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zepskies · 2 months ago

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HEADCANON: Man Flu

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader || Beau Arlen x Reader || Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader || Boaz Priestly x Reader

HC: When Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, Soldier Boy (Ben), and Boaz Priestly get sick, how would they act when you (try to) take care of them?

AN: After reading I Got You by @bettystonewell (Dean x Reader) and The Best Kind of Medicine by @lamentationsofalonelypotato (Soldier Boy x Reader), I realized that I've never actually written a sick-fic before. Here it is in headcanon form, since you guys seem to like these! lol 💜

Also adding Priestly to this lineup for the first time because some of you have been requesting more of him recently. 😉

Tags/Warnings: Established relationship, hurt/comfort, sick-fic, some needy affection-starved men who don't want to admit they're needy, lots of fluff.~

Dean Winchester

He's not sick. Because he doesn't get sick.

Dean claims he has the constitution of a horse, but you still take the beer out of his hand before he can take a sip at 10:00 a.m.

He's too busy interrupting himself, namely by coughing half a lung, wheezing, blinking teary eyes -- the whole phlegmy nine yards.

Sam shakes his head, casting you a look that frankly says, Good luck.

He knows his brother is stubborn as hell, and one of the things Dean dislikes most is being fussed over for "no reason." Being seen as weak. Not being able to just shrug his shoulders and shake it off.

To be fair, Dean tries. Except this time it's accompanied by a body shiver and a reluctant sniffle. His pallid face is drawn, and his usually strong and solid frame looks unsteady as he leans a hand on the War Room table.

"Okay, come on, Rambo. Let's get you back into bed," you say, guiding your boyfriend back to the room you share with him.

"I'm find," he insists, even as he begrudgingly accepts the gentle pressure of your hand on his back and shoulder, pushing him down to the bed.

"Sure you are, baby," you say with a smirk. "You're in the primb of libe."

Dean shoots you a narrowed look. Damn you for forcing him to binge-watch all those episodes of Friends late at night when you both can't sleep.

Right now he's Monica, trying to convince you he's in tip-top shape, while you're Chandler, just trying to get him to use tissues instead of his flannel sleeve to wipe his runny nose.

After taking his boots off, you get him to change out of his jeans and back into his sweatpants. Then you manage to get him to lay down under the covers with the promise of coming back with medicine and soup.

"I don't want soup, damn it," he grumbles. You just roll your eyes and rub his arm.

"Just rest. I'll be back with the Vicks."

As you might expect, Dean is not an easy patient.

He refuses to drink tea, but he does down the pills you bring for him, with a measured toss of his head that still makes his head swim. He groans.

He swallows a couple of cautious spoonfuls of the soup, pausing when he realizes that its warmth actually feels good down his sore and scratchy throat. It tastes pretty good too, especially with the warm, buttered slices of bread on the side.

"You made this?" he asks.

"Mhmm," you nod, smiling. If nothing else, good food will pacify this man. "Chicken and wild rice, made especially for you."

"Hmm. S' good," he nods in reply. He manages to finish the bowl.

He has to admit, if just to himself, that he does feel like shit.

He won't admit that the way you're rubbing his back, the gentle pressure of your nails between his shoulders and down his spine relaxes him, makes him feel better.

He knows that you care about him. That you love him. But this is one of those moments where it hits him, just how much.

It's a little overwhelming. A heavy swell of pressure fills his chest, so he tries not to let himself think about it for very long.

(He fails.)

After he's done eating, you take the plates away and help him back into bed. You linger there, slipping your fingers through his soft brown hair and pressing a kiss to his clammy forehead.

"I really need you to rest, okay," you say quietly. "If you need anything, just text me or Sam. Don't get out of bed."

Dean grasps your hand before you can move away from him. Since you're probably going to wash your hands anyway, he lays a kiss on the back of your hand.

"Thanks, sweetheart."

Beau Arlen

Sheriff Beau Arlen is the type to run himself into the ground because he's so damn into his work.

He wants to do well in his station of responsibility, and he feels like he has to make up for his performance during the summer madness of Buck Barnes and Avery...and everything in between.

You just have to make Beau realize that he needs to slow down, before he well and truly burns himself out.

You put your foot down one morning.

He tries to get out of bed but has to pause, his head swimming. He takes a couple of steadying breaths while sitting on the edge of the bed.

You notice with a frown. "Hey, you okay?"

"Fine. Just fine," he answers a little too breathlessly. He raises a hand to his head. His throat is sticky and coarse. He wrinkles his nose when he also feels a sneeze coming on.

"Just need a...a...mugh-ah-ha-hugh."

His coughing sneeze makes you grimace. You didn't even know someone could sneeze and cough at the same time.

"Aw, babe. You're sick," you say as you move over to him, resting a hand on his back. He shakes his head and groans.

"Nah, can't be sick. Gotta lot of work to do today," he says. His voice is like gravel blended with broken glass. It would actually be sexy, if for the distinctly un-sexy way he tries to clear the great wad of phlegm from his throat.

He tries to rock himself onto his feet, but there he sways on the landing. You hurry out of bed to grab his arm and steady him.

"Oh no, you don't. Back into bed," you say.

"Aw, sweetheart. I'll be fine--"

"No. Lay down. You're not going in today," you say more firmly, all while you tuck the man back into bed with the blankets covering him.

"All right, all right. No need to be so pushy," he can't help but tease.

It earns a small smirk on your face. It seems like his man flu hasn't yet deprived him of his sense of humor.

"I thought you liked that though," you reply. You sit on the edge of the bed and rub his chest. He groans in defeat.

"Can't believe this," he grumbles. "Today of all days--"

"There's always going to be another case. This is your body telling you that you need to slow down," you tell him. "So how about this. I'm gonna call in one of my sick days, and we'll bunker in together."

You stroke his bearded cheek. He quirks a smile, grabbing your hand and squeezing warmly.

"How long until I'm allowed out, warden?" he asks.

"Until you can stand without keeling over," you dryly reply. A smile tugs at your lips. "Remind me to stop by CVS to grab you a Life Alert."

"All right, har har haugh--" His sarcasm ends on a very real, wheezing cough. Your amused smile drops. You relent from your teasing and stroke his chest once more.

"Okay, just rest. Let me get you some actual medicine and I'll be right back."

He stops you by grabbing your wrist. "Hey, uh...can I have some chicken noodle soup later?"

"Of course, baby. I'll swing by the store now and get some stuff for you."

"And some saltines?"

"Saltine crackers on the side. Got it."

You're about to head to the bathroom to brush your teeth before you start getting ready to go to the store, but once again, Beau's needy hand stops you.

"Before you go, some tea with honey and lemon would be good. Just something for my throat," he croaks.

You smile and nod. "Yeah, for sure. That'll be better for you than coffee."

"Oh, and can you gimme that quilt over there?" he asks, pointing to your favorite knitted blanket at the edge of the bed. You graciously lay it over his form and drop a kiss onto his forehead.

"And some cough drops. Thank you, darlin'," Beau adds.

Your lips begin to press together, but you nod and continue getting dressed.

You can already tell this man is going to settle into you taking care of him just fine.

Soldier Boy (Ben)

Neither of you thought it was possible, considering his super genes that allowed him to eat and booze and drug harder than Andre the Giant and Keith Richards put together.

But one day, your over six-foot super soldier goes down hard. The warning signs came the night before, when you could hardly sleep with the way he was snoring like a grizzly bear.

In the morning, he wakes bleary-eyed with a runny nose and a coughing fit hard enough to shake the bed.

"Fuck," he groans, dragging a hand over his face before he turns onto his back. "This's gotta be some kind of bullshit hangover."

You move over to him in bed and feel the intense warmth of his clammy forehead. Your brows draw together in concern.

"No, I think you're sick."

"Not possible," he grumbles. "I haven't been sick since..."

Well, since he was a kid, probably. He won't admit it, but he's surprised he still has that memory lodged in the back of his mind.

It comes to the forefront now: your hand on his cheek unknowingly mimics his mother's gentle touch, her soft, kind voice.

"Aw, my sweet boy. Let's get you feeling better."

He can almost recall the floral scent of her perfume, echoes of it in the shampoo you use.

Ben claims he's fine, that he doesn't need your help or want the medicine and tea you bring for him. (He tries the tea, grimaces, and spits it out when you're not looking.)

He's a sourpatch grumbly patient who only begrudgingly stays put in bed when you ask him to. He doesn't mind lying around and watching movies all day, not to mention episode after episode of Below Deck. It reminds him that he wants to get back into boating.

"Hey, sweetheart," he calls to you from the bedroom, his voice croaking all the while. "I'm getting you a yacht for Valentine's Day. You want it all white, or throw in a bit of gold? Actually, check out this one with the navy trim."

You roll your eyes to yourself when you step back into the room. You're carrying a tray with a large bowl of soup and a fifth of whiskey. He claims the latter will help soothe his throat, and you don't have the heart to argue with him when he's clearly feeling so shitty.

"You mean you're getting you a yacht," you reply wryly. "We live in the city. Where the hell would we put a boat?"

"In a yacht club, where it belongs," Ben retorts. He hooks an arm around your waist and peruses what you've brought him on the tray. He doesn't look all that interested.

"Look, I know you're not exactly a soupy kinda guy, but this'll make you feel better," you say.

"Why can't you put some fucking steak in it or something?" he grouses. He tries and fails to hide another wet cough.

"Why can't you just eat what I lovingly made, just for you," you snipped back.

He rolls his eyes at your attitude, but he pipes down. In that silence, he's conceding that you have a point. There was a time were all he had to do was glance in someone's direction, and there'd be some fucking moron to fulfill his every whim.

Now, you're probably the only one in the world that would actually do what you're doing...

Cooking for him, putting your heart into it, for the simple reason that you do care.

Ben takes the bowl of soup from your hands. Raising a brow, you offer him the spoon as well.

He eats without further complaint.

You smile and reward him with a sweet kiss on his forehead, brushing his hair back as you do so.

"See? That's not so hard, huh?" you can't help but needle him. "It's okay, baby. I'll take care of you."

He eyes you dryly, but he won't admit that there's a different kind of warmth coiling in his chest.

Boaz Priestly

"Uuuughhh, babe," he groans. "I feel like death on toast."

You're standing beside the bed with a smile playing on your lips. You brush back his for once un-gelled hair back from his face. It's weird to see it all limp and lifeless, slightly damp with sweat.

"Unironically, I should make you some toast," you reply. "What kind of medicine do we have?"

Priestly unearths his head from under his pillow to look up at you with miserable red-rimmed eyes and a sniffling, stuffy nose. "Can we count the tequila in the mini bar?"

"Maybe later," you laugh. "How are we on groceries?"

Priestly struggles to think. He takes your hand and rubs it back and forth across his chest. Maybe your sweet, loving touch has the power to clear away his congestion without him needing Vicks. Too minty.

"We have that pastrami I brought back from the shop," he says.

"That's six days old already," you shake your head.

"Aw, that's still good," he argues. "But uh, other than that, I think I have half a cheeseburger left from last night."

Last night's date at TGI Friday's, he means.

You heave a sigh. "Okay, clearly I'm going to the store. You just stay in bed and rest. Drink your tea."

He grimaces like a child. "I don't like tea."

"I know you don't like tea, but you need to drink it. It's good for your throat and your immune system."

He groans and flops back over onto his stomach. You bite your lip against a smile. He's such a whiny baby when he's sick.

Talk about Man Flu.

"Come on, be a good boy for me," you say, smacking him lightly on the ass. "Soon enough you'll feel better."

A smile creeps across his face where it's pressed against his pillow.

"Know what would really make me feel better?" he hedges. He tries to guide you down to him by tugging on your hand, but you resist him.

"Oh, no. You're not gonna get your germs all over me," you say.

"Hey, what happened to in sickness and in health?" he croaks. Even while under the weather, he's still plenty strong enough to grapple with you. He manages to yank you down. Laughing, you stumble into a seat on the edge of the bed.

"Huh, I don't remember exchanging any vows. You see a ring on this finger?" you tease, flashing your bare hand in his face to try and distract him and weasle out of his grip. "I can jump this ship anytime I want."

Priestly pouts. His arm hooks tighter around your waist. "Huh, guess you got me there..."

He turns his head and coughs roughly into his arm. Your amusement fades into concern and sympathy. You lay a hand over his chest while he struggles.

Once again, he clasps his free hand over yours. He glances up a bit hesitantly into your eyes.

"Well, maybe it's time there should be something on this finger," he murmurs.

You blink your eyes wider. Your head tilts, wondering if you just heard him right. Is this delirium fever talking, or is he serious?

"O-Oh yeah?" you ask.

Priestly tries to gauge your reaction. Seeing your face break out into a cute, shy smile raises the corners of his lips. Hope blooms in his chest, right beneath your hand.

"Yeah," he says, trying to clear his cracking throat. "I mean, if you're okay with that. If it's not too soon--"

You slip your fingers over his plush, chapped lips, and your smile brightens.

"When you're feeling better, you can ask me that question properly."

AN: 😆 I hope you liked the first ever addition of Priestly!! It was so fun to try and write him again (it's been a while lol). Feel free to imagine this vignette in the same storyverse as The Miracle Man and Code Red.

But I also hope you enjoyed the "Big 3," as I call them, even though Russell is starting to give Beau a run for his money on one of those slots. 😂 Let me know which guy you had the most fun reading on this one! 💜

If you want to read a reverse of this - How Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, Soldier Boy, and Russell Shaw would take care of you when you're sick, check out this HC by @luci-in-trenchcoats:

How They Take Care Of You When You’re Sick

And if you want even more fluff, check out my friend @waynes-multiverse who just posted her set of V-Day headcanons with Dean, Soldier Boy, Beau, and Russell:

Headcanon: Valentine's Day 💕

Join My Patreon 🌟 Get early access to new stories, bonus content, and first looks at upcoming stories; send me requests, and more!

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stunie · 10 months ago

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“THAT WASN’T MY NAME.”

WINDBREAKER BOYS + SAYING THE WRONG NAME. ft. hayato suo, kaji ren, nirei akihiko, & sakura haruka x f!reader

content: explicit smut (18+), fellatio, overstim, choking, teasing, (kind of) brat taming, multiple rounds, mentions of creampies, usage of pet names, individual tags below.

mdni - 1.5K wc. filled request!

HAYATO SUO. very mild brat taming, usage of pet names

“Oh? That’s not like you, love.”

His gaze remains gentle, eyes intent on watching the way your cunt flutters so desperately around his length, your legs wrapped tightly around his hips to try and pull him deeper inside— but he doesn’t let you, of course.

Suo has always been a tease. He likes to get you pent up like this, get you needy and frustrated until you’re clutching onto him and whining for him to stop and give you more, but he admits that he may have gone just a little bit too far today.

He’s brought you to the point where you’re moaning his friend’s name just to pull a reaction from him, and he knows painfully well that it’s your last resort at getting under his skin— because he knows your thought processes and tricks like the back of his hand.

So the fact that it actually worked is just that much more infuriating to him.

“Thinking about someone else? How rude of you.”

The way your walls tighten around his length in response to his change in tone doesn’t go unnoticed by him, and you really couldn’t have been more obvious if you tried.

“Oh, I see.” He continues, pushing himself just an inch or two deeper- just enough to draw a lewd moan from you. “You just enjoy being put in your place, hmm? Is that it?”

The way your eyes widen at such a suggestion is almost endearing, your head quickly shaking back and forth as you protest, blurting out a jumbled mix of “of course not” and “you’re just hot when you’re mad..”

Absolutely anyone could read you like this, especially with the way you’re peering up at him so curiously through your lashes to gauge each and every reaction he might make. He already knows without you telling him that there’s nothing in that brain of yours besides your fantasy of him pounding into you at his full strength, maybe even pinning your wrists above your head while he’s at it.

“You really should have just asked me, love.” Suo’s fingers wrap gently around your neck, a part of him content with the way you perk up in anticipation from something as little as that.

“..Because I didn’t like that act of yours very much.”

He’s thrusting into you once again before you even have time to think, angling himself to slam deep inside as your arms scramble to wrap around his shoulders, pulling him closer as you yelp. You accidentally pull him deeper inside you like this, and Suo fails to mask the way his face contorts at the sudden tightness.

“O-oh?” His voice holds an unfamiliar breathlessness to it, “I didn’t know you were so needy today.”

“Ah- because it’s so deep!” You stammer, loud moans going straight through his ear. His unrelenting pace is so foreign to you, and you don’t know how he’s still so precise, aiming to pummel the exact spot that has you seeing stars the fastest- and you’re not sure if you can handle this much.

You let go of his shoulders, arms coming to shield your eyes as they roll back into your skull, your back arching in a futile attempt to escape the overstimulation.

“Oh— no,” Suo’s voice cuts through the air. “We won’t do that.”

He’s pinning your hands far above your head in one swift movement, frame towering over yours as he rolls his hips into you harder. “S-suo, it’s too much!” Your words come out slurred, expression contorting with how quickly you’re approaching your high.

“This is just the beginning love. We’re gonna play out all those fantasies you’ve had tonight.” His grip around your wrists tighten slightly. “So no more running from it. Okay?”

KAJI REN. neck kisses, choking (barely), usage of pet names, jealousy?

“Oh.” You turn your head to look up at your boyfriend when his thrusts come to a complete halt at the realization of what you just said. “I meant to say Kaji.”

There’s an uncharacteristically long silence from your boyfriend, the only sound in the room being your giggle as you try and wiggle your ass against his hips to rile him up even more. “Sorry,” your voice shifts to a stifled laugh. “Don’t worry though, I was just kiddin-ah!”

You’re pulled up with ease when his hand wraps around your neck, guiding you back until you’re pressed flush against his strong chest, your head falling back to rest on his shoulder.

“Think you’re funny, huh?” His thumb comes to roughly tilt your chin to the side, letting him grunt into the skin of your neck.

The new angle has you trembling, eyes widening with how much bigger he feels inside you like this. He’s stretching you out so much more than before, his fat tip nestled uncomfortably against your cervix as he holds you in place.

“Real funny, princess.” You hear his click his tongue in annoyance.

The feeling of his breath fanning against your skin has your breath hitching in your throat moments after, his lips just barely ghosting over the sensitive skin of your neck. “Got me reall good.” He repeats slowly, lips tantalizingly close to your skin. “I don’t wanna hear that guy’s name leaving your mouth again.”

“Prank or not.”

It’s not like kaji isn’t aware of how silly he looks right now, jealous and angry over a minor prank like this one, but he can’t help it, not with the way the name rolled off your tongue in such a sickeningly sweet way.

He wants to hear you moan his name instead. Wants to hear it again and again until he’s no longer green with jealousy.

