black leggings and thankful the rain was so intense the Wet spot was too hard to see anyway! (っ- ‸ - ς)

#omo story #omorashi #pee accident #wetting accident #this was months ago heh (⸝⸝⸝O﹏ O⸝⸝⸝) deff a 0-100 moment #omocute #omotext

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callmedaleelah · 2 months ago

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toji fushiguro x non-sorcerer!reader

you are home alone while toji at work and someone tried to break into your house.

warnings : criminal scene, angst to comfort, no (y/n) mentioned, writing in second person pov, english is not my first language

[ masterlist ] | [ ask daleelah go to box box 🐭 ]

The house was still, quiet. It always felt a little too quiet when Toji wasn’t around, but it was something you’d gotten used to. You had just finished cleaning the house from top to bottom, scrubbing every inch of the floors and counters, a task that kept your mind busy in Toji's absence. The sun had dipped low in the sky, casting a warm orange glow through the windows as you padded barefoot across the floor, feeling the satisfaction of a job well done.

You made your way to the bathroom, eager to reward yourself with some much-needed self-care. The soft click of the door closing behind you echoed in the empty house. You turned on the warm water, feeling the steam rise around you as you washed away the mud clay mask from your face. The sensation was soothing, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to relax. Wrapping a towel around your head, you took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the quiet afternoon settle over you like a blanket.

Standing in front of the mirror, you unraveled your damp hair from the towel, watching it fall messily around your shoulders. You reached for the hairdryer and plugged it in. The faint hum of the appliance filled the room as you prepared to dry your hair. But just as you were about to turn it on, another sound cut through the air—faint, but unmistakable.

You froze. The house was supposed to be empty, so any noise out of the ordinary instantly set off alarms in your mind. Your heart pounded against your ribs as you strained to listen, trying to figure out if you were just imagining it. The hairdryer hung limply in your hand, forgotten.

Then you heard it again—faint but deliberate, the sound of someone jostling the front door handle. Your breath caught in your throat as the realization struck you like a cold wave. Someone was trying to break in.

Your first thought was Toji, but you quickly dismissed it. No, it couldn’t be him. He always made his presence known, either by calling out for you when he got home or by slipping into the bedroom to find you. He wouldn’t be struggling with the door. He wouldn’t be sneaking.

Fear settled in your stomach like a rock as you took a cautious step toward the open bathroom door. From your vantage point, you could see into the bedroom—your phone was lying there on the bed, screen dark and silent. The bedroom door was shut but not locked. A cold realization swept over you. You never locked the bedroom door. You never had to. But now, in this moment, you regretted it.

You stood frozen, mind racing. Should you try to lock it now? What if you made a sound? What if they heard you? What if it was already too late? Anxiety clawed at your chest, tightening like a vice as you fidgeted with the tie of your bathrobe, your fingers trembling. But you couldn’t just stand there. You needed your phone. You needed Toji.

Taking shallow breaths, you tiptoed out of the bathroom, every creak of the floorboards feeling deafening in the stillness of the house. Your eyes darted toward the door, half-expecting it to burst open at any moment. Your heart thundered in your chest as you reached the bed, snatching up your phone before turning on your heel and rushing back to the bathroom. You closed the door softly behind you, pressing the lock with a barely audible click.

You huddled beside the sink, hiding yourself near the lower cabinet, your back pressed against the cold tile wall. Your breath was coming out in shaky gasps now, the fear seeping into your bones. You quickly turned your phone to silent mode, your hands trembling as you dialed Toji’s number.

It rang once. Twice. Then again. No answer.

You swallowed hard, biting your lip as tears welled up in your eyes. The ringing seemed to mock you, each tone stretching out longer than the last until, finally, it clicked to voicemail. Panic surged in your chest, your pulse racing as the reality of the situation hit you full force. You were alone.

Your breathing grew more erratic as you fumbled to dial him again. Desperation clawed at you as you listened to the phone ring endlessly before going to voicemail once more. A sob caught in your throat as you tried to hold it back, biting down on your lip to stop the trembling.

“Toji,” you whispered into the phone, voice barely above a breath as you left him a voicemail, hoping against hope that he would hear it soon. “Toji, please pick up the phone, I need you. There’s someone… someone broke into our house. I’m in the bathroom. Please, please… come back and help me, please.”

You could hear the faint sound of footsteps moving through the house now. They were soft, but each step made your heart jolt in your chest like a drumbeat. You pressed yourself further against the cabinet, trying to make yourself as small as possible, your mind racing with a thousand horrible possibilities.

“I’m sorry, Toji,” you whispered shakily, your voice barely holding together as tears rolled down your cheeks. “I think… I think I need to call 911. I’m sorry, Toji, I need help. Please, come back and get me.”

Your hands shook uncontrollably as you hung up the phone, fresh tears spilling over your lashes. You could hear the intruder moving closer now, the footsteps unmistakable as they padded across the floor, drawing nearer to where you hid. Every breath you took felt like a struggle, the air thick with fear and tension. You pressed a hand to your mouth, stifling a sob as you heard the faint creak of the floorboards outside the bedroom door.

For a moment, everything was silent again, the kind of stillness that makes the world feel as though it's holding its breath.

Your gaze darted toward the door, watching it intently, praying that it wouldn’t open. Seconds stretched into what felt like hours, the tension mounting as you waited for any sign of Toji—or the intruder. Each passing moment felt like an eternity, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure it would give you away.

You closed your eyes, gripping your phone tightly, clinging to the hope that he would come through that door any second now. You just had to hold on a little longer. Just a little longer.

Your hand shook as you dialed 911, your fingers slick with sweat as you struggled to press the right numbers. Toji wouldn’t be happy about it, you knew that, but you were too desperate for help now, the fear overriding any concerns about what he might say. You couldn’t wait for him anymore—not when they were so close. Not when you could hear their footsteps echoing in your home.

The line rang, and for a moment, you feared no one would answer. But then, a calm voice filled your ear, grounding you for just a second.

"911, what is your emergency?"

Your throat tightened, and for a split second, the words stuck. But then they tumbled out in a rush.

“I-I think someone broke into my house,” you stammered, your voice barely holding together as you tried to keep your sobs at bay.

“Okay, ma’am, I need your name and your address,” the operator said, their voice a lifeline of calm in the storm of fear that surrounded you.

