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easy-there-leftovers · 1 year

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I See You, Darling (4)

[Astarion x reader] A little longer than usual, I hope that’s fine for all of you :,DDD I didn't want to cram too much into the post though, so the segment at the end might be continued in full detail, or maybe not! Let's see.|Word count: 2.9k.|

Content Warnings: Mentions of cooking, handling knives, blood, allusions to sex, a few ooc characters, reader being a dumbass and wahtnot.

Part 3 here!!

Masterlist here!!

A party is being held at the camp in the heroes’ honor, which greets you with a lively crowd that you’ll hopefully meet again soon. And with a gathering this large, you’re bound to garner attention. But with a constitution as poor as yours from the night before, a round of drinks is the last thing you want.

Alternatively: A bloodless human tries to balance respectfully participating in a drinking party, while also not drinking at all.

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The sun rises, the warmth of its rays gently waking you in the absence of the campfire’s flames. The soft chirping of the birds greet you a good morning as your eyes slowly open, ready to greet the day as a new opportunity arises.

Is what would have happened in a more idyllic scenario. Instead, you bolt awake with a pounding headache, worse than any hangover could possibly feel like, and quickly rush to get up. By the sheer brightness of the light that burns your newly opened corneas, it is far later than when you usually wake. And breakfast still hasn’t been made.

“Well, good morning sleepy head.” One of your companions, Gale, says as he fixes his belongings. Readying himself for the skirmish that was about to take hold later on in the day.

“I’m very sorry for waking up late. It won’t happen again.” You bow your head low for a moment before he waves you off.

“Oh come now, we all have our off days. Besides, I think the rest would agree with me when I say what you made for us last night was more than enough to last us ‘til morning.” His statement is punctuated by the lively sounds of the others training. Ready and well rested for whatever may come.

You look around. None have seemed to mind your temporary absence, so you endeavor to double check with everyone leaving and ensure that they had a sound strategy with the necessary materials and weapons should there be a need for failsafes. You remind them of certain notes that some of them have informed you about but failed to share with the rest of the group.

‘While goblins typically go down faster than other opponents, they have no sense of honor nor pride which gives way for them the opportunity to use more underhanded tactics. But they also aren’t very bright, so you can convince the others to let them infiltrate the camp and eradicate them from the inside out.’

As the rest disperse, finalize their plans and check their supplies, your favorite character approaches you much like he usually does every morning. Only this time, you see that he looks very pleased. A more vibrant spark in his eyes as he opens his mouth to speak.

“Thank goodness you’ve finally woken up.” He looks at you, in the same way an old friend of yours would when they’re seconds away from telling a joke.

The look fades soon enough though as he breathes out. You wonder if it’s because the joke isn't funny anymore, or if he never had a punchline to begin with.

“You looked a little ill last night, but you’ve certainly recovered.” Recovered isn’t the word you would use to describe your current state of feeling almost half dead, but you don’t bother correcting the details.

“And you look particularly vibrant today, Astarion.” The itch of your neck intensifies as you return a pointed look at him as he frowns.

“Oh, of course! Now, don’t be so upset. I will admit that I got a little carried away, I apologize.” He pauses. The frown remains on his face for a while before it is erased with his usual expression of confidence.

“But let’s not fall out over this.” He moves to stand closer to you, taking your hand to his as he nears it to his lips as he continues.

“We need each other.”

And whether its done purposefully or not, you see his fangs peek out from his mouth and a shiver courses through your body.

You slip your hand out of his own in a panic and interject.

“I know that much already, and I trust you not to let what happened last night happen again. I also apologize for not noticing sooner and dealing with the situation better.” You hold your head down a bit to apologize but quickly meet his gaze gain. “But I do need to know what we’ll have to feed you from now on.”

The look of confusion, and perhaps even shock that was once swimming in his eyes dissipates before you can notice them when he swears upon his resolve. “No innocents, you have my word. After all, you know what I am now. I can fight with all my weapons–” He grins, allowing you a clearer view than what you had earlier. “Teeth included.”

“And if I happen to drain the occasional bandit during a fight, what's the harm? They’re just as dead.” He makes a very compelling argument, at least to your standards.

You sigh, satisfied for now. You’re confident that none of your party members would end up at the mercy of his fangs, and you’re more than sure they would be able to overpower him more than your attempts did. But the same sentiment cannot be shared for possibly important, plot driving, characters that you might meet later on.

So you propose something to strengthen your trust that the unlikely will stay the unlikely.

“Look, I’m–” You breathe in, almost as if you're trying to suck back whatever courage washed over you back in as you steeled yourself for what you were about to say next.

“I’m not against you feeding from me, but!” You punctuate the last syllable as you see his grin growing wider. “We need to discuss things beforehand. No prowling over me while waiting for me to wake up or to sink your teeth into.”

The proposal greatly delights him, as is evident in his response. “Of course! That sounds eminently reasonable. I shall wait patiently until you suggest we… dine together. But until then: no more late-night surprises. You have my word on that.”

After that, he makes a joke about feeling ‘peckish already,’ and quickly gathers the rest of the party to leave on their adventure.

You promise them a feast when they came back as the victors that they are. What you forgot, after what felt like weeks in the real world, was the crowd that would come filtering in to celebrate their heroes’ achievements as well.

————————————

When you saw the tieflings from the grove traveling alongside your companions, you knew they had come to celebrate. And you blanched at the thought of the provisions they’d be seeking to pair with their drinking. It’s been so long since you went through this event, and you no longer recall if they even ate anything during the party.

You look at your bubbling cauldron–– a bigger one as you had anticipated a few acquaintances accompanying them–– but you wager that at least a little extra things to nibble on won’t hurt to have. You still have quite the amount of camp supplies in the trunk, but you keep it reserved for the camp’s use only. So you smile at your returning comrades and alert the others that stayed behind for your reason to leave and that they can begin eating dinner.

While others told you it wasn’t necessary, the rest just nodded with a smile and yelled that they’d wait for you to return. You return quite too quickly though, all the while informing them why you’re keeping the communal chest in your tent as you spy the child that tried to steal and swindle the group a few days prior approaching with the rest.

They have a laugh and you quickly proceed with your plan to find at least a few consumable berries and nuts or seeds to accompany the drinks later on.

But foraging for said consumables near dark is a choice not for the faint-hearted. You came to realize this when you heard the low grumble of a large animal, thankfully far from your form. You turn to look behind you, taking great care to do so as slowly as possible so as to not alert the mysterious creature.

In the clearing, you spot a rather dark looking bear and you feel a cold sweat begin to form on your temple. Hands, growing wet in the dangerous situation you’ve placed yourself in. This wasn’t the same as being drained to death by a vampire, that, you could at least reason with. But a wild animal? With your lack of magical prowess and lesser knowledge of connecting with nature and the wild, you would be finished if it were to follow you.

The small pouch of nuts and wild berries stayed holstered on your waist, but the bear’s eyes that were previously low on the ground are now trained on you. Almost as if it were caught doing something it wasn’t supposed to be.

You freeze. You forgot what the basic policy was around brown or black bears and therefore couldn’t do much about your current predicament. There shouldn’t be a bear around this area, not unless they had traveled from far away, or that this bear was one of your future companions.

And while the latter isn’t impossible, you most certainly did not want to gamble your life on a possibility. So you tried to compose yourself, returned the gaze of the bear with a shaky and careful nod, and turned back to return to camp. Figuring that the amount of tidbits you gathered would have to suffice.

When you return, the company you shared seems to be in high spirits. Some more than others. But conversation was plentiful and you smiled as the tieflings cheered for your comrades. You quickly got to work and began to chop the nuts into thinner pieces. Something you learned to make the appearance of something look more abundant than it really is.

While you were chopping away unfortunately, you nick your finger along the way and silently curse. Unfortunate, but not an unforeseeable outcome given the booming drums of the bard that plays oh so nicely with your bloodless state. You quickly, but neatly, arrange the provisions on two small platters, and position them near the larger gatherings.

“Flitting around like a hummingbird as always, I see.” A familiar, but not immediately recognizable voice greets you as you pass them. You turn and you see an unexpected acquaintance with a bottle in their hand and an incredibly charming grin.

“Dammon! How lucky of me to run into you.” You genuinely were elated to see him. You didn’t see much of him later on in the game, and being able to interact with him beyond the opportunities given to you was certainly nice.

“I could say the same. Though you’re as lively as you usually are.” There’s no malice in his tone, only an innocent observation, yet you feel embarrassed to have been seen scuttling about like a bug.

“I– promise I’m more organized. I just didn’t expect us to be having any guests.” He takes notice of how you push your fingers into your palms repetitively, a small action that soothes you.

“I think you’ve done more than a fine job already. The celebration is for you all, and it was us who planned to come and might’ve put your friends on the spot.” He later takes notice of the cut on your finger as well.

“Speaking of,” He gingerly grasps your hand, looking to you for permission, but you’re too confused to respond with anything he can understand. “Shouldn’t you be taking it easy for the night? You’ve done enough. And if what happened at the grove tells me anything about you, I’m sure they’ll survive even if you settle. Just for a bit.”

He leads you nearer to the water and produces a small washcloth to clean a bit of your finger as you respond. “The grove? They did that on their own. I just um, take notes.” You sit on a fallen tree, your head still fuzzy, as you observe his crouched form. Inspecting the cut as he cleans it.

A curious interaction. Not one that you’d expect from an non-romanceable NPC, but an interesting one nonetheless. And it would seem that someone had found it equally as interesting, if the way he scrutinizes you had anything to do about it.

He chuckles in turn. “If modesty is how you like to live, then I won’t impose.” He smiles and gets up as you continue your conversation. You don’t recall if the tiefling has ever had this much screen time, but his voice is rather lovely so you don’t complain about it.

You end up discussing quite a bit, but you focus on what can be done about your party. Specifically Karlach as you worry for the future and you’d like to have answers for her when he isn’t around during your journey. He doesn’t have much idea of what else can be done, but he does mention that he should have something by the time you meet him again in Baldur’s Gate.

You do remember that you might meet him a lot sooner, but you don’t mention it explicitly. You do, however, advise him to be extra careful around the oxen as they can be rather unpredictable this time of year.

As you continue, you notice his eyes flit up every now and then. Like something was catching his attention ever so often. You ask him about it and he actually laughs at your genuine inquiry. “It looks like I was wrong. Your friend there looks like he’d like his turn for your company.”

You turn around and you don’t immediately eye anyone looking in your direction. You were never the subtle type, so you looked around, blatantly searching for someone. It was a bit odd to see.

Your eyes do eventually train on his, but he doesn’t necessarily look like he wants to talk to you. Sure, he’s scowling away, though that’s not out of the ordinary at all. Besides, he has a bottle of something that you hope is helping him relax.

Still, perhaps Dammon saw something you didn’t so you politely thank him for his company and excuse yourself.

You greet the others that regard you as you walk past them. Declining the offers to drink and excusing yourself politely when you were asked to stay a bit.

As you approach him, a tiefling tries to strike up a conversation with him. With a bored look, he dismisses them and turns to look at you. He takes a sip, sneers, and begins his rant now that you’re situated in front of him.

“I hate it. This is awful.”

“The…wine?” He looks at you as if he should be mad, but a hint of amusement surfaces past the expression anyway.

“There’s that, but I’m talking about the tieflings. We killed some goblins to save the others. The tally of lives didn’t change much. But what do I get for my hard work? A pat on the head, and vinegar for wine.” He looks down the neck of the bottle, swirling its contents before handing it out for you to take.

You look at the bottle, then him, warily. Modern alcohol is already a wonder to you, and this medieval mead could only do so much worse. Still, you take the bottle, and take a very small sip.

It’s a heavy, rich, red. Dry and sharp. You make a small sound of shock as you keep the liquid in your mouth. Offering him an awkward smile and a nod as you do.

“Ugh, see what I mean? Awful.”

“All I want is a little fun. Is that so much to ask?” You would think that after an entire day of fighting whatever was out there he’d be tired. Apparently not.

You sigh, ready to reprimand him and that he should just enjoy the night, but you stop when you feel his unburdened hand reach out to you. Eyes, boring into your own as he propositions you.

You’re here. Face in the grasp of a character you’ve longed to romance with what little time you’ve had away from your scholarly pursuits. Yet meeting him in strange, yet not all too unfamiliar, territory stirs uncertainty within you. Because while he doesn't have a knife at your throat like he did when your character first met him, it certainly does evoke the same sentiment.

‘To, “make me his”, is that right?’ While the idea is tempting, that statement alone can have various interpretations. And you didn’t want to hedge your bets on the one that made your heart race for all the wrong reasons.

Thankfully, he releases his hold on your visage. Only the gods know how much his touch alone can influence you, and you struggle to stand upright.

“I’m– very,-- truly, sorry, but don’t you think you have the wrong person? I mean,” You gesture to yourself with both hands, a cut visible from the labor in the few hours prior to the large festivities going on.. “Uh…in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly in a position to make any um, lucrative offers.”

He looks at you, a familiar expression graces his face. He leans his weight on one leg, and you struggle to recognize what his body language is conveying. This is one of those instances you wished you had the dice roll mechanic of the game at your disposal.

“Why, that hardly matters, darling. What matters is that you’re here.” He takes a sip from his bottle, the very same that he allowed you to partake from moments prior. Only this time, without the sneer at the aftertaste as he continues.

“But then again, what’s a sinner to do when faced with the very embodiment of chastity?” A smile graces his face, but it’s one that is all too perfect. As if he’s rehearsed the same song and dance enough to save him lifetimes.

“Let’s wait until things quieten down. Once the others are asleep we’ll find each other.”

You have no idea what to expect. Well, you do, but you’re not very sure if this is necessary. You’ll just have to find a way to continue the story without having to go through with this. For now, at least.

“We’ll see about that, Astarion.”

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Thank you to @rey26, @shyminnie07, @lynnloveshobi, @iggee-rose, @automnepoet, @tiannamortis, @aoirohi, @sarkara211, @jane-3043, @h3110-dar1in9, @h3ll0k1ttyl0ver333, @mimziethealien, @squichymochi, @sharabay, @furblrwurblr, @dork-of-the-universe, @thedevilssinner, @fuckalrighty, @queenofthespacesquids, @perseny, @goldenplutus, @h4nluv, @awkward-d3rs3-dr3amer, @auszimbo, @maruichio, @iamsexytrash, @craig-mywifeisdead-boone, @grimissleepy, @fandomsfanman, @bitchyzombienacho, @r1kk, @ancuninstar, @izuoyarmin, @gracemisconduct, @kiinokochii, @marina-and-the-memes, and @life-is-hard-m8 for asking to be tagged!!

#astarion ancunin x reader #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin #astarion x mc #aware!astarion #baldur's gate 3 x reader #astarion x you #bg3 x reader #bg3 x reader isekai(?)#possibly also a Dammon x reader?#slight!!#Slight Dammon x reader

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slut4thebroken · 6 months

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Erotomania pt. 2

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jonathan Crane x reader

Summary | Jon isn’t adjusting as well as you thought he would and his behavior finally breaks you.

Warnings | Angst, violence (on accident lol), blood, eating disorder? (technically), slow burn, a lil bit of sexual tension, he’s still really mean, and a little whiny lol.

Words | 4.3 k

Notes | Ty for everyone who helped me out w this lol.

Ao3 link | <3

Fic Masterlist

Main Masterlist

gif: @kittenonpluto

Part 1

The following morning, you woke up to your alarm and immediately turned it off. Your head hurt, your eyes felt puffy, and you were just so tired and drained. So you decided to call off work. As you were trying to fall back asleep, you almost didn’t register the sound of your door opening because of how tired you were.

“You’re going to be late.” You whined and buried your face in the pillow.

“I’m not going.” You mumbled.

“Get up. I don’t want to be stuck with you the entire day.” He said sternly, bringing back all the emotions you were feeling last night.

“I’ll stay in here then. I don’t exactly feel like doing much else besides this.” The bitterness in your tone was mostly overshadowed by the sadness you were desperately trying to hide. You waited for his response, but after a while, he just slammed the door shut.

True to your word, you mostly stayed in your room. You left to go to the bathroom and sometimes get food, but you didn’t eat with him. The day was spent reading, doing some work to make up for missing a day, trying to distract yourself so you didn’t make yourself cry, and moping. Every time you went out he was always in the exact same spot. Before dinner, you showered and changed into some clean pajamas, not wanting to physically feel the same way you felt mentally.

“Have you eaten today?” He almost seemed startled by your voice. “If you tell me what you want, I can try to make it.” You said softly. He didn’t respond or look at you and you sighed before continuing. “Why aren’t you eating?” You were quickly growing frustrated with his behavior.

“You’re the psychologist, you tell me.” Deep down you knew why, especially based on his words yesterday, but you were still hoping it would be because of some kind of temporary hunger strike or something instead.

“You’d really rather die than be here with me?” You couldn’t help the way your voice broke.

“Yes.” He spat and you immediately frowned as your bottom lip trembled.

“Fine.” You grabbed a carving knife from the knife stand and stormed over to him, making him quickly stand up and take a step away from you. Once you were a few feet from him, you tossed the knife onto the ground in front of him. “Do it then. If this is so terrible and you hate me so much then just fucking do it.” He stared at the knife and you waited impatiently.

“Or better yet, kill me.” That made him look up again. “I know you want to— and I can’t fucking take this anymore so just do it.” He stared at you, then narrowed his eyes.

“Are you serious? My rejection is making you suicidal?” He scoffed. Your eyes burned with tears and you rushed forward, making him step back, but you reached for the knife on the floor instead of him.

“What the hell are you doing?” Now that it’s in your hand, you don’t know how you should do it— The carotid should hopefully be quick. When you raised the knife, he rushed forward and grabbed your arm, yanking it away from you.

“Stop!” You cried, pulling back against his hold, trying to wrench yourself free.

“Are you fucking crazy?” He asked, beginning to raise his voice now. His grip on your arm tightened as his other hand tried to take the knife from you. When you let out a choked sob and started crying, your arm went slack and the force of him pulling it away from yourself made your hand fly toward him. He couldn’t stop it before the blade sliced the top of his chest, making you gasp as he winced. He released you and staggered back, and you dropped the knife as if it had burned you.

“Oh god— fuck. Are you okay?” His hand was pressed tight to the wound so you couldn’t see how bad it was but the pain on his face was evident. When you moved toward him, he stepped back again.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” Even through the pain, his tone was still incredibly harsh.

“I- I’m sorry. It was an accident.” You took another tentative step and he did the same, but his back met the wall. He leaned his weight against it and took a deep breath as his eyes fluttered shut. You quickly wiped your tears and tried to calm down long enough to think of what to do.

As you examined him, you noticed the blood seeping through his fingers as his arm grew tired holding his hand tightly against the wound. You also noticed how pale and sweaty he got in that short amount of time. He was putting as much of his weight on the wall as he could now.

Deciding to start with the imperative, you moved closer until you were in front of him and removed his hand to look at the wound, then put pressure on it. It wasn’t… that bad— it wouldn’t need stitches, but it still almost made you gag. He winced and opened his eyes as if to make sure he wasn’t just imagining you daring to come this close.

“Get the fuck.. off…” His words slurred together and you could tell he was fighting to keep his eyes open. When his knees buckled, you tried to hide your distress, but that and the blood seeping through your fingers made it almost impossible to do so.