A shiver of anticipation courses through your body when he starts trailing wet and sloppy kisses along your skin, each touch sending a wave of pleasure straight through your core. He’s rough with it, a stark contrast to the way his finger is gently circling at your clit, just the way you like it.

“A-ah!” You moan when he starts sucking at the skin, inhaling sharply when he catches a faint whiff of your perfume. “K-kaji, that feels good.”

He almost groans at the sound of his name again. “Again.” He growls, lips returning to give you another mark on the side of your neck. “Say that again.”

You were his- his only, and he was gonna make sure everybody knew that by the end of tonight.

NIREI AKIHIKO. mention of creampies

“S-sorry,” Nirei mumbles. “That was a lot, huh?”

He watches with a heavy blush across his cheeks when your fingers come to collect the cum that he’s shot directly onto your tits, his cock throbbing when you slowly drag your tongue up your hand.

“It’s okay, Sakura. Oh— wrong name.”

He blinks a couple times before his heart sinks into his stomach. His first thought was that he just heard you wrong, but there was just no way that was possible.

“..Sakura?”

His expression shifts from confusion to worry, then to a frustrated pout when you start laughing. “I’m just kidding!” You giggle, laugh trailing off to a concerned hum when his eyebrows stay deeply furrowed.

“Oh? Was that too mean, Nirei?”

You watch him closely when his hands come to pull you by the waist, your own arms coming to wrap around him, but he doesn’t let you. “You know,” he starts, and he’s grabbing both of your wrists before pinning you beneath him, “I change my mind.”

Your tits bounce a bit when your back hits the mattress, your chest still covered in his cum, and he wishes time could stop for a brief second so he could stare and admire you like this for just a little longer without looking like a total creep. It doesn’t help when you’re staring up at him like that too, your mouth still parted to pant lightly from the previous round.

You’re fucked out in the cutest way, and it’s enough to get him hard again.

“…About?” Your words trail off with a hint of uncertainty under them.

“‘M not sorry.” He whispers, groaning when his overstimulated cock slaps against your folds. “Not sorry at all anymore. Gotta shoot it inside next, or this’ll keep bothering me.”

SAKURA HARUKA. fellatio, teasing, his dick is sensitive <3

“H-huh..?”

Your eyes flicker to the way the muscles of his abs flex when he abruptly sits up, deep blush across his cheeks as he watches you bob your head up and down his length in complete and utter disbelief.

“Sorryy,” your voice is a soft and teasing whisper, and you give him that sugary-sweet smile that always kills him in an instant. “Wrong name.”

An awfully casual mistake to make, he thinks.

Sakura is absolutely dumbfounded, forcing himself to try and glare despite the way you have him breathless and trembling underneath your touch, but you’re resuming your movements only a second later, your tongue dragging up his length as if you didn’t just call him someone else’s fucking name just now.

“H-hey.” He can barely choke out a word with how good your lips feel around his dick, and he’s trying to reach forward and pull you off of him, struggling to blurt out a “S-stop that!”

But you’re suddenly taking him deeper, letting him in your throat until your nose pokes at his skin, and he groans loudly at the feeling of your throat around him.

“Ah— shit..” his mouth falls open when you moan into him, vibrations of your voice forcing his hips to jerk up against you.

“You— you just…” he’s trying, trying so hard to get a word out, but you’re such a fucking tease. Your head bobs up and down a little faster, tongue flattening to glide perfectly around his thickness, and the way his quads start trembling doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

He’s getting close.

The lewd ‘pop!’ your mouth makes when you let him go only deepens the furious blush across his cheeks, and he wishes he didn’t make the mistake of looking down and catching a glimpse of you rubbing his pre-cum off your bottom lip with your thumb.

“I was just kidding.” You smile when you notice his attention is back on you, even if it’s only for a brief moment before he’s tearing his gaze away. “But the face you made was real funny.”

His expression switches to an angry scowl— as angry as he could possibly look after you’ve reduced him to nothing but a panting, flustered mess beneath you. He’s gasping loudly as soon as your hands start to run up and down his thighs, fingertips pressing into him to get a better feel for his muscles.

It’s enough to kill him as is, but as soon as you start peppering his dick with kisses, he feels his patience crumble to nothing.

“Enough,” his voice is just above a shaky growl, nails digging deeply into the armrests besides him, “Needa be inside you— f-fuck. Right now.”

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yanderedrabbles · 5 months ago

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Misery - Part Three

Based on Misery by Stephen King

Stuck in the mountains, you foolishly decide to drive through a blizzard. The man that drags you from your wrecked car brings you to his cabin and patches you up. But as the snow piles up outside, you start to suspect that your rescuer's intentions may be far from pure.

Previous Chapter

After Andy left, you managed to change out of your clothes. The flannel shirt he gave you was worn down just enough to feel cozy and the smell of his cologne still lingered 'round the collar.

You settled against the headboard and almost dozed off before he came back. He'd taken off his jacket and carried a pile of firewood in his arms. He dumped the logs in the fireplace and stood up, revealing a wife beater and arms thick with muscle. You were right about his strength - his body was just further proof of it.

"Sorry 'bout that. I should have brought some in last night but well..."

He turned to you, dusting his hands. "I got a good look at the situation outside. You might not wanna hear it but we're totally snowed in. Phone lines are down too."

"Oh. I didn't realise it was that bad."

You felt a dull sort of trepidation. Andy had been nothing but kind to you, but being stuck out in the mountains frightened you.

"Any idea when things will open up again?"

He sat down in the chair beside your bed and stretched out. For a second, the only thought in your head was how dangerous and lean he looked. His dog tags caught the light and winked at you.

"Hard to tell. We're far off the beaten path. Only folks nearby are the Roydmans and they're a good few miles off. 'Sides, snows too deep to drive through so even if they clear off the main road, we ain't getting there anytime soon."

You felt your heart sink. "Do you think I need to go to the hospital?"

He raised a brow and skimmed his eyes across your body. "It ain't looking pretty, but I reckon you can handle it."

"Hurts like hell though."

"Sorry princess, but it'll take a while for this sort of hurt to heal. Best I can do is give you something strong for the pain."

Your ankle still throbbed mercilessly and hearing him say that made you all the more aware of it. You searched desperately around the room for a distraction.

The room was much larger than you realised, with a panelled wood ceiling and big bay windows. From your position, all you could see was the sky.

It was comfortable and starkly clean. Oh God, was this his room or a guest room?

"I haven't kicked you out of your room, have I?" you asked, suddenly unsure of yourself.

He grinned and rubbed his jaw. "I reckoned you needed a nice bed far more than I did."

"Shit, I'm so sorry!" Your hands fluttered to your lips. You felt terribly guilty. "I can't imagine how much I've put you out."

He waved you away. "It gets awful quiet up here. You have no idea how nice it is to have company."

His eyes dropped to the shirt you were wearing. "Real nice."

He reached up to play around with his dog tags and you finally noticed the tattoo across his forearm.

"Semper Fidelis?"

"Always loyal."

He reached forward and let you inspect his arm. You took hold of his wrist and traced the tattoo with your fingertips. The words themselves were small and neat, but the rest of it was an intricate pattern of barbed wire that wound round his forearm.

"Did it hurt?"

"Tell you the truth? It stung like a bitch."

He was watching your face and when you looked up at him, your eyes met. Those eyes on the other end of a gun would have sent you running for the hills. You pitied the soldiers that faced off against him.

You let go of his arm and swallowed.

"When did you get it?"

He let his forearm rest next to your thigh.

"When I was deployed for the first time."

He was close enough that you caught the scent of his cologne and the sweet smell of pine from the wood he chopped.

"How did you end up in the Marines anyway?"

"I've got you curious, do I?"

You felt yourself blush. "Maybe a little."

"Hmm." He rubbed at his jaw, like he was trying to rub away a smile.

"Maybe I'll tell you about it someday. For now though, you need to take some tablets and get some sleep."

"But what about you? I've kind of colonised your bed."

"First thing you learn in basic is to sleep standing up. I'll be fine sleeping on the couch. 'Sides, I ain't the one who went crashing off the road less than a day ago."

He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a blister pack of tablets.

"These are Novril. They pack a hell of a punch, so I expect you to sleep through the rest of the day. Best thing you can do right now is rest, got it?"

"Yes sir."

He dropped two shiny white pills into your open palm.

"Good girl. Now drink up."

He passed you a glass of water from the nightstand. The tablets left a slightly bitter taste behind, but you hurt too much to mind it.

Outside, the snow started up again.

You smiled at him. "How am I ever supposed to repay you?"

He studied you for a second.

The shirt you borrowed was missing a few buttons near the top and gaped open just a little at your tits, but you were too drowsy to notice.

He grinned that slow, lazy smile of his. "I'm sure you'll think of something, princess."

You hadn't fully realised just how intimate this all was. You were wearing his clothes. Sleeping in his bed. Entirely reliant on him to take care of you.

He stood up and shook his head. "You must be hungry. Any requests?"

"Nope. I'll take anything at this point."

His eyes flickered to your chest and then quickly away. "I can make you regret that real fast, y'know."

"Come on, you can't be that bad of a chef."

He huffed and shook his head. "You just sit pretty and I'll be back."

He returned with a bowl of oats sprinkled with brown sugar. His fingers brushed yours when he handed it to you and he lingered for a second longer than needed.

"I'm afraid it's all hospital chow until you're stronger. It's too bad - I make a mean flapjack."

You played around with your spoon and then gave in. Plain oats or not, you needed your strength.

Andy was quiet while you ate, watching the snow swirl across the window.

He tugged at his dog tags again and spoke up, "Does anyone know you're out here? A boyfriend, a sibling, anyone that knows where you were headed?"

You carefully put your empty bowl down on the nightstand. With the tablets, the pain was mercifully retreating. Not gone, never entirely gone, but a tiny bit more manageable.

"No. I wanted to surprise a friend but they don't know I'm coming."

You felt unnaturally drowsy for this early in the day. He must have noticed it because he stood up and gently pressed at your shoulders.

"Lie down and I promise you'll be out like a light soon enough."

You listened to him and found your eyes drifting shut as soon as you hit the pillow.

"Y'know." Your voice was muffled by your pillow. "You're a really great guy."

"Thanks, but save that until after you're better, yeah?"

He pulled the duvet higher and carefully tucked it around your shoulders.

"Not a soul knows you're out here?"

You hummed in agreement. You were almost entirely asleep and barely felt the hand that drifted across your forehead, gently pushing the hair off your face.

"Just you and me, princess."

You didn't hear it, but there was a strange note to his voice. Fear, maybe. Or longing. Hard to tell, with how similar they can be.

Next Chapter [coming soon]

Masterlist

Taglist

@pleorexicz @lem-hhn @mybelovedjupiter

#he has intentions all right #and they sure ain't good #cowboy coded #yandere misery adaptation #yandere #yandere x reader #reader insert #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #x reader #yandere oc

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filthygalli · 3 months ago

Text

When I Met You: Chapter 4 "Iced Americano" pt.2

Fem!Reader x Neighbor!Hwang In-Ho

Main Master list

Squid Game Master list

Genre/Tags: Grumpy x Sunshine, Light smut, Fluff, Angst, Slow burn, Age gap (Reader is in her early 30’s, While In-Ho is in his late 40’s.) Rude In-Ho (but will eventually be soft with the reader Soon!) Literature Professor! In-Ho (Not specified what kind of literature) More Tags to come soon!

Warnings: MDNI!Masturbation, Jealous In-Ho, Light Cursing, Down bad In-Ho for the reader—he's also getting a little needy, Not Proofread—you might see some mistakes here, let me know if there's something that I missed!

Word Count: 5127 (Damn...)

Author's Note: Omg y'all, this took so long, I was so busy at school because I'm a student leader at my uni so I've been busy as hell because of events and Seminars I needed to attend, I'm so sorry for the delays :((

In-Ho changed his cum-stained pants with a beige-colored one; he put on his white button-up shirt before putting on a navy blue sweater. He fixed his hair in front of the mirror, deciding what hairstyle he would put on for today. He started experimenting on his hair—putting his bangs down, brushing it up, ruffling his hair to make it look fluffy. He groaned as he couldn't decide what hairstyle would suit him better. He scoffed as he put his hair down, which is his usual hairstyle. He put on his Ralph Lauren glasses as he went out of his room, holding his black leather briefcase.

While going down the stairs he hears you laughing as Yu-Jin plays with her, he smiles at the sight In Front of him, he wishes to wake up every morning with the sound of your laugh while taking care of Yu-Jin.

At this point, you and In-Ho are Yu-Jin's parents who don't live together or even together. You liked the idea of In-Ho letting you take care of his cat while he's away. Do you like it because you get to spend time with In-Ho's cat, or is it because you get to see In-Ho?

“Y/n.” You heard a familiar voice as you looked up the stairs, and you saw In-Ho, who looked handsome as always. “Hmm?” “Are you ready to go?” He asked as he walked down the stairs, meeting you in the living room, “Yes, what took you so long anyways? ” You asked him as you slightly tilt your head with curiosity. In-Ho's breath hitched at your question. How long was he gone anyway? Is it that obvious? Were you paying attention to how long he was gone? God, did you hear him jerking himself while he moans your name like a prayer? “In-Ho?” The sound of your soft voice snapped him out of his thoughts, “I- I was trying to find my uhm–my glasses,” he said as he points at his glasses, “Oh, alright, By the way–” you stand up and walk towards him, you slightly reach to his hair to fix it, “You look more better like this–” you said going on tippy toes while you fix a strand of his hair, you actions made his heart beats faster, he looks down on you, how close you are with him, he leaned in a little so you wouldn't be tipping your toes to reach his hair, you looked at each other for a while, those brown eyes, you can see the whole universe in them, you licked your lips a little, In-Ho noticed it–he looks at your lips that’s now damp with your saliva, he slowly looked on your eyes as he blinked leaning back up, “Let’s go-” He said as he turned around grabbing his keys and things, You nodded and picked up Yu-Jin and on your way out you also hurriedly grab Yu-Jin's leash, In-Ho waited for you before he opens the door, “After you,” he said stepping a side as you gave him a shy smile before walking out of his house, he quickly followwed after you, locking his house as the two of you went to his car, before you could even open the door he reached the door handle and opens the door for you, making you blush by his action, he noticed it, the way you hurriedly went inside as you lowered your head—hiding your flustered face, he smirked, he went around to go inside the car, he looked at you then Yu-Jin—who’s sitting comfortably on your lap, ‘What a lucky cat.” He thought, you slowly looked at him, “What is it?” In-Ho's gaze softened. “Nothing. Make yourself comfortable, Y/n,” he said as he started his car. The engine of his car roared, which made you quite shocked; cars don't really amaze you that much. Besides, this is your first time riding in an expensive car like this. “Do you want to play some music? ” He said before looking at you, “What?” You asked, slightly taken aback by his question, “You can play something; I know the silence bothers you.” He breathed out as he stopped his car because of the stoplight. ‘Oh…so he noticed,’ you thought. “Oh, alright.” You said as you connected your phone to his car speakers, and you played Angel Eyes by ABBA. The song hummed through the silence of the car as you quietly sang from it. You started to bob your head to the song as you looked down and smiled at Yu-Jin, who was looking up at you, admiring your features. In-Ho couldn't help but steal glances from time to time; he liked how your voice sounded from singing the song, how your nose would slightly scrunch cutely when playing with Yu-Jin. He smiled at the sight of you; he was slowly falling in love with you—and he was afraid that he wouldn't be able to stop himself from falling in love further. He quietly hummed the song as he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, matching the beat from the song. “In-Ho? ” “Hmm?” He hummed as he slowly looked at you, “What time will you go home later? ”You said with a slight hint of nervousness, “Before dinner, why? ” He said as he turned back his focus on the road, “I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner…at my house,” a long pause cuts through the air, “You don’t have to go—” “I’ll go.” He cuts you off mid-sentence before you could even finish your sentence, “Are you sure? ” you said with a hint of excitement in your voice, “Yes.” You smiled brightly. He noticed your excitement as he looked at you for a second, then looked away to smile to himself.

“We’re here,” he said as he went out to open your door for you. “Thank you.You smiled up at him as you put down Yu-Jin so he could walk—in-ho nodded at your words and closed the door of his car as the two of you went inside the coffee shop. The smells of burnt coffee filled the air—the smell reminds you of your second encounter with In-Ho, where he leaned down to grab Yu-Jin in his arms and how his skin brushed against yours—how he smells like your favorite coffee. You felt a large hand placed on your back. It’s In-Ho’s. Your eyes widened as he leaned in against your ear,’Be a good girl for me and find us a table. Think you could do that? ’’ Your face heated up, and In-Ho smirked behind you. Noticing how his words and actions affected you deeply, you looked up at him as you quickly nodded, walking away to find a table to sit—eventually you found one, not far from the window of the coffee shop. In-ho glanced at you, giving you a slight nod, “Good morning, sir! What can I get you?” the barista said as In-Ho gave his order to the barista, “Alright, 2 medium iced Americanos. That’ll be (whatever your desired amount).” The barista said as In-Ho grabbed his wallet inside his pocket to pay for his order, “Oh, and your name, Mr…? ” The barista asked, making In-Ho pause for a moment before saying his name, ‘’In-ho.” The barista nodded as He wait on the side, quickly giving you a glance, he smiled at the sight of you as you played with Yu-Jin, he couldn't help but be jealous of his cat, Yu-Jin. How you give Yu-Jin affection and light feather touches, how gentle you are with Yu-Jin, giving Yu-Jin tons of kisses on its face, God, is he really getting jealous with his cat? He just wishes that you could do that to him too, Not now, But maybe soon.

He sighed as he looked at the time, ‘Fuck,’ he muttered as he was going to be late again. It didn’t matter though; he was with you. He wished that he could stop the time for a moment to admire you from afar, to look into your angel eyes. He took a glance at you again, and it seems like you’re talking to…a man. The said man hugged you tightly as you chuckled and hugged him back. Yu-Jin blankly looked up at the two, confused on what’s happening. Like father, like son indeed.

“Y/n! It's been so long; I've missed you! ”Your childhood best friend, Marc, said while hugging you. You pull away from his embrace as you smile up at him, “I know! I haven’t seen you since college!” You both chuckled as you two exchanged conversation, “Oh—you have a cat?! ” Marc exclaimed, pointing at Yu-Jin, who didn’t pay attention to Marc. You chuckled, “That’s Yu-Jin—and

No, he’s not my cat; it's my neighbor’s.” You sigh as the two of you sit down beside each other. “Oh—You're a cat sitter now? ” He teased, and you playfully rolled your eyes at him, “Yes, and I do it for free—because this little one here is too adorable, and I love looking after him! ” You chuckled as you looked at Yu-Jin, who just blankly stared at you.Odd,’ you thought.