You whispered your name and address quickly, hardly daring to speak too loudly in case the intruders heard you. The words came out in a rush, the fear in your voice palpable.

“I’m all alone,” you continued, your voice shaking as you hugged your knees tighter to your chest. “My fiancé is still at work. I don’t know how many of them there are… but I can hear them. They’re in the house. Please… please come and get me. I don’t know how long I can—"

"Stay calm, ma’am," the operator cut in gently, though you could hear the urgency in their voice. "The police are on their way to your location. Just stay on the phone with me, okay? You're going to be alright."

You barely heard the reassurance as your entire body froze. The sound of footsteps on the stairs sent fresh terror coursing through your veins. You bit down on your hand, trying to stifle the sobs that threatened to escape. They were getting closer. Your heart pounded so hard it felt like it would burst out of your chest.

Then, you heard it. The creak of the bedroom door opening. They were inside.

"Shit, man," a voice muttered, low and irritated. "There’s someone in the bathroom. The light's on."

You heard another voice grunt in annoyance, and you cursed yourself silently. Of course. You had forgotten to turn off the bathroom light in your panic. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to keep yourself from breaking down entirely. Every muscle in your body trembled, the weight of your fear pressing down on your chest.

“Th-they found me,” you whispered, panic rising in your voice as you spoke into the phone. “They see the light. They know I’m in here.”

The operator's voice remained calm, though there was a new edge of urgency. "Ma'am, stay as quiet as you can. Help is on the way. Don’t hang up, okay? Just hold on a little longer."

You couldn’t answer. You were too focused on the sounds outside the bathroom. The doorknob rattled violently, and you heard one of them curse under their breath as they tried to force it open. Your entire body went cold as you realized they weren’t going to stop.

The handle rattled again, harder this time. There was a loud bang as something heavy hit the door, and you heard one of them laugh darkly.

“Come on out, sweetheart,” a voice called from the other side, dripping with malice. “You can’t hide in there forever.”

Tears spilled down your cheeks as you clamped a hand over your mouth to keep from sobbing out loud. Your breathing came in short, panicked gasps, your chest tightening painfully. You could hear the door creaking as they began to force their way in, the lock straining under the pressure.

“I know you’re in there,” the voice taunted again, now closer to the door. “You can’t run away. No one can witness our crime, baby.”

The sound of something scraping against the lock made your stomach drop. They were going to break in. You could feel it, the air thick with dread as the door shuddered under the force of their attempts to break through.

You cried into the phone, your voice barely audible but thick with terror. "They’re breaking in! They’re going to get me! Please! Please hurry!"

The operator's voice was still there, trying to comfort you, but their words barely registered in your mind. All you could focus on were the sounds of the intruders—the heavy thuds against the door, their low, cruel laughter as they inched closer and closer to getting through.

Your mind raced, each thought more panicked than the last. Would the police arrive in time? Would Toji? You couldn’t bear the thought of what would happen if they didn’t.

The door splintered, and you could hear their frustration turning into determination. Another loud bang, and you felt your heart drop into your stomach. It wouldn’t hold much longer.

You pressed yourself tighter into the small space beside the sink, your entire body trembling uncontrollably. Tears blurred your vision as you whispered desperate prayers under your breath, hoping against hope that someone—anyone—would come to your rescue.

Then, through the haze of your terror, you heard it: the faint, distant wail of police sirens.

The sound of the sirens pierced through your panic like a lifeline, even as your mind struggled to comprehend that help had finally arrived. You heard the men curse loudly from outside the bathroom. They shouted something incoherent, their voices dripping with frustration and panic as they realized their time was up. You heard their heavy footsteps retreating quickly down the stairs, their once arrogant bravado now laced with fear as the police closed in. The house filled with shouts—commands from the police, the heavy thud of doors being kicked open, the scuffle of the intruders trying to make their escape.

But all of that felt distant. You were curled up on the cold bathroom floor, trembling uncontrollably, the phone still clutched loosely in your hand though you’d forgotten about it entirely. The tears didn’t stop as you sobbed quietly into your hands, your entire body wracked with emotion. Even though the danger seemed to have passed, the fear lingered, a weight that pressed down on your chest and made it hard to breathe.

The sound of the bathroom door being forced open startled you, and you flinched, your breath catching in your throat. You looked up, tears clouding your vision, to see a policewoman standing in the doorway, her expression soft but determined as she searched the small space.

“Ma’am, it’s clear now,” she said gently, her voice calm and reassuring as she reached out a hand toward you. “We got them. You can come out now. You’re safe.”

Her words washed over you, but it took a moment for them to sink in. You slowly reached for her hand, your body trembling as she helped you stand. Your legs felt weak, as if they might give out beneath you at any moment, but she held you steady, guiding you out of the bathroom. Every step felt surreal, the world around you moving in a blur as you tried to focus on anything—something to ground you.

Outside, an ambulance was parked at the front of your house, its lights casting a soft glow in the darkened street. The paramedics greeted you, their voices calm and professional, but you could barely register their words. They wrapped a warm blanket around your shaking body, and you sat down on the back bumper of the ambulance, staring blankly ahead. The paramedic spoke softly as he checked you over, his hands gentle, though his voice seemed to echo in the distance.

“Your heart rate is high—likely from the shock,” he said. “Do you have any internal pain, ma’am?”

You shook your head weakly, not trusting yourself to speak. Your throat felt raw, your voice small and cracked as you tried to take sips from the water bottle they handed you. Everything around you felt muted, as though you were seeing it from behind a glass wall—just out of reach, too far for you to fully understand.

Then, through the haze of your thoughts, you saw a familiar car screech to a halt at the curb. Your breath caught in your throat as you saw him—Toji—leap out of the car and rush toward you with wide, frantic eyes. His normally calm and collected demeanor was completely gone, replaced by a desperate look of fear and concern. The sight of him broke through the numbness that had taken hold of you, and fresh tears welled up in your eyes.

“Toji…” you whispered, your voice breaking, but he was already there, pulling you into his arms before you could even finish.

The moment his arms wrapped around you, you collapsed into his embrace, sobbing into his chest as all the fear and tension came pouring out of you. He held you tightly, his strong arms encircling you, grounding you in a way nothing else could. His hand cradled the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pressed his face into the crook of your neck. You could feel the way his body shook, the tremor in his hands as he held you like you might disappear if he let go.