“Okay.. okay, hang on.” You looked around for something to absorb the bleeding but there was nothing nearby other than a blanket that you haven’t washed recently. Tentatively releasing him, making sure he wouldn’t fall, you took your shirt off— feeling incredibly grateful that you decided to wear a bra— and pushed it against the wound. He let out a pained groan and your heart panged, knowing you were only worsening his suffering. “I know, I’m sorry. I have to press hard though.” He didn’t respond and just started sliding down the wall as his eyes fluttered shut. “Fuck.. fall on the couch, fall on the couch,” You held him up and guided him to the couch just as he lost consciousness.

You could feel his chest moving under your hands so you knew he wasn’t dead, you were just worried about how to solve the malnutrition issue while he was unconscious. It’s not like you have an IV… so you’ll just have to wait until he’s awake.

Lifting your shirt from his chest, you checked on the bleeding— it was definitely less, but it was still bleeding a decent amount. So you continued pushing down on it. While you waited, you let out a heavy breath and closed your eyes. That escalated so quickly, it felt like you’d been holding your breath since you picked up the knife.

After a few minutes you checked again and decided it would be okay for you to run to the bathroom to grab a few things as well as some water and painkillers really quickly. When you returned, you kneeled on the couch next to him and tried to lift up the shirt he was wearing. Since it was yours, it was already a little tight on him, so it barely moved, especially because his back was against the couch.

Minding the gash, you carefully took both sides of the now cut fabric and pulled as hard as you could. It ripped a lot easier than you were expecting though and was now torn from the collar to the bottom hem. You cleared your throat and tried to keep your eyes on the wound, but couldn’t help it when your eyes strayed to the exposed skin. You could distinctly see the outline of his sternum and ribs and you stifled a gasp as you pushed the shirt open more— no wonder he passed out, he looks like he hasn’t eaten in weeks.

The sight of blood trailing down his chest snapped you out of your trance and you made quick work of using the damp washcloth to clean as much of the blood off as you could. When he wakes up, you’ll have him go to the bathroom so he can wash with soap and water, but for now you covered it with the largest bandaid you had, then sagged back into the couch with a heavy breath, just needing a second to calm down.

After what felt like hours but was only about 15 minutes, he woke up with a groan. You grabbed the water bottle and took out three pills, having them ready for him. His eyes fluttered open, squinting at the bright light, and he scowled when he saw you next to him.

“Take this.” You held it out to him and he looked down at his chest, then let his head fall back into the couch again as his eyes closed. “Please take it. It’ll help with the pain.”

“How did I get here?” He rasped, voice strained.

“You passed out and I wanted you to fall here instead of the floor.” You wanted to reprimand him for not eating but you knew now wasn’t the time. It almost seemed like he wasn’t taking the painkillers out of spite, but after a moment, he huffed and held his hand out. You handed everything to him and he only drank enough water to take the pills.

“You have to drink it. The whole reason you passed out is because of how malnourished you are.” You urged gently.

“The whole reason I passed out is because you stabbed me.”

“Jon, please just drink it.” You said, exacerbated. All he did was glare at you so you let out a disappointed sigh and stood up to go to the kitchen. He didn’t say anything as you started pulling things out and cooking. You weren’t exactly sure what the best option would be for malnutrition and blood loss, but you figured something with high protein and iron would be a good start.

When you walked back over with a plate of grilled chicken breast and steamed spinach, he raised his brows as you held it out to him. You were pleased to see that while you were busy, he did drink some of the water.

“What?” He asked, when you just waited for him to take it.

“You need to eat. Clearly you don’t want to starve to death since you tried to stop me so just quit being so goddamn stubborn and eat the fucking food.” Your tone got significantly harsher by the end of the sentence and he almost seemed shocked. After a moment, he huffed, but took it from you anyway. You sat down next to him and tried to ignore how the smell of the chicken was roaring your stomach back to life.

“After you finish eating, you should clean it with soap and water.” You said quietly. “I can help if you want.”

“I’m fine.”

“I haven’t used that knife in ages, it wasn’t exactly sterile. You need to clean it or it’ll get infected.”

“I’ve had worse.” Now that you weren’t focused on the large gash, you could see a few scars on the exposed skin of his torso.

“Fine.” You stood up and left to grab two clean washcloths, a bottle of soap, and a bowl that you filled with water. When you walked back over and set the items on the coffee table, he narrowed his eyes and scowled at you, watching you get down on your knees in front of him. You reached for the bandage and he circled your wrist in a bruising grip. So you moved your other hand forward and he did the same thing, but winced when the motion made his shoulder shift. “If you let me do this I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the night.”

“We’re not going to fucking play nurse. I can do it myself.” He spat.

“I believe you. But I don’t believe that you actually will.” You challenged, making him roll his eyes with a scoff. “The quickest way to get rid of me is to let me do this.” He clenched his jaw and looked away from you for a moment, then released your wrists, letting you continue with your original plan of removing the bandage. When you ripped it off, he hissed in pain and you glanced at him nervously. “Sorry.” You said sheepishly.

You hesitantly pushed the shirt open a little more, worried it would make him snap, but he just glared at you, letting you do it. Once you had enough room, you dipped the washcloth in the water then squirted some soap on it and worked it into the fabric. Getting up on your knees a little more, you shuffled closer, ignoring the feeling of his leg against your side— or… trying to, at least.

“I'm sorry again.” You said quietly as you started cleaning it. “I really didn’t mean for that to happen.” When you looked up at him, he was still watching you carefully, his guard fully up. “I’ll see if I can get something stronger for the pain when I go back to work.” You let your focus move back down to the task at him, trying not to blush under the heat of his gaze.

“That’s illegal, you know.” He murmured, sounding uncharacteristically… neutral.

“So is breaking out a criminal.” You countered. You didn’t really like talking about him like that though. Sure, he’s technically a criminal, but anyone failed that many times was bound to walk away without their sanity completely intact.

“You think I deserve to be in there?” He asked after a moment of silence. You couldn’t decipher his tone and you looked up at him again, his eyes a little softer now.

“I don’t think anyone deserves to be in that hell hole.”

“That’s not what I asked.” Your hand slowed to a stop, resting against his chest.

“I think… given your history, it would’ve been a miracle if you grew up “normal.’” You said quietly. “I think you deserve to be in there for the things you’ve done, but not just to be imprisoned, to get help.”

“If you’re going to survive there, you need to learn this sooner rather than later; the people in there have no remorse for what they’ve done, and neither do I.” He warned.

“I can’t let myself believe that.”

“Those people don’t want to be saved. I mean seriously, did you think our little talk sessions would change me? Make me a better man?” He cooed mockingly, making you frown.

“I hoped they’d help you work through your trauma. After that? I wouldn’t need to do much else.” He scoffed at that, all but rolling his eyes.

“You think I don’t know how to identify the root of what made me so fucked up?” His voice was back to the viciousness that you’ve started getting used to.

“No, I think you do know how to identify it. I just think you don’t know how to overcome it.” You said calmly, trying not to agitate him any further.

“I do not need to be lectured about trauma by someone who would’ve been my subordinate.” He snapped.

“I’m not lecturing you, Jon. And don’t you think there’s maybe a reason why you’re getting so defensive right now?” He clenched his jaw and let out a heavy breath through his nose.

“Fine. If you’re so interested in psychoanalysis, why don’t we talk about you then?”

“That’s not what I’m doing,”

“Your need for my praise and approval is almost pathetic.” He cut you off, making your mouth instantly close. “You’re so fucking desperate for it— Why do you think that is?” He tilted his head slightly and you swallowed the lump in your throat, barely able to look at him. “You break down at just the slightest amount of rejection. I mean for fucks sake- you literally tried to kill yourself because of it.”

“Stop it, Jon.” You said quietly.

“C’mon.. I’m sure you’ve heard of something that fits that description, even if it’s not an official disorder.” He said facetiously. “Personally, I think I’d just use the word “delusional.’”

“That’s not what this is! I love you.” He raised his brows and gave you a knowing look, so you doubled down. “Being in love does not make me crazy.”

“No, it doesn’t. But kidnapping someone and trying to kill yourself because you were rejected certainly does.” You paused and tried to control your expression so he didn’t know how much his words were affecting you.

“I didn’t.. kidnap you. I got you out of there, like you wanted.” You said quietly. “And having you here is keeping you safe from being found and sent back to Arkham again.” He scoffed a disbelieving laugh and looked away from you. So you sighed and resumed cleaning the wound.

“Whatever you need to tell yourself to help you sleep at night.” He muttered, making your frown deepen. You looked at him for another moment, then sighed and tried to finish cleaning quickly.

Once you were done and another bandage was in place, you got up and headed toward your bedroom. You searched your closet for something he could wear, but the only thing you had that he’d be able to get into easily was a zip up hoodie. So you grabbed that and walked back out, which he clearly wasn’t pleased with since he probably thought you’d be gone longer.

“Lean forward.” You said softly, sitting next to him to help put it on, making him scowl.

“I can dress myself.” He spat and you sighed, but agreed, watching him struggle to get it on. Eventually, he succeeded and you leaned back on the couch when he continued eating, keeping your eyes down so you didn’t make him uncomfortable. “Are you planning on staying half nude?” Your entire face heated up when you realized you’ve yet to replace your shirt. You were just so anxious and upset that you didn’t even notice it.

“N-no. Sorry.” Your voice cracked embarrassingly and you stood up to go grab a shirt from your room. He was on the last few bites of food when you walked back out. “Are you feeling any better?”

“It fucking hurts.” He grumbled. You checked the time, seeing that it was already past seven.

“I can try and go right now to get you something for the pain.” You suggested and he scoffed in response.

“Do you want to lose your job?” That made you frown— you just wanted to help. “You stop by after hours for whatever reason and eventually they notice something’s missing and you think you won’t be made the primary suspect immediately?”

“Okay, I get it.” You sighed. “I'm sorry. I was just trying to help.” You looked away from him as you thought of what else you could do. There aren’t any over the counter pain relievers that are any stronger than what you already gave him. “Wait,” You suddenly stood up and walked toward the kitchen. “I don’t know if you have a preference but either way it should help. It affects the central nervous system so the pain doesn’t seem as bad,”

“I know how it works, I’m not an idiot.” He snapped. “But you must be if you think I’ll willingly intoxicate myself around you.” Even though his words stung, you tried not to take it personally and just move on from the insult.

“It’ll help, Jon.”

“I don’t care.” You sighed, then walked back over and sat down again, keeping your eyes on your lap. You felt horrible. The only reason he’s in pain is because you were acting irrationally.

“I know it won’t make it better, but I really am sorry.” You said quietly, chancing a glance at him.

“I thought you promised to leave me alone if I let you play nurse.” He huffed.

“Right. Okay, I’ll… I’ll go.” You cleared your throat and tried to hide your disappointment as you stood up. “If you want to shower, there are towels in the hall closet.” You offered. When he didn’t respond again, you sighed quietly and went to your room to leave him alone.

You woke in the middle of the night and tried to go back to sleep since you had to be up for work in a few hours, but you couldn’t shake the anxious feeling that something happened while you were asleep. Like the wound was infected and he was dead.

That thought was a little extreme, but it was enough to get you out of bed to go check on him. He was asleep, laying on his back, and you moved closer to slowly unzip the jacket enough to see it. He hadn’t bled through the bandaid and you gently lifted a corner to see inside. Everything looked fine. At least you thought it did… You’re not that kind of doctor.

When you zipped it back up, you couldn’t help but stare at him for a moment. He looked so peaceful, not angry or full of hatred. You wished he’d look like that all the time.

Once you were satisfied knowing he wasn’t dead, you managed to fall back asleep. When you got up again, you somehow woke up fully after the first alarm so you were about twenty minutes ahead of schedule. You walked into the kitchen, still in your pajamas, and saw that he was awake this time.

“Do you want some coffee? Actually,” you knew he wouldn’t answer it like that, “how do you take your coffee?” He scoffed a laugh and you couldn’t help but blush even though he was clearly laughing at you, not with you.

“Black.” Was all he said, but it made you smile so big that it almost hurt your cheeks. It felt like you were finally getting somewhere with him. Walking over with two mugs, you handed one to him, then sat down, much to his displeasure. “Don’t you have to get ready?”

“I woke up early.” You shrugged, taking a sip of the coffee. “You need to eat and quite frankly I don’t have many options here so I’m going to stop somewhere after work. What do you want?”

“I’m fine.” He muttered, drinking the coffee and keeping his eyes straight ahead instead of on you.

“That’s not what I asked.” You said firmly— you had no clue where this boldness was coming from. He looked over at you with raised brows, almost… impressed.. by your audacity. “There must be something you’ve been craving since being in there. Tell me what it is and I’ll get it.” He huffed but seemed to understand that the quickest way to get rid of you is to just answer.

“There’s a Southern place in Otisburg, right across the street from the Botanical Gardens. I don’t have a preference, I like everything they have.” You smiled, happy that you finally got a real answer out of him. Even though it’s out of your way, you’re excited that he actually shared something with you and agreed to eat.

“Perfect. I can stop by the store too. Do you want anything specific for breakfast or lunch?”

“Eggs.” He said simply, almost making you laugh.

“Eggs it is. Anything else?”

“What you have here is fine.” At least that means he looked and considered eating.

“Do you like the coffee? Or should I get a different one.” He huffed, clearly getting annoyed with your questions.

“It's coffee.”

“Well, I like blonde roast. I don’t know if you prefer dark roast or something.” You said defensively. He didn’t answer so you assumed that meant he didn’t care what kind of coffee you had. You checked the time and decided you could sit here for five more minutes before you should start getting ready. You didn’t want to bother him so you just stared out the window, smiling at the way the morning sun was peeking through the buildings. If you ignored the very obvious contempt he has for you, this moment could’ve been perfect.

“Does it still hurt?” You asked, turning to face him and blushing when you noticed his eyes were already on you. He didn’t seem bothered by the fact that he’d been caught though.

“Not as much.” He finally looked away and took another drink.

“Do you think you still need something stronger than what I have here?”

“I’ll be fine.” His tone left no room for argument, but you could tell he wasn’t being truthful.

“Okay…” You said, still unsure. “Can I just check it really quick? Then I’ll leave you alone and go get ready.” He let out an exasperated huff and rolled his eyes, annoyed by your concern. But once again, he seemed to understand that the fastest way to get rid of you was to just agree.

“Fine.” He grumbled, leaning back on the couch. You set your mug on the coffee table and scooched closer to him, getting on your knees on the couch so you could fully face him. You slowly reached for the zipper as if approaching a wild animal that could attack at any moment. He didn’t say or do anything as you unzipped it and pushed it aside. You lifted half of the bandage and leaned closer to get a better look as your fingers delicately ran over the skin around it.

“It looks like it’s scabbing.” You said absentmindedly. “So that’s good at least.” When you looked up at him, you suddenly noticed how close you’d gotten. You also noticed the way his eyes snapped up from your body to your face. You blushed, now hyper aware of the small, thin pajama set you were wearing. Clearing your throat, you quickly zipped up the hoodie again and leaned back. “It— Try to wash it today please.” He almost looked amused by your flustered state. “I… I should— I’m going to get ready now.” You quickly grabbed your mug and stood up, practically running to your room.

Part 3

Again, sorry it’s cut a little awkwardly lol. This was written as a one shot.

Taglist (join here)

@cillianslvt @69your-best-night-mare69

#jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane x reader smut

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phoenixriley · 3 months

Text

A LITTLE LESS TEMPORARY

Maybe it's time to finally make that next step.

✧ WORD COUNT: 1,005 words

✧ PAIRING: John "Soap" MacTavish x Reader

✧ CONTENT WARNINGS: civilian!reader, established relationship, female reader, fluff, mentioned alcohol and intoxication, not canon compliant (I'm living in delulu land it's fine)

✧ A/N: It feels so weird writing like this again. And I'm a bit rusty, if I'm honest. xDDD Anway, this is my first (completed) attempt at a Call of Duty fic. Hopefully you guys enjoy it. Something on the smaller side while I work on some bigger more angsty projects.

The apartment was from before they had ever met. It was a cheap and small studio apartment in the middle of Edinburgh, with enough room for her stuff and a place for her to sleep at night. Most of her day was spent outside the space, originally there on an exchange program with her university. Her living quarters were meant to be as temporary as the ink on her skin that her friend haphazardly doodled across her skin while the last of the bachelorette party got matching tattoos, taking shots and shots of alcohol afterward.

The old, creeky floors and doors that never quite worked right became a permeant fixture in her life after she met him.

It wasn't planned, already having the plane tickets to return home in a couple of months purchased and ready to go. Her lease was going to run out later that same month she was supposed to leave. Yet, a week after she was meant to be home, there she was in that same old apartment with none of her belongings backed and in the arms of the Scotsman she met randomly during her friend's bachelorette party months ago.

She never left those strong arms since, remaining at his side when his line of work permitted it. That was two years ago and while their relationship had definitely changed since then, her surroundings hadn't.

"Ah dinnae ken how ya do it, hen." Johnny murmured against her temple, pressing a kiss to her skin in between his words. "This place..."

Peering up at him, Y/N bit back the laugh that threatened to spill from her lips. It took all of two seconds to see how carefully he was considering his words. Normally not one to mind his words, it was amusing to watch him be so cautious while speaking about her living arrangement.

The space was undoubtedly made her own. After staying in the country, she had actually decorated the apartment to the best of her capabilities. From the carefully chosen color scheme, the pictures of her family and friends scattered throughout, to the homely scent from the candle she was always burning when she occupied the space. It screamed her despite the less than ideal space.

After watching her for weeks carefully select everything to make the place feel more homely, Johnny respected the time and effort that had gone into the place. It was cute and comfortable. However, that comfort came at a cost. The place was small, which was fine when it was primarily occupied by just Y/N. Thing was, though, it wasn't ever just her there anymore. They had been together for a while now, and more and more of their stuff was at each other's places, more so one place in particular.

Johnny's place was a bit bigger, but it wasn't much better. With him being often deployed overseas, he has hardly anything at his. Most of his belongings nowadays could be found at hers.

At some point, they had naturally started spending more and more time at Y/N's. With that came with Johnny unintentionally beginning to live with her between deployments. It was unspoken. Although they basically already lived together, neither knew how the other felt about truly taking that next step.

Make the move to something less temporary.

"It's a wee small, isn't it?" He continued cautiously.

Turning in his arms, Y/N languidly wrapped her arms around his waist and threw her leg across his hips, settling into the position. His arms tightened around her and further pulled her into his embrace. With a twitch of the corner of her lips, she pressed a chaste kiss to his bare chest, running her hand along his side and down, stopping when she reached his partly exposed pelvic bone.

"It is, but it makes it sort of charming. Don't you think?"

The Scotsman hummed thoughtfully.

"Aye. Ah suppose."

Running a hand through her hair, Johnny pressed another kiss to her head. As his lips left her skin, she shifted slightly, enough to where her lips could meet his in a tender kiss.

“Though, ah dinnae see this place being great long term.” He continued after a moment, pulling away enough to gaze into her eyes.

Y/N hummed thoughtfully.

“And what would be better?”

Johnny's hand ran down her back and across her hip, settling on the fattiest part of her thigh. He gave it a gentle squeeze, affectionately nuzzling her nose, a hint of apprehension bleeding over into his features despite his gestures.

“A place just outside the city with a proper a kitchen, livin’ room, and bedroom.”

His words were slow and spoken with an abnormal beat. Anxiously, his tongue ran across his lips as he paused, the beautiful blue eyes she had come to know and love not quite meeting her own anymore, focusing around her rather than on her.

Y/N's hand left his waistline and trailed upward, slipping underneath his stubbled jawline and resting there. Gently, she ran her thumb along his jaw, patiently listening to his words.

“With you… and perhaps me.”