“2 medium iced Americanos for In-Ho? ” The barista called as In-Ho snapped himself from staring at you and the man who’s now sitting beside you, He quickly thanked the barista as he took your drinks, Glaring at the man beside you, who seems close to you, is he your boyfriend, Fuck are you married? There’s no ring, though…He’ll put one on soon.

“Y/n.” You heard a familiar husky voice as you looked behind you to see In-Ho standing there with 2 coffees in hand. “In-Ho,” you smiled as you stood up. “This is Marc,” you said as you pointed at your friend. “Marc, this is Hwang In-Ho. He’s Yu-Jin’s owner and also my neighbor.” In-Ho looked at Marc with a blank expression as Marc stood up and extended his hand to shake In-Ho’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Hwang,” he said as In-Ho stared at Marc’s hand. He gave you your coffee before shaking Marc’s hand, not bothering to say anything. He sat down on the opposite side of the table as he looked at you, then Marc. Meanwhile, Yu-Jin sat on In-Ho’s lap. ‘I know, Buddy.’ He thought, “Oh—how did you know that I like Americano coffee? ” You said, eyeing In-Ho. He glanced at you; his gaze turned soft at your words, “I just know.” Of course he knows; it's what your house smelled like one morning when he went there. “So,” he sighed, “how did you two know each other? ” He said, looking coldly at your friend, Marc. “We've been friends since middle school. My mom and Y/n’s mom are also friends, and we basically grew up together and went to school together too,” Marc says while looking at you. In-Ho can’t help but be jealous. Do you like Marc? How about him? Don’t you like him? In-Ho thought of countless things in his mind. He just nodded and pressed his lips together in a thin line. “I’ll invite him to dinner later; I hope that’s ok…” you said as you looked down, ‘No, it's not ok, Y/N.’ In-ho thought; he paused for a moment, “Yeah,” he said before taking a sip of his coffee. The taste of black coffee made him feel alive; he sat up straight, slightly annoyed how your ‘friend’ Marc kept touching your hand, “So, Mr. Hwang… What do you do for a living? ” Marc said as he eyed In-Ho, “I teach,” He breathed out, Not interested in the conversation, “Teach, what?” Marc added, In-Ho tried his best not to sigh in annoyance, “I’m a professor at (your preferred university); I teach literature,” he said as he took a glance at you. In-Ho’s eyes softened when he saw you smiling at him, at him, not your stupid friend Marc. He took a sip of his coffee to hide his smile. “That’s interesting,” Marc said as he nodded. “And you? ” “Oh, I'm a mechanical engineer,” Marc said, giving In-Ho a smile. There’s a long pause of silence between the three of them.

In-Ho looked down on his lap to see Yu-Jin peacefully resting. He smiled. He wished that someday it’d be you who’s resting your head on his lap as he moves a strand of your hair that’s been covering your beautiful face. He would give you kisses on top of your forehead. In-Ho would tell you how beautiful and good you are to him. He would praise you as if you’re a goddess. Fuck, he’d do it either way. He looked at his watch, and he was an hour late. ‘Fuck,’ he mumbled under his breath. ‘Y/n,” In-Ho called you. ‘Hmm? ” You hummed, “I should go; I’m late; I’ll see you later.” He said, placing Yu-Jin beside the empty seat as he stood up and grabbed his things, “Thank you for the coffee, In-Ho.” You smiled up at him, your hands brushed against, his heart skipped a beat, “It’s nothing,” Y/n.” Take care. He gave you a shy smile and patted Yu-Jin,"Be good to Y/n.” He chuckled as Yu-Jin purred. He took a quick look at you before nodding and left.

He opened his car door, settling his things in the back as he sat down, turning the engine on. The engine roared as he stepped on the gas and drove to the university. He can’t help but look at the empty passenger seat beside him. He misses you. He misses your smile and your soft voice humming on the song coming through his radio. In-Ho can’t help but imagine you sucking him while he drives, pressing your head deeper down his shaft, as you swallow thick stripes of his cum down your throat. He snapped himself out of his thoughts as he arrived at the parking lot of the university.

You said your goodbyes to Marc as he left you and Yu-Jin at the coffee shop. Sighing you sat beside Yu-Jin petting him, you took a walk down the park, the sun is shining and so is you. The sun perfectly illuminates your soft skin. Meanwhile, Yu-Jin also enjoyed the weather; you found a bench to sit on and poured water on Yu-Jin’s food bowl. He drank it, and you also took a sip of water. The cold water made you shiver. You grabbed your phone to update In-Ho about you and Yu-Jin. You grabbed Yu-Jin and placed him down on your lap as you quickly snapped a picture of the two of you, sending it to In-Ho after.

After a long walk, you and Yu-Jin decided to go home to rest. It's been a long morning for the two of you, but as always, you had a lot of fun. A few minutes later you and Yu-Jin arrived at your house, you feed Yu-Jin before going up in your bedroom to take a shower, Your skin felt sticky because of the sweat, The cold water from the shower made you relaxed–Suddenly you thought of In-Ho, How would it feel like taking a shower with a man like him, How his warm and delicate touch would feel against your skin under the cold shower, you imagined him trailing down kisses on your shoulder blades and on your bare chest, he would suck your skin till it leaves reddish marks as he trace them using him tongue, Licking it all the way down on your nipples, You slowly pull your hand down on your bare cunt, Circling your clit as you quietly moan his name, ‘’In-Ho…’’ As you imagine him inserting his thick index finger inside your walls, you felt yourself stretch against his fingers, ‘’You’re so wet for me, Sweetheart,’’ In-Ho said as he leaned in on your shoulder to leave marks there, “In-Ho...please–” You moaned as you pumped your fingers inside, Imagining its In-Ho’s fingers, he groans as he inserts his middle finger, Making you feel full, “Shit, Sweetheart–so tight for me, Think you could take another one? Hmm?” He mumbled as you quickened your pace, as you felt a familiar sensation on your stomach—”Answer me, Y/n, I asked you a question, haven’t I? ”He said, cupping your chin roughly.

You imagined In-Ho who’s a man who can be rough and soft at the same time, He’ll make you beg until you cry, and he would only smirk and tilt his head slightly as you beg for his touch, He would make you a crying mess underneath him, He would fuck you till he had enough, you kept on thinking about him as you gently rub your clit, thinking its In-Ho’s fingers against it, He pulled out his fingers as he looked at you, The same look that he would always give you when silence filled the room, ‘’In-Ho..Please i’m close–” You cried out, ‘’Please what, Sweetheart?” He waited for your response, "Make me cum—Please, God, In-Ho—” At this point, you’re a mess, face flustered, eyes filled with tears. Your skin felt vulnerable as In-Ho traced his fingers against the marks that he made, "Look at you, so beautiful like this…’’ he said, inserting his index, middle, and ring fingers inside your aching pussy. You wince at the pain, “Cum for me. Now,” he demanded as you continued to pump yourself as you thought of In-Ho doing it for you, “That’s it, Sweetheart, fuck—” He groans as he felt your walls clench around his fingers, “In-Ho, I’m going to cum—! ” You moaned loudly as you pleased yourself at your own imagination, “That’s it, sweetheart. Be a good girl for me and cum all over my fingers like the whore you are—! ” He said as he roughly played with your sensitive clit, your eyes hit the back of your head as you squirted in the shower while moaning In-Ho’s name. You slowly pull your fingers out as you groan—you scoff to yourself, feeling embarrassed after what you just did—moaning your neighbor's name while you fuck yourself, thinking, What would In-Ho think if he finds out that you’re moaning his name while you touch yourself? Does he do the same to you? Clearly not, right? He’s not that kind of man—he’s just quiet, observant, and sometimes he can be a little teasing—when he’s in the mood, of course. You sigh as you continue to shower, properly this time.

In-Ho sat down on his chair inside the cubicle and saw your text message; he smiled upon seeing it. You looked beautiful as always—a hand brushed against his shoulder, “Mr. Hwang, are you free tonight? ” A woman wearing a gray skirt and white button-up shirt called In-Ho’s name. In-Ho looked back, eyeing the woman’s hand on his shoulder before looking at her. “Ms. Gomez,” he said as he straightened his posture. The woman leaned down to In-Ho’s eye level. “Busy? ” The woman said as she tilted her head a little, “Yes.” In-Ho coldly said, giving her a blank facial expression, “So, are you free tonight for—” “No,” In-Ho said before the woman could even finish her sentence, “Oh—” She lightly scoffed, must’ve been taken aback by In-Ho’s response, “Some other time, maybe? ” She said as he seductively caressed In-Ho’s shoulder, In-Ho sighed in annoyance, "’Look," he said as he grabbed Ms. Gomez’s hand, “I’m a busy man, and I certainly won’t go out with a woman like you. Find someone else you could bother,” he said as he stood up, grabbing his things and leaving without saying anything, “Typical.” Ms. Gomez said as she scoffed and eyed In-Ho’s back, looking at him from top to bottom.

In-Ho sighed as he went out of the campus, nodding and greeting some of the students and his colleagues. He hates it, though. He doesn’t like social interactions that much; it bores him. He doesn’t even care if he has no friends at the campus; he has his cat, Yu-Jin, anyways. Oh, and well, there’s you. His ray of sunshine amidst his dark and quiet demeanor, always there to brighten up his day even with just shy glances from you, a smile creeps upon his lips by just the thought of you. Your effect on him is impeccable—you drive Thee Hwang In-Ho crazy! And he couldn’t believe that a person like you would make him feel like a teenager again.

He arrived at the parking lot. He opened the door of his black Mercedes. He set his things on the passenger side where you once sat. He recalled the moment where you were humming and smiling. He smiled too, "Fuck, she’s making me feel so desperate.” He sighed. He went around and opened the door of the driver's side as he sat down, turning the engine on. The engine roared as he stepped on the gas pedal.

While driving, In-Ho can’t help but think of the things he needs to buy from the store. He needs food at home. He’s been lazy for the past few days about it. Going shopping from the grocery store feels lonely. He doesn’t like it. He just wishes that someday you’ll do it with him—walking on every aisle of the store as he holds your hand. Fuck, he would buy anything you want, even if you just thought of getting it or you just touched it. He’ll buy it. He will spoil you with his money and probably everything that he has. He parked his car in the parking lot as he went out and closed the door behind him.

He grabbed a couple of foods that he may need during the week; he also grabbed a bottle of expensive whiskey—he likes drinking whiskey, unlike beer or any other alcohol. After grabbing everything he needed, he went straight to the cashier, paying for his items. He went straight home; he can’t wait to see you. He stepped on the gas pedal as his car roared. He’s never been like this, getting so excited when going home, usually only seeing Yu-Jin at home makes him get excited, relaxing and watching movies while Yu-Jin sat beside him or on his lap. But now, when he met you…he’s always looking forward to going home and seeing you, even though you live just beside his house.

You laid down on your soft sofa while reading a book. Meanwhile, Yu-Jin laid down on the stairs, watching you carefully. You heard a soft knock coming from your front door. You huffed and sat up from your couch. Yu-Jin meowed at you, “You miss him, huh? ” you asked as Yu-Jin lay on his back—you chuckled, you walked towards Yu-Jin, and gave him belly rubs as you quickly walked towards the door. A soft knock came again, “Just a sec—” you said as you grabbed the door handle; you twisted it, and the door swung open, seeing your friend Marc holding a bouquet of flowers, “Hi.” You smiled, “Marc—you didn’t have to! ”You grabbed the bouquet of flowers in his hand as you smelled it. “It smells so nice—it’s so beautiful too! ” he chuckled, “It's not as beautiful as you, Y/n.” He said smiling at you, “Geez, when did you learn to be like that?” You chuckled, “I’m always like this.” He teased as you sighed, “Come in.” You opened the door just enough to let him in, “Your house looks wonderful,” he said as he looked around your home, “Oh—That old man’s cat is still here.” He crouched down as he called Yu-Jin, “Come here, buddy—” he said as Yu-Jin didn’t pay attention and just ignored him, “Is he always like that? ” Marc asked, “Oh, no…he’s usually sweet and clingy when I call him…” you said as Yu-Jin sat down on the chair cushion in the corner of the room, “Odd…” You mumbled, “Well, he must’ve loved you a lot then? ”Your friend Marc said as he stood up, looking at you, “What are you doing in here anyways? It's early, dinner’s at 6,” you said as you walked in the living room. “I just wanted to see you. It's quite lonely,” he said as he sat down on the couch. He looked beside him and saw the book that you were reading. “I didn’t know you liked to read. ” he asked as he brought up the book, holding it up to his face, “Inferno…Scary.” He chuckled, “I’ve been reading books since forever, you dummy—” You teased as you rolled your eyes playfully, “Hmm,” he grumbled, “What’s the cat’s name again? ” Marc asked, pointing at Yu-Jin, who’s glaring at him, the same glare that In-Ho has when he first met you, the looks that could literally kill. Yu-Jin really looks like In-Ho, no DNA test needed. You chuckled at the thought, “His name is Yu-Jin; he’s a sweet and calm cat, but he can be stubborn sometimes…which reminds me of someone.” You smiled a little as your friend looked at you. “Me? ” he said, “What? No—” You chuckled, “Someone I know…” You smiled a little, “Whatever.” You two chuckled.

In-Ho arrived at his home, parking his car as he went out, eyeing your house. The lights are on. You’re home already. A slight smile creeps on the corner of his lips as he goes inside his house. Setting his things down, he quickly puts the food he bought inside the fridge and some inside the food pantry. He sighs as he leans back on the kitchen counter, scrolling through his phone—checking if you sent him a message. He frowns, only one text message from you, which is odd. He’s used to seeing lots of your messages pop up on the screen of his phone; it’s either a picture of Yu-Jin alone or with you. He always saves them; there’s actually one folder on his gallery dedicated to you. He puts a password on it, making sure only he can access it. He quickly typed a message and sent it to you. He finds himself staring at his phone, waiting for you to reply. He started to tap his fingers on the kitchen counter, sighing and huffing. He looked at himself in the reflection of the window. Is he falling in love with you? Is he jealous, Needy? He ran his hand through his hair as he groaned and stood up, walking upstairs as he twisted the knob of his room.

You laughed as Marc cracked a joke, “I’m just saying—” He chuckled, “That’s funny, but never say that to me ever again! ” You slapped his shoulder as you laughed, “You still do that, huh? ” He winced in pain. “The what? ” You frowned, “The things that you do when you laugh, slapping my shoulder, it hurts—” He pouted as he teased you, “Oh—stop it.” You rolled your eyes playfully.

The warm water splashed through In-Ho’s skin as he relaxed under the shower, breathing heavily as he thought of you. Ever since he jerks himself at the thought of you, he couldn’t stop doing it. He groans at himself for doing such a thing like that.

In-Ho is a man who barely touches himself unless he needs release; whenever he’s stressed from work, he’ll stroke his cock with his left hand, and after he cums, he’ll act like nothing happened and will go straight back to work. And now here he is—in the shower moaning your name breathlessly as he came—shooting his cum on the ceramic walls of his bathroom, he rested his head on the wall, his chest rising up and down, “Fuck…” he muttered.

He went out of the shower as he wrapped a towel on his waist, he opened his closet trying to find comfortable clothes to put on for your dinner with him tonight. Should he wear something casual? Something that he’ll get to tease you with, to linger your eyes on? He grabbed a pair of black pants and a charcoal gray button-up shirt. He put them on as he looked at himself in the mirror. He chuckled as he rolled his sleeves through his elbow—exposing his veins that go all the way up to his biceps. He also left his collar unbuttoned, getting a tiny glimpse of his skin. He sprayed some of his expensive perfume on his neck. After putting on his glasses, he went downstairs and grabbed an expensive bottle of wine that he bought from Italy a year ago. He wished that you liked wine; he forgot to ask you that—he just knows that you like black coffee.

He stood outside your door, remembering the first time he went here. He was rude to you. He softly chuckled through the memory. Your soft and innocent expression always caught him off guard. He always thought, how could such a grumpy old man like him meet a bright person like you? He could only sigh at the question in his mind. He brought his knuckles on your door and remembered to knock softly, not wanting to startle you like he did before.

“Oh—I’ll get it,” Marc said as he stood up from his seat as you and Yu-Jin cuddled on the floor. You nodded. In-Ho knocked again. “Just a sec—” He heard a different voice coming from the inside of the house. Shit, were you with someone else? Are you having dinner with someone else and not him? The door swung open as In-Ho frowned, “Who is it?” You asked as you walked slowly towards the front door, “It’s the old man from the coffee shop earlier,” Marc said eyeing In-Ho from up to down, ‘I’m gonna kill him,’ In-Ho thought as he scoffed at marc’s words, “Oh, he’s here for the dinner–” You said as you looked at In-Ho ‘Fuck, he’s hot.’ You thought as you gave him a smile, In-Ho’s gaze softened when he saw you, “Y/n.” In-Ho said giving you a slight smile, Fuck he looks breath taking, His dark brown disheveled hair, His style of clothing–Honestly you love how In-Ho dressed himself unlike guys your age who dressed like everyone else you see on the street, But In-Ho, he dress himself perfectly, His taste in Clothes are elegant, Always give him that aura and intimidation, His looks matches the way he dress–And fuck, you could smell that strong scent of if perfume, It smell like burnt amber and leather, It smells so manly.

In-Ho noticed the way you looked at him. He knows that his plan worked. You look like you could do anything to him right now. The way your eyes traveled up and down through his figure, your eyes full of lust as you look at him, he doesn’t give a fuck about your friend. He’ll take you away from him. You’re his and he’s yours, and he’ll make you his no matter what.

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Author's Note: Aaaaa part 4 finally, I've had so many sleepless nights thinking how will i end it, Another cliffhanger ending for the next chapter though, I'm so grateful that you guys loved this series, I'll make sure to continue writing this series for y'all!