“Doll… I’m so sorry,” Toji whispered into your hair, his voice rough with emotion. “I’m so fucking sorry I wasn’t here. Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

You couldn’t answer, only shaking your head weakly as you buried your face deeper into his chest, your tears soaking into his shirt. His scent surrounded you—familiar, comforting—reminding you that you were safe now, that Toji was here. The tightness in your chest began to ease, replaced by the overwhelming relief of being in his arms again.

“They… they caught them,” you whispered shakily, your voice trembling. “The police got them.”

Toji’s grip on you tightened for a moment, as if the very thought of what had happened made his blood boil. You could feel his breath hitch against your skin, a mixture of anger and helplessness weighing on him. But when he pulled back slightly to cup your face, his touch was impossibly gentle. He brushed away your tears with his thumbs, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a fierce intensity.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” he whispered, his voice rough with guilt. “I should’ve been here. I should’ve been the one to protect you.”

You shook your head, more tears spilling down your cheeks. “I called the police…” you whispered, guilt twisting in your chest. “I’m sorry, Toji… I didn’t know what else to do.”

Toji’s expression softened, and he let out a deep breath, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he stared at you with something close to tenderness. “Fuck, doll… don’t apologize. You don’t need to say sorry for that,” he said softly, his voice steady now. “I don’t care about the police or any of that. What matters is that you’re okay. That’s all I care about. You did what you had to do, and I’m proud of you for it.”

His words broke something inside you, and you let out a sob, collapsing into his chest again as more tears streamed down your face. Toji’s arms tightened around you, and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, holding you as if he could shield you from the world. He murmured quiet reassurances into your hair, his voice low and soothing as he rocked you gently back and forth.

“I’m here now,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your temple. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got you, love. I’ve got you.”

And in that moment, with Toji holding you so close, you believed him. Despite the chaos that had unfolded, despite the terror that had gripped you, you felt safe again in his arms. His warmth and strength were enough to chase away the lingering shadows of fear, and for the first time since it all began, you allowed yourself to feel at peace.

#daleelah writings 🐭#jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu toji #toji fushigro x reader #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #toji x reader #toji x you

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valkyrieromanoff · 2 months ago

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BED CHEM (18+): JAMES KELLY X READER

summary: James is your neighbor at the trailer park, he sees you washing your trailer, and he offers to help. One hand washes the other, and you find yourself in a pleasant situation.

warnings: sexual content, oral sex (female receiving), semi public sex, porn without plot.

word count: 3.4 k

n/a: after making my dad watch 'American Heist' with me, for no other reason than to be able to watch Hayden Christensen for an hour and a half... I remembered why I have such a huge crush on this man, and poor James, he just wanted to open a mechanic shop, he suffered so much, poor thing.

anyway, I couldn't resist the opportunity to write something self-indulgent, so I hope you like it, comment if you liked it or if you would read a sequel? Kisses 💖

p.s: probably the most obscene thing I've ever written, but I liked it anyway

The sun blazed in a wide expanse of blue, with only a few wisps of clouds drifting lazily overhead. After days of relentless rain that left nothing but thick puddles of mud and a layer of grime clinging to every surface, the clear sky felt like a rare gift. It was the perfect day for a deep clean, to scrub away the muck that had built up around the trailer.

You sighed, glancing at the cluttered mess outside. Your mother had disappeared again, off to deal with whatever trouble your grandmother had stirred up this time, leaving you alone to face the chore. With a reluctant huff, you knew there was no escaping it; the task would fall to you, as always.

Changing into an old white shirt and a pair of faded blue shorts —clothes you didn’t mind soaking —you grabbed the hose and filled a bucket with water. The warmth of the sun kissed your skin as you stepped outside, your feet crunching against the gravel beneath you. You set the bucket down with a small splash and grabbed a sponge, beginning to scrub the window in steady, determined circles.

James lets out a low whistle, his blue eyes sweeping over you with a playful gleam. "Well, would you look at that," he drawls, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"James!" you exclaim, quickly crossing your arms over your chest, caught off guard by his sudden appearance. He must have snuck up on you; you hadn’t even heard him coming. "Do you always have to sneak around like that?"

He chuckles, his gaze never leaving you. "Can't help it, princess. You’re putting on quite a show." He takes a step closer, his lips curling into a grin as he licks them. "Why don’t you let me give you a hand?" His eyes dart to the trailer, where the mess still looms large. "Looks like you could use some help."

You huff, rolling your eyes. "Oh, really? And what do you know about cleaning?" You shoot back, eyeing him skeptically. James’s trailer couldn’t exactly be described as spotless—tidy at best. You can’t even remember the last time he gave it a proper clean; the rusty notes separating his trailer from the others speak for themselves.

He shrugs with a teasing smile. "More than you’d think, princess. And let’s be honest, you’re not gonna clean all this up on your own." He leans in a little closer, lowering his voice. "But I’m not doing it for free. I help you with the trailer, and you owe me one."

Your brow furrows, suspicion evident in your voice. "What kind of favor are we talking about?"

James grins, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. "Use that imagination of yours."

"I’m not helping you sell drugs, James," you snap, too quickly, not wanting any trouble with the police.

He throws his head back, laughing, his tattooed hand scratching the back of his neck. "Oh, come on, you think I’m that predictable?" He leans in closer, his grin widening. "I was thinking of a different kind of favor."

You feel a flush creep up your cheeks, catching his implication. "I’m not sleeping with you," you declare firmly.

He shrugs, the smug smile still playing on his lips. "Your choice. But just so you know, I can be pretty persuasive." He steps even closer, his voice dropping to a low, teasing rumble. "And who knows, you might even enjoy it."

You chew on your lip, weighing your options. On one hand, you could definitely use the help with the trailer; on the other, making a deal with James Kelly, your older, flirtatious neighbor, seemed like a gamble. But then again, what choice did you have? "Fine," you finally say, meeting his gaze with a challenging look. "Just help me clean the trailer, and I’ll owe you one."

James grins, extending his hand with a playful flourish. "Deal, princess. Let’s make this place sparkle."