Instinctively, her brows raised at the latter, and her eyes widened before narrowing. She pushed herself onto her elbow with the arm that laid underneath them, and peered down at him. His expression remained relatively neutral, the haziness usually sharp eyes being the only indication of what was possibly floating through his mind.

“Are you…?” She asked, her voice no louder than a whisper.

She hoped he couldn't feel how stupidly fast her heart was beating at the thought. The little upturn of his lips as he soothingly ran his hand up and down her bare thigh hinted otherwise.

“Perhaps.” His volume matched her own, the changing of his tone clear.

Leaning down, Y/N kissed him eagerly, her leg tightening around his hips subconsciously. A breathy laugh escaped her lips as she pulled away, a bright smile painting her lips.

"If that's the case. When do we start hunting for a place?”

#john mactavish x reader #call of duty x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #soap x reader #soap mactavish x reader #call of duty fanfiction #call of duty fanfic #john mactavish fanfic #john mactavish fanfiction #johnny mactavish fanfiction #johnny mactavish fanfic #soap fanfiction #soap fanfic #soap mactavish fanfic #soap mactavish fanfiction

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woso-fan13 · 1 year

Text

Fevers & Favorites

“KELLEY,” Alex’s panic shout is quickly followed by racing footsteps until said brunette appears in the nursery doorway.

“What??” she asks quickly. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Is the baby okay?”

For whatever reason, the women had taken to referring to you as ‘the baby’ when you were regressed. They thought it was funny, and you were usually in too young of a headspace to realize, so it worked perfectly.

At this point, Kelley takes notice of the way you’re slumped in your Mama’s arms, your face buried into her neck. Listening closely, she can hear your congested breathing as you try to still suck on your pacifier.

“Oh, baby,” Kelley coos, her voice softening as she comes down from her panic, “I think we’ve got a little sickie on our hands.”

“We definitely do,” Alex agrees, “I can feel the fever burning through her. Can you go grab a thermometer and some medicine?”

Kelley nods, quickly walking over to run a hand across your cheek- smiling at the way your face scrunches- before leaving the room. Alex takes the opportunity to hopefully get you more comfortable. She walks over to your changing table, bouncing you lightly. She makes quick work of stripping you out of the winter pajamas that you had been in, noticing the sweat covering your skin. She quickly changes your diaper and puts you into some light cotton pajamas.

After this, she grabs a few baby wipes and attacks your face, wiping your runny nose. By this point, though, most of the snot had already been wiped on her. You stare up at your Mama through the whole process, your fever dazed eyes following her face.

Once you're dressed, she pulls you back into her arms, settling the two of you in the rocking chair. The room is quiet for a few moments, almost peaceful. Until Hurricane Mommy enters the room.

“Okay, I’ve got meds, a thermometer, a baba, and a cloth. I also called Chris and Tobs. I was just going to cancel coffee with them later, but they insisted on coming over, so they’re stopping at the store to pick up some more supplies.”

Kelley walks over, setting her goodies on the small side table and sitting on the arm of the rocking chair. It was a near perfect replica of that night just months ago, the three of you ringing in the new year. She looks at where you’re limp in your Mama’s arms, held close for both your and Alex’s comfort. Your previously clean face had already been covered in snot again, your runny nose reaching your pacifier.

“Oh, peanut, Mommy’s so sorry that you feel so yucky. I’d take it all away if I could.”

You were clearly much too small to understand what she was saying, let alone understand just how much she meant it.

When you didn’t respond, Kelley sighs slightly, settles the cool cloth on your forehead, and grabs a wipe. She quickly pulls your pacifier out before trying to wipe your face clean. Anticipating that you would fuss, she quickly replaces the nipple with her pinky. You suckle a few times hesitantly, as if considering if it were an acceptable replacement, before settling down.

Kelley takes your distraction as an opportunity to be able to thoroughly clean your face up. You had a puddle of snot that had been collecting behind the guard of your pacifier, and your moms could see how the skin there was already turning red from irritation. You whine when she wipes this area, clearly it’s already sensitive. Your moms curse internally when they realize that this may mean putting a temporary ban on your pacifier- seemingly the only thing bringing you comfort. But Mommy’s finger seems to be a somewhat suitable replacement for the moment, so there’s no need to panic yet.

Mama has been rocking you this whole time, keeping a tight hold on your warm body. She takes the opportunity of distraction when you’re fussing at Kelley to reach over to the table and grab the thermometer. She slips it under your shirt and into your armpit, laughing slightly at the way you try and wiggle away. She holds you steady though, and soon the thermometer beeps.

“Kel,” Alex says quietly, pulling the other woman's attention from where she had resorted to pulling funny faces at you to get you to smile.

Kelley looks at the numbers quickly, the frown appearing on her face identical to the one Alex was currently wearing. You didn’t do anything halfway, and clearly the same went for being sick.

“Okay, that’s okay,” Kelley says, trying to reassure both herself and Alex, “we’ll get some meds in her and keep an eye on it. We’ve got this.”

She moves to turn to grab your medicine, causing her finger to pull from your mouth. The two women hear the hitching inhale you take, clearly about to screech. Thankfully, Alex slides a finger in, allowing your sucking to continue.

Kelley draws the appropriate dosage up in the syringe, and deposits the medicine in the side of your mouth. The women watch as you recoil slightly, then as your tongue sticks out as you try and work the medicine out of your mouth. Thankfully, you end up swallowing it, saving everyone a mess.

While you’re distracted, Kelley grabs the bottle that she had heated for you. She places it in your mouth, ensuring you have a proper latch before looking at your hands. Normally, you’re reaching to hold your own bottle- fiercely independent. Now, they just stay where they are- one latched on to Mama’s shirt and one gripping onto one of Mommy’s fingers.

Patiently, your Mommy holds your bottle the entire time you drink. She’s careful to tip it back often, ensuring you can catch your breath. With the ability to breathe out of your nose almost completely gone, you’re drinking a few sips before gasping for air. It’s truly a pitiful sight.

Through your whole feeding, your Mama keeps you cradled. One of her hands is gently patting your bum, causing you to further relax into her. Your eyes were drooping as you neared the end of the bottle.

With your bottle finished, your Mama repositions you so you’re sitting upright in her lap, leaning forward onto her arm. She alternates between patting and rubbing your back, trying to work the air out of your system. You hiccup slightly and try to shimmy away, but your Mama is determined. She continues her ministrations for another minute or so until you finally burp, spitting up some milk too.

You start crying, upset by the action and the discomfort in your belly. Your Mommy quickly wipes your face before standing up and pulling you into her arms. Your heavy head rests on her shoulder, but your tears don’t last long as she paces the floor with you in her arms.

Mostly calmed, you turn and bury your face into your Mommy’s neck. Alex laughs at the face Kelley makes when she feels the snot press into her skin. Kelley, for her part, just allows you to get comfortable, ignoring her own discomfort.

There’s a knock on the doorframe before two more women come in. Christen has a pharmacy bag in her hand, and she walks over to show Alex everything that she got. Tobin walks over to where Kelley is standing in place and swaying you gently. She maneuvers herself to stand where you can see her, your little eyes peeping out.

Tobin starts pulling faces at you, trying to gain your attention. When you just stare blankly at her, she switches to what she thought was her secret weapon- the little stuffed bunny she had picked out at the store. She holds it up, letting you see it. When you still seem unamused, she crinkles the ears, fake gasping at the sound.

Still, you give no reaction.

Until Christen walks up behind Tobin and your face lights up. Tobin cheers, thinking she had finally won your affection. But then you reach out, right past Tobin and straight towards Christen. You whine and squirm, trying to help your Mommy understand that you want Aunt Chris to hold you.

Christen smugly looks at Tobin, pulling you into her arms and pressing a kiss to your hair. Your hands immediately latch on to her- one grabbing her shirt and the other tangling in a fistful of hair. She was very clearly the favorite Aunt- followed closely by Mal- and she loved it.

Christen whispers to you, meaningless things that likely made no sense. But, they served to calm and relax you, and you wouldn’t have understood anyway.

While Christen is in baby heaven- snuggling you close and smelling the sweet baby shampoo smell- Tobin talks with your moms. She reassures the two women that they are more than competent at watching you, and insists they go take a nap. Knowing that they would likely be up all night with you, they agree, insisting that Tobin wakes them if something goes wrong.

Besides, everyone knew you and Christen wouldn’t be letting go of each other for awhile, both relaxing in each other’s presence. You were completely unaware as they slipped out the door, saying a silent prayer for their teammates- their family.

#uswnt players #uswnt woso #uswnt x reader #womens soccer #uswnt imagine #reader insert #woso imagines #woso x reader #uswnt imagines #woso imagine #uswntsoccer #uswnt fanfic #woso fanfics #woso soccer #woso #uswnt reader

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limnsaber · 1 year

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Mandalorian Slash Fic Rec List - DinLuke Volume I: Big, Medium, Heartfelt and Solemn

Hello!! Welcome to the first volume of Mando Slash Fic Rec- Dinluke! This is a collection of Dinluke fics that have a notable wordcount and fics that have a more heartfelt/solemn tone, sorted under headings that make the most sense to me personally. For reference, 🔐 means a restricted work and 💜 means an personal favorite. Check out Mando Gen lists I, II, and III. Please enjoy and give love to our cherished fic authors who we owe so much to!! -Yours, Limn <3

Big and Long and Impressive

💜 The Wanderer and the Seer by @kevystel (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Ensemble Cast, Mandalorian Politics, Original Mandalorian Characters, Mandalorian Culture, Diaspora, Teen, one of my favorites!!, 98k)

Din Djarin is temporarily relieved of a single dad's responsibilities, only to be saddled with the much greater responsibilities of Mand'alor. Temporarily. Hopefully. This is not the story of a great man becoming king; it's the story of some dude finding his place in the galaxy, freedom, and personal happiness through having some goddamn decency and good manners. Also the power of love, or whatever.

finding the lost and losing the found (series) by deniigiq (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Ensemble Cast, Mandalorian Politics, Romance, Family Dynamics, Political Alliances, Teen, 35k)

“So you’re not stealing my ship?” Mando said. “What do I want with your ship?” Luke demanded. “I don’t know. I don’t usually ask,” Mando said. (Luke tries to help his student stay focused on his studies by helping his student's father. It's harder than it looks.)

A Near-Mythological Event by SybilStarnes (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Ensemble Cast, Force Sensitive Din Djarin, Mand'alor Din Djarin, Living Waters of Mandalore, The Mandalorian Darksaber, Explicit, 116k)

Desperate to rejoin The Tribe, Din Djarin (with Grogu) travels to Mandalore to seek the Living Waters. Once they're in the caverns below the destroyed mine, a cave-in cuts off their exit. Grogu calls for help, and the legendary Luke Skywalker responds. Cleansed by the Living Waters, Din returns to his Tribe to reswear to the Creed. He discovers it has new members, attracted to a Child of the Watch bearing the Darksaber. Meanwhile, Luke has offered to help Din learn to use the weapon. The Mandalorian finds himself on a new path, one that draws him deeper into Mandalorian politics and closer to the Jedi. With the help of several guest stars, including one fat and sassy Force ghost, Din struggles to free Mandalore from Imperial dominance.

All the pretty places that feel like home (series) by SunshineAndaLittleFlour (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Ensemble Cast, two dangerous warriors coparenting a tiny frog, Explicit, 73k)

“Would you be more comfortable if I called you something else?” Luke asked, and it should have been teasing, but it was genuine, the soft freedom to be who he wanted in this place. And that careful gift, that offer of being who he wanted, uncontrolled and unfettered, filled Din with a lot of hope and a little bit of terror. Who was he without the creed? His people? Who was Din Djarin, standing in the halls of someone who had once been his people’s greatest enemy? Din shook his head, hearing his own breathing echo inside his helmet. “No. You can,” he faltered briefly, then took a deep breath. “You can call me by my name.”

buy a big house where we could both live by @villanellve (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Ensemble Cast, Post-Canon Fix-It, Slow Burn, Mature, 73k)

Din trails behind them and reminds himself this is temporary. He’ll make sure they get to the temple safe, and once he’s sure that Luke agrees to continue training Grogu, he’ll leave them. Grogu reaches up with his hand to tug at the edge of Luke’s shirt, and Din’s fingers flex at his sides. This is the way, he tells himself.

🔐 Get Back Homeward by berryfunkedup (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, POV Alternating, Jedi Tradtion & Culture, Clones, Getting Together, Teen, 42k)

Luke is at a stalemate with the New Republic in the aftermath of everything he lost in the war and his inheritance of the Jedi’s legacy. Din seeks his tribe and takes bounties, living according to the Way. And Grogu and the Jedi are not part of the Way. But he is definitely not the new Mand’alor, no matter what Mandalorian tradition about the Darksaber says. After Moff Gideon is assassinated while held in New Republic custody, Din and Luke must work together to clear the Mandalorians from blame and uncover the real culprit. Along the way they encounter terrible politicians, fights over naps, old secrets, and just maybe, find their way forward.

Medium and Impressive

parry, parry, strike by @alchemyalice (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Leia Organa, Post-Season 2, Teen, 18k)

“Oh? What are you, their king?” the Senator says sarcastically, and then freezes at the same time Din does. “...No,” Din says. He does not sound convincing.

I have made this place around you by HeadOn_HelmetOff (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Dialogue Heavy, Early Relationship, Introspection, Teen, 25k)

“Do you know who you are, Din Djarin?” Survivor of Aq Vetina. Mandalorian. Bounty hunter. Apostate. Father. Mand’alor. “...No,” he uttered. Luke nodded sagely. “Then that’s what we’ll focus on first.”

💜 A different kind of blood by HeadOn_HelmetOff (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, The Armorer, Paz Vizsla, Good Parent Din Djarin, Good Teacher Luke Skywalker, Pre-Relationship, Mandalorian Culture, Jedi Culture & Tradition, The Mandalorian Darksaber, Teen, 25k)

A slight twist on events in Ch. 5 of The Book of Boba Fett: when Grogu is afflicted with visions of his father injured on Glavis, he and Luke make a decision that will greatly influence Din Djarin's journey toward redemption and reconciliation with the survivors of his covert.

where the spirit meets the bone by @ebonybow (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Developing Relationship, Intimacy, Canon Divergence, Explicit, 28k)

He dreams of his head feeling too-heavy on his shoulders, his helmet filling slowly with water. - Din navigates new feelings regarding his creed, himself, and a certain Jedi.

pluck a heartstring, duck for cover by owlerie (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Canon Divergence, Mand'alor Din Djarin, POV Alternating, Touch-Starved Din Djarin, Slow Burn, Sparring as Flirting, Mature, 28k)

“He's a bit of a sex icon, your Mandalorian," says Leia over breakfast the next morning, nose buried in a sea of taxation reports. Luke promptly inhales caf three inches up his airway and doubles over hacking gracelessly. “I— wait— he's not my Mandalorian," he chokes out, to which Leia raises a single dubious, well-groomed eyebrow.

Heartfelt and Solemn

crystals in the current by @willowcrowned (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Romance, Family, Luke Skywalker's Jedi Temple, The Force, Teen, 22k)

Luke gets the message from the child in the early evening. It’s spring on Yavin, and the wind smells like the glowing purple blossoms that cluster in the corners of old rooms and spring up through the pavement. The air is heavy with twilight, the orange-violet of the sky creeping its way down, filtering through the new-leafed boughs and down to where he’s sitting under a tree. or Luke takes Grogu, but the sundering on the lightcruiser isn't an ending; it's a beginning.

Timshel by skywalkers (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Force Visions, Hurt/Comfort, Order 66 (Star Wars), Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Teen, 5k)

“I think there’s something I can do to help him. A technique I could try.” Luke says. “I could use your help.” “What do you need?” Din says. Anything, he thinks. Anything. “I think he would be more open to the process if you do it as well.” Luke’s eyes, keen and ever-blue, that have the impossible ability to find Din’s own behind his mask every time, meet his own. He looks unsure. It’s not something Din ever thought he’d ascribe to Luke Skywalker. “But the process can be...intense. I understand if you don’t want to do it.” Din flips it over in his mind for a moment, considering. He’s not exactly sure what Luke is asking of him. But what kind of an example would he be if he asked Grogu to do something he refused to? And, looking at Luke, how could Din refuse him anything? Not that he could ever say that. Din nods. “‘Course. Show him there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

resonance by pixie_rings (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Kyber Crystals, Planet Ilum, Gen, 10k)

Rebuilding a dying Order is never easy. While exploring the ruined planet Ilum, Grogu gets a calling, and Din and Luke reflect on their son growing up - with and without them.

the unbearable loneliness of distant stars by Liathejedi (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling in Love, Teen, 10k)

Din wonders when the Jedi became Skywalker, and when Skywalker became Luke, or when the lines between stranger and friend had blurred and left him standing in an unfamiliar ship, folding bare hands around a man he barely knew and feeling like his breath had been lost to the stars. A Jedi and a Mandalorian face down the ashes of the Empire and learn what it means to rebuild a broken people.

Mand'alor, The by scheidswrites (Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, Grogu, Bo-Katan Kryze, Gen, 3.5k)

They called him Mand’alor the Reclaimer, Mand’alor the Unifier. Some have started to call him Mand’alor the Vanished. The rumors run rampant that he is dead.

#dinluke #skydalorian #din djarin #luke skywalker #the mandalorian #star wars #long awaited fic rec! *blows party horn* hope you guys enjoy #figured it was time to post this actually! i get so much enjoyment out of reccing these & reading #them that I hope authors honored know that. consider this another comment on ao3 full of insane paragraphs.#recs? this is my appreciation post #vols II and III forthcoming.#lim's fic recs #star wars fanfiction recommendations

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mcondance · 1 year

Text

“and i wish that i could be with you tonight, you give me butterflies”

butterflies — oj haywood

pairing oj haywood x Black!afab fem reader

contents slow burn, kinda, but not too much. little bit of angst and self doubt. canon-compliant except holst and jupe did not die, smut (unprotected sex, oral (both receiving), creampies, it gets rough for like one scene but nothing too crazy)

words 8.8k

notes handful of michael jackson references (like 3) so if you don't like michael kill yourself, oh also the title is from butterflies by michael too, this is a re-upload from my old blog!

The pictures of the horses are beautiful, but the horses themselves? They’re gorgeous. After seeing countless pictures of them and marveling at the still images, you ask Holst who’s horses they are, and if their owner would be okay with you popping up for just a second.

The drive is long as hell, some big ass ranch out in Agua Dulce, far from anything except for Jupe’s Theme Park. You make plans to visit one day. Today you’re on a mission to lay eyes on some of the most beautiful animals you’ve seen. Which is saying a lot, since you work with pictures of Holst’s animals all day.

The man that meets you at the ranch is.. not amused. In fact, he looks extremely annoyed. It seems like Holst is a liar.

“Who are you?” he asks, face scrunched up from the heat of the sun, hands on his hips, body language giving stand-offish. You give him your name and he barely acknowledges it. He would much rather know why you’re here and what you want.

“I, um, I work with Holst.” you say with a nervous smile, his displeasure at your unexpected and uninvited presence evident. “I just saw some pictures of the horses and I had to see them in person.”

Hearing your reasoning for basically trespassing on his ranch strikes a bit of a nerve in him. He’s never met someone who’s that interested in the horses. But he wants to get this over with quickly. He got shit to do, and you just interrupted the horses feeding time.

He turns, nods in a gesture that you take as him telling you to follow him, and walks off. You follow closely, but not too close. You don’t wanna seem like more of a weirdo than you’re sure you already do.

“You drove all the way out here just to see my horses?” he questions, leaning on the arena near a pretty brown horse as he waits for you to catch up.