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@badasoneandonly @jspidey5 @angela075905 @totowolfffcheco @sylviavf @maria-trisha @k1ra-park3r @rosegracewood09 @onyxmango @macnbriee @annasnape7 @reader101988888 @bridge-always @gloriousjellyfisharcade @lightwork-no-reaction @obx-potc-marvel-hp-ep @tinylawyerbluebird @trashmouthrei @anacondaiscoot @pinkjrqsper @angelofthorr @sebbymybaby21

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kortsitron · 4 months ago

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Coming Out

✮ PARING Bucky Barnes × Trans Male! Reader

✮ WARNINGS/TAGS 40's, catfa! bucky, supportive! bucky, bisexual! bucky, pre-transition reader, gender dysphoria, established relationship, misgendering, coming out(s), anxiety, fluff, unsafe binding, suggestive themes but no smut, angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of transphobia, praises

✮ SUMMARY Bucky finds out you're trans amd decides to show his support for you

✮ A/N I haven't written much for my trans men lately, so I wanted to write something again. You can say it's kinda inspired by confessions (another fic of mine), but this goes a little differently. I also wanna add - do NOT use bandages to bind your chest, it is not safe. Please get a binder and if that is not impossible, buy breast tape and use it to flatten your chest down if possible. Please stay safe while binding!!

ao3 masterlist requests

Being Bucky's girlfriend wasn't exactly bad, it was quite the opposite actually. He loved taking you out on dates, he was respectful of your boundaries and he was a gentleman like no other. Not to mention, since he was a Sergeant you felt quite safe around him. No man dared to lay his hands on you.

You couldn't ask for a better boyfriend and you were happy with him.

But you were scared to tell him how you felt. How you couldn't bare pretending to be someone you were not. Wearing those dresses, not being able to cut your hair as short as you wanted, calling yourself the name that didn't feel like yours anymore.

You were dying to tell him, but at the same time you were scared he might break up with you or worse. You knew James was not a bad man, he was pretty accepting, but it didn't stop your worries.

After a long day at work, you saw him waiting outside the Cafe with the biggest grin on his face. “Hey, doll.” He greeted you as you exited through the door.

“Someone looks happy. Something happened?” You asked with a hint of teasing to your tone as you walked over to him.

“Can't a man just be happy to see his beautiful, amazing girlfriend?” He asked, taking your hand and giving your knuckles a soft, sweet kiss.

You had to stop yourself from grimacing at the word ‘girlfriend’, but you managed. Maybe because he was being so sweet towards you.

“Planning on taking me somewhere?” You asked, trying to change the subject in case you were going to hear more comments that, despite being made in good faith, were making you uncomfortable.

“I was thinking we could go to my place, maybe cuddle.” He shrugged before wrapping his arm around your waist.

“Just cuddle? Or are you going to make me get into Hobbit?” You asked with a small grin as you started walking towards Bucky's house.

“Oh come on.” He let out a playful whine. “It's a good book. Trust me, I'll get you into it eventually.”

“Keep on trying.”

Bucky’s place wasn’t far and almost as soon as the two of you got there, he got into the bed and pulled you on top of him. And there you were, on top of shirtless Bucky who couldn't get his hands off of you.

“I can't get enough of you.” Bucky murmured, his hands going up and down the soft flesh of your thighs. He bit down on his bottom lip, you were the most gorgeous thing in his eyes.

You let out a soft chuckle at his words, and he smiled at that. It was always so nice to be around him, he was able to make you smile and laugh like no other.

“Let’s get you out of that, hmm?” He hummed, while relaxed enough you forgot about one little, tiny but very important detail.

He started taking the dress off you, and then he saw it. His eyes widened as he saw your chest. Tightly bandaged around your chest, making it flatter than it was normally. His eyes held worry for you, did someone hurt? Did something happen to you?

“Are you hurt?” He sat up a little as he asked the question. He wanted to touch your chest, but he was worried he would hurt you.

You look down at your chest, before trying to cover yourself up. He wasn’t supposed to find out, at least not now. At the moment, under his gaze all you could feel was shame. All you could think about was that he was going to break up with you.

With your heart already pounding in your chest, you started getting off of him in a hurried way. Bucky immediately picked up your panic and he grabbed your wrist. Tightly enough to not let you slip out, but not enough to make it hurt.

“Hey, hey…” His voice was a little more gentle now, hushed. His thumb was gently caressing your wrist. “I am worried about you. Did something happen? You aren’t hurt, are you?” His eyes flickered down to the bandages, looking for any blood stains. But there was none, just the clean bandage, carefully wrapped around your chest.

“You… You promise you won’t throw me out…?”

His eyes widened once more. Throw you out? You?

"Darlin’, I could never. Why would I ever throw you out?” He couldn't understand why you would think like that.

With a shaky sigh and tears in your eyes, you laid down next to him. Bucky laid back on the back, staying quiet and letting you find the right words.

“I-I don’t feel… good about my body.” You mumbled out, your voice shaky. Bucky saw that you weren’t okay, but decided not to interrupt you. He gently grabbed your hand, giving it a squeeze as if encouraging you to talk without saying so out loud.

“I d-don’t feel like a woman, alright?” Your voice was even more shaky. Before you knew it, you started sobbing quietly, overwhelmed by the confession you made. “I want to be a man like you. I want to be seen as a man, dress like a man, look like a man. I just want to be me.”

Without a second thought, Bucky wrapped his arms around you, pulling close against his chest. One of his hands caressed your back, hoping to comfort you.

He was quiet, lost in his thoughts before he finally spoke up. “I heard there’s a man… Well, a woman actually, who had the same problem as you. She was born as a man, but she didn’t feel like one, so she decided to stop pretending who she was and now she’s just… herself.”

“Really?”

Bucky hummed. “Yeah. I think we saw her last week, you said she had a nice dress. I think her name was Annie or something along those lines.”

You didn’t know there was another person like you out there. You felt so isolated in your own experience, you didn’t notice others who were able to understand you. Understand what you were going through.

“Are you… are you going to break up with me?” You asked as quietly as you could, you were terrified to hear a positive answer.

Bucky pulled back to look at your tear-stained face. He gently cupped it, making you look into his eyes as he smiled at you. “Never, love. I love you so much. It doesn’t matter if you’re a man or a woman. You’re my boyfriend, okay?” He kissed your forehead.

Boyfriend.

You were waiting so long to hear something like that and it felt so damn good to finally hear it.

Bucky let go of you and left the bed. “Where are you going?” You asked, not understanding what he wanted to do.

“I think I have something you might wanna wear instead of that dress. No matter how pretty it is.” He teased you a little, but his words held no malice. They were quite affectionate, actually.

He walked back to you with a simple shirt and a pair of pants. “What do you think, huh? Enough to your liking? Or would my baby like a suit more, hmm?” He had a smile on his face, almost as if excited about this whole thing.

You were so worried he might be disgusted with you and yet there he was, smiling at you after you told him.

“They'll be fine. Thank you, James.” Your soft answer made his heart skip a beat.

“No problem. What kind of partner would I be if I left all by yourself when you're struggling so hard?” He gave your forehead a small kiss. “You're stuck with me, doll.”

He put the clothes down on the bed, his eyes wandering to your chest once more. He let out a sigh, his expression more serious than before.

“As much as I want to support you, you can't be wearing those. It's definitely not safe.”

“I know, I just wanted my chest to be flatter.” You explained, with a small hint of desperation in your voice.

“I know, I know. Listen, we will find a way to help you, okay?” His voice was soft, almost as if he was worried he might not express his concern properly. He wanted to support you, but he was still worried about your safety.

“We will find a safer alternative. As much as I believe you meant no harm, I just can tell your ribs will not be happy if you keep bandaging yourself for longer than just a day.” He continued, his eyes not leaving yours.

His hand moved to your cheek and he smiled at you. “You're not alone and you won't be as long as I am here. With me, you can be yourself. I will do what I can to help you.”

You nodded before giving him a tight hug. “Thank you so much.” Bucky wrapped his arms tightly around you before letting go.

“Go on.” He encouraged as he gestured towards the clothes. “I know you're dying to try them on.”

You let out an excited giggle, taking the clothes into your hand and making your way to the bathroom, almost tripping over as you did.

“Careful. We don't need you all bruised, do we?” Bucky commented with a small smirk before letting out a small chuckle.

While you disappeared behind a bathroom door, Buck had a little moment to think about the whole situation.

Was he expecting that? No. Should he? Probably.

He wasn't going to break up with you, he was too in love with you to care about your gender. You were still the same person he fell in love with over a year ago.

If anything, he was much more concerned about your safety. He knew there were people who would not be as accepting as he was.

Heck, he still remembered how he was walking the poor Annie home after a few guys jumped her sometime ago. Bucky wasn't going to pretend the thought of something similar happening to you didn't make his stomach turn.

You were safe with him, but on your own? He was scared to find out.

The sound of the door opening took Bucky out of his thoughts. He looked towards it and saw you, dressed in what he gave you, along with your hair being tied in a way that made your hair appear shorter than it actually was.

Bucky let out a low whistle at the sight. “Now that's one hell of a man.” His eyes wandered over you, his smile returning. “Well, well, well. If someone really says my boyfriend isn't the most handsome, we will know they are lying.”

His smile widened when he saw how happy you were at the praises.

“C'mere, darling. Let me hold my pretty boy.” He patted his lap, inviting you to sit on it.

You eagerly sat down on his lap. “Look at you, so handsome.” His hand moved to gently grab your chin so he could look at your face.

“You think so?” You asked a little more shyly, as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Absolutely. Now I wonder how you would look in a suit.” He bit his lip once more. “I bet you would look good. Like really, really good.” He moved to leave a few kisses down your neck.

“Okay, okay. I get it. Enough praises.” You giggled at the feeling of his soft lips against your neck.

“Enough? You don't like my praises? I am wounded.” He pulled back and mocked, pretending to be hurt by your words.

His eyes wandered over you once more. It was nice to see you like this, visibly happier and more confident than before.

“You know… handsome,” He murmured, his smile falling once more. At first he wanted to call you by the name he was used to calling you, but after what you told him, he thought against it. “As much as I want to support you, I need you to be careful, okay? I am not telling you to not start pressing yours in a more masculine way, of course, you do you. I worry someone might hurt you for trying to be yourself.”

You nodded quietly. World was not as pleasant of a place for those who were sticking out, purposely or not. “I know, Buck. But I don't wanna pretend to be someone I am not.”

Bucky let out a quiet sigh. He expected that kind of answer. “I know, doll. I know.” He moved closer to you, his forehead against yours as he closed his eyes. “I will do what I can to protect you from harm's way. We will find a way for you to be yourself safely, okay?”

You hummed with a soft nod. “Gonna find me a good hairstylist?” You asked with a small smile, hoping to lighten up the mood.

He let out a snort at your words. “Definitely. If I wasn't worried I might leave with an uneven haircut, I would do it myself.” He chuckled. “But I think I might know a safe place where you can get a haircut. I mean, I have a friend who owns a nice, small hairdressing salon. I heard from a friend that he doesn't mind people from the community unlike some.”

You let out a hum before you smirked a little. “You have contacts with the community? I don't know about something?” You teased him lightly.

“What can I say? Women are pretty, but some men are also eye-catchers.” He winked at you. “But seriously, I will talk to him if you want to.”

You nodded once more. “It means a lot, James. Thank you.”

“It's no problem, love.”

#marvel #marvel x reader #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x trans reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x male reader #bucky barnes x trans male reader #bucky barnes x ftm reader #ftm reader #trans male reader

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caramelcleopatraa · 15 days ago

Text

WORD COUNT: 659

X: INSPIRED BY @p-nkgod'S POST SEE ATTACHED. A SERIES OF INTERCONNECTED SHORT STORIES.

CONTENT: ROMAN X READER, PUBLIC SEX, DIRTY TALK, 18+ MDNI

SONGS: EARNED IT-THE WEEKND; GONE-THE WEEKND

The restaurant was poorly lit in some areas, and painted with warm light in others. You could recognize several people that worked with WWE sitting at other booths and tables. You and Roman had a booth to yourselves, only here because of obligation, opting to just enjoy the nice restaurant that the organization rented for the night. When he told you about the event, you weren’t thinking of the plan that you had in mind while picking your dress. You had planned on remaining relatively uninterested in whatever they might have been getting together, and enjoying a chance to eat some food. But when you saw Roman’s suit hanging next to your options of dresses, you had a change of mind, and opted for something more… open.

If there was anything that could get you riled up, it was Roman wearing any type of formal or business clothes. Especially in the most inconvenient of times. But it was unavoidable. The way that the cloth stretched around his muscles, leaving everything to your imagination. Neatly trimmed beard and recent haircut, brand new suit and dress shoes. You wished that you’d undressed and fucked him in those spare 15 minutes you two had before you left, but neither of you liked to be late. And now that you were sitting here in this booth next to him, your hunger for him had grown even more; If that were possible.

You had him sit to the right of you, where the length of your dress was particularly shorter than the other side. “Baby….” Your hand laid on his, interlacing your fingers between his and moving from the table. His hands rubbed your soft exposed thigh, as you prompted him to, starting near your knee and inching ever so close to your panties. “I need you.”

“Right now?” His eyebrows raised in a mix of question and surprise.

You nodded immediately. “Right fucking now.”

He looked around, seeing all of his coworkers and colleagues. Kissing his teeth, he looked at you with unsureness. “Hone-”

“Honeyy~ please, I can’t wait anymore.” You move his hands along the outline of the lace panties that wrapped around your hips. His hands applied more pressure, massaging your hips in a menacingly slow pace. “You look so fucking good Ro, I contemplated fucking you before we left the house tonight.“ He let out a tense sigh. He was holding himself back so much. But you didn't want him to hold back, you wanted him to lose all control, go completely feral. “Ma. my colleagues-” “Come closer, I can cover us.” He looked around once more, but you didn't care to see who was looking at you two. You grabbed his chin forcefully, demanding all of his attention. “Fuck them. Focus on me. Can you do that for me?” His eyes darken as you speak to him. He loves it when you are needy for him, so needy that you take matters into your own hands. When nothing else bothers you more than your need to be satisfied, and the fact that he has never failed once always adds gasoline to the fire. “You’re mine right now. You got all my attention. God- my panties are so soaked for you. Play with your pussy, daddy.” His breath hitched at your sentence and he went still for a second. You hand him hypnotized, captivated, and fanatical about you just from your words alone. “Mhm, that’s right, your pussy. Make this pussy come for you, baby.” He hummed lowly, closing his eyes and letting out another sigh. You were sure he was contemplating if this was something he should be thinking about doing around this many people. But your big doe eyes, enticing words, and small hand grabbing and holding his chin, made him respond with, “I don’t want to hear a sound come out of those lips, yeah?... Hmm, open those legs some more and let daddy touch his pussy.”

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khywren · 4 months ago

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❛ pairing: Astarion/Ysera ❛ word count: 4.5k ┊ ❛ rating: T ❛ tags/cw: holiday fluff, romance, and some feel-good holiday vibes

▸ preview: “I could, though, you know?” she asks, leaning against the railing. Her eyes wander over the water again. “Just the two of us, doing whatever makes us happy. Just because we want to do it. We deserve that much after everything, don't we?”

The sincerity of it hits him harder than he had anticipated. He recognizes the unspoken meaning in her words, that longing for a life she had long since given up on having.

The same way he had given up, too – before her, before she changed everything.

AO3 ┊ masterlist

▸ taglist: @xxnashiraxx, @zozoparsnips

Seven days, fifteen hours, and thirty three minutes. It's a rough estimation, of course, but as he glances at the hands on the ornate clock in the corner of Gale's dining room, Astarion is quite certain it's been at least that long since he's had a proper conversation with Ysera.

She'd been away in Waterdeep on business before Gale came to collect him, paraded around amongst the wizard's curious students and asked to give several talks on her part in the battle that had saved Baldur's Gate – and perhaps all of Faerûn – from certain destruction. He'd been invited too, of course, but politely declined to avoid feeling like an animal on display. And at any rate, it wasn't the kind of attention he liked, but instead the kind where people expected him to say something poignant or inspire them to greatness.

“Gale says they've been asking about you,” she'd told him, hoping he might reconsider. “Word has it they're quite enamored with the only vampire in the realm who could walk in the sun and live to tell the tale.”

“Well of course they are, darling. Why wouldn't they be? I'm certain you'll paint them an accurate picture of my exploits. But don't be afraid to embellish a little, hmm?”

There were other reasons he hadn't chosen to come with her, but he'd kept those a closely guarded secret.

The hand in his pocket grasps the jewelry box tucked against his thigh, fingertips brushing against the soft velvet exterior. He'd been eyeing the ring inside for weeks in secret, and only after Ysera had left the city had he felt comfortable enough to acquire it without her accidentally stumbling upon it.

He'd even purchased it with his own money, a hefty sum that nearly made him consider simply pocketing it instead, but something about doing that had felt wrong, insincere. And so he'd spent the last three months of his earnings in what was simultaneously one of the riskiest and most sentimental decisions of his life.

Even more surprising to him was that he hadn't once regretted it, or felt foolish for indulging in such a romantic gesture.

Presently, he's busy reminiscing on all the decisions that led him to this particular moment when he spots her again, a blur of pink and silver and gold as Ysera rushes down the stairs, taking them two at a time. She bounds past him and into the kitchen, and her voice joins with Lae’zel’s, Shadowheart’s, and Halsin’s as they discuss the progress of tonight's supper.

It had been Gale's idea in the first place to organize a celebration during the winter solstice. In truth, it was more of an excuse to gather everyone under the same roof, especially considering the times they were able to do so had grown few and far between.

Even Wyll and Karlach had been able to join them for a brief respite from the hells, though the stink of sulphur and brimstone still clung to their clothes hours after their arrival. Ysera had been so excited to see them that she'd hardly protested when Karlach pulled her into a hug so fierce Astarion was convinced she might crack a few ribs in the process.

“Soldier! Look at you!”

Suffice to say, he was much less reluctant to accept the firm handshake and embrace Wyll had offered him, even as Karlach had tried to scoop them both into her arms as well.

He's been hoping to grab Ysera's attention for the better part of the afternoon, but she'd been swept up in the chaos, rarely getting more than a minute or two to speak with him before someone else was whisking her away for help with one thing or another.

It isn't that he’s jealous – not really. The rest of them want to spend time with her for many of the same reasons he does, after all. But that doesn't stop him from feeling so sour or prevent the deep scowl that creases his brow.

He huffs an exasperated sigh, running a hand through his hair to rearrange his perfectly tousled curls. Patience, he reminds himself. He hadn't initially intended to bring the ring with him in the first place, but the moment he saw Ysera here again in Waterdeep he was glad he had, his mind set on giving it to her. If anything, it was more outrageous that he had waited this long at all.

It's better that he ignores the lingering doubts that leave him wondering what he might do if she rejects him.

That task is made far easier when the door to his left slams open as Karlach's foot juts into the dining room, and Astarion starts before turning towards the sound.

“Look alive, Fangs! This is supposed to be a celebration, not a wake.”

Karlach stumbles into the room with an armful of decorations, an assortment of ornaments and garland and other trinkets that smell strongly of pine. She dumps half the pile unceremoniously into Astarion's arms, and he scoffs before shooting her a defiant look.