You uncross your arms, a smirk tugging at your lips as you bend down to grab a sponge from the bucket of water. Without warning, you fling it right at his chest, soaking his shirt. "Sparkle, huh?" you tease, before turning back to scrubbing the trailer window.

James looks down at the wet sponge now stuck to his chest, then back up at you, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Well, look at that. Already trying to get me out of my clothes? I like the way you think.”

You roll your eyes, but a small smile tugs at the corners of your mouth despite yourself. “Keep dreaming, James.”

He chuckles, taking the sponge and slowly squeezing out the excess water, droplets trickling down his arm. “Maybe I already am, princess,” he teases, his voice low and suggestive.

He falls in beside you, picking up another sponge and getting to work. Despite his earlier teasing, he starts scrubbing with surprising efficiency, moving in smooth, quick motions. Every now and then, he throws in a wink or a cheeky comment, but he sticks to his word and focuses on the task at hand.

As the minutes pass, the two of you settle into an easy rhythm, working side by side in companionable silence. You have to admit, his help makes a huge difference; the work is going by much faster than you’d expected. And, despite your initial wariness, you find yourself… enjoying his company. There’s something unexpectedly satisfying about watching the trailer transform under your combined efforts, the dirt and grime giving way to a fresh, clean shine.

Maybe it’s the sun, or the unexpected teamwork, but for a moment, you almost forget why you were so hesitant in the first place.

At one point, you were hanging from the tire attached to the back door, cleaning the roof, your breasts pressed firmly against the trailer's frame through your clinging, soaked blouse. From this provocative position, your lush, round ass jutted upwards as you stretched to reach everywhere.

James, who had been cleaning the wheels, froze mid-scrub, releasing a low, appreciative whistle. "Now, that's a sight for sore eyes," he murmured, his gaze fixed and unwavering on your alluring display. He shielded his eyes with a hand, blocking the sun's glare as he continued to drink in the view.

You look over your shoulder at him. “James” you warned, trying to keep the amusement from leaking out of your tone. "Eyes on the wheels, I want them shining."

His smile was unapologetic as he responded, "I can't help it, princess. You're putting on quite the performance up there. I'd be a fool to miss it."

"Pervert." You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't deny the fluttering in your stomach at his words and the hypnotic cadence of his voice. Could these be the butterflies that books talk about so much?

James chuckled, his blue eyes finally returning to the task at hand, alighting on the underside of the trailer. "Guilty as charged, princess. At least I'm honest about it."

A while later, you hear James clear his throat below. “Hey, princess? Careful up there. I’d hate to see you fall and hurt yourself.”

You glance down, caught off guard by the unexpected softness in his voice. His usual playful grin is absent, replaced with a look of genuine concern that makes your heart skip a beat. “Oh, right, thanks” you reply quietly, a warmth spreading through you that has nothing to do with the sun beating down on your skin. Maybe there’s more to James Kelly than just the flirty mechanic.

You sit perched on the edge of the trailer roof, hesitating as you look at the ground. It suddenly seems a lot farther down than it did when you climbed up. You bite your bottom lip, a flicker of uncertainty crossing your face.

“Um, James, can you help me down?” You ask shyly, a shiver running down your body as the suds drip down your wet breasts under your blouse, your peaks hard as the suds slide down your thighs.

James's gaze hungrily devours your disheveled state, and he quickly nods in agreement. “Sure, princess. Just give me a second.”

He tosses the sponge back into the bucket and strides purposefully until he's directly beneath you. "Jump," he instructs, stretching out his arms. "I'll catch you."

You hesitate for a moment, biting your bottom lip, before taking a deep breath and stepping away from the roof of the trailer. James catches you easily, his firm, tattooed arms wrapping around you, holding you against his chest. He keeps you pressed against his body, and you can't help but feel the hardness pressing against your belly.

He sets you down gently, but his arms linger, his eyes dark with desire as they meet yours. "Are you okay, princess?" he asks in a hoarse voice.

You nod, unable to speak as you stare at him, your heart pounding. He leans in closer, his lips inches from yours. You can feel the warmth of his breath on your face, and you lean in as well, eager to taste his lips.

But as he's about to kiss you, he abruptly pulls away, a wry smile on his face. "I told you I could be persuasive," he says, releasing you and taking a step back.

You blink, surprised and embarrassed by his sudden withdrawal. "W-what?" you stammer.

He turns back to the trailer, flashing you a nonchalant grin. "Nothing, princess. Let's get back to cleaning."

Your cheeks burn, though you can’t tell if it’s from the relentless sun or the shame of almost getting caught staring at James's lips, imagining what it would feel like to kiss him. Your thoughts are a jumbled mess, your heart pounding with a mix of embarrassment and something else you don't want to admit. You turn back to the task at hand, scrubbing the trailer window with renewed intensity, channeling all your frustration and confusion into making the glass spotless.

You can feel James’s gaze on you, a quiet heat that only makes your pulse race faster. The air seems thicker somehow, the sun hotter, and you focus on the steady, rhythmic motion of your hand against the glass, willing yourself to ignore him.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs softly, his voice carrying over the sound of the water splashing against the trailer.

You freeze, your breath catching in your throat. Your cheeks flush deeper, and you feel your heart hammering against your ribs. You risk a glance over your shoulder, catching the look in his eyes—intense, sincere, with a hint of a smile at the corner of his lips.

The unexpected compliment sends a flutter through your chest, and you swallow hard, trying to steady your nerves. You force a smile, though your voice wavers slightly as you respond, “You’re not so bad yourself, James.”

He grins wider, clearly amused by your flustered reaction. “That so, princess?”

You roll your eyes, trying to regain your composure. “I meant your help,” you add quickly, turning back to the window. But you can’t quite shake the feeling that, for a moment, he’d seen right through you —to the thoughts you’d been trying so hard to hide.

"This scorching New Orleans sun doesn’t give you a break," you complain, the sweat glistening on your forehead, a testament to the unyielding heat that envelops you like a suffocating blanket. You feel as if you're a lump of ice melting under the oppressive, steamy air, and you can't help but loathe the climate in this state.

Seeking respite from the incessant heat, you grab the hose, lifting it over your head, and let the cool water cascade over your body. The water clings to your skin, your clothes molded to your curves like a second skin, leaving little to the imagination. Your breasts, heaving with each breath, are clearly visible through the wet fabric, while the shorts cling to the lush curves of your ass.