“Yeah.” you nod. “I been seeing pictures of them for some months now and i just wanted to see them in person.”’

“Mhm.” he nods, reaching up to sift some dirt off of Lucky’s mane.

You step a little closer to the arena, and Oj figures you want to pet Lucky. “Come ‘ere.“ He nods his head again, this time gesturing you to follow him towards the horse. You do, falling into place beside him.

“Gimme your hand.” He reaches for you and meets you in the middle and places it on Lucky. His hair is soft and silky, hot from the California sun, and you can tell just from a feel that Oj takes good care of him, of all of his horses. He’s gentle with your hand, holds it and guides you. That makes heat rise in your cheeks, heat that’s definitely not caused by the sun beating down on you two.

Then Oj pulls his hand away from yours, casting his eyes over the expanse of land.

That breaks you out of your awe-induced stupor.

“I gotta get home.” you say, walking off before he gets the chance to say anything.

On the way home, you have flashes of the cowboy playing through your mind, the burning heat on your hand remaining from his touch, and a couple of butterflies find a hopefully temporary home in your stomach.

—

The next day, you come back.

You find him in the stables this time, throwing hay into the stalls.

Oj’s surprised. Usually, people pet the horses, hang around for a little while, and then lose interest.

“Hey, Oj.” you wave happily.

“Hey. You wanna help me feed them?” He assumes that you’d like to, since you’ve shown some interest in them. And of course you do.

It’s not easy, the bales of hay heavier than you anticipated. But you take the work in stride. It’s not too hard, not when you get to admire these beautiful animals and see how they work. And, to be honest, you like seeing how their owner works as well.

He’s so handsome, with his pretty brown skin, glistening with sweat, the image of a hard-working man. You don’t know why, and you don’t know how, but the cowboy thing is working for him and on you. He’s captivating, his dedication to his horses and his quiet demeanor working together to have you tripping over your words and feet around him.

You could blame it on the heat, or you could blame it on the feeling of his eyes on you the entire time. You’re sure he’s just trying to make sure you don’t fuck up his horses, but you can’t lie, it’s nice to feel for just a second that a man like this is interested in you.

When he asks how long you’ve been working for Holst, it’s like you completely forget the last 8 months of your life. You stutter over your words, and you’re quite literally confused on how you could stutter over two simple words. Still, you do, and you’re sure you just setback any progress you made in getting Oj to find you at all attractive and worth being around.

Because that’s the problem. That’s the dilemma. Here you have a man, who’s happiest in solitude and quiet, and here you are, talkative and loud, and you think you want him to want you. That’s the problem you have. And it’s a big, inescapable problem.

He tells you to hang back by the door of one stable while you’re thinking, telling you that this horse doesn’t take too kindly to strangers. That gives you another chance to really take him in.

He’s so goddamn attractive, and you’re so glad he’s so focused on the horse, because you’re shamelessly staring at his thighs, visibly thick through the denim of jeans. His chest is built; it’s visible under his shirt, too.

And the butterflies are there once again, accompanied by the heat encompassing your entire being.

It isn’t quite professional to be eyeing one of your coworker’s business partners like this, but you’re too caught up in your reverie to care.

And then Oj turns around, and you snap out of it as fast as you can. Not fast enough, you suppose, because he asks you if you’re okay when he makes it back over to you.

“You good?” he asks. “The heat is a lot. You can go if you’re getting too hot.”

“No, no, I’m good!” you nod, reassuring him through a heavy breath.

“You sure?” he pushes, eyes fixed on yours.

“Yeah.” you nod, but you’re not at all okay. He’s close enough that you can feel his warmth radiating off of him, and you have to suppress a chuckle at his previous choice of words. You are getting too hot.

It’s just.. with the way he towers over you, looking down at you under the brim of his hat, the way his pretty brown skin shines with sweat, the way he’s so fucking warm and his lips look so goddamn nice, you can barely focus on anything else. And the way he’s staring at you like he wants to do something more than stare has you questioning if Holst would be upset if you kissed his business partner after only knowing him for like 2 days.

A horse neighs. Oj backs up immediately. You have to go, have to get from around Oj before you do some reckless shit.

“That was the last horse, right?” you ask shakily, uneasiness leaking into your voice.

“Yeah.” he nods, hands on his hips, his stance driving you insane.

“I guess that’s my cue, then.” you respond, walking off before he can even fit another word in.

On the drive home, Oj’s the only thing on your mind.

—

Visiting the Haywood ranch this time is for two reasons.

One: you want to ride one of the horses.

And Two: Oj fucking Haywood.

This time, surprisingly, he isn’t outside with the horses. You hear music playing from the house, so you assume he’s in there. Before you can even knock, the door opens, and you’re met with the face of the man you think you’re developing feelings for.

“Hey.” he greets you.

“Hey!”

“If you wanted to feed them or something, it’s past their feeding ti-”

“No!” you cut him off before he can shut you down and send you home. “I was hoping you’d take me, uh, horse riding.” You say it like a question, eyes searching his face for any emotion, any answer to your question. The music playing is a glaring foil to your current feelings, smooth reggae contrasting with your hyper aware and scrambled mind. You don’t know how he does it.

“Yeah. I’ll take you horse riding.” he nods, stepping out of his house and closing the door. He clicks at you in that certain way, jerks his head in what you know to be directing you towards the horses.

“Which one?” he asks when you both make it to the stables.

“Lucky.” you answer. “I’ve liked him since I saw the pictures of him.” Once it leaves your mouth, you’re sure it sounds weird. But his reaction, a warm smile that seems genuine, tells you otherwise. Perhaps he’s growing as fond of you as you are of him.

After he saddles Lucky up, he calls you over to the horse.

“Okay, so I’m gonna help you up. You ready?” he asks, leaning down to cup his hands together. You nod, throwing one hand over Lucky and stepping into his hands. He boosts you up, and then he’s swinging up behind you, reaching around you to grab the reins.

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Because you can feel him against you, and if you don’t hold on tight enough, you just might fall off the damn horse.

“You ready?” he asks.

“Yeah.” you nod.

He takes you down through the gulch, takes you near Jupe’s Park and somewhere way behind the ranch. The sun is beating down on you two, but you know it isn’t the cause of what you feel.

The heat that has enveloped you is caused by Oj’s arms wrapped around your waist, squeezing every once in a while to guide Lucky. Caused by the way you can feel his chest pressed against you, firm and warm. The way merely being close to him has your head spinning.

At some point, he notices the sun starting to bother you. You feel him shift behind you and see his arm go up, and then his hat is on your head, and you’re pushing it down to make sure it doesn’t fall off.

It means nothing, you’re sure. He’s just being nice. But god, it means so much to you, though you’re sure it shouldn’t.

When you make it back to the ranch, you’re jittery and nervous, letting him help you off the horse and then backing up from him as soon as you’re off, handing him his hat from a distance. He doesn’t say anything, crediting it to being your first horse ride and the heat. He’s right, sort of. Just not right about where the heat’s coming from.

He waves you a quick goodbye in that attractive cowboy way, two fingers and all flicking off his forehead in a salute, and you turn away, trying to get as far away from him as possible.

You’ve tried to make your feelings for the quiet man go away, but he’s not made it any better.

You like Oj. There’s no denying it, no hiding it. You’ve fallen for a cowboy.

–

Some time passes between your realization and your next visit. You needed some time to think, to make sure what you feel for him isn’t just some stupid crossing of wires in your brain.

It isn’t. He’s on your mind every goddamn for the next 2 weeks.

Your visit is Holst’s doing this time. He wants you to take some more pictures of the horses. You go reluctantly, not arguing with him so he doesn’t start to pry.

When you get there, Oj seems happy to see you. You credit it to wishful thinking, or maybe he’s just happy to be here with his horses. You don’t know, and you don’t intend to think about it for long. You just flash him your camera and a wry smile and he nods, understanding what you’re here to do.

Well, what you’re here trying to do.

You’re too distracted, eyes flitting over to him with everything you do. You’ll be lucky if you get one clear picture, hands fumbling with the camera like you haven’t been taking pictures all your life.

Everytime your eyes find him, his eyes have found you as well, glances shared from under the brim of his hat. It feels like you’re both in middle school, trying to sneak little glances at your crush from across the ranch, your work going undone.

You’re trying. You really are. You try to focus on your task, to take the pictures Holst needs and leave, but you can’t settle the butterflies in your stomach, can’t get rid of that familiar heat, not with Oj’s gaze lingering over your every move.

But you’re just imagining things. You know you are. There’s no way Oj’s even giving you a second thought. He’s just watching his horses, making sure they’re in good hands.

You feel uncomfortable even being around Oj, knowing you feel the way you do for him and being sure he doesn’t feel the same. You have to go home. You have to get from around him before you do some shit you’ll regret.

You turn to leave, to sneak off before he even has the chance to realize you’re gone. You won’t come back again. You’ll think up some bullshit excuse to give Holst later.

But then Oj’s voice sounds out from across the way, stopping you in your tracks.

“Hey, where you going?”

Shit.

“Home. I don’t wanna bother you anymore.” you answer, turning towards him, figuring you’ll be truthful since this is the last time you plan to see him.

The look on his face is one of confusion, which matches what you feel inside. This can’t be happening right now.

“You’re not bothering me.” he says. You’re sure he’s lying, right? He’s just trying to be nice, trying not to ruin his business relationship with Holst, trying not to hurt the weird photographer who popped up at his ranch one day’s feelings.

“I think I am.” you respond, eyes looking down at the dirt. Anywhere but at Oj. “It’s obvious you like being alone.”

“I do like being alone.” he nods, walking towards you. You knew it.

You nod at his statement, gearing up to ask him why he even stopped you. You back up, ready to leave. Until he speaks again.

“Unless I find someone who’s worth sharing my space with.”

Your head shoots up, eyes meet Oj’s sincere expression of emotion.

“Am I worth sharing your space with?” you just want to hear his answer, need to hear it spoken straight from his mouth.

He’s so close now, mere inches separating you two. And the heat is there again, and the butterflies settle in your stomach, just like they have everytime you two have been this close.

“Hell yeah.”

His lips crash against yours, the brim of his hat brushing against your forehead. You both can’t be bothered to care, not when the yearning of two people too afraid to say anything has finally been sated. Not when your lips feel so good together, when he can taste you and you can taste him. Not when his hands have found your waist and are gently squeezing, and your hands have found his neck, scratching softly at the short hair there.

Not when the heat of the California sun is nothing compared to the heat shared between you two.

You both separate for air, and Oj takes that as a chance to pick his hat up. Your hand flies to your chest, feeling your heartbeat as your chest heaves. He stands back up, laughing breathlessly.

“You dropped my hat.” he jokes, dusting it off. His eyes meet yours again.

“Well, it was hindering my ability to kiss the very handsome cowboy standing right in front of me.”

“Yeah, alright.” he laughs, putting his hat on your head.

“I’d hate to ruin the moment, but I gotta go home.” you say reluctantly, blushing at Oj’s action and tucking your braids under the hat.

“Yeah.” he nods, looking in the direction of the already setting sun, hands on his hips like they always are when he’s focused. “Next time you visit, I’m taking you out.” He smiles now, pretty white teeth shining. He looks happy, you think.

“I’ll hold you to that.” you smile back. He kisses you on your forehead as a goodbye.

This time on your drive home, you don’t chase the images of the cowboy flashing through your mind away.

—

Your next visit to the ranch is by invitation. You could call it a date, you guess.

When you get there, the man that meets you is obviously so happy to see you. He greets you with a kiss, one hand on your cheek, resting tenderly. He tastes like lemonade, and his body is warm like the heat of the sun. You hate to pull away, but you just have to admire the handsome cowboy standing right there in front of you.

He has an orange hoodie on, with something like “Scorpion King” written on it. It’s late in the evening, so you can just barely make it out. It looks good on him.

“You staring?” he asks with a smirk.

“Yeah.” you nod with a smile. “I can’t admire the man I just kissed? Plus the hoodie looks good on you.”

He doesn’t answer, just smiles again, shaking his head at your words.

“Nice hat.” he changes the subject, motioning with a nod towards the hat on your head that looks suspiciously similar to the one he gave you last time you saw each other.

“Where we going?” you change the topic, saving yourself from your own bashfulness.

“There’s this food place like, 5 minutes from Jupe’s Claim.” He decides to leave you alone, but inside he’s feeling all sappy about you wearing it.

“Cool.” you smile.

The drive there is filled with talking, mostly on your part, and laughing on Oj’s. You both fall into this dynamic quickly. You speak, and Oj listens. You like it.

You eat in his truck because you know that Oj doesn’t wanna be in the building with that many people. He tries to protest, but you stand firm, even locking the doors when he tries to leave the vehicle.

“You know, you’re holding me hostage.” he deadpans, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Yeah, okay.” you laugh through a mouthful of fries. He can’t help but chuckle, reaching for his food.

“And in my own vehicle?” he jokes, placing more fries into his mouth.

“Yeah, I guess I am.” you acquiesce. “We’re not going in there. I like it like this, just me and you.”

His eyes meet yours, and you’re so grateful that you can say something about it this time, can act on what you’ve been feeling for the past month or so. So you kiss him, and kissing him feels just as good as the first time.

When you hook your phone up to the aux and turn some music on, he cracks a smile, which turns into a laugh when you begin to passionately sing the lyrics.

“You’re very excited about this, I see.” he remarks.

“Hell yes I am!” you scream over the track. “It’s my favorite song!”

He just nods, choosing to silently watch as you give him the show of your life, grabbing at his hoodie and sobbing exaggeratedly to get the song’s point across.

You end up back at the ranch after a while, sometime after midnight. You leave, still feeling Oj’s lips on your forehead, his form of a goodbye.

—

No way.

Absolutely no way.

You rub your eyes like on the cartoons, squinting to make sure your vision is correct.

“Oj, what the hell!” you scream up at him.

“What.” he responds, like he’s not outside your house on top of a literal horse.

“Why are you on a horse!”

“I wanna take you horse riding. This time as my girlfriend.”

As his girlfriend.

“Good lord.” you laugh as Oj hops off of Lucky so he can help you up.

“How’d you know where I live?” you ask as he boosts you onto Lucky with a grunt.

“Holst.” He answers shortly. This man is gonna drive you insane. He swings up behind you, and then you both are off, riding through the countryside.

He’s so warm, and you are too, just like that third time y’all met. This time, you can express your thoughts to him.

“You know, last time we did this, it made my feelings worse.”

“Is it doing it again?” he asks, not questioning what else you meant.

“Yeah. Hell yeah.” you nod, and you feel him smile against your neck as he places a kiss there. His hand ghosts up your side, the other staying steady on the reins, and he places his hat on your head, just like the other time.

You smile to yourself, relishing in having the affection of the cowboy you could’ve sworn didn’t care for anything other than his horses.

When he drops you off at your house, you kiss him goodbye this time. He leans down over the horse to accept your kiss with smiling lips, and then he’s nodding like the stereotypical cowboy and riding off to his house.

Who would have known Otis Haywood Junior could be such a sweetheart?

—

Oj’s vinyl collection is insane. Currently playing is “Fisherman” by the Congos, the same song that was playing the day you came over for a horse ride.

Oj comes into the living room, two glasses of lemonade in both of his hands.

“I like this song.” you say.

“That’s good. It’s one of my favorites.” he responds, handing you a glass and taking a seat beside you on the couch.

“So when were you gonna tell me you’re this good at making lemonade?” you question dramatically, going back in for another sip.

“I live on a hot ass ranch and I’m outside most of the day. I thought that would be obvious.” He’s a sarcastic little thing, all snarky and cocky under that stoic exterior. You feel so grateful to be able to see this side of him, the side that he keeps hidden from the rest of the world.

He finishes up the lemonade in his cup, setting it on the table beside the couch and hopping up to change the vinyl.

“What you turning on?” you ask, swirling your remaining drink around in your glass.

“It’s a lil vinyl I made for us.” He pulls the record out, replacing the one on the player with it.

“You.. you made a vinyl for us?” you ask incredulously, in fucking shock.

“Yeah.” he nods, placing the needle on the record. You recognize the song as one of the ones that you played in the truck on your first date. The one you told him was your favorite.

“You remembered.”

“Of course I did.” You go silent at that, enjoying the song in a different context now.

He goes to the kitchen to wash and put up the glasses, leaving you in the living room, smiling when he hears you singing along to the record. When he comes back, another song is starting.

“All you got to do is walk away and pass me by, don’t acknowledge my smile when I try to say hello to you, yeah”

Michael Jackson croons off the player, singing lyrics that song very similar to you and Oj’s meetings and now relationship.

“That sounds like us at first.” you laugh, remembering Oj’s reluctance to even allow you on his ranch when you two first met.

“Does it?” he questions with a tilt of his head, fully aware that it sounds just like him.

“It does.”

“I just want to touch and kiss, and I wish that I could be with you tonight, cause you give me butterflies”

“You definitely give me butterflies.” you admit.

He’s standing cross-armed now, leaning against the table that the player sits on.

“Come ‘ere.” he beckons with a smile at your confession and a jerk of his head, outstretching his hand to you.

You stand up, entangling your hands and fingers with his. His other hand meets your hip as he starts to sway back and forth, and you fall in line with his dance.

“Would never have pegged you for the slow dancing type, but it works, to be honest.” you smile, eyes fixed on his. He smiles back, shrugging and kissing you on your forehead.

“If you would take my hand, baby I would show you, guide you to the light, babe”

Time seems to slow, the world outside falling away, leaving just you and Oj here together, dancing to music off a vinyl player on his ranch, your hands connected, bodies moving in sync. It feels kinda overwhelming, falling so fast for a man you were sure didn’t want anything to do with you.

Your eyes meet again, and so many things are said with just a glance. You have to talk, have to do something to deal with what you’re feeling. He looks too enamored with you, and you’re in too deep to not express it.

“Oj, I-” but he cuts you off with a kiss, knowing what you want to say.

“Don’t talk.” he shakes his head, separating for just a second. “Just do.” he nods, and then he moves back in. He’s sweet, a mix of lemonade and something you can only describe as him. His other hand moves to your cheek, cupping your face, and you almost melt at his tenderness when you feel his thumb start to rub softly. Your hands find his waist, tangling in the fabric of his shirt in an attempt to keep you in this plane of existence. It doesn’t quite work, though, because merely existing with this man sends you high enough to make sure you’ll never come down.

“Cause you give me butterflies inside”

When you both pull away, it’s with closed eyes and heaving chests. It takes you a second to come back down, to ground yourself back on earth. Oj’s hands have found your waist now, and yours are folded in front of you, too scared to touch him for fear of what will happen next.

He’s starstruck, but sure about what he wants. His hands find yours as your eyes open to find him gazing at you with adoration and sureness, and he places them on the waistband of his jeans, smiling against your lips when you hook your fingers in the loops and pull him ever closer, sighing against his lips when his warmth overtakes you.

Then he kisses you again, hands moving down to where yours are, ghosting under your shirt and resting on the skin above the waistband of your shorts. The kiss is deep, and before you know it your tongue slips into his mouth and his is in yours, and tongue-kissing would be gross with anyone else but with Oj it feels right. Everything feels right with him, and you swear you can feel him, hard and heavy, pressing against your thigh.

You can’t blame him though, because the heat he’s made fall over you has spread, has entrapped you and found its way between your legs.

And, maybe fueled by arousal, or Oj’s urging for you to just feel and do, you unbutton his jeans. You don’t know what to do next, don’t know anything about how he likes it or how he wants it, but you don’t give yourself time to doubt. You hook your fingers in his belt loops again and pull him towards the couch, and you fall back, letting him take his place hovering over you.