“Just what do you think you're –”

“Make yourself useful and help me decorate,” she interjects, glancing down at him. “Gale wants this place looking nice and festive before supper.” A wide, toothy grin splits her face before she adds, “He says there's no ladder, but I'd be more than happy to put you on my shoulders if you need to reach the high places.”

Astarion's face twists into a look of silent fury, a single, gleaming fang emerging behind his pursed lips. Karlach merely throws her head back and lets out a boisterous laugh before making her way down the hall and out of sight, leaving Astarion fuming in her wake.

Astarion gets his revenge by upending the decorations on the table and glaring daggers at them. He sniffs and folds his arms over his chest, leaning back against the wall to continue his brooding. But when his eyes scan the discarded decorations again, something catches his attention beneath a string of silver tinsel.

Astarion plucks the thing in question from the pile with deft fingers and holds it up to the light, a plan already beginning to form in his mind.

Oh, yes, this will do rather nicely.

────

Ysera is careful to take her time as she slowly makes her way down the hall towards the dining room, concentrating on putting one foot solidly in front of the other. In her arms is a large wooden platter piled high with various breads, meats, jams, and cheeses, which Gale had carefully entrusted to her after she had insisted so adamantly that she was up for the task.

Her arms shake and her muscles burn as she tiptoes carefully into the dining room, exhaling loudly when she finally sets the platter down in the center of the table. With a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure no one is watching, Ysera picks several of the finer pieces of meat and cheese from the spread, stacking them in her palm before shoving them happily into her mouth.

She closes her eyes and savors the rich flavors with a happy sigh, tail twirling behind her as she bounces from foot to foot. Within seconds, she's got another handful of food prepared, eating it just as quickly as the last.

Astarion's footsteps nearly scare the soul out of her as he strides into the room and surveys her with a click of his tongue.

“You'll ruin your appetite.”

She turns towards him and gives him a sullen look. “But it's so good,” she insists. “Gale's got all the fancy stuff I can't find back home. And aren't you always telling me to ‘indulge in the finer things in life’?”

She mimics his voice as best she can while reciting his advice, and a flicker of amusement flashes in Astarion's crimson eyes. He steps forward and wipes a stray bit of jam from the corner of her mouth, cleaning his hands on the tablecloth.

“Yes, but I always had something far more… extravagant in mind. You could do a lot better than party snacks, my dear.”

“Could do a lot worse, too,” she pouts, popping a bit of sliced sausage into her mouth. They look at each other for a moment, and when a sheepish smile spreads across her face, Astarion sighs in defeat and rolls his eyes affectionately at her. He opens his mouth to say something, but a commotion from the kitchen has Ysera whirling on her heel.

“Ah… I should get back,” she says hurriedly. “I forgot that Shadowheart still wanted my help with –”

Before Ysera's taken more than two steps, Astarion's snatched her by the wrist, holding her in place. Her golden eyes are wide when she turns to face him, torn between her compulsion to help the rest of their friends and the alternative of ditching her responsibilities to sneak off with Astarion instead.

“She can wait,” he says matter-of-factly, voice dropping an octave and washing over her like the caress of a velvet glove. She knows that tone, low and seductive and colored with just enough mischief to promise that whatever he wants will be more than worth her while.

“Allow me to borrow you for a moment. You've done more than enough for one afternoon as it is.”

Whatever hesitation she still feels melts away beneath his crimson gaze, and Ysera pulls her wrist free from his grasp to interlock their fingers.

“That sounds like a good idea, actually.”

Astarion smirks triumphantly back at her.

“The only kind I have, darling.”

────

He leads Ysera down the hall and away from any prying eyes, finally pulling her into the open doorway of what must be Gale's study. There's a fire still burning in the hearth, and the flames cast warm, flickering shadows over her face. He's always found Ysera attractive, but there's something about the way the light reflects in her eyes like a stained glass mosaic of gold and amber that still seizes his unbeating heart every time he sees it.

There's so much life, so much passion in those striking eyes of hers that threatens to swallow him whole. He's heard it said that drowning is a peaceful way to die, and as he gazes into the depths of her eyes he believes it.

She looks up at him as he studies her, instinctively stepping into his personal space to enjoy the nearness of him – his scent, his familiar coolness, everything that she had so deeply missed during their time apart. Her hand settles on the breast of his waistcoat, admiring his handiwork.

“Like what you see, my sweet?”

Astarion rarely finds himself falling back into old habits these days, but it's easier to mask his anxieties beneath the familiar veneer of confidence that had served him for so many years.

“Yes,” she whispers simply, “but you don't need me to tell you what you already know.”

“Ah,” he chuckles, in response, “but I do so love to hear you say it.”

He lifts his eyes towards the top of the doorframe, and her gaze follows closely behind. Ysera tilts her head curiously before glancing back at him.

“Mistletoe?”

The shimmer of magic that enchants the crisp leaves and pearl-white berries is unmistakable, some sort of spell Gale must have put on them to preserve them from decay.

“That's right,” Astarion says, placing a hand on her hip. The contact excites them both in equal measure, and his fingers tighten in the soft robes that adorn her body.

“And that means I finally have an excuse to kiss you.”

Ysera blinks in confusion.

“You don't need an excuse to kiss me, Astarion,” she says, frowning.

“Don't I?” Astarion asks. “I don't think I've had more than five minutes with you all afternoon. It all leaves a man feeling rather… neglected, don't you think?”

It's obvious that he's joking with her, but the quick flash of disappointment in his eyes is something she notices almost immediately. Despite everything, she can't help but feel a little guilty.

“I'm sorry,” Ysera starts, golden eyes wide and apologetic. She chews on her lip and holds up her hands. “I didn't mean to ignore you. I was so busy catching up with everyone else, and you know how much Gale loves to talk, and –”

She's rambling now, face growing hot beneath the amused smirk he levels at her as he lifts his brow. Astarion can feel her heart thundering in her chest as he snakes an arm around her waist and pulls her close, using his body to cage her against the doorframe. Ysera's apologies die in her throat as he suddenly takes her by the chin, running the soft pad of his thumb across her lips. When her breath catches, pride surges through him.

She still flushes so beautifully beneath his touch.

“Shh.” His voice is low, face close enough to feel the heat radiating off of her cheeks. “Let's put that pretty mouth of yours to better use, shall we?”

As he drags his finger gently beneath her chin, Astarion coaxes Ysera's face closer to his own and captures her lips in a tender kiss. There is no urgency in the way he enjoys the softness of her mouth, running his tongue along her bottom lip before she opens her mouth to him. He takes his time with her, the hand beneath her chin sliding into the soft pink waves of her hair as he moans quietly in appreciation. Ysera sighs heavily as his nails rake across her scalp, letting her eyes flutter closed.

Astarion is the first to break away, mindful that Ysera needs to catch her breath. But she's on him again within seconds, letting him kiss her with a gentleness that makes her knees weak. By now their kissing has usually turned far more passionate, but this time, neither of them feel the urge to do so.

Astarion, for his part, certainly doesn't mind. He takes the time to place a soft kiss on her brow, and her forehead is warm and comforting when he rests his against hers. Their noses brush against each other, and he can hear the longing in Ysera's voice when she murmurs, “I missed you.”

“I know,” he says. “I missed you too.”

Astarion withdraws the hand tangled in Ysera's hair to fish around in his pocket for the ring. He's halfway to presenting it to her when Karlach pops around the corner, and Astarion silently curses whichever of the gods have a particular vendetta against him today.

“Oi, lovebirds!” Karlach shouts. “When you're finished sucking each other's faces off or whatever, supper's ready.”

Ysera's face emerges from behind Astarion's shoulder, her expression apologetic.

“S-sorry Karlach,” she says with a shaky laugh, hiding her embarrassment poorly. "We'll be right – mmph!”

She finds herself bent back at the waist as Astarion dips her low and kisses her again, purposely moaning into her mouth loudly enough for Karlach to hear. The other tiefling has mercifully left them alone by the time he pulls Ysera back upright, and she shoves him playfully before making her way back towards the kitchen.

“You’re terrible! I guess we'd better not keep them waiting.”

────

It's long past supper now. The warmth of the blood from the boar the rest of them had eaten has long since cooled in his belly, and Astarion finds himself frustratingly cold as he searches for Ysera. Most of the others have retired to Gale's guest rooms for the evening, besides Halsin, who lays curled up in front of the roaring fire in his bear form, and Karlach, who’s splayed out across his side and nestled into his soft fur, snoring away without a care in the world.

Gale sits nearby in his armchair with a book in hand, indicating towards the stairs with a nod of his head when Astarion approaches. They exchange no more than a handful of words before Astarion ascends the stairs, hoping at last for the quiet moment he's been looking for all afternoon.

At last, he finds her on the balcony, staring out at the water. It's eerily quiet save for the sound of the waves lapping against the docks. A gust of wind rips past, and Ysera shivers before tugging her cloak around her shoulders, enveloping herself in a sea of shimmering white and gold.

He joins her at the railing, and her breath fans out in little puffs of steam when she turns to smile warmly at him. Something catches her attention then, and Ysera's eyes widen as she tips her head up to the sky, gaze focused on the soft grays and pinks that obscure everything but the faintest trace of moonlight.

“Oh, look!” she exclaims, “It's snowing.”

Astarion watches as Ysera braces herself on the railing and leans out over the water, tongue stuck out from behind her pointed teeth. He lifts a brow, utterly perplexed by her behavior.

“What in the hells are you doing?” he asks, instinctively slipping a hand around her waist when she leans just a little too far over the railing for his liking.

“Catching snowflakes,” she says, pouting when he doesn't immediately seem to understand. The expression on his face suggests she's said something completely outrageous.

“Don't tell me you've never…” she starts, cutting herself off mid sentence when she realizes what she's asking. Whatever memories he may have had of his childhood are nothing more than phantoms in his mind, shadows that slip through his hands like water whenever he tries to grasp them.

Perhaps he had caught snowflakes on his tongue when he was small, just as she had. Perhaps he had done a lot of things before Cazador had found him.

“Right. I'm sorry.” Ysera's face falls, and she averts her eyes as her guilt twists her expression into an uncomfortable grimace. Astarion says nothing, quietly placing his hands upon the railing and lifting his face towards the sky.

The snow is falling thickly now, settling in an icy blanket along the rooftops nearby. Astarion makes a small noise and sighs quietly through his nose, resisting the voice in his head that tells him how ridiculous he must look when he sticks out his tongue to catch a snowflake drifting towards him. No sooner has it melted on his tongue than does he hear Ysera's muffled laughter beside him, hand clapped over her mouth when he turns to frown at her.

“What?” he demands, pursing his lips. “What's so funny?”

Ysera's tail swishes two and fro beneath her cloak, her eyes bright as she grins stupidly at him. When Astarion's frown deepens, it only amuses her further.

“I never expected I'd see you doing anything so… ridiculous, that's all.”

Astarion scoffs, thankful for once he doesn't have the ability to blush. He looks away, shuffling uncomfortably on his feet before jamming his hands in his pockets.

“Well,” he says, feigning nonchalance, “don't get used to it, darling.”

Ysera's smile fades, and her voice grows unusually somber.

“I could, though, you know?” she asks, leaning against the railing. Her eyes wander over the water again. “Just the two of us, doing whatever makes us happy. Just because we want to do it. We deserve that much after everything, don't we?”

The sincerity of it hits him harder than he had anticipated. He recognizes the unspoken meaning in her words, that longing for a life she had long since given up on having.

The same way he had given up, too – before her, before she changed everything.

The ring feels heavy in his pocket again, and he closes his fingers around the small velvet box. It brings him little comfort, knowing what he's about to do next. But if he waits any longer he fears he'll lose the courage to go through with it.

He hates the way his voice shakes when he steps towards her and says her name.

“Ysera…”

“Hmm?” She turns her head, concern written across her features when she notices the strained look on his face.

“What's with that look? Did I say something weird again? Gods…”

“No,” Astarion interjects, shaking his head. “No.”

Seconds pass – an eternity of silence as she gazes into his eyes, waiting for him to continue. Her heart stammers in her chest, uncertain what ails him as he huffs in frustration at his own reluctance.

This is stupid. He's being stupid. People ask this sort of thing all the time, right? So why is he so godsdamned nervous?

“I – here…” he says, extracting the jewelry box from his pocket and offering it to her by way of explanation, “this is for you.”

Ysera quietly takes the velvet box from his hand and opens the lid to observe the glimmering gemstone inside. The fire opal nestled into the silver ring band is massive, a harmonious mix of sun-kissed golds and ruby reds that nearly take her breath away.

Red and gold. The colors of their eyes, a perfect pair contained in one vibrant stone. She brings it closer to her face and watches as it shifts and shimmers like a living flame.

Her chest tightens with an emotion she lacks the words to describe. Suffocating and liberating in equal measure. Tears prick at the corners of her eyes but she blinks them back.

“It – it's beautiful,” Ysera whispers, glancing up at Astarion. Her lips tremble slightly, but she wears a smile when she turns to face him.

“Thank you.”

Her finger delicately traces the gemstone, admiring its craft.

“This must have cost a fortune, where did you –”

Astarion interrupts her with a swift shake of his head. Instead, he lays a hand gently over hers and brushes his thumb over her wrist.

“Nevermind that,” he says softly. “Do you like it?”

“Of course I do,” Ysera answers immediately, tucking the box close to her chest.

And then something dawns on her, so suddenly she's almost embarrassed that it didn't cross her mind until now. The roundness of Astarion’s eyes and the softness of his smile only seems to confirm her suspicions, and her tail flicks anxiously as she hesitates to ask him:

“Wait a second. Are… are you asking me to marry you?”

It's not as though she would say no, but it's all so sudden – too sudden, and –

“Am I?” Astarion asks. He pauses and shrugs, delighted by the expression on her face. “Well, darling, I suppose I am. I would have preferred it to be somewhere much nicer than a dusty old wizard’s tower, but… well, here we are nonetheless.”

“I’m gonna tell Gale you said that,” she says conspiratorially.

Astarion barks out a laugh. “Oh, please do. Someone ought to tell him. Did you see all those books he has? It's a little on the nose, even for a wizard, don't you think?”

Ysera giggles and tucks herself into his arms when he pulls her close, nestling her face against his chest. Astarion holds her for a moment, both of them content with simply enjoying one another's presence. After a moment, she steps away, finding his expression wistful when she looks at him again.

“Can you imagine?” he says, scrunching up his nose. “Me, a married man. That all sounds so… domestic.” He tips his head to the side, considering the idea. It isn't the first time the thought has drifted through his mind, but he decided long ago that he felt rather indifferent about the matter one way or the other. And after all, it hadn't mattered how their relationship was defined, so long as they were still together.

“Oh, yes,” Ysera teases him, hands on her hips as she leans forward with a serious expression that knits her brows. “What would your clients think? You have quite the reputation to maintain, after all.”

Astarion grins slyly at her, purposely baring his fangs to demonstrate his capabilities. He leans forward to press them into her neck, nibbling at her throat and peppering kisses across her skin with the express purpose of making her squirm.

“Stop!” she shouts, batting him away. “That tickles!”

Her facade crumbles and she dissolves into a fit of infectious laughter. Astarion finds himself joining in, the sound of her laugh kindling a warmth that blossoms in his chest and banishes the biting cold.

The snow swirls around them and Astarion withdraws from her, tucking a stray lock of hair behind Ysera's ear and brushing aside some of the snow that has begun to cling to her cloak. He takes the jewelry box from her hands and opens it again, extending the ring to her after a moment of quiet contemplation.

“That doesn't mean I still can't ask you to be mine,” he says softly, eyes tracking the flush that creeps across her cheeks and stains the tips of her ears a vibrant shade of pink. His expression has grown soft again, vulnerable in a way that he has never been with anyone but her.

“You will, won't you, darling?”

Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears. Ysera merely holds out her hand in answer, tail swishing with barely contained excitement when Astarion slips the fire opal over her finger. She flexes her fingers to admire the stone once more before pulling him back into an affectionate embrace. Her heart beats fiercely in her chest, arms holding him protectively against her. When Ysera's hands smooth over his back, he buries his face into her neck and sighs.

“I’ve always been yours, Astarion.”

For the first time in a long time, Astarion feels like a stranger in his own body again. Like he's watching someone else's happy ending play out before his eyes, and only when Ysera pulls away and cups his face between her palms does the touch of her hands confirm that this is real – that she is here; warm, alive, and most importantly, his. And nothing can take that away from him anymore.

“I should have gotten you something too,” she sighs, smoothing her thumbs over his face. Astarion shakes his head and rests his hand over hers.

“I don't want anything in return,” Astarion says, murmuring the words against her lips as he kisses her again. “Not when I already have everything I need right here.”

Her arms slide over his shoulders, tail curling around his back. Ysera's magic roars to life within her, and time almost seems to stop as they stare at one another, her lashes crystalizing as she blinks through her tears. The snow hangs around them in suspended animation, a curtain of white that veils them within its frigid embrace.

It's quiet. Intimate. Their own little piece of paradise, stolen from everyone and everything that tried so hard to break them. He'd stay here with her forever, if he could.

Astarion wipes her tears away and slips his hands beneath her cloak to pull her flush against him. He lifts her off the balcony and carries her back into the warmth of Gale's home, pressing chaste kisses against her face and neck that make her sigh so sweetly.

And in their last moments together before the world stirs back to life around them, Astarion marvels at how she fits so perfectly in his arms, just as she always has – just as she always will.

#astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #astarion x female oc #astarion x ysera #tiefling tav #sorcerer tav #astarion #astarion bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #spawn astarion #soft astarion #my writing #ysera

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quickstappen · 9 months ago

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track 006: secrets spilling (you can't stop them)

A/N: two parts less than two months apart?? what is happening here? well, now that exams are over i've got way too much time on my hands, enjoy this one (there might be some mistakes here, don't give them much thought please)

masterlist | previous next

liked by lewishamilton, sebastianvettel and others

marcilazzaro1 life is good 💚 didn't know how much i longed for peace before i experienced it for the first time in a long while :)

see all comments...

shithappens you don't understand how precious this is to me 😭

sebastianvettel I told you I'll change your mind about gardening 💚

↳ quickstappen i'm sorry- sebastian what do you mean

↳ redmilton ariana, what are you doing here??

alexandrasaintmleux The views are incredible, can't wait to see it in person! 😍

↳ marcilazzaro1 trust me, it's so worth it

lance_stroll did he make you plant the greens too?

↳ marcilazzaro1 he did... it wasn't so bad

↳ lewishamilton Liar, liar 🙄 you literally texted me that you loved it

↳ sebastianvettel You loved it?