James's eyes widen as he takes in the sight, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows hard, the desire in his eyes unmistakable. "Fuck, princess. You're killing me here," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust.

You look up at him, a coy smile playing on your lips, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "Am I?" you tease, allowing the water to trickle down your shirt, tracing the lines of your breasts and hips, eliciting a low groan from James.

He runs a hand through his dark, damp hair, his face flushed with desire. "Yes, you fucking are," he states, taking a step closer to you. "You know what you're doing to me, don't you?"

You tilt your head to the side, feigning innocence, your eyes flickering with a hint of playfulness. "I have no idea what you're talking about, James," you lie, biting your lip to keep from smiling.

James's patience snaps, and he reaches up, his fingers wrapping around your wrist and pulling you roughly against his body. "Didn't anyone teach you that lying is bad, princess?" he growls, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine.

You gasp as you feel his hardness pressing into you once more, the sensation intoxicating. James takes advantage of your open mouth, crushing his lips to yours in a hungry, demanding kiss. You surrender to him, kissing him back fiercely, your bodies pressed tightly together. In the midst of this passionate embrace, you lose your grip on the hose, allowing it to slip from your fingers and clatter to the gravel below.

James grabs your neck from behind to deepen the kiss, his tongue meeting yours, you gasp at the sensation, his other hand coming down to grip your waist. You moan against his mouth, your body arching into his as his hand on your waist slides down to cup your ass, pulling you even closer. His thumb hooks into the waistband of your shorts, tracing the edge of your panties and sending shivers down your spine.

He breaks the searing kiss, his lips trailing a torturous path down your jaw and along the sensitive skin of your neck. He nips and sucks, each touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. "Fuck, princess," he growls, his voice a husky rumble. "You taste so good."

You tilt your head back, offering him full access to your vulnerable neck, your body writhing against his in an urgent, desperate need for more. "James," you gasp, your hands clawing at the muscles of his back. "Please..."

He groans, his hand sliding lower, his fingers pressing against the front of your shorts, the thin fabric the only barrier between him and your needy core. "Please what, princess?" he whispers, his finger teasing you, rubbing in slow, maddening circles. "Use your words,"

"Touch me," you beg, your eyes fluttering shut as you're consumed by the swell of pleasure. "Please, touch me."

The air is thick with the heady scent of lust, and the tension between you both is palpable, begging for release. James's fingers tease you mercilessly, prolonging your agony as he decides to what extent he'll indulge you. The anticipation is as much a part of the pleasure as the touch itself, leaving you trembling and needy.

He chuckles, a low, carnal sound that sends shivers down your spine as he unbuttons your shorts with practiced ease. His hand slides inside, gently pushing your panties aside to reveal your bare, wet flesh. His fingers brush against you, eliciting a soft moan from your parted lips.

“Like that, princess?” he asks, his voice dripping with seduction as he slides a finger into your slick, heated core. You cry out, the sudden invasion making your knees buckle. James reacts quickly, wrapping his arm around your waist, steadying you as he continues to pump his finger in and out of your quivering depths.

His thumb circles your clit, adding another layer of pleasure to the sensory overload. “Yeah, just like that,” you sigh, your hips undulating in response to his skilled touch. “Oh God, James, yes…”

He claims your mouth in another searing kiss, his tongue dueling with yours as he devours your moans. You’re at his mercy, your body responding to his every touch. He adds a second finger to the first, stretching you and increasing your pleasure, each thrust bringing you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy.

Suddenly, he pulls his hand away, leaving you breathless and aching. Your eyes fly open, confusion etched across your face as you stare up at him. “Why did you stop?” you ask, your voice thick with desire. James’s smile is both wicked and knowing, his eyes filled with the promise of more pleasure to come.

He grins wickedly at you, licking his fingers clean, his eyes gleaming with desire. "Because, princess, I want to taste you when you cum," he explains, his voice a sultry rumble. Without warning, he drops to his knees in front of you, the swift motion of pulling your shorts and panties down leaving you momentarily breathless.

You're too stunned to protest as his face buries itself between your legs, his talented tongue delving deep into your slick folds. A moan escapes your lips, and you find your fingers instinctively tangling in his hair as he maneuvers one of your legs over his shoulder, gaining a better angle to feast upon you.

James grips your thighs, holding you steady as his tongue explores every inch of your wet, quivering core. He sucks and licks with relentless passion, each movement pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Your breath comes in short, frantic gasps as you grind against his face, the pleasure building to a crescendo.

"James, oh god, James, I'm gonna cum," you moan, your fingers digging into his hair, holding him in place as you're on the brink of release. He growls against your sensitive flesh, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine and sending you careening over the edge. You cry out, your body convulsing as waves of ecstasy crash over you.

James doesn't let up, continuing to lavish attention on your spent form, his tongue and lips teasing you until you're writhing and pleading for mercy. The sensation has become too much, your nerves electrified from the intensity of his ministrations. Finally, he stands, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, a satisfied grin on his face.

"Delicious," he murmurs, pulling you into a searing kiss, allowing you to taste the sweet evidence of your pleasure on his lips. You melt into him, your arms wrapping around his neck as you return the kiss, still riding the high of your orgasm. When you finally pull away, you rest your forehead against his, your eyes closed as you catch your breath.

"That was... intense," you whisper, a small, satisfied smile gracing your lips. James chuckles, his fingers gently brushing a damp strand of hair from your face.

"That was just the beginning, princess," he promises in a low, dangerous voice. "We're just getting started."

It takes you a few moments to collect your thoughts, the intensity of the moment leaving you slightly dazed. You're grateful for the early hour and the fact that your neighbors aren't home, the knowledge adding a thrilling layer to the already sensual encounter. You pull your panties and shorts up, a soft moan escaping your lips as the fabric brushes against your still-sensitive flesh.

You turn to James, your voice husky from the recent pleasure. "Thanks for helping," you mumble, grabbing the bucket and sponge, your movements slightly unsteady. You walk past him, your hips swaying in a way that you're sure doesn't go unnoticed, and enter your trailer.

James watches you go, a mix of confusion and frustration etched on his face. He runs a hand through his hair, muttering a curse under his breath. "Well, fuck it," he says to himself, his gaze sweeping over the now-clean trailer. With a shake of his head, he gathers his belongings and heads back to his own trailer, leaving you to ponder the unexpected turn of events.