He leans down to kiss you again, like he’s addicted to the feeling of your lips against his, your taste mixing with him. And he is, god he is. He can’t separate, can’t bring himself to just stop kissing you, so he doesn’t. You separate just for a second, just long enough to push his jeans down so he can take the hint, and he steps out of them, leaning right back down to kiss you again.

His kisses flow from your lips down to your neck, and your hands find purchase in his short curls, nails scraping at his scalp, and the appreciative groan he gives you send chills racking through you. He kisses and licks, sucks and bites until he finds the spot that makes you squirm and whine just a little louder than the rest. You feel him smile against your skin, then, and you can’t stifle a smile either.

“You found it.” you say quietly, like talking too loud will wake you out of a dream, and you’ll wake up in your bed and not under Oj on his couch, with music playing off his vinyl record player.

“Mhm.” he hums against your neck before he goes to work on that spot, focusing his kisses and licks on that sensitive patch of skin. His hands drift down your body, nimble fingers unbuttoning your shorts with one hand. You lean into his touch, nodding when his eyes find yours, and he asks “Is this okay?”

Your brain blanks at the feeling of his hand so close to the heat that he’s created inside you. And then his hand slides into your shorts, slipping into your underwear to meet the mess he’s made of you.

“This all for me?” he asks with a smile, and you, with a heaving chest and a fluttery stomach, nod again, head falling back onto the couch. His other hand eases the shorts down your legs, giving himself more room to work with. On his way back, he kisses down your leg, drawing a small laugh from you, so happy to be seeing this loving side of him, and he smiles at you.

Then he’s focused again, fingers moving against you, experimenting with different angles and movements and motions, still kissing and nuzzling at your neck while you whine and squirm. He’s determined, wants to find that one thing that makes you tick.

And then he finds it.

“Fuck, that’s it.” you moan, chest arching into him, feeling him press against you, firm and warm, as his fingers find your clit.

“That’s it?” he asks, mirroring you as you nod before he even gets the question out. It’s arousing, for some reason, and he swears he can feel the blood rush to your clit. He rubs soft circles over it, watching your face, making it his one and only purpose at this moment to learn how you like, how you want it and what drives you crazy. And when he rubs a certain way, flicks his fingers just right, he can’t help but smile again at the unadulterated moan that rips from deep in your chest.

“That’s it.” he speaks against that sensitive spot he’s found on your neck, and it drives you wild.

“Shit.” is all you can manage, back falling down from its arch, legs closing around his hand.

Oj takes it all in, your whines, your groans, the way you squirm and shake and jerk against him. It feels so good, Oj on top of you, his hands on your body, one between your legs and the other stroking your hair, soothing you as you get lost in the pleasure that he’s giving you.

“Feels so good.” you whine, one hand curled in his hair, the other curled in the fabric of his shirt that you wish was off right now. “Off.” you manage to say, and he hates to pull his hand away, but he gives you what you want, pulls his shirt off as fast as he can, returning his hand to where you both want it.

“You dripping, baby.” he hums, and you shiver at the pet name that slips off his lips so easily.

You bring him down into yet another kiss, moaning into his mouth as he finds his rhythm again, working you up into ecstasy like you’ve never felt before.

“You- fuck, you make me feel so good.” you confess. “You’re making me feel so good.”

That makes him press harder, makes his movements against your clit speed up, makes him grow harder and heavier against your thigh. He needed that, needed to know that what he’s doing is still something you want.

“You shaking, baby. Feel good, yeah?” His accent has you hanging off his every word, his deep voice and drawl adding to the blood rushing to your clit.

“I wanna come.” you say, eyes locked on his.

“Well come, baby, you got that shit.” And you do, shaking and shivering as you soak his hand and your underwear and the couch beneath you. You find it funny how you’re coming for him on his couch, coming for a man you swore didn’t want you, laughing as you come down, small huffs with your arm thrown over your face, in awe at how fast and hard he made you come.

Then his lips are meeting yours again, and everything feels so perfect, final pieces of clothing falling onto the floor beside the couch.

You and Oj make love that night on his couch for the first time, with a vinyl he made for you two playing.

–

You wake up in his bed, slightly confused until the memories of last night come rushing back.

—

Oj bottoming out inside you, kissing you softly as his hips slot against you. His thrusts jolting you up the couch, your arms and legs wrapped around him, his soft praises of “You look so pretty, been wanting this for so long” meeting with your moans and groans of “Right there, fuck, right there, Oj.”

Your chest arching into his, breasts pressed against his chest, nipples hard and peaked and sensitive. His hand finding your chest, flicking softly, smiling once again at the shakes that rack through you. His golden chain dangling over you, glittering and hitting against your chin with every forward push of his hips into your heat.

Your hands gripping at his back, scratching and smoothing down his pretty brown skin, leaving red marks in your wake. His hisses and moans into your mouth at the feeling, tongues slipping into each other’s mouths too.

His fingers finding your clit, using the circles he learned earlier. Your legs tightening around his waist, his other hand ghosting down your thigh, fingers pressing into your skin, tight enough to leave pretty marks that you’ll admire in the California sunlight tomorrow.

Both of your moans and pants, warnings of your impending orgasms mixing together until you’re coming with each other. You soak his cock and he fills you up, giving warmth to each other like you’ve never felt before.

Oj collapsing on top of you, caging you in, you both resting in the afterglow of making love after holding back. Music sounding out, the soundtrack to you and Oj’s expression of passion.

Oj carrying you to his bed after a while, disappearing and returning with a warm, wet towel. While he was gone, you heard the music stop. You feel his hands ghost between your legs, soft and slow as he cleans you up, throwing the covers back over you.

Oj coming back after putting the towel away, settling on the other side of the bed, not knowing what to do next. You moving over to him immediately, arm thrown over his chest, and his arm coming up to embrace you.

You both drifting to sleep, laying in each other’s arms.

—

Oh. So that’s why you’re in his bed.

You throw the covers off your body, and you admire the bruises on your thighs in the California sun streaming through his windows. He’s not beside you, but you hear music spinning and smell food cooking.

You pick one of his shirts from his closet, a faded blue tee that stops right around the middle of your thigh. The marks he left yesterday are slightly covered, but enough peek out to satisfy your loving admiration of his touch left lingering on you.

When you make your way to the kitchen, you find Oj at the stove stirring a panfull of eggs. There’s two plates sitting on the counter, decked out with toast slathered in jelly, grits, and sausage. The food is paired with two glasses of cold lemonade — you can tell by the way the glasses are dripping in condensation.

He’s just finishing up, sliding eggs onto both plates. He leans into your touch when you embrace him, sliding your arms over his sides and to his front.

“G’morning.” you hum.

“G’morning, pretty girl.” is his response, voice deep with sleep, deep enough to shake you to your core. He turns around in your arms, places a finger under your chin to lift your lips to his.

“How’d you sleep?” he asks.

“Great. Even better since I was beside you.” you answer honestly, your smile mirroring his.

“Yeah?” he muses, before dipping down again to kiss you once more.

Kissing Oj feels like magic, feels like sparks and flames and butterflies, shooting heat through every nerve in your body. He pulls away just to sit there, to smile at you and watch you smile back, before kissing you again.

His hands ghost under his your shirt, resting on your waist. He hums at the lack of obstruction, the way what you both know is going to happen is just within his reach. You rest your hands on the sides of his face, thumb rubbing against his skin.

Things move fast this time. His hands are running down your body and over your thighs, hooking under your knees to place you on the counter, still kissing you with all he has in him.

His jeans and boxers are down as quick as quick as he can pull them, and then he’s pushing inside you again, seating himself where he belongs.

He ruts deep, hips flush against yours with your arms wrapped around him, shaking legs pulling him as close as you can. His face buried in your neck as he finds that spot on your neck, and that spot inside you again.

“That’s it, ain’t it?” he nods against your neck, smiles when he feels you nod with him, slipping into the morning bliss and the feeling of you around him, wet and warm. Your skin is heated, swapping warmth from him to you and back to him, passion and infatuation hanging in the air.

Now, you both learn that you two love it like this as well, slow and deep on the kitchen counter, sunlight streaming through the windows, illuminating and bearing witness to love-making between two people learning to love each other.

And when you come, and he does too, it’s with quiet moans and groans of each other’s name, his forehead against yours, hands gripping your waist, and you, with your fingers curled in his hair, shivering at his touch.

Luckily, cold eggs don’t sound too bad.

—

You make the ranch your home in no time. You have to go home for changes of clothes that day, but you’re back before sundown, decked out with some vinyls from your house to add to the collection.

You fall into your own routine, getting up and making breakfast somedays, prepping sandwiches for lunch on the days Oj cooks breakfast. You really could just do anything for the rest of the day, but most of it is spent with Oj, learning more about the horses and helping him where you can, sappy little moments ever abundant. At night, he ends up buried inside you again, which is becoming his favorite place to be. And during the day too, if you’re being honest. You two fuck like rabbits.

It’s cozy, existing in the same space with him. He’s soft, kisses you every chance he gets, makes you food and fucks you good after. And he’s funny, his wit endearingly annoying at times, though he tries to pretend like he doesn’t know.

“Put that shit on.” Black fabric hits your face as you’re sat on the couch, and when you feel it you can tell it’s the satin of your bonnet.

“What the fuck, Oj.” You deadpan, though you know he’s right.

“You left that in bed last night. Them braids look new. Put it back on.”

“So,” you start, raising up your hands so you can count on your fingers, “and I’m just tallying you up here, you can: cook, clean, you’re funny, you fuck amazing, you care about my hair, and on top of it all, you’re a real-life fucking cowboy?”

That draws a deep laugh straight out of his chest, his chuckles reverberating through the house, and through you, it feels. You laugh with him, feeling something like home sinking down into your bones. He makes his way to the kitchen, where he was on his way to before he spotted your bonnet on the bed.

“Yeah, I guess. And you went through the day without that on your head. So put it on.”

When you fuck on the counter a little after that, your bonnet is on.

–

The birth control / no condom conversation isn’t awkward at all, actually. It happens around two weeks after that first night.

With Oj’s cum leaking down your legs in the shower, his head resting in your neck, he finally says something.

“You on birth control?” he murmurs. “I been cumming inside you this whole time.” You can’t help but chuckle, breathless, still coming down.

“Yeah.” you nod.

“Thank god.” he responds.

He cooks you dinner that night, and kisses you every time he can.

—

It was inevitable, honestly, getting Oj between your legs. He’s tasted you on his fingers too many times to not want it from the source.

A morning spent in bed evolves into kisses, though everything with Oj means kisses. You’ve learned that Oj loves to kiss.

He sucks and licks at your neck on the way down to where he wants to be, hiking his repurposed shirt up to your stomach to reveal your core, wet and waiting for him to have his fill.

You know what’s about to happen, but you still jolt in shock when he licks that first stripe up your folds. Someway and somehow, he knows where your clit is, swirling his greedy tongue around it, indulging in your arousal.

“God, of course you’re good at this.” you moan, throwing your head back onto the pillows.

“Mhm.” he chuckles with an open mouth, tongue out and focused on your already sensitive clit. He bobs his head up and down, moving from your hole to your clit, always returning to the bundle of nerves that he’s so proficiently found and laid claim to.

He spreads you out with his thumbs, licks a fat stripe up from your entrance, sucking your clit into his mouth. You’re dumb now, stupid from pleasure and mind spinning with ecstacy. Sunlight streams through the windows, lights his pretty brown skin up, gives him a golden glow. It lights you up, too, gives him a better view of what you both know belongs to him already.

And you’re so close already. Three-ish weeks at the ranch has shown you it doesn’t take him long to get you high like this.

“Oj, ‘m gonna–”

“I know. Do it. Come for me.” He’s so sure in his words that you can’t help but follow them. You come, shaking and damn near crying on his tongue for the first time, and he swears you’re the best thing he’s ever tasted.

He makes you come with just his tongue two more times before you both start your day. You have to lay in bed for a while before you can even think about walking anywhere on your still-shaking legs.

–

“When’d you catch feelings for me?” you ask him in bed one night while you read and he lays beside you, thinking.

“I thought you were pretty when you first came. But I really got roped in seeing you in your element, taking pictures of the horses, even if you were nervous. The day we kissed the first time.”

“Good to know.” you nod. You don’t feel the need to say anything else. Sitting in silence with Oj is something you’re growing to love.

–

You return the favor a couple days later.

He’s gentle, letting you take your time and take him into your throat at your own pace.

It’s messy. Spit dripping out of your mouth and onto the ground in the stables. Depraved, cause you couldn’t wait to get him in the house. He chuckles breathlessly at your greed, the way you basically jumped him, pushed him against the wall murmuring “God, you’re so fine” before you dropped to your knees, unbuckling his jeans with ease.

“That’s it.” he groans, hands threading into your braids.

You bob your head up and down, wrap your hand around the base of him, giving him just a little pressure, just enough to have a low growl reverberating in his chest.

You don’t pull off when he tells you he’s about to come. You don’t give a fuck, truly. You want it all. And you take it all.

You learn he’s the type to kiss you after he busts in your mouth.

–

Angel and Em come over a couple weeks after you move in. It doesn’t take them long to catch on to what you and Oj have going on.

“She’s yours?” Em motions to you with her vape as she steps into the house. Angel trails behind her, yapping on about aliens or some shit.

You see Oj nod from the corner of your eye as Angel makes you his next victim, asking “Do you believe in aliens?” like you didn’t see the picture of Jean Jacket on the news. Oj watches in quiet fascination as you fall quickly into Angel’s rant, nodding and adding your own two cents every once in a while when Angel needs a second to breathe (which, rarely happens, unsurprisingly).

The house gets loud pretty quickly, with Em quizzing you on who you are and if you’re any good for her brother in one ear and Angel going on tangent after tangent in the other. Oj’s content to just watch, to see you get loud with people who also enjoy being loud. He’s getting to know all the sides of you, learning the outgoing side he saw in the truck on your first date, learning the quiet side he sees on those music and lemonade nights, learning the soft side he sees when you two make love, learning the side of you that likes it rough and carnal, learning what makes you you.

After a while of talking and sipping lemonade with your copy of Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” album spinning, Oj joins Em in the kitchen.

“She reeled you in, didn’t she.” Em questions with a smile, poking fun at her brother with the smooth notes of “Human Nature” filling the house.

“Yeah, she did.” he admits with a nod and a smile. “She something special.”

“I can tell. she got you smiling and shit. You ain’t smiled this much since before.. you know. And from talking to her it seem like she’s what you need.”

“She makes me happy. For real.” is all he says, and Emerald knows what he means without him having to say anything else.

When Em and Angel leave for the night, you ask him one question, standing across from him in the kitchen, him leaning against the counter.

“I make you happy?” You ask.

“Hell yeah. You been making me happy since you came here that first day.” He hopes you believe him.

And you do. You can see a future with him. He sees one with you too.

When you both fall asleep in each other’s arms, you’re content.

–

It’s hot as fuck. Like, hot. It’s been a month or so living on the ranch, so you’re growing accustomed to the heat. But shit.

Oj’s feeling the effects of the sun too, wiping sweat off his forehead every second it seems. You take a second to lean against the stables for just a moment, just enough to catch your breath.

“You good?” he asks when he sees you stop tending to Ghost.

“Yeah.” you huff, fanning yourself. “It’s just hot as hell.”

You see him reach down to turn the hose on, and you pay him no mind. He’s just giving the horses some water.

Then you feel water hit you.

“Oj.” you laugh, wiping your face off.

“Yeah?” He feigns innocence. “I’m just tryna cool you off.” It’s sweet, really, his playfulness mixing with him caring for you, making sure you don’t pass the fuck out.

It turns into a water fight, the hose making its way from your hands to his, wetting him up too.

Eventually, the hose is dropped on the ground, spraying water up over you two while you kiss, laughing in between.

–

It’s not all love-making with Oj, though, not all sappy moments and heartfelt confessions. Oj knows how to break you just the way you like.

Over the months he’s learned you like it face down in the pillows sometimes, his hips snapping strong and determined into you, cock pressed right up against that spot. He’s learned you like when controls you, when he takes the reins.

“You can take it, beautiful. You got that shit.” You sob into the pillow, writhe and thrash in his grasp as he tightens his hand around your wrists, pushes them closer to your back where he has them pulled behind you.

“You feel me deep, don’t you? Feel me deep in this pussy, my pussy.” You couldn’t form words even if you were able to. He knows this, knows his voice, his accent, his drawl all get you that much wetter. “Its mine, hm?” he knows all of you belongs to him. All of you, down to your soul, belongs to him.

“Yours.” you choke out, tell him what he knows already. He makes you come so many times that night, you just barely pass out.

–

Things go so easy. It’s so easy to love Oj and it’s so easy for him to love you.

The first time he says it is completely on purpose, about 6 months after that first date, and 5 months after you moved in.

It’s a night that goes like many of yalls nights, sipping lemonade and spinning records. The conversation is meaningless, but meaningful because it’s with you. And then things get silent, and it gives Oj a moment to lay in what he has with you. The words make perfect sense when they roll from his lips.

“I love you.” His eyes are trained on yours.

“I love you too.” You’re sure about it. You’ve loved him for a long time.

And that’s the end of it. It isn’t a big deal, because you both knew what it was you were feeling before you even felt the urge to put words to it.

You love him. And he loves you too.

–

It’s funny how a quick visit to see some horses could evolve into this.

Moving onto the ranch, making love whenever you both please, letting Oj break you the way you love and he loves too. Kisses and I love you’s shared, horse rides and lemonade and dates in his truck, with and without music playing. Compliments on your hairstyles and reminding you to wear your bonnet, late night runs to the nearest store, dates at Jupe’s Claim. Water fights on days when it gets wayyy too hot. Nights spent listening to music and talking about the most mundane of things, eyes and lips always landing on your lover.

He eventually tells you exactly how Pops died. How that shit fucked up him up bad. But he makes sure you know he’s grateful for you, thanks whoever’s listening that you walked into his laugh with a love for something he loved too and shy ass smile.

“You make me happy in a way I aint felt in a long time.” he tells you in bed between kisses one night with you wrapped up in his arms. You’re glad you could do that for him.

“You make me feel safe. You make me feel seen.” He’s glad he could do that for you.

Funny how one meeting could spawn all this

#oj haywood smut #oj haywood x reader #oj haywood x black reader

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dairy-farmer · 6 months

Note

Meta Prostitute Au? Oh~?

Imagine this, Bruce and Dick break up a Meta slavery ring. Save the day! But realize? Oh shit! One of these guys is ABSURDLY High Risk for re-capture, because of his power. What is it?

"Fantasy Shape". He "goes to sleep", his power reads your mind, and shape-shifts him into whoever you find most attractive. Plays out sexy scenarios until it can sense you are satisfied.

People would BURN COUNTRIES to get their hands on this kid.

Bruce looks at Dick. Who looks at Bruce. And? Agreed. Kid was never here, they are taking him and putting him up in a nice apartment somewhere. The kid is like "cool. Free house. No wrinkly creeps."

Time passes.

Kid is now a twenty something. Dick is Nightwing. Jason back alive but estranged as hell. Damian barely settling in.

Kid would like That Gucci Shit. Has a VERY profitable ability. Time to become a sugar baby! Batman says "are you TRYING to get murder kidnapped?"

Now Twink counters with "then pay me" and transforms. Is, by the very nature of his powers, COMPLETELY unaware of WHO he turns into. He's not gonna remember ANYTHING. Just wake up, probably sore, and hopefully about to get paid.

Which is why he's completely unaware~

That he turns into Tim Drake with a puss.