↳ marcilazzaro1 it was a lot more fun than i thought 💚

gorgeous_aa23 sebastian stand up man 💀

nyoomf1 so she's definitely in Switzerland 👀

screwderriaf1 it's so weird not seeing her in the garage 🥺

↳ pierrespookie it's amazing 😍 don't have to look at the bitch during race weekends

↳ madi_races girl,, get the fuck out 💀

darth_nando is anyone else lowkey shipping her with seb now? 💀

sarah_scott we need a girls night asap

↳ clairobernie_x i second that

↳ marcilazzaro1 get over here then

albonohypetrain where is she staying in Switzerland?? she bought a house?

↳ blondecedes i may be wrong but it looks like she's staying with Seb??

↳ albonohypetrain oh my god 🥹

brunolazzaro_03 is that coffe?? 🤨

↳ marcilazzaro1 it's black tea, chill

↳ lewibear hmm 🤔

maxverstappen1 who's gonna be on babysitting duty now that you're gone?

↳ marcilazzaro1 P is welcome to visit at any given time, she's always gonna be my favourite 😉

marci's messages:

lewis' messages:

marci's messages:

liked by charles_leclerc, lance_stroll and others

sarah_scott only good vibes at the sleepover (of course the only certified baker had to win the cupcake competition)

tagged: marcilazzaro1, clairobernie_x, location: Switzerland

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liza_mercf1 i hope you had fun! when's the new episode coming?

↳ sarah_scott don't worry, the new podcast episode is going live at 5pm this friday as always 🩷 this week with Callum Ilott

nyoomf1 oooh she's visiting Marci in Switzerland!!

redleclerc i love that they're still friends with Claire 🥹

lance_stroll with the amount of bags you had one would think you were leaving for at least a month, not 3 days

↳ sarah_scott i took a lot of housewarming gifts

↳ lance_stroll sure

↳ strollingaway 🤨 what's this then

brunolazzaro_03 did you vandalise the kitchen?

↳ clairobernie_x who do you take us for? of course we did

lewibear okay, now it's getting suspicious 🤨 no body shot again?

ilpredestinatox this looks so fun,, i also want a sleepover with this guys

albonohypetrain i can't wait for the next episode, those are the highlights of my week, seriously

clairobernie_x not my fault I'm just naturally talented in the kitchen babes 🩷

charles_leclerc ....a sleepover? 👀

↳ sarah_scott you have something to say Charles?

↳ charles_leclerc yeah, why wasn't I invited?

↳ sarah_scott we were gossiping about you, hard to do when you're there 😉

↳ charles_leclerc right, that's valid

↳ screwderriaf1 girl 💀

gorgeous_aa23 soo... they're all in Switzerland right now

madi_races we need more content with this three, this is everything

marcilazzaro1 see if I invite you ever again, the kitchen was a nightmare to clean 🙄

↳ clairobernie_x you looooovee us 🩷

marci's messages:

madi's radio: hello, another one is here, a little text message heavy, I'll try to post most frequently really, also,,, does anyone speak croatian? it's one of the languages I'm studying and i could use the practice to be honest

click here to be added to the carved my name taglist!

taglist: @sunny44 @rockyhayzkid @biancathecool @unluckyyoshi @woozarts @janeholt3 @celestialend @formulaal @d3kstar @yoremins @rd1410-blog @mess-is-my-aesthetic @callsignwidow @blaaahblubb @evans-dejong @lwstuff @emilyval1 @r0seandth0rns @fletchingarcher @blaaahblubb @notyaslol @dear-fifi @zimm04 @thewritingofspencerrose @elliegrey2803 @anthonykatebridgerton @firetruckstuckley @casperlikej @anephemeralwoe @vroomvroommuppett @taytaylala12 @kuskumu @clemswrld @bella-1 @leclercdream @evie-119 @tallrock35 @dannyleclerc @charkachow @flusteredmoonn @beslerek @fandomchaosposts @pied-pipper (xxx - couldn't tag you)

DISCLAIMER: i do not know anything about this people, this is not real life, this is just something for fun, i do not know anythings about their life or personalities!

#f1 #ferrari #red bull f1 #f1 smau #for fun #alpine f1 #f1 instagram au #pierre gasly smau #formula 1 #sebastian vettel smau #madi's library #cmn smau

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pedroshotwifey · 1 year ago

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Hungry Like The...

Pairing: Werewolf!Frankie Morales x AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Tags/Warnings: Smut, PIV sex, oral sex (f receiving), fluff, established relationship, no use of y/n, Frankie has a monster cock, im missing stuff but I want to go to bed so...

Summary: You and Frankie decide to attend an 80s themed Halloween party. Through all of the excitement, you must have forgotten what day the full moon falls on.

A/N: I'm gonna go ahead and say that I rushed the absolute fuck out of this one, but I think it turned out pretty good. I really kind of jumped outside of my comfort zone with this, so I'm kinda proud that I did that. That being said, please feel free to call me out on anything that might not make sense or anything that I should change at all because I'm half clueless with this kind of stuff. Please consider reposting and/or liking. Thank you for reading and HAPPY HALLOWEEN!! <3

***

You have no idea where Frankie snuck off too.

He claimed he was going to get the two of you more drinks, but that was about ten minutes ago. You’re well aware that it should have taken less than half of that for him to find his way to the refreshment table, pick up some drinks, and bring them back to you.

Right now, though, you’re too blissed out to care—not that you have much to worry about with your loving boyfriend anyway. The lights are almost blinding as you spin around beneath them, but they transform into a nice glow thanks to the buzz you’re sporting. “Mony Mony,” is blaring through the speakers and you're in your zone as you swing your hips to the beat.

You’re glad that Frankie had suggested that you two attend this party specifically. The only requirements were that you had to dress up as an 80’s character in order to fit the era the party revolves around. 80’s costumes, 80’s music, 80’s decor. Luckily for you, the 80’s is one of your absolute favorite decades, and you’re pretty sure Frankie knew that when he signed the two of you up.

The dance floor is packed with people to the point where you can’t stretch out all the way without bumping into someone. Usually, that would irk you, but you can’t find it in you to mind tonight. It’s not like anybody else does.

As you snap your hips to the beat, you look around at all the different costumes in the crowd. You see a handful of Star Wars characters, a couple of Freddy Kruegers, some Ghost Busters, and—of course—a shit ton of Madonnas. The rest, for the most part, are pretty original.

You’re pretty proud of your own costume, to be honest. You had spent a couple of weeks configuring a custom-made Storm costume. You’ve been an X-Men fan for as long as you can remember, and it made you so happy to try on your costume for the first time a few days ago. It’s pretty damn spot-on.

Frankie, on the other hand, had insisted on being a werewolf. Like turning into one once a month wasn’t enough already. You had simply rolled your eyes and asked him what he had in mind so you could make his costume. It was worth it to see the way he lit up, even though he’s cutting it close with the party’s theme.

After the year he had, he deserves to be happy—even if it means you have to endure his stupid jokes every now and again. When he gets tipsy, his goofy humor always makes an appearance. It’s one of your favorite parts about nights out with your boyfriend. He never fails to make you laugh.

Just as you begin to worry that he might have gotten lost in the crowd, you feel a hand spin you around. You’re getting ready to tell someone off until you come face to face with those irresistible brown eyes.

“Hey there, Hermosa,” he says as he cuddles up to you, swaying you to the song. “Having fun, sweetheart?”

You giggle as he bends down and nuzzles his face into your neck. Glancing down, you almost aren’t surprised to see that he doesn’t have any drinks.

“Frankie?” You ask casually as you throw your arms around him.

“Hmm?”

“Did you find the drinks?”

Suddenly, he stops moving and stands up straight again, a playful smile plastered across his face.

“Guess not,” he says. “Found something to eat, though,” he winks and you playfully roll your eyes as he throws himself back onto you. As the song changes to “When Doves Cry”, he begins to dance with you. Frankie has never been the best dancer, but it's better this way. Neither of you take anything seriously as you push and pull your bodies together, giving eachother flirty kisses every now and again.

You laugh as you bump into someone and flash them an apologetic look. Frankie really loves to bring out your careless side. You honestly didn’t know you were capable of being so care-free until you had met him. Sometimes he makes you feel as if nothing else matters but you and him. It’s times like these that you really realize just how lucky you are to have him.

“Alright, baby,” Frankie says after a moment, bringing you out of your thoughts. “I’m going to go get us those drinks now.”

Instead of answering him, you get up on your tip-toes and kiss him. He begins to wrap his arms around you again, but you gently push him off, giving him a faux stern look.

“Alright, alright, I get it, baby, I’m going!” he says over the music before turning around to scamper away.

You have to suppress a giggle when he jolts as you deliver a light slap to his ass. He turns just enough to flash you a dirty look, and you give him one of feigned innocence in return, well aware he’ll get you back for that eventually if you continue to tease.

“Hurry up, wolfboy!” you shout after him.

***

Alright, you’re actually about to be pissed this time.

There’s absolutely no way he lost you—or rather, you lost him—twice. He has to be playing with you, right? Whatever, if that’s the case, two can play at that game.

You’ll just pretend like you don’t even notice something is missing. Maybe once he sees you where he left you, completely unaffected by his absence, he’ll stop being such an ass.

Perfect. Perfect plan.

You shake your head and dance as the song ends. You can have fun by yourself if your boyfriend wants to be immature.

Well, it would have been a perfect plan.

As if he could somehow read your mind—which you almost wouldn’t doubt at this point��you spot Frankie in your vision once again. However, this time, he’s not coming over to you.

He has a familiar dark look in his eyes that immediately soaks you, despite yourself. You stop dancing because as quick as you see him, he’s gone again. You spin in a panicked circle as the song changes to one by Duran Duran. You almost laugh at the irony as “Hungry Like the Wolf” blares through the speakers.

Your phone buzzes in the small pocket of your bodysuit, and you pause your quick search to look at it. Your brow furrows as you see that it’s a text from Frankie. What the fuck is he playing at? Quickly, you unlock your phone and open your messages.

“Better start running, baby,” the text reads. You look up, your eyes frantically scanning the crowd around you. Maybe the song choice isn’t so ironic after all.

“Don’t let me catch you… feeling hungry like the wolf tonight…”

You don’t stop to think before you make a mad dash toward the exit, your heart dropping to your stomach as you go. You get some pissed looks as you shove through people, your heart hammering in your chest and your eyes darting every which way.

You have no idea where he could be at this point. Maybe he’s somewhere inside, having missed your exit. He could be trailing right behind you, ready to grab you at any moment.

Soon enough, it is revealed that he is, once again, always one step ahead of you. As soon as you step out of the doors, a large body is engulfing yours and carrying you to a secluded spot on the patio, though there’s nobody outside anyway.

You would scream if not for the large hand that covers your lips when he grabs you. You know it’s Frankie, of course, but the exhilaration that comes from the scare really adds to the game the two of you just started.

You ignore the heat simmering between your legs as he sets you down on your own feet and removes his hand from your mouth. Neither of you move, you don’t look up, he doesn’t crouch down. You just stand there, breathing heavily as Frankie embraces your figure.

You can’t help but lean back into him, letting your guard down probably isn’t the best idea right now, but you can’t find it in you to care about that fact at the moment.

The fresh air feels nice on your heated cheeks, but Frankie's front against your back feels even better. The music continues to play faintly behind you as you sway side to side, Frankie’s arms wrapped tightly around you, his head resting on your shoulder.

You swear you could stay here forever. Actually, you could stay anywhere, as long as you had Frankie. But right now, you can’t imagine anything more perfect than this. As long as you have your boyfriend’s arms around you, you would do anything or go anywhere he wants to.

Your body may be his, but you decided a long time ago that your soul belongs to him as well. He can pick it up and do whatever he wishes with it, and you know he could never do anything that would cause your trust or love for him to dull.

“Look up, sweetheart,” Frankie’s soft voice brings you out of your thoughts, making you open your eyes. You hadn’t realized they had slid shut in the first place.

The sight of the full moon high up in the night sky confirms your suspicions. Frankie’s going to turn tonight.

Fuck, you’re screwed, your subconscious automatically screams at you.

You can't miss the way your panties dampen as the thought crosses your mind. Your body stiffens as you fight the urge to run, the adrenaline getting the best of you.

Frankie must feel the way you tense up because his arms immediately tighten around you.

“It’s alright, hermosa,” he whispers into your ear. “Just means we’ll have a bit more fun than usual.”

You try but fail to stifle your grin at his menacing tone. Just because you know you’re screwed doesn’t mean you don't enjoy it.

“Probably got less than ten minutes now,” Frankie says far too casually. “Let’s pick up on our little chase, yeah?”

He lets you out of his grasp this time, and you turn around to give him a peck on his cheek, allowing your hand to brush past his erection as you pull away. The touch is just enough for Frankie to grit his teeth as he hisses out. The warning glance he gives you makes arousal burn deep into your core, only serving to make you more excited.

“I’ll give you a head start, sweetheart,” he says, his tone giving you a warning, “I’d take it if I were you.”

With his word, you spin on your heel, ready to plummet into the forest, but you only get about a foot before he has a large hand wrapped around your wrist. Your heart beats louder in your chest as you turn to look at him, his eyes dark with lust.

“Don’t let me catch you this time,” he says, pulling you close enough for his lips to flutter across your ear as he speaks. “I won’t go easy on you.”

You ignore the shiver in your spine as you pull back as much as you can.

“Maybe I don't want you to go easy on me,” you whisper back, earning a slight growl from Frankie. He lets his hand linger on you for only a moment more before letting go, this time allowing you to back away.

“Don’t push yourself too hard then, because I’m going to fucking exaust you when I catch up.”

You smile before turning once again, pushing yourself into the trees without looking back.

***

The sound of your heartbeat is deafening as you run through the otherwise silent forest. The steady pitter-patter of the organ combined with your ragged breathing and your frantic footsteps make a horrifying symphony. Even those sounds seem muffled, though, with the amount of pure adrenaline that courses through your veins and drowns out your senses.

Frankie can’t be too far behind you now. You guess you’ve been running for about fifteen minutes. There’s no doubt that he has turned at this point; he proved it with the howl you heard bellowing through the woods a couple minutes ago.

Since then, you haven't stopped to take a breath. There is pure fear in the fact that you have a beast on your trail, but also excitement in knowing what will likely happen once he catches up.

For now though, fear is the dominant emotion. It’s prominent enough to keep you going even as your hair gets tugged by branches and your skin gets scratched and torn by twigs and thorns. None of it seems to matter right now just as long as you can keep your distance from the monster hunting you down.

Suddenly, you hear a snap from somewhere behind you. The noise is sharp, a twig snapping beneath heavy weight. It reverberates all around you, sending a shiver down your spine. Soon after, You pick up on the steady thumping of what sounds to be an animal hot on your tail.

The sound gets closer and closer even as you push yourself to run faster. Your entire body is shaking and you can feel tears welling up in your eyes. You can practically feel Frankie’s breath on your neck, the sensation almost more powerful than the ache overtaking your legs and abdomen.

“Please, leave me alone!” You cry out the plea over your shoulder, your voice bordering a sob. Your gut is curling with a mixture of panic and arousal. The responding growl makes the tears you have been holding spill over and your knees buckle.

For a second, you’re worried that you might fall, but you’re pushed into the ground before you have the chance to do it yourself. The weight of Frankie pouncing on top of you knocks the wind out of you, a sharp cry leaving your lips as your breath is taken.

In the time that it takes you to get your breath back, Frankie has your bodysuit torn enough to pry off of your shaking body, and your lacy panties shoved–or ripped–down your legs. Luckily, the bodysuit was the cheapest and easiest to find component of your costume. You can feel a whisper of his claws against your skin as he drags scraps away from where he needs you most.

Your arms flail wildly, your fingers trying to grasp a handful of fur from the beast atop you. Frankie sees what you’re trying to do, and with a growl, he ducks down and slides toward your feet, away from your hands.��

Before you can question what he’s doing, you feel something thick, wet, and warm against your bare, soaked cunt.

A high pitched moan tumbles from your lips as Frankie drags his tongue across your pussy before dipping it into your core.

The hot muscle digs deep into your cunt, curling once it's in all the way. You can feel his nose bobbing up and down against your ass as he starts to work his tongue in and out of your cunt.

“F-Frankie, fuck!” You scream, feeling your orgasm building embarrassingly quickly.

The way his tongue swirls and scrapes against your walls is absolutely delicious, and that combined with the tip of the muscle prodding against your g-spot? You’re fucking done for.

You’re writhing as Frankie brings his tongue out to swallow down the slick he’s collected, and you can feel the way a combination of your arousal and his saliva leaks out of your pulsing cunt, coming down to collect at your clit and make you shudder. You’re so close to coming, a warm feeling that can only be described as pure euphoria making a home deep in your lower abdomen.

Almost as soon as he was gone, Frankie shoves his tongue back inside of you, meticulously prodding all the right places. You’re gasping and moaning so loud you have half the mind to feel bad for whatever critters might reside in these woods.

That thought passes quickly, though, once you feel yourself returning to the edge. Frankie flicks his tongue one more time and you’re suddenly convulsing around him. The high seems to go on forever, your toes curling and your fingers grasping at the leafy ground in front of you.

The beast doesn’t pull away as you come, instead, he allows you to rock your hips back and forth in order to prolong your pleasure for as long as possible. You don’t even notice that you moved your arm until you feel one hand entangled in soft fur, your subconscious mind telling you to hold him to you.

You hear Frankie whine from behind you and you have to suppress the urge to giggle. He’s always liked it when you tug at his hair, and apparently, being in this form leaves no room for exceptions.

Your body goes limp as Frankie backs away from you, making it easy for him to nudge you to prop you up where he wants you. Hands and knees, of course. He wastes no time in getting into position behind you, crowding you in with his massive form.

The tip of his cock feels massive against your swollen cunt, but it only takes a few swipes of the beast’s hips before he is notched into your entrance. With one more thrust, he’s pushing in all the way, making you scream as your pussy stretches to accommodate his girth.

Frankie lets out a series of whimpers as he starts a brutal pace, not giving you a second to adjust. Your hands come up to grasp above his paws, which are positioned on either side of your head, and then up a little.

“F-Frankie!” Your moan comes out more like a screech, the pain quickly turning into a sick pleasure as he rips you open on his cock. Each time he thrusts, it’s accompanied by a puff of breath which fans out across your cheek.

The sound of his whines and ragged breathing mix with the squelching noises coming from your cunt and the panting coming from your lips, everything combined making the filthiest symphony you’ve ever heard.

Your second orgasm starts to build rapidly, your cunt beginning to flutter around Frankie’s unforgiving length. With each punch, the tip of his cock touches something heavenly within you, making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

You’re pretty sure you’re drooling, but you find that every limb has turned to jelly, preventing you from bringing your hand up to check. If not for the monster above you impaling you on his length, you would likely be flat on the forest floor right now.