As he walks away, he calls out, his voice carrying in the quiet morning air, "See you around, princess!"

You don't respond, leaning against the door you've just closed, your heart pounding in your chest. What had just happened? You hadn't intended for things to go this far, but somehow, James had a way of making you lose control. You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing thoughts. You knew you needed to figure out what you were going to do about James Kelly.

One thing was certain: he wouldn't leave you alone any time soon, and the anticipation of the future interactions left a tantalizing tingle in your core.

#james kelly imagine #james kelly x reader #james kelly #american heist #hayden christensen x reader #james kelly smut

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ultralightpoe · 1 year ago

Text

Spellbound - Geralt

Authors Note: I’m back because I quit my job and have a better schedule at the new job

Warnings: semi smut

Word Count: 4012

Description: geralt fights his feelings until you get trapped in a spell

brothel worker! reader x geralt

Enjoy!

Geralt was going to tear whoever did this to you to pieces. He would gouge their eyes out and make them eat them.

That was just one of the thoughts that rang through his mind as he cradled you in his arms, your nose bleeding onto his now naked torso, the shirt you had torn off of him a mere moment ago nearly in the fire.

This was not supposed to be how this happened, this wasn’t supposed to happen at all. He had made himself stay away for this exact reason, everything he loved was destroyed.

The witcher had always been against you joining the group.

You had been a brothel worker when you came upon Jaskier six months ago, walking the streets with achy legs from a long shift, smelling of the salt water you had bathed in when you saw a group of men holding him up and beating on him.

A yell had crossed your lips and without thinking you picked up a log near your feet, launching at the men and swinging anywhere you could to scare them off, hitting a couple of them harshly before they finally scampered away leaving you standing in the mud with a log and the poor fool laying bloody and beaten on the ground.

You had brought him to your tiny rooms at the brothel, helped him clean up and soon enough he was asking you to join them. You hesitated for a moment, watching him use one of your rags to dot at the cuts along his face before shrugging.

Anything is better than the life of a brothel worker, right?

Wrong.

Brothels didn’t have the annoying attitude of Geralt the fucking Witcher. Okay well some did since Jaskier admitted to Geralt being a frequent guest of them, but you had never seen him and you wished you never met him either.

He spent every waking moment snapping at you, or blatantly ignoring you when you were trying to ask questions. It was either you didn’t exist or everything you did was wrong, and you could never figure out why the way he treated you bothered you so fucking much.

Men had done far worse to you in that brothel, but Geralt giving you the cold shoulder nearly brought you to tears? What?

Then again none of the men that came to the brothel were like Geralt at all. None of them had those melting golden eyes or the firm touch of a protector, none of them could turn a sword in their hands the way he does or make anyone feel at ease in his presence.

Well……anyone but you.

Maybe he knew you had feelings for him, maybe he hated your guts. Many reasons why he never wanted to talk to you filled your head and none of them were good.

You spent your days obsessing over a man that barely glanced back at you, your horse in the back of the group with Jaskier always a force between you both.

Geralt takes a moment to tie the corset of your dress so you weren’t exposed before pulling you into his arms and laying you on his bed, moving to grab a cloth from the basin in the corner of the inn room.

When he returns to your side he takes a chance to slide the hair from your face, swiping the damp cloth along the blood trail your nose left in soft strokes as he watches you sleep. He would make sure you were breathing and comfortable before he went out and broke some limbs.

It had been six months of that behavior, and it was truly beginning to wear you down.

The days were spent either passive aggressively ignoring him back for scoffing at any mistake of yours he pointed out. Today was a passive aggressive silent game.

He had woken you up by snapping in your face and the months of travel and anger were beginning to catch up so you had slapped his hand out of your face, watching a small amount of shock fill his face before his eyes narrowed in anger.

“You overslept….again.” In the beginning you would have a snarky retort, something mocking his breath or face, but now you merely rolled your eyes and turned your back to him as you packed up your bedroll. He doesn’t seem to understand your silent game since he tries to piss you off once more. “We are going to be behind if you keep sleeping like this.”

It would be so easy to turn around and tell him to shove off, but then he would know he had that effect so you simply picked you belongings up, fixed your boots and walked to the horses where Jaskier sat atop his own.

The bard gives you a knowing look as you mount your own horse after fixing everything onto it, legs swinging with a natural ease and a slight warmth on your thigh. When you look down you see Geralt's hand placed on it, and you realize he had helped you up. “Are you angry with me? Or have you lost your voice?”

“Just matching the treatment given to me.” You snark, a feeling of pride in your chest when you see him all but snarl. You kick the horse into gear after that, this time taking the lead as his hand slips from your thigh and he rushes to Roach.

By the time he catches up he makes Roach walk alongside your horse, his face furious. “The treatment I gave you?”

You hum out, moving to speed up your horse but Geralt is too quick, within moments he has the reins of your horse in his hand, pulling on them until you are close enough for your thighs to touch.

“Answer me.”

You hum again, your heartbeat rising and you wonder if he can hear it when his eyes cast down to your chest before looking back at you.

“Humming is not an answer.”

You hum once more, moving to snatch the reins but his hand reaches out to grab your jaw. “I need to hear your voice.”

You slap his hand away once more and snatch the reins, giving him a glare before moving forward.

“I don’t understand.” He grunted to Jaskier later that day, fixing his travel pack on roach as the bard leans against the same post the horses were tied to. You had gone to the market to grab some necessities and when Geralt demanded to go with you he had been met with another empty hum and Jaskier had told him to back down.

“She’ll avoid attention if she isn’t traveling with a witcher, not to mention she knows how to bargain for cheaper prices when she isn’t flanked by your glare.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He growls, watching the bard smirk.

“The market workers like the attention she can give them-”

“We agreed she didn’t have to do any of that stuff if she traveled with us.”

“She does this willingly, and even so it’s not the same as in the brothel. She doesn’t have to offer up her-” A heavy growl slips from Geralt and Jaskier chooses not to finish his sentence, instead rolling his eyes and moving to his own horse. “I think you would be better off if you just told her you love her.”