Perhaps even early in his Robin career. Maybe in the Sexy Costume version. Maybe both. Maybe he looks like the Robin Bruce JUST saw, but with a pretty pink slit a handful little tits. Blinking up at him with those big, trusting, needy eyes. Oh he feels so STRANGE, Bruce~ won't you help him?

It's like a gut punch.

He can't. He... he doesn't. W-Would NEVER...!

But there it is. Proof of what he wants. Teary eyed and needy. Begging him to come closer. To "help" him.

Bruce knows for a fact Tim is cis-gendered. Has... has, perhaps, had thoughts he shouldn't. Lingered on reports and video feed of those rare few incidents, when for whatever reason, Tim was made... softer.

He shouldn't.

But... some desperately justifying part of his brain hisses, if he DOESNT? The Twink will try and find someone else to pay him. Get in over his head and probably die. We're basicly saving his life!

His resolve crumbles.

And somehow? He even SMELLS like Tim. The fantasy flawless. Teasing pretty little tits. Being so gentle, at first, with that virgin little hole. Hearing his Robin whimper and cry out in pleasure as he fucks him. Teases his little pink clit and stuffs him deep and full. Dragging him up and down like a toy to be filled with seed.

Everything he denied himself.

He doesn't have too anymore, does he?

Twink gets his Prada and Bruce gets an outlet. Which makes Duck suspicious. Because Bruce is NEVER this calm and reasonable. They fight about it on the roof. Bruce desperately glad Dick didn't actually SEE, what Twink turned into. But ultimately? Dick has to agree. Better this then unnecessary risks.

He talks to Twink.

Who would pass up Nightwing? Even if you couldn't remember it?

Nightwing will never admit to ANYONE what happens. Tim with a puss. His perfect "girl", huh? Arms held out to him, loving smile in place. Waiting for a kiss. Dick is going to hell. He cant bring himself to care.

It's so good he could cry.

But two for two acting fishy? Jason snoops. Working boy, huh? Tries to interview him. Twink panics at the sight of a Crime Lord. Tim + Puss+ Jason's shirt + He forgives you. Come get some.

....OH. So THATS why they come here.

Jason... should... should say no... he thinks, even as he's getting naked. He gets sounds out of Not-Tim that put porn to shame. Were the puss not temporary and shape-shifting, Twink would ABSOLUTELY be pregnant. He gets breakfast.

And frankly, Twink has the morality of a prison shank. When Damian tracks him down? Well? Pay him and he'll show you, bat-brat. WHY Batman visits this "den of iniquity". Seething, Damian does.

Turns out he? Really, REALLY wants Sexy CEO Tim with a Puss to admit he's a better Robin but then pin him to the floor and ride him. Call him pet names. Just milk him DRY with his sexy, sexy, CEO femdom puss.

Damian stumbles home vaguely shell-shocked and Reflecting On Some Stuff that he learned today.

And Tim? Has been having the time of his life, getting off it, since day one. Because he was stalking Batman. As usual. It's his go-to comfort activity. And he is starting to seriously consider getting a magic user to give him some sort of gender swap medallion or something. You know... for Vauge Bat Reasons.

Oh look! Nearly time for Bruce's weekly "extra patrol route". Better get the lube and get comfy~ Tim's got a show to enjoy.

-🐼🐼🐼

good for tim 😍😍😍!!!

#answered asks #asks #anonymous

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aesopsharpmybeloved · 7 months

Text

Tess' Sharpuary - 21. Mirror of Erised

Aesop stumbles upon a strange mirror, and in its reflection sees people he never even hoped he'd see again.

chapter specific tags: hurt/comfort, reflective, fluff

relationships: aesop sharp x reader, aesop sharp & aesop's family

21. Mirror of Erised (2.3k)

tw: hurt, mentions of canonical and fictional deaths, mentions of stillbirth, slight bashing of phineas nigellus black

Aesop grimaced as he saw Phineas Nigellus Black round the corner and begin heading in his direction. Great, that’s going to be a lovely conversation. If Aesop never had to see the man again, it would be too soon. One would think that since he resigned from his post as the Hogwarts Potions master years ago, he would not see the Headmaster very often at all. However, as a way to relieve the new teacher of some of the strain of brewing healing potions for the whole school, as well as secure some extra income, Aesop agreed to take on a part of it, as per his now position of a potions shop owner.

At first, he was slightly bitter about it - after all, when he was the professor, he brewed everything on his own. On the other hand, however, the school did provide a stable source of income for the shop, which was very much needed, especially in the beginning. In later years, however, it turned out that not only was delivering all the Wiggenweld, Skele-gro, Blood-replenishing potions and Burn salves beneficial for both sides but the fact that there was a delivery every second month or so meant that either Aesop or his wife were able to catch a glimpse of their school-attending children outside of the summer and Christmas holidays.

And so, Aesop dutifully helped stock the Hogwarts supply of various concoctions, deeming every time he got to see his daughter as well as his previous colleagues the best perk. However, having to face his former employer was always a bloody chore indeed. And while the pros outweighed the cons, he still found himself needing to count to ten each time the man engaged him in conversation.

However, just as the Headmaster made a beeline straight for him, the noise of a small explosion startled him. He looked into the direction of the sound, and began promptly walking towards it: “What is the meaning of this? Peeves!”

Aesop took his chance, and dove into the room nearest to him. He didn’t care if it was the loos or if a troll was kept there, anything to not have to talk to the unbearable man. Hopefully, he’ll be so preoccupied with the poltergeist, he’ll forget Aesop was there at all. The former professor actually had no idea where he entered just now…

He carefully set the crate of potions he was carrying on the ground in order to stretch his back a bit, and only then did he finally turn around from the door to see where he ended up. He was surprised to find the large chamber nearly empty, save for something large in the middle of it, a heavy tarp thrown over the mysterious object. Despite all of the years he spent in the castle as a student and then as a teacher, he knew he’d never discover all of Hogwarts’ mysteries. Was this room, the door to it itself, always here? Aesop couldn’t really remember. There was no way this was the Room of Requirement, he was many corridors and staircases away from it, and besides even if it was, and it formed itself to hold a temporary shelter from snobbish idiots for him, why would the tall thing be there?

He carefully stepped towards it. He was no fool, though, he would not touch anything until he was certain there wasn’t some curse or hex attached to it. He cast a strong Revelio. He could sense the object contained some powerful magic, but couldn’t determine whether it was good or bad. He didn’t sense it to be outright evil and malevolent, but he still decided that lifting the tap off using his wand might be safer. And so he did.

A large mirror was revealed. It was just a mirror? Aesop scoffed.

It was not that it was an ugly mirror, but why would a single mirror be hidden away like this, in a room that’s in such plain sight, that it becomes nearly invisible? Hundreds upon hundreds of students walk around it almost every day, and yet none of them bother to look inside, most likely thinking this room is a broom cabinet, if they even notice the door at all.

Aesop watched his reflection from afar - he didn’t feel like he was being possessed, or that his soul was leaving his boy as he did, so that was good. He did, however, notice there was something of a swirl to his reflection, a sort of movement and a slight blur. He chanced stepping a bit closer, and the effects got stronger. He cast the revealing charm again, but it was the same as the previous time he tried so. The mirror wasn’t a passage, as was sometimes the case with enchanted mirrors, that was for sure.

Another step. Aesop squinted his eyes - it seemed something else was forming in the reflection alongside it. It almost looked like… a person? Or more? He turned around - he was alone in the room. Upon another step, he saw that it was definitely a group of people standing around him, their forms and faces blurry and undistinctive. Another step. Two adult-sized persons stood to Aesop’s right, and two more to his left. And then it looked like there were some smaller ones. Another step forward. With a small shock, the former professor noticed the faces growing more recognisable, and when he stepped closer once more, he could almost tell who the people were.

His curiosity and fascination prompted him to take another three steps until he was standing directly in front of the mirror. There was no doubt - the people his reflection was surrounded with were his family. Only… there were slightly… more people.

Aesop's reflection had his right arm wrapped around the waist of his wife, the younger woman smiling at him through the reflection happily, her head coming to rest on his shoulder. Chills ran through his body as he almost felt it, almost felt her head touch his shoulder. He looked to his right but there was obviously nothing. He was still on his own. He gasped when he noticed the woman standing next to his wife. Ashley… She was grinning at him like she did all those years ago. Only… only the Ashley in the reflection looked older than when the woman herself died. Her face held a few wrinkles that weren’t there before, and the small wrinkles by her eyes from laughing were much deeper now. And was that a grey strand on her golden head?

It hit Aesop then and there, that this was how Ash would’ve looked had she not died in that harbour in Scarborough… And somehow Aesop knew that was he to focus his eyes on the people standing to the left of his reflection… of course he’d see his parents, both of them. His mum looked normal like she always did, like the way he last saw her less than a week ago when he went to visit her. Except, her eyes looked softer than they were. He was no fool - he knew while his mother was always strong, she needed to become even stronger after his father, her husband, died. But in the mirror’s reflection, he never did.

His father, being a muggle, looked older than his wife, despite being the same age as her. Age suited him though, Aesop found. The elderly man still stood tall, as tall as Aesop, and his years looked good on him. He never truly realised just how much he resembled his father. He had his large nose and his brow. His father's eyes were larger and softer than his own, and he had a barely noticeable cleft in his chin which Aesop lacked, however. His father too was smiling at him, and Aesop hoped he wasn’t imagining the pride he saw in his father’s eyes… How he wished his father was proud of him, wherever he was now…

Looking lower, he couldn’t help his own proud smile. His children were standing in front of them. He only just now noticed his reflection’s free hand holding onto a smaller one - little Magdala was wearing her Slytherin uniform, and her hair was braided. By him, obviously, he saw the almost unnoticeable imperfections that were his trademark, and yet his daughters insisted on him braiding their hair for them. On her right stood Eleazar - the young boy resembled Aesop’s wife the most, with his pale skin, large eyes, and gentle features. Gentle features for a gentle boy, quiet and sweet. But Aesop knew better, he knew still waters run deep, and both Eleazar and his wife were perfect examples of the saying.

His youngest children stood in front of his wife, her free hand resting gently on her small namesake’s head, stroking it. The little girl was holding onto her twin brother’s hand, occasionally turning her head away shyly, while Theo, his youngest son, looked like was encouraging her, sometimes making a silly face to show her and make her smile.

And then there was one more person. It was a boy who looked to be a year older than Magdala, and Aesop had never seen him before… But he knew exactly who he was. Tears formed in his eyes. The lad had his eyes, like all of his children did. He had short brown hair, and a delicate face in which Aesop instantly recognised both himself and his wife, and he was donning a Hogwarts uniform students wear before they get sorted. It was his oldest child. It was his firstborn son, the one they didn’t get to know, whose cries nor laughter they never heard.

Clarence Aesop Sharp… They talked about the name often but only set it in stone long after he was so cruelly taken away from them. It broke both Aesop and his beloved, leaving them empty for a long time. Aesop often wondered what it would be like to be able to raise the boy, what he’d be like, and how he would get along with his siblings. Would his siblings be the same? Would they be the same age? Would they be there at all? While Aesop would forever mourn not being able to see his firstborn grow and thrive, he could not possibly give up either of his beautiful children for anything… He wished he could, at the very least, enter the mirror for a little bit, a few seconds, just to be able to enfold his son in an embrace, a chance he never got to have.

His palm made contact with the cool surface of the mirror buzzing with magic. He knew it wasn’t real, but for this short little moment, he liked to pretend that it was. That it truly was their family, complete like it should be, standing still to have their picture taken. But it wasn’t meant to be. His father, Ashley, Clarence… they were dead. More tears rolled down his weathered cheeks. He wished he had more time with them…

His wife’s smile in the mirror saddened for a while as if the reflection of a woman who wasn’t truly there sensed his thoughts. Her lips pressed against his cheek, right over his tear, and Aesop closed his eyes, feeling the impossible touch. He knew his wife wasn’t here. Neither were his children, nor his mother. His mother was probably in her garden right now, sipping on her tea and enjoying the fruits of her labour there. His wife was surely in the midst of preparing lunch for their family - the very thought of coming home to her no doubt delicious meal made Aesop lick his lips in anticipation. His younger children were probably playing in the garden, or maybe even outside in the village. His eldest daughter too would soon be making her way to lunch, her Transfiguration class ending soon.

And instead of finding a place between the Hospital wing and one of the entrances where his daughter was sure to pass through on her way to the Great Hall so that Aesop could see her and talk to her for at least a little while, he was standing here, looking at something that was not real, that was impossible.

He chanced one more, last look. He committed it to his memory, doing his best to remember how the ones he loved and lost would look like now. Just as he brought his hand up to wipe his tears away, he once again lowered the tarp over the mirror. He turned away, breathing deeply - he immediately wanted to look again, again, and again. Unlike his tentative steps towards the mirror, his steps away from it were quick and definite. He picked up the crate of potions, opened the door and left the room. He didn’t dare turn his head until he arrived at the Hospital wing.

And then an hour later, as he gathered his wife in his arms, he held her longer than he normally would. He only left the castle after embracing his daughter, telling her how proud he was and how much he loved her. His wife knew immediately something happened, and she inquired with her eyes.

“Our son… he would have been beautiful,” he only said, his voice quiet and weak. She didn’t reply. She didn’t have to. She needn’t know just how he knew, or what exactly happened. Aesop’s eyes held peace and acceptance. So, instead, she only smiled and kissed his lips gently, fingers entangling in his hair.

“Uh… mum?” came from the threshold leading to the dining room. The couple separated to look at Eleazar, standing there awkwardly. ”You lot are hungry, hm?” his beloved said knowingly, prompting another awkward little grin from their son. “Come then, lunch it is,” she decided, her hand closing around Aesop's own and leading him towards their boy. This was the best life, Aesop decided. It wasn’t perfect, and he’d never stop mourning his lost ones… But he knew there was no without, and while they weren’t there for him to talk to and embrace, he knew they were never truly gone.

---

Thank you for reading!

[AO3] - [Sharpuary 2024] - [Masterlist]

#aesop sharp #professor sharp #hogwarts legacy #my art #fanfiction #reader insert #aesop sharp x reader #aesop sharp x mc #drawing #digital art #artists on tumblr #illustration #sharpuary #sharpuary 2024 #hogwarts legacy fanart #aesop sharp fanart

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ohallthecrushes · 3 months

Text

You're a storm in a teacup and I'm starting to like the chaos.

I feel like I'm the only one who actually write for Elias. xd Wish there were fanfics about him being a main character and not just a side villain to the story.

Without further ado!

Summary: Evelyn is a young-troubled woman who’s just escaped a highly guarded psych ward (twice, but this time causing havoc on her way out)

Now she’s running through the city, hiding from police. A not-so-accidental encounter with a man named Elias Voit will change her life forever. And she’ll change his. His seemingly selfless help is laced with danger, hidden agenda, manipulation, endless tension, and…love? Slow burning inteligent-idiots-in-love trope. But mind you, just because it’s a love story, doesn’t mean it ends well.

General warnings throughout the story: Manipulation, illegal activities, murder(s), Stockholm syndrome, kidnapping, explicit content, language… The whole pack. It’s Criminal minds after all.

In this episode: All work and no play make Elias a dull boy. But boredom and attraction is a dangerous mix.

For the past two days, Evelyn had been growing accustomed to the routine in the cabin. Elias needed her insights occasionally, and she had provided them the best she could. However when she wasn’t consulting with him, she spent most of her time alone in her room, lost in thought. She wasn't soaked in miserable thoughts though. With each passing hour, she began to reassess her situation. Here, she had her belongings, security, food, and a comfortable bed. And compared to the institution and the frantic days on the run, this wasn't so bad.

No, she wasn't truly free, but the deal she had made was temporary, so all she needed to do was to wait till Elias wouldn't need her help anymore, hopefully soon. And even if he decided to change the conditions of the deal, she believed that she could eventually turn the tables in her favor. She had faced worse situations and survived; this was just another challenge.

The only other thing she had to deal with was growing boredom. With nothing else to do, she rummaged through her unpacked belongings like in a treasure chest, until her fingers brushed against something she hadn't noticed before – her old iPad. Music! Her lifeline, her solace, her personal therapist! And a great killer of time.

Bless Elias, for whatever reason, he had taken it from her apartment.

Smiling, she plugged in her headphones and turned on the device picking up a song. Soon music filled hear ears and her wary head with a positive energy she needed so much. She closed her eyes, letting the music transport her to a place where worries and fears faded away. Her body feeling the rhythm, started swaying slowly until her feet led her to the middle of the room.

Meanwhile with less rhythmical tempo, Elias paced the living room, feeling boredom settled over him.

Two days. Two damn days cooped up in that room. He'd expect her defiance to be a constant off-note in the air, a challenge for him, a source of excitement. Instead, silence. She only emerged for meals, quick showers, and when he called her to use her skills. It was almost… disappointing. What was the point of having her here if she acted like she wasn't?

Normally, he'd go out, find some entertainment, another victim to play with. But with Evelyn here, he didn't want to leave her entirely alone. Not yet. Not until he found a way to ensure she wouldn't run.

Stupid. She was nothing like he'd imagine. Where was the spark, the fight in her eyes? Was she planning something? Plotting an escape in her room? Or worse, plotting against him?

He wondered if perhaps he'd made her too comfortable. Maybe she adapted a little bit too quickly. He needed to lure her out, engage her, see what was inside that pretty head of hers. With a sigh, he headed towards her room to see what was she doing.

When he slowly opened the door, he was met with an unexpected sight. Evelyn was slowly dancing to music, her eyes closed, headphones on her head, body swaying to the rhythm... She looked so different, so relaxed and at ease.

He definitely had made her feel too comfortable.

He watched her, a slow grin spread across his face when he thought of something. He approached her quietly, taking advantage of her closed eyes. She didn't see him, didn't hear him. When he was close enough, he poked her shoulder. She jumped slightly, her eyes snapping open in surprise. She glared at him, clearly unamused, as she took her headphones off.

He smirked, trying to act innocent. "Didn't mean to startle you."

She narrowed her eyes at him, not fooled. "Sure you didn't." she replied.

He looked at her for a moment before he reached for her iPad. "What song are listening to?" he asked with curiosity.

She snatched it away before he could see.

Ah, there it was. The fight he'd craved.

"Easy tiger, just wanted to know what's made you so relax." he teased.

"None of your business," she retorted.

He pushed further. "Pop ballad?" he guessed, dragging out the words in a sing-song voice. "Heavy metal anthem for the misunderstood soul?" he paused before furrowing his brows in a mocking disbelief. "Gospel choir?"

She chuckled despite herself at his ridiculous predicament. She knew he was only teasing her, not really trying to guess. With a hesitation she stepped closer to him and slipped the headphones over his head.

"Here, that's the song." she murmured.

The music filled his ears - a slow alt-rock song. He didn't know the title, but he liked the alluring melody.

my hearts been empty, my thoughts depressed what I'm needing baby is your your sweet caress your soft caress

As he looked at her still standing very close due to the short cable of her headphones, their eyes met, their bodies invaded their personal space, creating something unexpectable; a moment of intimacy that caught them both off guard.

you, the only light in this room yours, the only blood I can taste

The words and the music set the atmosphere very quickly. For a moment, he didn't pull away, didn't break the eye contact, watching her reaction. His eyes lowered to her lips and her cheeks flushed a light pink as she guessed his thoughts. She quickly took a step back.

Self-concious, she thought to herself What the hell was that? Their situation was already messed up enough. This, this unwelcome attraction, was the last complication she needed.