Every thought that had previously occupied your mind is forced out of you as Frankie effortlessly pries another orgasm from you. He doesn’t slow or pause as you squeeze around his cock like a vice. If anything, it only spurs him on and gets him going faster, if that's even possible.

With each slam of his hips, you feel your body being sent forward, only stabilized by your palms, which are somehow still firmly planted on the ground.

‘Oh god, Frankie,” your voice sounds hazy to your own ears. “F-feels so fucking good, Francisco.”

You hear him grunt at the sound of his full name, something you usually only call him in bed—or in this case, in the middle of nowhere.

It does feel good, his cock feels absolutely massive. You know that it is definitely bigger than when he’s in his human form—the size of which should be considered supernatural in it’s own way. Right now, though, he feels bigger than ever, thicker, longer. The only thought occupying your mind at the moment is how badly you want to suck his cock.

How the fuck does this man fuck you so good to the point where you fantasize about giving him a blowjob while he’s already inside of you? Next time, you’ll have to get his dick in your mouth before he shoves it into your cunt.

Your eyes droop as your second orgasm morphs into a third, your body growing weaker with each movement from Frankie. You ignore the shaking to spread your legs wider to allow him better access, which results in him getting to a deeper spot with the new angle.

Your mouth drops open as you begin to come again, a silent scream getting stuck in your throat. This time, as you constrict around his monstrous cock, you can feel his hips stutter. He’s getting close, which is probably a good thing considering you’re about to pass out from both pleasure and exhaustion.

“C-come on, Frankie, f-fill me up,” you command through moans. It very obviously eggs him on because before you know it, he’s stilling inside of you, howling into the trees, and blowing his massive load deep into your core.

The feeling of his cum painting your walls is fucking heavenly. Spurt after spurt of his warm seed fills you to the brim until it eventually starts to seep out around the base of his cock. If you thought you had felt full before, that was nothing compared to now.

Frankie gives you a few minutes to calm down before he starts to lower himself to the ground, laying on his side and tugging you with him. Your body and mind are equally compliant with his request.

As your eyes shut once again, you can feel Frankie starting to shift behind you, probably making his transformation back to his human form. Try as you might, you know you won’t have enough energy to wait for him to be done, so you make the most of it and snuggle into his soft fur. You know that you’ll wake up safe and sound in your bed, tangled with your kind, attentive, and very much human boyfriend.

#pedro pascal #fan fiction #ao3 #smut #pedro pascal smut #frankie morales #triple frontier #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #werewolf #werewolf smut #halloween #happy halloween #one shot #pwp

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selunesdreams · 5 months ago

Text

Eating Crow Chapter 1: The Little Flame of Treviso

“No scars. A talented assassin.” He observed, fixing the cuffs of his shirt. She pulled down the collar of her jacket, revealing gashes along the side of her throat. He let his eyes linger curiously. “My second most valuable asset is my face. I protect it.” "What other scars does she have? What other scars could we give her?” “Hmm.” He ignored Spite’s lust for violence - or maybe it was just plain lust. “What’s your first?” “My aim.”

Pairing: Lucanis x Fem Rook/OFC x sometimes Spite??

Summary: Born to renowned assassins and raised in the heart of Treviso, Fiamma De Riva hasn’t known home in a very long time. Orphaned, she was taken under the wing of her cousin, Viago, and quickly ascended through the ranks of the Antivan Crows.

After being sidelined for a well-meaning mistake, she abandoned the life she once knew to pursue the Dread Wolf alongside Varric, the only person left who still believed in her.

Now living under the alias “Rook,” Fiamma is rallying forces against elven gods. But when she must return to those she once called family for aid, she’s tasked with rescuing the Demon of Vyrantium, Lucanis Dellamorte, who might force her to reckon with the legacy she’s abandoned… and bring her dangerously close to the edge

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: Welcome to my Lucanis fic! Mind the tags, grab a cup of coffee, and get cozy. If you're new to my fics, I LOVE lore. I usually get wrapped in dnd lore, but have been a Dragon Age fan for 13 years or something like that (that's terrifying to read back to myself) and you know...lore comes with the territory. I might get a few things wrong, feel free to (kindly) let me know. This is an 18+ fic, MDNI!

Things of note: Rook is Fem, human, mage, Antivan Crow. I like writing storylines and tension, but there will be smut! I don't know how the tags/warnings will evolve, but it's reasonable to expect some messy Spite consent stuff? Please read on AO3 if you need to track warnings, they will be inevitably detailed better there (or just want to be real sweet and give me hits/kudos/comments).

There will be spoilers! I am starting this right at the Sea of Blood quest where you get Lucanis. I suspect it will take me some time to flesh things out so hopefully that gives you time to finish the game!

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

“You can’t be serious.”

Fiamma De Riva paced Neve Gallus’ office, bright blue wisps parting for her as she changed directions in the small room. The detective had made cozy conditions out of a not-particularly welcoming space. She’d give her that, but the scattered papers and books set her on edge. Perched atop her desk, Neve sat with one leg crossed over the other. Her dwarven-crafted golden prosthetic glinted in the soft light as she bounced her foot in the air impatiently.

“Rook, we’ve all got tough decisions to make. I know a family reunion isn’t the move you were hoping for, but we need an assassin.”

“You have me!”

“We need another assassin. You might be the Little Flame of Treviso, but we need something bigger, we need-”

Fiamma could hear the weariness in Neve’s words as she touched her forehead absentmindedly and winced, forgetting about the nasty cut gracing her forehead.

Fiamma felt a pang of guilt - if she’d told the mage to stay behind, perhaps things would have ended differently. She might not have gotten hurt and Varric…

Varric.

She shook her head, swallowing hard. Varric was going to be fine. Nobody else seemed worried about him. Why should she be?

“You need the Demon of Vyrantium.”

Neve offered a smile, holding out an opened letter. Fiamma took it apprehensively, her fingertips tracing the wings of the Antivan Crows’ seal.

“I’ve already arranged a meeting with his grandmother, First Talon Caterina Dellamorte, and your cousin, Viago.”

With a resigned sigh, she tossed the envelope aside and crossed her arms, averting her gaze. “I hate that you’re right.”

Neve pushed off her desk, squeezing Fiamma’s shoulder on the way out.

“If it’s any consolation, I usually am.”

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

Fiamma arranged for them to meet with a former friend, Teia, in Treviso, prior to meeting with Viago and Caterina. It would soften the blow of returning home to be greeted by a friendlier face first.

“You made it. I hear you go by Rook these days.”

“It’s good to see you. Neve, meet Andarateia of House Cantori.”

“No need to be formal with friends. Teia, please. Come, Viago is gathering the others. He’s happy you’re home.”

“I somehow doubt that.”

“He’s missed you. You broke his heart when you went away.”

“And he broke mine when he had me waiting on Caterina like a handmaid instead of protecting our city.”

Teia sighed, proceeding to lead them through the city.

“When you said the others, did the others include Illario?”

“Oh, please, Fi-Rook. He doesn’t bite.”

“He might as well.”

Fiamma glanced around at their surroundings, the dilapidated buildings, the quiet streets that were once bustling with life, romance, and joy.

“I hate seeing Treviso ground down like this.”

“This occupation will not last. The Antivan Crows remain. And one day, I will see a knife through every would-be tyrant’s throat.”

They took a zipline to the Crows’ headquarters. Fiamma swung from the bars, enjoying the wind on her face as the city skyline swept below her feet. She landed with a cat’s grace, greeted by the familiar thud of cobblestone beneath her boots. She’d never admit it out loud, but she missed this.

“A casino. Nice.” Neve said as they walked across a narrow beam.

“The Cantori Diamond.” Fiamma sneered.

“Watch it.” Teia called back to her.

Vaulted ceilings and plush furniture awaited them in the meeting chamber. Fiamma eyed the empty goblets near one chair, wondering which was full of the diluted poison Viago dosed himself with every day. Paranoid bastard.

“Two years.” Her cousin growled as they entered.

“Nice to see you too, Viago.”

“Did you finish that contract? To stop your Dread Wolf?”

“It wasn’t a formal contract. I left, remember?” Fiamma asked. “When you called me an embarrassment to our house? But since you asked, no, not yet. Things are more complicated.”

“How many times do I have to tell you? Crows always finish the job.”

“We just can’t take initiative, right? My run-in with the Antaam taught me that.” She bit back.

“Don’t let him scold you too much. Vi was worried about you.” Teia interjected to ease the tension.

Viago lowered his head, clearing his throat and kicking at the polished ground under his boots. “Fiammetta-”

“It’s Rook, now.”

From the corner of her eye, she watched as Illario shifted his weight from foot to foot, watching her with a pained expression. She’d deal with that later.

“Rook. You remember Caterina Dellamorte.” Viago said.

“A pleasure.” She gave a slight bow. Despite changing the First Talon’s linens and bringing her breakfast on her balcony, Fiama had acquired a fondness for her.

“Have you finally returned home, Fiamma?” Illario interrupted, and the thin smile Caterina began to offer vanished.

“I’ve come to ask for assistance. My current target is a pair of elven gods - that’s what they call themselves, at least. They’re ancient blighted mages. I need our best. Someone who brought blood mages and Venatori to their knees.”

“My grandson.” Caterina said, her brow furrowing.

“Lucanis Dellamorte is dead.” Viago said, “He was killed a year ago now. If you’d remained home, you’d know-”

“Dead?” Fiamma blinked. She never thought it would be possible for anyone to best the Demon of Vyrantium. Not unless foul play was involved. Despite his occasional smugness, she found no pleasure in the news. Particularly since there wouldn’t be another assassin on offer even half as good as him. Her eyes flicked to Caterina, to offer condolences. The First Talon would never admit to playing favorites, but in the time Fiamma spent in her home, and being courted by her youngest grandson, it was clear Lucanis was who she favored to take her place.

“What I say doesn’t leave this room.” Caterina said, “The body our people brought back was not my grandson. It was dressed in his clothing, but it had been altered with blood magic to have his face.”

“My cousin is still alive?” Illario hissed, “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“His ship was attacked. We knew someone sold him out…so you kept your suspicions to yourself?” Viago was clearly surprised by the news.

“But you’ve brought it up now. Why?” Neve asked.

“I’ve had eyes on the Venatori ever since they took my grandson from me,” Caterina answered. “They were hunting your Dread Wolf. And what you did to his ritual threw them into disarray. They made mistakes, and now I have a location. The Ossuary. Where the Demon of Vyrantium is kept. Find this Ossuary. Find Lucanis, and you’ll have your god-killer. And I’ll have my grandson.”

“Come. Caterina arranged a boat. One of our mages will meet us there.” Illario said, leading them to the docks.

“A boat?” Fiamma asked, following him down the steps.

“Did you think the Venatori would keep a normal prison? Or that one could hold the Demon of Vyrantam? The Ossuary lies beneath the sea. A fact I learned mere minutes ago. Maybe she thought I’d act too rashly trying to save him.” He said bitterly, his eyes meeting hers. “Seems everyone enjoys keeping me in the dark.”

“Illario-”

“I would have words with you upon your return.” He commanded, “Right now, I need to learn whether my cousin is still alive.”

A small boat rocked in the gentle current by the dock, a lantern affixed to its bow. A Crow in a purple hood watched them warily, waiting.

“There, you take the boat.”

“You’re not coming?”

“You play the alluring hero. You’re the one who needs redemption so badly.” Illario was on edge, but there seemed to be more to it than a broken heart and family drama. “Someone has to make sure we weren’t followed.”

As the boat pushed away from the dock, Fiamma watched him disappear into the streets of Treviso. She didn’t miss him. Most times, she didn’t like him. But she knew how he felt about his family, and her heart ached for him, even just a little.

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

By Lucanis Dellamorte’s count, he had been in this underwater prison for a year.

Give or take.

It would be beautiful if he were here for any other reason. When he’d arrived to start the contract assigned to him, the views were breathtaking.

Occasionally, he’d prayed the enchantments keeping the Ossuary in place would fail. That he’d drown and get lost in the fade, or wherever he was bound to go. What would happen to him in death? And Spite, the demon who shared his body and consciousness? They had an agreeable ally ship, if only because they were both imprisoned and stuck with one another against their will.

He’d scratched a mark for each day in his crystalline prison. With no weapons, he used his fingernails, sometimes scraping until he bled to carve a line deep enough. He had to remember. He had to survive.

The days Calivan didn’t send for him, he scratched to the left. The days he was tortured, on the right. Eventually, the right became so crowded, they all blurred together.

A familiar voice caught his attention outside, interrupting his ritual.

“We don’t have to fight. We’re just here for Lucanis Dellamorte.”

“Come to save us?” Spite asked eagerly. “Took them long enough.”

But who was it? Not Caterina. He’d know it was her in an instant. Not Teia…

“Razikale, Dragon of Mystery. Lusacan, Dragon of Night—” As the Ossuary Guard began his incantation, Lucanis sensed Spite’s excitement.

“Hear your faithful call—”

“Now, now!”

With the guard distracted, the defenses of his prison were weak enough that Spite propelled them over the top.

He was flying.

A lifetime of training and muscle memory returned to him instantly. On instinct, he seized the nearest guard from behind, using him as a shield as another advanced on him with a sword, cutting clean through. With a swift, fluid motion, he propelled the lifeless body into his attacker, sending them into the air to be impaled by a nearby crystal stalagmite. With a running charge, he snapped the necks of two advancing guards, stealing one’s sword. His hand closed around the hilt, the cool metal causing him - and Spite - to shiver with anticipation. He turned at the sound of footsteps, slashing the throat of the final Venatori.

“Lucanis.”

He turned slowly to greet his rescuer, the essence of Spite’s wings retreating into his spine.

Fiamma De Riva. Viago’s little cousin. She’d been sentenced to serve as Caterina’s assistant as punishment for foiling a Crow operation. Good intentions aside, she’d acted rashly, and whether she believed it or not, she got off easy.

De Riva had always been pleasant enough. A bit cold towards him, but he didn’t hold it against her. Lucanis could tell her ego was hurt. Even worse, he knew she looked at Caterina’s home, the home he grew up in, and felt he hadn’t earned it. And she’d been right. He’d only earned his place in those halls by birthright, but his place in the Crows…he’d earned through blood and sweat.

But never tears. Caterina had no patience for tears. Poor Illario.

She’d been given the quarters next to his during her assignment. Despite her reputation for being a bit of a spitfire, living up to her namesake of “Little Flame”, she was quiet. Polite. And she treated his grandmother well. Earned her respect - no simple task. She was possibly the only person who Caterina Dellamorte would listen to regarding her health. If little De Riva had tacked a few more years on to his grandmother’s life, she had his gratitude for it.

Oh, how Illario had pined for her. She entertained it for some time, before his spoiled nature got on her nerves. But he fell hard. Once, his cousin drank himself into such a state outside Fiamma’s locked door that he nearly failed to fulfill a shared contact. Lucanis had to slap him awake, then pull him along just so he could do all the heavy lifting.

He’d do it all over just to see his little cousin again.

“Little De Riva? She looks like a grown woman to me.” Spite interjected, making him acutely aware that he was never alone in his thoughts.

“I’m only five years her senior. But five years is a sizeable gap when you’ve known someone since childhood.” Lucanis thought back quickly, dismissing the demon’s observations.

“Dellamorte!” Beside Fiamma, a dwarf woman had her bow pulled tightly, aimed in his direction.

“Rook. He’s possessed by a demon.” She warned.

“Rook?” Lucanis tilted his head curiously.

“It’s complicated.” She blurted. “Caterina promised us a mage killer if we broke you out of here. Can I count on you?”

He nodded. “I can still work.”

“Are you really possessed?”

“It’s complicated.” He said, glancing around the room. “I will help you, but I need something from you first. They have a vial of my blood. They can use it to control me. I cannot leave it in their hands. And…I had a contract when I was captured. One of my targets is here. Calivan.”

“Blood magic.” She scowled. “Come on. He’s good to go, Harding.”

“Forget the contract. We need to get out of here!” Harding said, her arrow still pointed at the center of his chest.

“Crows don’t break contracts.” He and De Riva said in unison.

Harding sighed and lowered her bow. “Alright, let’s make this quick.”

“I’ll owe you.” Lucanis said as they exited the chamber.

“I’m sure we’ll owe each other when this is all over.” Rook countered.

“Yes. I’d like to be owed a favor by the Little Flame.” Spite growled with delight.

De Riva was an impressive assassin, he thought to himself, as they fought their way through Venatori. He hadn’t seen her fight often, but it was evident she wasn’t out of practice. She’d left Treviso shortly before he’d been captured, where he wasn’t sure, but it was encouraging to see a Crow refuse to give up her work. It was good work.

“I found it!” Rook’s voice broke him from his thoughts. She held the flask of his blood in the air and his stomach clenched. She was a mage, after all, and with his blood in her hands-

“Destroy it!” He and Spite snarled at the same time. She hesitated, staring at the vial in her palm.

“Can I trust you? Can you promise me I don’t need to stow this for safekeeping?”

“Not hers!” Spite screamed in his head. “Stop her! Throttle her until she-”

“You can trust me,” Lucanis said evenly.

Rook’s eyes narrowed. “I hope you’re right.”

She threw the vial to the ground, and with a flick of her wrist, ignited the remnants of his blood in flame.

“Thank you.” He said,

“Don’t mention it. Let’s go kill your target.”

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

Caterina was nowhere in sight when Lucanis returned to Treviso.

“Maker…” Teia breathed as he and Rook entered.

“What happened here?” Lucanis demanded.

Illario slammed his fist on the table. “A message. From Zara Renata.”

Spite raged in his skull, so loudly that he didn’t notice Illario approaching.

“I can’t believe it. You’re home.” He said, grasping Lucanis’ thumb and wrapping his fingers around it in a typical Crow handshake.

“Zara…her people got this close?” Lucanis asked, letting his arm fall to his side as he paced, assessing the room.

“The woman who runs the prison?” Rook asked.

“The woman who captured me.” Lucanis glanced towards the door. “Where’s Caterina?”

Teia lowered her head and stifled a sob, Viago coming behind her and placing his hand on her shoulder. Something always existed between them, but Lucanis wasn’t sure if they’d acted on it yet.

“The Venatori got her in the confusion.” Viago said.

“I get two of you back, just to lose the other.” Illario lamented.

“Lucanis…I’m so sorry.” Neve said from behind Rook.

“No…time…to…grieve!”

Lucanis ignored Spite.

“I need to work.”

“You should take some time-” Neve began, holding out her hand.

“He doesn’t need time.” Rook interjected, stepping forward and holding his gaze. “He needs a target.”