“I do not-”

“Oh hush. I see you watch her sleep every morn, then I see you yell at her for waking up late because you forgot to wake her up.” He laughs. “And I see you hover whenever she mounts and dismounts Lugo. Not to mention the way you give her the bigger rations of whatever we eat and-”

“Fuck off.”

Jaskier takes the win and turns away from the witcher, fiddling with the lute while Geralt tries to make himself look busy.

After a moment of silence the witcher stands quickly. “Why won’t she speak to me?”

A laugh escapes the bard once more. “Because you ignore her any chance you get?”

“I do not.”

“Well I know that. But she doesn’t, because you never even bother talking to her. You’d rather silently pine like a lost-” He trails off when he sees you emerge from the hills, sacks of produce in your arms with a small smile on your face. “Fresh hells.”

“The men were ready to lose their money today boys!”

“Did they bother you?” Geralt growls and you give him a glare back before shoving the sack of apples into his chest.

Once he is sure you are breathing properly he covers you with the blanket, before moving to grab his sword, careful not to wake you up.

You spend the rest of the day simply ignoring them both, too busy being proud of the way you scammed the merchants and all you had to do was lift your skirt to your knee.

Geralt kept Roach near your own horse, and Jaskier took the back for once, all of you traveling in silence until Jaskier begins to whine.

“It has been forever since we slept indoors.”

Silence follows for a moment before Geralt turns to glare at him. “And Y/n just saved us so much coin we can each get a room in the next town.”

“This is true! I did!” You laugh, turning to look at Jaskiers mopey face.

“Fuck.” Geralt grunts, turning back to the road so he doesn’t have to look at either of you again.

Jaskier is still sitting in the hall with his lute, strumming softly in the drunken daze as the crowd they had gathered earlier has finally died down.

“Bard.” Geralt grunts, trying to get his attention. But Jaskier doesn’t move, simply keeps his eyes closed as he plays a chord. So Geralt kicks his chin.

The bard before him jumps up with a shout before his eyes land on the white haired witcher before him.

“I got us all rooms and I found you in a hallway.”

“I was merely resting for a moment.” He sighs, reaching down to grab the ale mug filled with coins he earned from his performance. “It’s hard to be a -”

The silver amulet is shoved in his face before he can finish the sentence, eyes widening as Geralt grunts. “Who gave this to Y/n?”

“The charming blonde who had been dancing with her all night while you sat in the back and glared.”

“Where did he disappear to?”

“You mean after you snatched her?”

By the time the three of you made it to the next town your ass was worn from the saddle and you were a bit wobbly when you got down, Geralt standing behind you and you scoffed as you looked at him. “Waiting for me to fall so you can lecture me?”

He opens his mouth to respond and you find yourself excited that he is actually about to answer back before he huffs and glares before disappearing. And once more you are left feeling like nothing.

You watch as he disappears into the tavern before turning to Jaskier. “I asked around at the market…”

“About?”

“About work.”

“Ah!” He smiles, moving to lean on you. “And what did you find for our dear witcher to do?”

“Not for him actually.” Your throat tightens as you struggle to find the words. Jaskier doesn’t seem to catch on to your solemn mood.

“Oh? A performance for me? I’m sure I can prepare a lullaby or two-”

“For me.” You interrupt, pulling yourself away from him and crossing your arms uncomfortably as he stares at you.

“For…..you?” You nod at his question, trying to gain some power here. “What do you-”

“Madame Horchels brothel is in this town, she is famous within word and if I met with her then I am sure I would be set up with a room and a hot meal a day-”

“Why in fucks sake would you ever want to go back to that?”

Tears were welling in your eyes as he stared at you and you struggled to find words. “I am just……tired of feeling useless and pathetic……”

“So you would go back to whoring?”

“You don’t have to act so disgusted!” You snap, shame filling you at his reaction. “I never saw you complaining about my past when I was flirting with guards or-”

“I am sorry, I never meant to judge. I just think…..” He sighs out and rubs his face aggressively before moving to pull you into a hug. “It’s been a cold couple days. How about we go in and get a drink, a good night's rest in actual beds before we make decisions? Yeah?”

A hooded figure passes you both to get into the tavern and you simply shrug. “I think my mind is made up Jask.”

“I think it would be a mistake and we would miss you terribly……..okay I would miss you terribly.”

“Why would you miss her?” Geralt snaps out from a couple steps away, eyes squinted in an angry manner. He had originally come to snap at you both to watch your surroundings but had caught the tail end of the conversation instead.

“Y/n here was just rushing a decision. But we aren’t gonna talk about that, right now a round of ale on me.”

“You spent all your coin two towns ago on new strings for your lute.” Geralt reminds, eyes never leaving your figure.

“Then I shall make more coin!” He cheers, pulling you into the tavern and snatching the room keys from Geralt.

Things escalated from there, and any time Geralt asked about their conversation they changed the subject and he was beginning to lose his mind. Were you okay? Why would Jaskier miss you? Why was he so worried about this? He watched you drink all night, ignoring him, and he watched as many of the men in the tavern asked you for a dance. He knew none of the men were a threat, and you knew how to handle them, even if it got out of control he could have his sword to their throat with a mere minute. So he didn’t really pay attention to your dance partners.

But one in particular caught his attention, the hooded figure that had walked too close to you both earlier had emerged from his corner and asked for a dance, and something in Geralt screamed for him to go and get you away. But he didn’t, instead he sat back and drank, allowing you room to have fun.

The blonde stranger whirled you around and spun you and bought you drink after drink. Your eyes glazed over and your smile was wide enough to split your face, a jealous feeling crept into Geralts chest and the urge to punch the stranger grew and grew as Jaskier played song after song.

“Can I get you another drink?”

“Hmm?” Geralts attention snaps from your figure to the tavern wench beside him, giving him a small smile.

“Another ale?”

“I think I am fine. Thank you-” She doesn’t wait, walking away since she didn’t get more coin and when Geralt sneaks his attention back to you he can’t help but slam his empty mug down.

The stranger had you turn around with you lifting your hair as he placed an amulet on your neck, kissing your shoulder and before Geralt could stop himself he lunged to grab you.

One moment you are giggling about the gorgeous, the next you are thrown over Geralts shoulder as he shoves the gorgeous fae away from you, hauling you up the stairs of the inn with no care.

“Put me down!” You shout, slamming your hand into his back as he walks through the first hall then up the next flight of stairs.