She decided to break the tension and snatched the headphones back, her eyes avoiding his intense stare. "Well? uhm... Did you like it? The song I mean."

He blinked, the intensity in his gaze dimming slightly.

"The song... was nice, very mood setting." he admitted, his voice low.

The truth was, the unexpected intimacy had surprised him as well. He'd been trying to draw her out, to make her engage with him, and for a moment, something entirely else had happened. And the strange thing was... he wanted to explore that further, even though he knew better than anyone the dangers of letting emotions get in a way, especially with someone as unpredictable as Evelyn.

But boredom and attraction was a dangerous mix.

"In other circumstances I'd ask you for a dance..." he teased her to see her cheeks getting even more red. "But we have more important things to do."

So getting back to more... professional arrangement, he asked her to come with him to the living room to help him with another task. And she thanked in her thoughts that he mentioned work. This was something she could handle better than emotions and a sudden moment of unwanted attraction.

The little tasks he'd given her were getting easier to do, though she still was figuring out how to use his network to her advantage. She knew all to well that she had to prove herself to be useful otherwise their agreement, their deal would be broken. As much as she was tempted to mess things up, to give him false opinions so to put his network in danger, she couldn't. He was not easily fooled and she didn't have all the details to know how exactly his network worked. It was a great obstacle, but maybe she could still devise something?

"Is there anything more challenging than that?" She asked as she feigned interest. "Maybe a field trip? Or something more complicated I can work on alone?"

He looked at her reading her facial expression. He wasn't surprised by her boredom, but he also knew that she wasn't invested enough to actually look for something more ambitious.

"Bored, are we?" he saw right through her ploy, but pretended like he didn't. "There's definitely more challenging work." he admitted, leaning back on the sofa. "But trust is earned, not demanded. Field trips, as you so delicately phrased it, are a privilege, not a right."

The implication was clear, she hadn't earned that level of freedom yet. She bit her inner cheek in dissatisfaction.

"But..." he continued. "earn my trust first, impress me. Show me you can handle the basics flawlessly, that your mind is as sharp as I believe it to be. Then, and only then, can we discuss expanding your… horizons."

It was a carrot dangling just out of reach. A challenge of a different sort. Just not the one she wanted. "Alright." she conceded. "Challenge accepted."

When the task was done, he put away the laptop and stretched his shoulders. He glanced towards her, expecting her usual retreat to her room. But instead, she lingered, her eyes looking at tv. She hesitated for a moment. “You mentioned there’s a PlayStation here.” she says. "Mind if I play something?"

"Sure, why not?" he replied surprised and shrugged. "Be my guest."

He walked over to tv and reached for the controller, turning the console on. From his perspective, most of the games looked like childish things. But he was curious to see what she'd choose.

She scanned the list, until her finger pointed at a title adorned with a grotesque, pixelated monster. "This one." She said grinning.

His eyebrows shot up. "Horror survival, huh?"

He clicked play and handed her the controller. He settled back on the sofa watching her navigating through the game. He could see an obvious message in her selection. She was trying to show him her ability to handle fear and pressure. It was amusing though. Horror games had nothing to do with the real horror he had witnessed, but it was still impressive how easily she maneuvered through the quests and her reaction on what was happening on the screen. The amusement in her eyes as the game threw jump scares at her was unexpected. Where others might scream, she giggled with a thrill. The occasional curse word slipped through her lips when a particularly difficult enemy appeared, but it was clear she wasn't scared, she was… entertained.

As the game progressed, he found himself watching not just the screen, but her reactions. He couldn't deny there was something captivating about seeing her navigate the dark, digital world full of monsters and gore.

The final boss was defeated after a long battle and she leaned back with a triumphant grin on her face. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Elias watching her attentively. Mission was accomplished. She'd proven her point, but she wasn't done yet. Reloading the game to the last save point, right before the epic battle, she thrust the controller into his hand. "Your turn." she declared.

He stared at the controller with a question in his eyes. Did she seriously expect him to play a childish horror game? He was a man who directed real-world horrors, not silly digital nightmares.

"Scared you can't handle it?" she teased, her grin widening.

The word "scared" wasn't something he would feel. More like nah, but he couldn't say no to a little competitiveness.

"Please..." With a sigh that was half-amused, half-exasperated, he grasped the controller and leaned forward towards the screen.

She watched him with keen interest. He lacked the... finesse, but he compensated with sheer brute force, charging at the monster mercilessly. He had a different kind of strategy, but it was working nonetheless. His brow furrowed in concentration, his fingers flying across the controller buttons. Watching him playing also gave her a chance to admire his features. His jawline, his nose, his arms, his eyes...Damn, there was something in him that made her thoughts cruise towards dangerous concepts and she couldn't figure why.

Distracted she almost missed the ending of the battle when with a one final click, the creature crumpled, dissolving into a pool of blood.

She clapped her hands slowly. "Not so bad."

"Not so bad?!" he asked feigning being offended. "I've basically smashed him without giving him a chance to react."

She chuckled. "Alright, you’ve got skills, you killed the monster...almost as fast as I did."

He looked at her, slightly smiling. Her playful teasing and a video game might not be the kind of entertainment he had hoped for, but it was something that killed his boredom at least.

"Another round?" he asked giving the control pad back into her hand.

The next morning, Evelyn found herself alone in the kitchen. As she munched on a piece of toast, a movement on the floor caught her eye. When she looked down she saw a small black spider, no bigger than a pea.

"Well, hello there." she murmured, crouching down. She cupped her hand, gently coaxing the spider onto her palm. "Lost your way, little guy? Stuck inside this big cabin, just like me?"

Passing by, Elias heard her voice and curiously stepped into the kitchen to see who she was talking to. He leaned against the doorway. Evelyn, oblivious to his presence, continued her one-sided chat.

"Looks like we both need a little fresh air, wouldn't you agree?" she said, her voice gentle.

There was a moment of silence, then a soft chuckle escaped his lips. Talking to a spider? Somewhat charming in its own way.

She jumped, startled, the spider nearly tumbling from her hand. She turned to Elias.

"He seems a little lost..." she said glancing at the spider. "Do you mind if I let him out?"

"Front door's locked, of course." he said, his voice dry. "But if you're truly intent on releasing your eight-legged friend…" He reached into his pocket, pulling out a key.

Her eyes lit up. "Thank you." she exclaimed. "I wouldn't want to keep him prisoner, you know."

Her obvious suggestion made him roll his eyes. Kept thinking she was a prisoner of his? Even after the last night of gaming? He sighed, leaving it without a comment.

He walked to the front door. He unlocked it with a soft click and opened it wide, letting in the fresh morning air. He watched as she stepped outside, carefully lowering her hand to the ground. The spider scurried off into the grass.

As she straightened up her eyes lingered on the sun-dappled expanse of trees beyond the porch. She hadn't been outside since she had gotten here. It made her feel sad.

She turned around to Elias, and almost hesitantly, the words tumbled out of her mouth. "Can we go for a walk?" She knew he wouldn't let her venture out alone, but maybe he'd go with her?

He raised an eyebrow, studying her for a long moment. He wasn't naive. He tried to deduct if there was a hidden motive behind her request for fresh air. The chance that she'd try to run away again was high, but... There was also an opportunity for her to earn his trust. And he was curious to see what she'd choose.

"Alright, but behave yourself." he finally answered. "And don't even think about trying anything… foolish."

Her heart started to beat a little faster. "I promise." she said. "Just a walk. That's all."

With a slow nod, he conceded. "Alright. Let's go."

The crisp air, the scent of pine, the sunlight on her face – it was a sensory fulfillment for Evelyn. Nature, with its chaos and beauty, had always held a special place in her heart. She loved hiking, jogging in parks, walking in woods... It made her feel at peace, relaxed. But this time, this walk with Elias was laced with uncertainty and she couldn't stop feeling a nervous anticipation. She couldn't enjoy the walk that way. Not with his watchful presence like a shadow at her back. His distrust felt almost physical.

She turned her head and glanced at him, wondering. If he truly believed she was an immediate escape risk, wouldn't he have kept her locked inside? Maybe this walk was to test her trustworthiness? Or maybe, a thrill-seeker himself, he secretly counted on a little rebellion?

She stopped abruptly, causing him to stumble slightly in surprise. Turning, she tilted her head towards him.

"A little space, Elias?" she suggested. "I did promise not to disappear into the woods, after all." She paused before she took a risk, teasing "Although, a friendly jog might be tempting. Running and jogging are two entirely different things, right?"

He narrowed his eyes trying to see if she was joking or not. Jogging could easily be a prelude to a full-on escape attempt. Surely she didn't expect him to fall for that, did she?

"Yeah, sure... try and jog to freedom, we'll see how far can you get." he mocked.

"Probably farther then the last time." she murmured more to herself than to him. It wasn't an extend attempt to tease him further, but the words escaped her mouth before she stopped herself.

"I was joking." she quickly added unsure of his reaction.

He smirked. "Fine. A little space. But remember." he continued "don't push your luck too far. The woods may be vast, but my patience isn't."

She glanced back at him, as he stepped back, giving her more space, but his gaze was locked on her every move. No threat though. No anger. Was that… a challenge in his eyes?

Taking a deep breath, she started walking away, slowly at first, pushing the boundaries of the space he'd granted. She kept him within sight however, trying to see if he reacted in any way.

He felt amused watching her hesitant retreat. The confusion in her eyes, the temptation to run and the fear that stopped her from acting on her instincts, were enterteining.

Part of him, the pragmatic part, wanted her to behave. He required her cooperation. And a runaway Evelyn was a useless Evelyn.

But another part of him wouldn't mind the chase, the thrill of the hunt. If she was to disobey, to run, he could catch her once again. And he wouldn't deny enjoying it as a distraction from the usual monotony.

Yet he saw a shift in her. A defeated sigh escaped her lips. She wasn't going to run. Self-preservation won of course. Slowly, she began to walk back towards him.

"Done testing the boundaries?" he asked. There was no accusation in his tone, just a hint of curiosity.

She looked at him. "Not exactly." she replied. "But I won't run. I'm not stupid enough to shatter whatever tiny trust you have in me, that results in giving me this... freedom."

The word trust stayed with him. He studied her for a long moment, searching for any sign of deceit. But all he saw was a woman who, despite her defiance, was making a good reasonable choice.

"But you want to run or at least try just for the thrill of it." he simply stated. "if you weren't scared for your life, you'd hare off into the woods before I could blink twice."

She shrugged. "Maybe..." she felt irritated how easily he could read her. "But it doesn't matter, cause you wouldn't let me even think about it, am I right?"

"Maybe...." he pondered. "Or maybe I would."

His words surprised her. She stopped and turned to him. "You would...let me think about it?"

He glanced at her. "Depends, are you feeling restless?"

"Should I be?" she asked suspicious as she crossed her arms.

He shrugged. "Last evening we competed over a video game. You challenged me and it was... fun." he paused thinking about his next words. "Maybe in return I can offer you a similar activity to satisfy your primal urge to run without it being a constant itch for both of us."

She slightly tilted her head. "What do you mean?"

He smirked. Chaos could be an asset, if it was controlled chaos.

He couldn't deny a perverse pleasure in this constant push and pull with her, so maybe there could be a way to satisfy both their desires.

He outlined the rules of this little game he'd just created. She would have a head start, a chance to run back to the cabin. If she reached the safety of the porch before he caught her, he would grant her… a temporary reprieve. More freedom of her choosing.

But there was a catch. The run had to be to the cabin, and nowhere else. Stray from the designated path, and the game was over. He would catch her, eventually, but the consequences of breaking the rules wouldn't be pleasant.

"Think of it as running on a leash." he finished.

She furrowed her brows. She understood the thrill of the chase, the adrenaline rush... Yes, it would help her release the restless energy and even perhaps create a temporary satisfying illusion of running away from him. And if she won, she'd have a chance for more freedom. But she saw that this game was more of a twisted form of amusement designed solely for his entertainment, then anything of a real value for her.

"A leash?" she spat. "I'm not a dog, Elias."

He sighed. Why did she always have to niggle over everything he said? Couldn't she just accept the damn game, play by his rules for once?

"Look." he sighed, his voice laced with a hint of frustration, "call it what you want. But the offer stands. Reach the cabin first, and you get a little… freedom. More walks, less tasks, whatever. Disobey the rules, and well…" he trailed off, letting the unspoken threat get to her.

"And if you catch me before I make it?" she asked.

"There'll be no rewards for you. And as for me, well..." he moved his head slightly to sides in a playful manner. "Let's say I'll get to decide what to do with your free time for one day."

She glanced away, thinking. The bait was tempting, even if it was just that, a bait.

He waited for her answer. She'd showed him how competitive she could be, so there was a good chance that she wouldn't decline his offer.

"So..." he finally said. "are you in?"

#elias voit #criminal minds evolution #sicarius #cm evolution #fanfiction

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crownedinmarigolds · 4 months

Note

2, 4, and 5 for the otp ask game, for Harrakty and Pavarti and Khloe and Ralph!

Bonus question: What was the moment they knew they'd fallen for their partner?

Oh thank you!! :0 More questions these are so fun!!

For Ralph and Khlo!

What would they do if the other woke in a manic state after a nightmare? Ralph would straight up cry if Khloe wakes up freaking out. He would hold her, unsure of what to do, because Khloe's secretly the strong one of the two. If Ralph wakes up freaking out and manic Khloe would also go to hold him down, but she would definitely be a bit more calm and soothing to him, hopefully able to talk him down from his state.

Which is more protective? Who needs to be protected? They're both ravenously protective of the other. Khloe has already squished a person with her telekinesis for harming Ralph, and Ralph has done a lot of "domino-effect" protections of Khloe. Both are sweet babies who need protection: Khloe is slowly becoming a bit of a figurehead of the resistance, and Ralph just got booted from the Nos Warrens for picking his girlfriend and coterie over helping a fellow Nos in need... someone help them plz.

Describe their cozy night in! Answered this one! <3

What was the moment they knew they'd fallen for their partner? Ralph and Khloe got off relatively on the wrong foot - Ralph being a little creepy to the new blood, though Khloe snapped right back at him. Despite this however, the chemistry was very strong between the two and it didn't take long at all to get over that initial cringefail. They liked each other from the start and it was a couple of weeks of teenage tiptoeing around it until Khloe - after figuring out how what she needs to make a telekinesis concoction - asked Ralph to help her hunt for a very specific blood resonance. During the hunt, they talked and cracked jokes, and unfortunately listening to the big guy make her laugh made her want him hook line and sinker. After the hunt (and having to burn their clothes due to trudging through ATL sewers) they consummated their relationship first then immediately followed it up with agreeing to be boyfriend and girlfriend! That was the initial spark, but later when Khloe had to do a lot of technical legwork to connect with her missing sire and Ralph immediately helped her no questions asked was probably when she knew she could always lean on him and trust him. <3 Ralph pretty much followed the same timeline liking and loving Khloe-wise! Though his deeper love moment came when they were fighting a Fullblood Tremere, he went and pulled a chair leg to make a stake, and Khloe immediately hopped on the back of the Fullblood to keep her in place so he had a clear shot to the heart. That's when HE knew Khloe was someone reliable.

For Parvati and Harri!

What would they do if the other woke in a manic state after a nightmare? We know exactly what they would do! Parvati is Ravnos, and during the Week of Nightmares Summer 1999, where the Ravnos Methuselah Zapathasura awoke and inflicted madness upon his bloodline - Parvati went on murderous rampage. Being a low generation, she was a force that could've wiped out the entire temple and then some of the surrounding block. Harrakhty sprang into action the moment he was informed, doing everything he could to incapacitate his darling without killing her. He used his own low generation abilities as well as his Sobek form to combat her, and when they finally had her torpored he never left her side until things were calmed and she was free of her temporary madness. Harrakhty realized that his many blessings granted to him - success, a beautiful lover and equal, ecstasy and power - were fleeting if he continued to rest on his laurels... they're finite if he didn't keep building his empire. This is the inciting incident that allowed the bargain to make Kahanni - Harrakhty and Parvati's trueborn daughter.

Which is more protective? Who needs to be protected? They're both incredibly powerful Elders who have built their relationship on seeing the other as an equal - though Harri is certainly the more outwardly and loudly protective. Parvati is always on alert in the presence of others, so Harri may have more actual shows of him protecting his wife, Parvati is the bodyguard who ensures Harri is never a snake in the presence of... other snakes who would harm him.

Describe their cozy night in! A big cozy pile of cushions and blankets and perhaps a few unfortunate(?) blood dolls that are too high to understand the gravity of the situation they're in. A perfect night in indulging and enjoying each other completely... the blood dolls are little toys who MAY survive if the king and queen are distracted enough.

What was the moment they knew they'd fallen for their partner? These two are our enemies to lovers. Parvati is older than Harri, and has wandered the Earth a few more centuries than he has. Born in the jungle as a shovelhead and wandering Bronze Era India and its jungles, Parvati eventually returned to civilization and housed herself in an old temple where the locals in the closeby city immediately understood what she was and began preparing her offerings. Though she knew it was too good to be true, she did indulge herself a bit before she overstayed her welcome and drew the ire of the ACTUAL local vampires who had pull over the peoples - the Followers of Set cult. The cult was annoyed by such a slight, and sent one of their promising Ancillae - Harrakhty Hamdi - to take out the pest. Of course Harri came across Parvati within the temple and was overwhelmed by such a gorgeous creature... though that didn't stop him from initiating battle. However it wasn't until he had her "defeated" was when he realized she had escaped him long ago through powerful Chimerstry. Over a few centuries they play a cat and mouse game, too prideful to give up the hunt but having too much fun fighting an equal they never make the final killing blow. Finally, one night, they take too long and the sun will soon rise and torpor looms if they don't get out of there. Harri and Parvati both know - especially after experiencing a few moments of deep connection through telepathic Auspex through Parvati - that they care for the other. Harri asks if they can trust each other to lie beside the other through torpor, and to wake together the following night. They stay together, wake up and make love instead of fight, and they've been a couple ever since! Thank you that was probably my favorite!!

Questionnaire here!

#HELL YEAHHhh love theseee #my favorite one probably! sorry it took a bit had to consult the husband #answered asks #oc ask game #oc ask #findingtarshish #Ask for OTPs and Self Ships

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mobius-m-mobius · 10 months

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a mr tesseract thought: the tva has so many infinity stones… just sitting there… they might not notice a handful of paperweights go missing

Anon you've got my full attention 👀👀

Absolutely living for all the renewed Mr. Tesseract theories and origin stores going around because he's just too perfect to continue the current story!?? I'd always pictured a Mobius variant eventually entering the picture, having succumbed to the power of the Tesseract after needing to save Loki in some way but never in a million years imagined before now that *our* Mobius could end up in that exact situation...

Plus tbh I almost feel Loki going about their self-sacrifice in such an isolated way, reliving all those centuries determined to find a solution without involving anyone else, had an obviously noble goal but a means in such a misguided way which has almost ensured Mobius will do something similar.

Mobius isn't okay. He's on a timeline that can never be his (partially to escape the memories of Loki by his side everywhere he looks in the TVA and hopefully so that back in the flow of time Loki can at least see him again as some form of company still), looking at a life I think he greatly admires but wouldn't personally want even given the choice, and seemingly the only one left directionless and without purpose with Loki being gone.

It wouldn't be a stretch to think loneliness would turn to frustration (because he's done nothing but repress *everything* in the past and deserves to finally burst and be angry and figure out how to express his emotions), confusion, and finally desperation at the thought he might be the only one who cares enough to burn things to the ground in an attempt to either find Loki again or bring him home. I've been headcanoning that similar to Loki in the last episode, Mobius will start putting himself more and more at risk searching for a solution and cut everyone at the TVA off while doing so to keep them from worrying about what he's getting involved in and stop him, which of course eventually leads right to the Tesseract as potentially one of the only methods left of traveling to what I assume is the end of time or somewhere similar.