Spite’s responding arousal was palpable.

“I like her.”

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

Lucanis braced one arm on the weathered mantelpiece, staring into the flames as they crackled on the hearth. He was in the fade. Or something like that. The Lighthouse, Rook had called it. And what a strange place it was. Fiamma - Rook now, as she asked him to address her - had another companion, Bellara, who had been thinking out loud since his arrival.

“-they’re the same thing. Mostly. Kind of,” she said to Neve from the table.

“Except one will manipulate you. Or kill you. Or both.” Neve replied.

The doors to the kitchen opened.

“What’s everyone talking about?” Rook asked.

Lucanis turned away from the hearth.

“Spite.”

“The demon inside of Lucanis.” Neve clarified. “When a person gets possessed, the demon usually takes control.”

“And they turn into a monster. The spirit just…molds them. However they want.” Bellara added.

Neve’s mouth formed a line. “I’ve heard of abominations being cured by killing the demon in the Fade. That’s not a sure bet, though.”

“Well, there’s one way…” Bellara said, staring at her hands, “but it’s…well…we’d have to, um…”

“You’d have to kill me,” Lucanis finished.

The room seemed to hold its breath.

“We’ll find another way.” Rook said. She didn’t seem impassioned about the statement, but it was comforting she wanted him alive. Behind her, Spite admired her with a sinister smile.

“She won’t hurt you. How sweet.”

Get away from her. Lucanis commanded.

The demon leapt back next to the fireplace, crouching, and Lucanis turned his head to ignore him.

“I want to talk to her.”

The others continued their conversation, but he couldn’t hear anything over Spite’s impatience.

“Let me talk to them! I want. To talk. To ROOK!”

“ROOK!”

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, Spite channeling all of his energy into the equivalent of a punch to the face. Lucanis pinched his nose, feeling the blood pool between his thumb and forefinger, with a stifled gasp of pain.

Bellara shot up from her seat, mouth agape.

“Lucanis!”

He held out his hand in protest, his voice calm, summoning years of training to keep himself from trembling. “No. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“What just happened?” Rook asked.

“He’s throwing a tantrum because he didn’t get his way. He’d do this in the Ossuary. The Fade does whatever a spirit wants. Real walls with chains, not so much. Just…give me a minute. He’ll get bored once everyone leaves.”

Rook lingered, hands on a chair back, as the others left, eyeing him warily.

“You’re still here.” Lucanis said.

“Having an abomination in the Lighthouse makes me nervous.” She finally said after several beats of silence.

He bristled. “Well, being an abomination makes me nervous, too.”

He held up a hand to silence her, walking around the table until he was only a sword’s length from her, studying her face. He couldn’t fault Illario for being heartbroken. She was stunning. How many times had she used her looks to her advantage? Was she like Teia, killing only men who deserved it by luring them to their deaths, like a Siren at sea? Or did she use the advantage of her beauty to kill more than just politicians and rapists?

“No scars. A talented assassin.” He said, fixing the cuffs of his shirt.

She pulled down the collar of her jacket, revealing gashes along the side of her throat. He let his eyes linger curiously.

“My second most valuable asset is my face. I protect it.”

“What other scars does she have? What other scars could we give her?”

“Hmm.” He ignored Spite’s lust for violence - or maybe it was just plain lust - and took a few steps back, dragging his finger along the wood of the dinner table.

“What’s your first?”

She turned to depart, the heels of her boots clicking on the stone floor as she strode towards the doors, throwing them open. She grinned over her shoulder back at him, showing him just how charming she could be.

“My aim.”

#lucanis dellamorte #spite being a little shit #lucanis x rook #lucanis fanfic #dragon age lucanis #da4 lucanis #lucanis romance #lucanis fic #dragon age the veilguard #dragon age fanfiction #veilguard fic #dragon age veilguard #spite dragon age #rook x lucanis #da4 #lucanis #lucanis fanfiction #eating crow

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v-writes · 4 days ago

Text

Living for Lunch

Phic Phight 2025

Prompt: Danny wakes up in middle of the night and turns on the TV. When did Lunch Lady get her own cooking show? by @miss-nov

Word Count: 2979

Read on Ao3

"Might I ask about the oatmeal dearie?"

The Lunch Lady's voice rings from the TV, freezing Danny on the couch, midnight snack and glad of water instantly forgotten.

"Oh yes, well, the meatloaf needs a binding ele- oh you mean why oatmeal and not breadcrumbs?"

The Lunch Lady nods sweetly, and the- guest? Contestant? Danny had missed the introduction when he turned on the TV responds, "it's just what my mom always used growing up," she starts nervously excited, but levels out as she measures out two cups of oatmeal into the casserole dish, as she straightens Danny sees a name tag that reads 'Connie' and 'she/her', "I know breadcrumbs are more common now, but I never really questioned it as a kid. And now oatmeal is just nostalgic in a way that breadcrumbs aren't. Plus I'll use oats for breakfast more often than I'll bread things, so it's not worth it to buy breadcrumbs for me."

"I can certainly respect sticking to tradition. If you did want to experiment but didn't want to buy a container of breadcrumbs that you won't finish, might I suggest saving and freezing the ends of loafs of breads? So many people dislike the ends but they can be used in all sorts of things outside of sandwiches."

"Oh like you do for stuffing? I guess I could, and I have bread like that in the deep freeze in the garage, but for the meatloaf…"

"But for the meatloaf that wouldn't be your mother's recipe, I understand. What are we adding after the oats?"

"Oh well I've got the vegetables pre chopped here, but at it's base it's two cups of celery and two cups of carrots, but you can add things to taste, and this is the main thing I change from how my mom made it."

"Change?"

Danny tenses at the Lunch Lady's tone, has to remind himself this isn't a live broadcast and they probably wouldn't be playing it if anything had gone wrong.

"Well yeah, my Mom was cooking for a gaggle of picky kids, but I'm just cooking for me and my friends. I don't need to chop the veggies fine enough to hide them like she did, and I like vegetables. So we've got the classic carrots and celery, plus jalapenos for some kick and then onions. So technically we're using the two cups of celery and carrots each that the recipe says, and a cup of each of jalapenos and onions."

"What type of onion?"

"I well, I typically just grab red, but uh, does it matter?"

The Lunch Lady smiles softly as she answers, "for a meatloaf or any roasted meat I would choose a yellow onion first, but it's all to personal taste, I wouldn't consider any onion you prefer to be the wrong choice, especially not when showing off a sentimental recipe. Red onions are typically considered the best choice for burgers or any instance of eating them raw, and they work great as a pop of color in a salsa or guacamole."

"Oh if they're the best raw that's probably why I grab them, my mom loved just cutting up onion and bell peppers as a snack so it was just what I thought of first as an onion choice."

"That's very sweet. For those watching at home other vegetables to add could be mushrooms or bell peppers, potatoes can also works as a secondary binding agent. Some prefer to cook the vegetables first, but we're leaving them raw today. Meatloaves are a very forgiving dish, so feel free to experiment, but I do recommend keeping at least the base of carrots and celery, it's not a hamburger patty, and it will benefit from the variety of texture and they'll add to a richer more complex flavor for the meatloaf."

Connie mumbles something unintelligible as she grabs something from the fridge.

"Hmm?" Lunch Lady prompts politely. Politely?

"Oh I was saying, well it's kind of mean but she doesn't live in Amity anyway, so she won't see this, that's only true if you want a good meatloaf. I attended a dinner party at a friend's once and I swear the meatloaf was only ground beef and ketchup."

"What."

"Maybe some salt and pepper."

"What. What did they use as a binding agent?"

"As far as I can tell? Hopes and Prayers."

Lunch Lady twitches where she floats, bringing her hands together in a prayer motion she asks, "surely, there were breadcrumbs at least."

Connie shakes her head. "The prayers went unanswered. And I offered to host after that."

Lunch Lady freezes for a long moment.

"What do we add after the veggies?"

"Three eggs, and then the sauce."

"The sauce?"

"Yeah I save the ketchup and salsa for last since I'm typically using just one cup measure to save on dishes, so the wet ingredients after the dry ones, my Mom's recipe written down says three cups ketchup and a half cup salsa, but-"

"But you said in your email" the Lunch Lady has a fucking email? Danny feels his worldview shift around him as he fumbles for his phone in his pajama bottoms, "that you were doing a spicier take on the recipe! When cooking for a larger group you often have to take precautions in the seasoning department, avoiding allergies and anything too extreme, but I am always thrilled to see the directions people will go when cooking for themselves."

Tucker answers loyally, if blearily, after the third ring, "M here, where's the fire?"

"Turn your tv to the mom channel now. Not the Hallmark one the local reality tv one." Danny replies.

"Bro, what? It's almost two in the morning, what is-"

"Now Tucker! And get Sam on the line and tuned to the channel ASAP!"

Tucker grumbles as whoever the fuck this Connie person is continues teaching the Lunch Lady her mom's meatloaf recipe, she explains using three cups of salsa and one to one and a half cups of ketchup, something about adding more liquid since she added more vegetables, and her preferred salsa comes in 3 cups so she just uses the whole jar.

"Ok, mom channel but not hallmark, uh, what is this a cooking show?"

"Yes! The cooking show! Look at the host!"

"Dude. What the fuck." Tucker sounds fully awake at last. "That's a lot of vegetables for a meatloaf."

"That's what you're worried about?"

"Am I needed for medical attention or fight backup?"

"What? No-"

"Then let me wake up at my own speed dude-"

Sam's voice rings over the call a moment after a click indicating her connection. "What the fuck is the Lunch Lady doing on a cooking show?"

"Thank you! I don't know, I was having trouble going back to sleep after the last ghost fight, i turned on the tv while getting water and a snack and then the world stopped making sense!"

"At least the guest is adding a good amount vegetables, I wouldn't touch a meatloaf regardless but a meatloaf needs stuff like carrots to retain moisture and not dry out."

"Sam you are insane-"

Danny tunes the two of them out, tuning back into Connie talking about how growing up ideally it would be half venison and half ground beef, but without someone in the family who hunts she sticks with three pounds of ground beef.

"And do you have a preference for the fat to lean ratio of the ground beef?"

"I normally get ground chuck, so 80% lean 20% fat, but I don't think I can actually tell the difference."

Tucker cuts off his rant on the virtues of meat to snap at his tv, "oh there is absolutely a difference, how did you get on a cooking show?"

"By emailing in an idea, apparently." Sam responds cooly.

"Excuse me?"

"Yeah it says to email in episode ideas on the Instagram page."

"Instagram?"

Connie and Lunch Lady have moved on to mixing in spices as you mix the meatloaf, more effective if you just wash your hands and knead it directly on the dish rather than try and use a spatula and mixing bowl. "My mom just did a teaspoon of onion powder, garlic, and seasoned salt, but I like to add chili powder, paprika, and cayenne powder."

"Yup." Sam pops the 'p' as she answers, "it's the same as the show title but without the spaces, 'living for lunch'. Oh that's a cute logo, it's like if 'dying' was originally written but then crossed out with 'living' tacked on. It seems to be some local deal about highlighting family or sentimental recipes. Explains the kitchen too."

"The kitchen?" Danny asks.

"Danny, dude that is not a professional set. Like sure it's been cleaned well enough, but there are magnet notes on the fridge and just a weird setup for a kitchen designed for a cooking show."

"Tucker?"

"What you think you can get to be a meat connoisseur like me without being well informed? I know my way around a kitchen and a cooking show."

"It honestly hadn't occurred to me Tuck."

"Damn." Sam cuts in. "She's got more followers than Phantom does."

"What?" Danny can't believe this is where the insult creeps in, but here he is, sleep deprived, thirsty, and bruised, and he's wondering over the follower count. "How does she have more followers than me?"

"Excuse you, you mean more followers than me," Tucker intervenes, "you lost the rights to Phantom's account after you mixed up your hero and civilian accounts."

"Dude that was one time-"

"You're lucky I caught it first!"

"I am! And thank you for managing it, but I can be trusted with it."

"Hmmmm. Maybe you're right. Sam. Thoughts?"

"Fuck no."

"You heard the lady. No instagram for Phantom."

Connie rinses her hands after evenly mixing the meatloaf into an even spread in the casserole dish. "Now before we put this into the oven-"

"which if you were following along at the beginning should be preheated to 350 degrees Fahrenheit."

"Right, in college I would do 355 but ovens just kinda vary, and Meatloaf cooks slow, start at 90 minutes and go from there."

"Oh I'm sorry dearie, I cut you off on the final step before the oven."

"Right. The secret ingredient to an excellent meatloaf, we are going to drizzle the top with both ketchup and honey."

"Honey?"

"Yes! Ideally a local variety, this may be an old wives tale, but I've found it works. Eating local honey can help with pollen allergies since it is made with the local pollen. If you don't care about local vs generic it doesn't matter that much but I've been buying local from the same farmer's market stall for years, and they knew my mom before me, so it's also just…"

"Tradition?"

"Oh my god." Tucker mutters.

"Hmmm." Sam notes, "I can certainly respect buying local over the big brand names-"

Sounding horrified Tucker continues, "I think my mom watches Lunch Lady's cooking show. Honey?"

"Yes!" Connie's excitement bulldozes over Tucker's realization. "And it's just good for tying the whole thing together, I mean sweet and savory, and then sweet and spicy are common flavor combinations, it's a good complement for the rest of the dish!"

Lunch Lady smiles brightly, "I can't wait to try it."

A cutesy animation of a tin lunchbox spinning into frame fills the screen, it opens to anthropomorphic for running out of the box.

When the cartoon food have fled the screen the Lunch Lady and Connie are sitting around a kitchen table, two servings of meatloaf on plates in front of them with the serving dish in the center of the table and a binder between the two women.

"Tell me more about why you chose this recipe for the show, dearie?"

"Well it's a go to dish for me, for a lot of reasons, there's the classic meatloaf strengths, it makes large portions, it's a well rounded meal, it freezes well, and it's really easy to make. I mean it's basically just measure, mix, bake. I'm not a professional chef like you," Lunch Lady preens under the praise as Connie continues, "but you don't need to be to be able to eat well."

"Very true!" Lunch Lady opens the binder, camera cutting to show the handwritten recipe, "but that's true of any meatloaf. Why is this meatloaf special?"

The camera cuts back to Connie, smiling softly. "Because every time I make it I think of my mom, and even though I've changed it, it's still hers in my heart."

"I'm sure she is proud to know you love her cooking so much to want to share it."

Connie flinches, looking away, Lunch Lady's eyes widen in understanding. Taking Connie's hand in hers she says, "I'm so sorry. Was it recent?"

"Kinda," Connie's voice is weak, but steady, "there was a car accident, almost two years, I, enough time has passed that I thought I'd be able to handle talking about her recipes without, well" she gestures at herself blinking back tears, "but it still feels so fresh. You're, you're a ghost, would you be able to find her?"

Danny tenses, secondhand uneasiness rising in him at the question he dreads the most from Amity residents.

"Oh dear, it's not that simple, not everyone becomes a ghost, and even if she did the Infinite Realms are impossible to search fully."

"But if she's there? If I could find her?"

"And if she were like me, and changed in death?"

"Changed?"

"Dearie, I don't even remember my name. I remember some things I cared about, know I worked at Casper High and designed the menu. But I look at my name credited with that in ledger and records and I feel nothing. If your mother were in the Ghost Zone I'm sure she would have tried to come to you once the portal opened, even if I or anyone else could track her down, do you think the woman who taught you this recipe would thank me for introducing you to someone who didn't look for you?"

"I just, I miss her so much, I-" Connie is suddenly much closer to tears than she was moments ago.

"Shh, I know dear. I know. Eat the meatloaf."

"What?"

"Eat the meatloaf!"

"Ah, okay!" Connie shoves a rushed bite into her mouth.

"Slow down dearie. Have some more."

Connie obeys at a less frazzled pace, staring at her plate with still wet eyes.

Lunch Lady leans forward, placing a hand on Connie's shoulder.

"And now she is here, isn't she?" Connie startles, looking sharply to Lunch Lady as she continues, "those we love never truly leave us, and food is such a lovely way to remember and honor them. She is with you every time you cook for her like this, and now" she nods towards the camera, "viewers at home can honor her as well."

Connie smiles, pulling Lunch Lady into a hug, "thank you."

Lunch Lady rubs Connie's back, "thank you. If you're not up to sharing your Grandfather's cookie recipe as well we can reschedule that."

Connie pulls back, wiping her eyes with a towel someone hands her from off screen. "No I'd like to continue. Besides it'll be familiar to people, it's basically the toll house recipe from the back of the bag, but he modified it enough to be distinct, and I want to share it."

Another transition sequence takes the show back to the counter.

"So what are we going to do about Lunch Lady?" Tucker asked as Connie begins telling a story of baking with her grandfather as a child.

What should be done about it, Danny thought.

And he had only one answer for that

~~~

Paulina cuts Stars story off the moment she sees the notification that Phantom has posted something, pulling

Opening the ghost boy's feed she watches the video he uploaded with rapt attention.

The video opens to a digital timer counting down, once zero is hit the camera pans out, showing an oven, is that Casper High's home ec classroom? Phantom comes into frame, opening the oven he presents the baking sheet of cookies to the camera with a flourish.

The camera cuts to Phantom placing the cookies onto a cooling rack full of chocolate chip cookies. He takes a cookie from the pile nodding to himself as he takes a bite.

"You know, Connie, I was a little skeptical at first when you mentioned coffee creamer in the recipe, but you've convinced me. They're really soft and moist, thank you for sharing your grandfather's recipe." Phantom's smile dazzles the camera and the two girls watching.

Star clutches at Paulina's arm, "Paulina-"

"Shhh. Talk after the video."

"He bakes, Paulina." Paulina's heart swoops, what can't the ghost boy do?

"And thank you Lunch Lady, for hosting the recipe on your show, these definitely would not have turned out as good as they have without your tips and instruction. I've linked the relevant episode and 'Living for Lunch' in the description, you all should definitely check her out!" Phantom begins loading the cookies into a picnic basket, "but in the meantime, I'm going to clean up here, then fly around Amity. If you have watched Connie's ep then you'll know this recipe makes a lot of cookies. So I thought it would be a neat idea to share with everyone, if you see me around town, wave me over and you can have a cookie, the recipe and ingredients list are linked with Connie's episode. Stay safe everyone, and 'happy cookie baking and eating'"

The video ends.

Star and Paulina look to each other.

"He bakes"

"Star." Paulina's voice is intense as she grabs her friend by the shoulders. "Ping everyone in the Phantom sighting tracker. I need one of those cookies."

#phic phight 2025 #danny phantom #lunch lady #living for lunch

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