“You’ve had too much to drink.”

“And you care why?”

“Because that man would take advantage.’ He growls.

“Well he gave me a necklace, that’s how the business works.” You giggle, reaching up to touch the necklace but the world whirls once more as Geralt places your feet on the ground and pushes you into the wall. His hand stopped your head from hitting the wood but the rest of you was pressed between him and the wall.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” You ask breathlessly, watching his face with adoration. Had he always been so…..

“Joke about that. You need something then I will get it for you.”

“What if I want the prettiest jewels in the kingdom?”

“Then I kill more beasts.” He was dead serious and the hazy feeling was taking over so before you know it you find yourself leaning in to whisper “What is I want an orgasm?”

A red tint crosses his neck but his face remains serious as he leans his head against yours to whisper. “Then you ask me.”

And for a moment you can’t breathe, you find yourself aching, every part of you wanting to touch him suddenly. But before you can he whispers once more. “But not tonight. My first time with you will be sober.”

Then the wood behind you disappears and you realize he had pressed you against the door to your room. Landing in a ball on the floor he sends a small smile before slamming the door and the heat that had filled you dims for a moment.

But just for a moment.

You pull yourself up from the floor, moving to the bed before the aching returns and your body heats up twice as bad. Everything begins going hazy as a sweat covers you and then you lose it.

“I need to go.” Geralt snaps, shoving Jaksier to the direction of the stairs. “You go watch her. Don’t let her make any more mistakes.”

“Where are you- Geralt? What happened?! Hello?!” Jaskier calls after the witcher, watching him storm through the tavern before slamming the doors on his way out. With a deep sigh the bard grabs his jacket and mug of coins before making his way to find the rooms.

It had been an hour since he left you in your room and Geralt could not relax himself. Jaskier had just stopped singing and Geralt was still pacing the inn room, back and forth back and forth.

The aching hard on he had refused to go away, the image of your dazed eyes all he could think about, and the way you whispered to him had him so close to snapping all together. But he didn’t, and you were safe in your room with him just two doors down. But the floorboards creaking by his door caught his attention, and he reached for the sword as the doorknob jiggled.

Stepping towards it slowly as it creaks open only to reveal you, standing in the hall in nothing but your dress slip and a flushed face. “Geralt-” You moan out and his knees nearly buckle when you rush in and slam the door.

The sword falls from his hands so he can catch you when you come hurdling to him, pulling him in for a harsh kiss. Your lips melt into his and you moan in victory when he kisses back, pressing yourself against him as your hands fly into his hair.

His own hands find purchase on you hips, and before he can tell himself not to he moves them to start a grinding motion the both of your would like. It stays like this for a moment until you bite his lip on a particularly aggressive moan, pulling back to catch a breath as you press your hips into his harder than before.

For a second he admires you, the way your face scrunches up in pleasure and the moans that he is pulling from your lips, letting out a heavy ‘FUCK’ when you circle your hips.

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease.” You gasp out, hands dragging from his hair to his chest before you start tearing the clasps on his shirt, scratching it a bit in your struggle to get it off. “Ineedyou, it hurtssobad-”

This makes him hesitate, pulling back a little just as you fling his shirt, your hands flying to undo the slip and he finally catches your eyes. Only they weren’t the eyes he had fallen in love with, instead they were a deep red.

“Y/n?” He asks, heartbeat racing as he snatches your wrists in one hand, the other coming to grab you chin. “Look at me.”

“Geralt, please. It hurts.” You whine and the gem in the amulet glows the same red as your eyes.

Dread fills him as he reaches down to tear it off you, the silver cutting you a bit before he chucks it across the room.

He couldn’t breathe properly as he watched you come down from the spell, anger filling him. You hadn’t meant any of this, this had been a spell.

He was a fucking fool.

“Geralt?” You breathe out, taking in the room before looking at his shirtless torso and the small scratches you had made to get the shirt off. “What-”

And just like that you were gone. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your nose started bleeding as you passed out, he barely caught you before you hit the floor. “Fuck.”

You awake mid day- the sun blaring in through the blinds and you do your best to cover your eyes. “Oh make it stop-”

“There are no covers for the window.” Jaskier sighs from where he is laying on the floor. “I tried stealing the blanket from you and you hissed at me.”

“Serves you right….” You mumble, taking in the room as you realize that last night hadn’t been a dream after all and a deep embarrassment fills you.

“H-have…..have you seen Geralt?” You ask, leaning over the bed to look at him.

“He left around sunrise in a pissy mood.”

“Did he… did he say anything?” You felt like an utter fool, and you were doing your best not to be sick.

“Said to watch you so you didn’t make any more mistakes.” Jaskier shrugs before yawning.

“He said that? He said mistake?” Your voice cracks as you wrap the blanket tighter around yourself.

“He did. I assumed he caught you with the blonde gu- Y/n? What’s the matter?”

“I…… I have to go.” You rush out, jumping over him to leave the room.

- - - - -

Geralt finds Jaskier waiting at the horses when he rides up, tired and cranky, and he gets even crankier when he sees that your horse is empty of all your travel bags.

“Is she not awake? Do we need to get a healer?” He rushes out, launching from roach to get to the tavern only for Jaskier to hold the lute in front of him.

“She woke up several hours ago, it’s nearly dusk.”

“Then where is she?”

“Gone.”

“Gone?” His heart is racing too fast and he’s hoping that Jaskier starts laughing soon and this is all a joke.

“I told her you said to make sure she didn’t make any more mistakes and she got really sad and started crying as she packed up.” He explains. “She went to this brothel and they wouldn’t let me in but they let her in and she came out to say bye soon after that.”

“She went to a brothel?!” He snaps, grabbing the collar of Jaskiers dress coat.

“Don’t blame me! This is your doing!”

“How. So.”

“You were the one that made her feel worthless! Never looking at her and always in her business about her mistakes-”

“Her mistakes get her hurt, or worse, killed!”

“Then tell her that! Rather than yell at her all the time with no explanation-”

“Where is the brothel?”

“It’s no use.”

“Where. Is. The. Brot-”

“She made a deal! The madame owns her!”

“Not on my fucking watch.” Geralt snaps, mounting the roach in one fluent move before nodding to Jaskier. “Hurry.”

He had to get you.

Part Two

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