Bonus points if Loki is watching every moment, unable to do a thing as the Mobius he knows slips further and further away while experimenting with the Tesseract until finally he can't see him on the timeline at all anymore, and as he mourns a crackle of blue energy opens nearby. Loki immediately realizes what's happened and calls desperately for Mobius, but when the figure who exits steps closer he's all cold, hard lines and an blank, electric blue stare. Temporary amnesia v4.0 let's go but make it even more angsty this time 😂😅 Eventually the Power of Love™ wins out of course but that's pretty much my dream arc for now!

#can you tell this is something that's been on my mind since like... the day after the finale asfjflksk #and don't get me wrong there's every chance the tva gang will reunite and work on a solution together to save the day which is great too lo #but i love angst mr. tesseract and exploring mobius' feelings so honestly feel like he deserves to live his worst life for a while #meaning give in to anything and everything he hasn't allowed himself to do or feel for a millennia or more #also owen clearly enjoys variety in his work and would be INCREDIBLE embodying someone more villainous for a while #thank you so much for this ask btw and letting me get this off my chest even though you absolutely wouldn't have expected such a long reply #well or maybe you did because it's me haha #but regardless tysm again and sending lots of love your way!! hope there's a great day ahead 💖#ask #loki spoilers #just to be safe even though it's mostly just me rambling as usual lol

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tefifonconnoisseur · 2 months

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The Peanut Butter Toast Incident (Miles Morales Unaware Vore)

I never promised I was posting these stories in order, mostly because the next story in the chronological order has 4 parts and I’m conflicted on sharing in parts as written or all in one piece. This was the first story I got a request for, and to my knowledge the first Miles Morales vore fic. This does contain unaware vore of a teenager, so be aware that’s below the cut. Enjoy! Or don’t, just please don’t burn me at the stake. I’ve got work tomorrow lol.

(We will say this takes place bedore the second one but after the first. Also Y/N for flavor points (which means your name). I know he has a roommate, but oh well. A Marvel plot with this plot was suggested by nickyjel123, and I figured I’d use my own Marvel pred “crush” [idk the term for preferred pred in a non-sexual way if there is one])

A normal morning in a dorm is, as you’d expect, usually plain and consists of mundane tasks one does to prepare themselves for a long, monotonous day of school work. Things like getting dressed, brushing teeth, preparing one’s backpack, making coffee in the communal kitchen or some cereal if you’re a baller. This is done with a level of grog often from bad sleep. For Miles Morales, this was that morning. Upon unceremoniously popping open his eyes due to a loud alarm and slowly stretching and making his way out of the bottom bunk, he began to get dressed in uniform, a typical suit that made him even more tired. Slowly, he lifted his pants onto his waist, weaved his black, slightly cracked leather belt through, and buttoned way too many buttons. Checking himself in the mirror, he had bags under his eyes from a study-filled night previously and his hair was somewhat greasy, although today Miles couldn’t be bothered to rectify his uncleanliness with anything but layers of deodorant and a spritz of gel. This was his appearance as he went through the door and towards the communal kitchen.

For Y/N though, this would be a morning that would live in infamy for its lack of luck and sheer stupidity that could rival certain programs on children’s cartoon programming. Upon awakening, Y/N popped up and slammed their head against the ceiling, causing a red circular mark to appear on their forehead. This awoke the folks in the dorm above them, who of all people were the worst ones to deal with. The particular gentleman involved in the forthcoming drama has chosen to remain anonymous, but shall henceforth be referred to by a fake name: Buford.

Buford was a STEM student pursuing the highest level of education offered at Brooklyn Visions Academy and in several of the same classes as Miles. Buford, however, was a rougher personality from old money who was not fond of Miles, but more importantly hated Y/N due to their pursuing of art and their more effeminate personality. He would often call Y/N names in passing or would steal their things and destroy them. This time though, he was in the mood to make Y/N’s day so much worse. See, his brother had created a device that could reduce matter to a fraction of its size, effectively shrinking it. Due to the nature of atoms, this effect would be temporary and last for a time that hasn’t quite been measured, but was less than 12 hours based on testimony.

This device was Buford’s way of payback: to shrink them so that hopefully they’d end up getting into hjinx. See, he doubted Y/N could be actually killed; the increased density of the atoms made the recipient of the shrinking much more resilient to things like falls or being stepped on. It would just suck and scare Y/N some. So, Buford set his action into plan and shot an orb into the floor vent, as the bouncing would inevitably lead to it reaching Y/N’s bed. The orb made a loud electric banging sound with each bounce, bouncing faster until it eventually sunk down the vent and directly onto Y/N’s sore head, making a splatting sound as it was absorbed into their hair follicles.

At first, Y/N found this to be an annoyance, slightly peeved that Buford had, at least in their mind, shot them with some sort of pellet. As they made his way to the ladder, they thought it might be a couple inches taller, but chalked it up to their grogginess and near-concussion a few moments prior. However, as they descended the ladder, they found that each step was farther away from their foot, until they had to leap off the bottom of the ladder. At this precise moment, they took a deep look around and started realizing what exactly was happening to them: shrinking, and at a pretty good rate. They noticed the details of the carpet become finer and finer, and eventually decently sized until each little follicle was up to their waist. Thankfully, their oversized shirt and pajamas had been afflicted by this orb’s atom reduction as well due to complicated things that we aren’t going to bother explaining because any attempt to do so would be so far off from logic, it would be a disservice to us and you.

As you’d expect when someone who’s usually decent height becomes a few inches tall, fear gripped their heart like a snapping turtle: unceasing and hard. At this moment, Y/N had nothing: no aid, no way to call for help, no method of finding anyone, and not much vocal power to even try. Some other factors included the fact that it was cleaning day, so someone would be in to vacuum them up, as well as it was a school day, so if they didn’t get help soon, they’d have to wait until 4, or later if Miles didn’t come back, as was a trend.

A trend that didn’t offer Y/N too many favors. Miles was pretty good at art, but Y/N couldn’t get pointers on theirs for often several days at a time. Typical schoolwork was not our protagonist’s strongest still, which made things even worse when help vanished from the dorm. They often had to find someone else to help them, which tended to be people who didn’t exactly know what they were teaching either.

However, it was the morning, and they knew that Miles would be eating peanut butter toast in the kitchen for an amount of time as he would often talk with a friend or two. If Y/N could make it over in time, they could get help. As quick as they could (which was honestly not bad pace), they ran off to the dorm commons.

Miles got distracted in the communal kitchen for a minute catching up on last-minute studying for a Physics exam that was inevitably going to nab him a decent grade. Whether this grade was up to scrutiny was another question. This setback didn’t matter too much; Miles tended to eat pretty quickly without his table manners being watched like a hawk by his parents. They had always done everything they could to raise Miles to become a model member of society: making sure he was putting in maximum effort into his work, learning life lessons, and other things that would keep him from a life of poverty and violence. Unfortunately, one lesson was not taught, a lesson that doesn’t matter nearly as much unless you’ve got an enemy around: check your food BEFORE you eat it. It was a lesson often learned by those with allergies and the picky eaters of our society, oftentimes the hard way for the latter who naturally assumed their sandwich wouldn’t have mayonnaise and made their server suffer for their lack of foresight. For those without that though, who cares?

Y/N panted, but as they looked up, an exhausted gasp emitted from them. Miles was gargantuan, his upper details barely visible from their view, but the smaller details of their shoes and legs were heightened. Every speck of sweat, every scratch and imperfection in the leather, every leg hair was visible as if it was under a magnifying glass. Those details were heightened at a level humanity often never gets to see. This daze that Y/N experienced didn’t last, as it was rudely shattered by the bellowing pop of the toaster.

Time was running out. Y/N found a stool and wrapped themselves around the leg of it, inching their way up like a caterpillar. After lots of pain, they managed to reach up onto the seat and pull themselves off. They jumped onto the handle of a drawer, but losing grip in one of their hands. Sweat from their hand transferred to the handle and loosened its grip too. Looking down, the hard tile promised a swift death to anyone who dared fall from such a height onto it. Closing his eyes, his grip let loose and he fell…

As Miles spread his peanut butter onto his toast, he thought about his roommate, Y/N. He heard a bang from their hall, and he wondered if it was Y/N banging their head hard or if it was Buford ding-dong-ditching him for the 2nd time this week. He was fully aware of the beef between the two, and hoped that he wouldn’t have to go to Buford’s again and risk losing their acquaintanceship. Then again, Y/N was a closer friend, so did he need to ditch Buford.

His thoughts lead the peanut butter toast to slip from the plate, landing upright below the handle of the drawer, exactly where Y/N fell. The timing was perfect, and Y/N survived by falling into the peanut butter. The impact still winded them for a moment, but they realized they were in this peanut butter. They didn’t realize yet that the peanut butter was slightly sticky.

Within the 5 seconds it fell, Miles gripped the toast, unaware of his roommate near the edge. A sense of vertigo fell upon Y/N as they rose up to Miles’ level. Their near-death accident not only had been prevented, it might nab them help. As loud as their baby little lungs could provide, they shouted out for Miles for assistance. Despite their effort however, their sound waves were unable to penetrate Miles’ large greasy ears, in part due to a loud fan keeping the air circulating in the room, an in part due to his minute size. At the very least, Miles’ eyes worked perfectly and hopefully would notice them waving their arms. It was with a degree of effort and their frustration that their arms had sunk into the thick, creamy peanut butter. Despite all of his effort into waving, they couldn’t penetrate the creamy butter. Their only hope was for Miles to spot them. To their utter fear, when Miles opened his mouth wide, revealing all of the details in their tongue and gums that they realized in fear that they had not been noticed. They couldn’t help but notice that his teeth were white and shiny, but sharp and somewhat pointy. The taste buds and other spots on his thick pink tongue were quite obvious at this size. Saliva coated it in a thin veneer, revealing Miles’ ravenous hunger. His throat looked healthy, with a lack of tonsils noticeable and his uvula being relatively short, not grabbable, that’s for sure. As their heart beat faster and faster with fear, Miles bit down on the bit of toast Y/N resided in. Quickly, Y/N was covered in moist toast and water-soaked peanut butter and was swished back and forth, somehow missing every single tooth that bit down on the clumps of food in Miles’ mouth. Hot, somewhat minty, somewhat rank breath filled the cavern and made the air stagnant. This was hell. Every single second that ticked by was filled with yelling and fear, filth and heat. Y/N screamed for help, begging Miles not to swallow. A wet sound rang through as their begging fell on deaf ears and they slid towards the awaiting opening to the throat.

Miles switched the fan off, and while continued chewing heard a familiar voice, extremely quiet but close at the same time. In order to hear this voice better, he decided to gulp down the food in his mouth, sending Y/N down the slick, wet tube known as the esophagus. He thought he had heard the voice say not to swallow, but he couldn’t imagine why.

Fear coursed through Y/N’s vains as the rhythmic gulping sent them further and further down the tube, squeezing them and keeping air from their chest, nearly making him pass out, until eventually they fell into the stomach, face first into the liquid below. This place was essentially a smelly sauna cranked. The place was immensely hot and stagnant, with a liquid smelling of acid hiked up to Y/N’s chest. White bubbles covered the walls like vines. Despite what they had just learned about the sulfuric acid present in the stomach, Y/N weirdly felt no pain or any other effect. It was just unbearably hot. They continued to yell, but were drowned out by the churning noises as the stomach processed the toast clumps next to him. Just when they thought this couldn’t be any more miserable, clumps of peanut butter and toast fell onto them and penetrated their already-ruined clothes and just made them feel even worse, as if the humidity couldn’t ruin their mood more.

Miles, finished with the meal, wondered what the voice had wanted him not to swallow for. It has sounded like Y/N, but it couldn’t have been them. Maybe it was his imagination or someone’s phone in the hall behind the wall they were facing. Around this time, Buford entered the room, eyeing Miles as he grabbed a protein shake from the fridge.

“Hey [Buford], have you seen Y/N this morning? I’m worried about them?” Miles inquired.

“No”, Buford said, giggling.

Miles didn’t believe Buford, saying, “Don’t lie to me. I know you two have something against each other. If you did something, I’m going to have to report you, and I don’t think that would be worth your time with how many warnings you’ve received already.”

Buford realized he wasn’t in the mood to go to the office despite the fact that his parents would make this charge go away like the others.

“Let’s just say my new atom reducer works…”, he replied, dashing away like a coward.

Miles, tired as he was, attempted to piece together everything in his mind. He wondered if Y/N had managed to get to him…

About this time is when he realized what had happened: he had somehow, someway, eaten Y/N. His closest friend here, he had just swallowed them, consumed them like they were nothing to him but just a garnish. Miles felt light-headed and a sense of vertigo at this moment and ran to the trash can, vomiting everything in his stomach out.

Around the time Buford came around, Y/N had gone from yelling to crying. They were now alone in this hell of an organ, with nobody knowing about this. He was going to die here, and nobody would even know what had happened. His tears were interrupted when the entire stomach sloshed to the side, knocking Y/N into the juices. The entire stomach squished up, and Y/N was shoved forcefully back up the tube and expelled past the uvula and every single tooth into the waste bin.

Miles quickly spotted Y/N and cupped them into his palm, hyperventilating and panicking.

“I’m so sorry dude, are you okay?! I’m so so sorry! I can’t believe I let this happen to you!”

Y/N replied hoarsely,

“It’s fine, I’m good,” Y/N replied, tears still stuck on their face indicating that they weren’t good at all. Miles grabbed a moist paper towel and washed Y/N off. This was an odd sensation. Here he was, holding his friend in his hand, cradling and protecting him in his most vulnerable position, like a baby is by their mother. Y/N felt like a baby, but felt nurtured and protected, cared about. Staring into Miles’ large spherical eyes, he saw Miles in a different way. More than a friend, but a protector, a caregiver, maybe even more. They almost didn’t want this moment to end.

Miles checked his watch and realized he was running out of time. Apologizing, he left Y/N on the dresser of the dorm with a granola bar and a cotton ball for a chair, and dashed out. Y/N was usually annoyed when Miles left him in times like this, irritated or just generally apathetic. But now, he wished that Miles would be there, not for his help, but for his presence and care. There was also the issue of their classes. They would have to miss them and had no alibi or excuse. Thankfully, Y/N generally had a good reputation and didn’t miss many classes, so punishment wouldn’t be that severe.

By the time Miles returned that afternoon, Y/N had returned to normal size, clearly having showered and changed clothes. They kinda looked cute in their Rolling Stones shirt and lounge pants, with their messy hair nearly covering their eyes. The situation earlier had been a nightmare for them both, and would be henceforth referred to as the “Peanut Butter Toast Incident”, but was more of a bonding experience for the two. Miles moved from peanut butter toast to other kinds of toast and refused to eat it with peanut butter up until the writing of this story at least.

We’d love to tell you that Buford changed or got any consequences for this, but nothing could be proven for sure. Burford improved none, as you’d expect. A few weeks later, due to separate circumstances, they did move a floor up in the dorms, but that’s about it.

As for Miles and Y/N, this was the start of a close relationship, whether platonic or romantic we don’t care to know. It was either way the start of something new between the two that started with Buford and some peanut butter toast.

#soft vore #giant/tiny #safe vore #gt vore #fandom vore #marvel vore #I’m going to be crucified #g/t #nonsexual vore #sfw vore #we don’t tag the main tags here

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a-world-with0ut-dr34ms · 2 years

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Thinking Like That

From Control - Full Story in Progress on AO3!

Graves x Reader, hints of Ghost x Reader

Summary: Graves stops by to visit you before your night out with the team.

No Explicit Warnings

Tag: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Slow Burn, Flirting, Implied FWB, Sad Reader, Jealousy, Some Swearing, Hints of Possessiveness, Maybe unrequited feelings(?), Intimacy

Word Count: 3k

Part One | Two | Three | Four | Five Masterlist

A/N: The next couple chapters are about to take place in the course of one long night. I'm getting ready to begin sowing in the (melo)drama, I just need a little more set up! I wanted to flesh the reader out a little more too. I'll never vividly describe the reader visually, but for narrative purposes, the reader's kinda sad and lonely. It's a bit angsty, hopefully not cringy and bad!

...

Chapter Six - Thinking Like That

That data you pulled from Site Delta had no discernable ties to Black Bag, or anything involving the missing missiles. It was mostly a laundry list of names and places AQ had involved themselves with -- old conversations with high profile targets, locations for illegal arms dealing, and other hideouts spread across Eastern Europe. Nothing no one didn't already expect to find.

Once Laswell’s able to sift through the threats that matter and the ones that don't, you're sure both Shadow Company and 141 will be sent out again to handle it. With any luck, one of these names would get you closer to finding out where those missiles were taken, preferably before the others learn about them.

Regardless, your last mission was a job well done. You saw no better way to celebrate than going out drinking!

Graves picked the location -- some sports bar he randomly found on Google that wasn't too far away. All bars begin to feel the same when you've visited as many as you have before, so it matters not to you where you're drinking. The company was everything. If you all didn't go out now, none of you would any time soon. And as tired as you all were after today, you knew how important it was to enjoy the little moments of peace you could share with each other.

It's what you love most about your job.

By now the others had stopped back home (most likely at a barrack) to freshen up before heading back out. Your barrack room door opens with a resounding creek, as though this small room long awaited your return for ages. It invites you in with that mundane and stilted air, welcoming you home with a cold embrace.

You take an eye full of the rushed set up you’d put together in your room. Whenever Shadow Company had you on assignment, you were usually placed in spare barracks on base, such as now. Temporary living quarters. You traveled frequently when working, so you never brought too much with you. Only the essentials. That never stopped you from trying to make your space feel like a home though.

You decorated each available flat surface in your room with tiny knick-knacks and various memorabilia, as purple fairy lights decorate the lining of your window. Your bed was still tightly made from before, your mountain of pillows resting against the bed frame. You used to be shy about others seeing your room, though now you cared little for their opinions. It's not like it was often that others saw your place to begin with.

You shed away the face you’d been wearing outside. It’s been so long you’ve almost forgotten what a lightening sensation it was to finally let go of that façade you’ve created.

Now in the safety of your own space -- for be it a hastily decorated, tiny, and dreary room -- you face the unfamiliar presence of yourself for the first time in what feels like days. You tear away from your extroverted layer and let your more reclusive self breathe again. No more games, no more having to be a step ahead. No more hiding behind your walls.

In here, there's only you.

You take in a deep breath and let out a heavy exhale, before a soft smile paints your lips. God, it feels good to be away.

You let the faucet run in the bathroom, using two fingers to gauge the temperature, as you slowly space out into the foreground. The water grows warmer each passing second, weaving over you like fine silk. You watch it bounce against the white ceramic of the sink, swirling down into a drain. Your eyes register this, though your mind is as far off as the rushing water swirling through that tiny, black hole.

Your exhausted eyes then drudge up to a stranger in the reflection before you.

You.

You fixate on the little things -- the bags you’ve begun to form from the inconsistent work hours, same going for the few pounds you’ve shed these past few weeks as well. That new, little scar above your left eyebrow was in good company with the other little ones you’ve accumulated from years of physical labor. Normally when your face rested into its natural state it didn’t look so… hollow.

Sometimes it was hard to recognize yourself in the mirror. It felt almost like an out of body experience, having your eyes meet this face you see. These eyes, these lips, your worn expression.

You’ve gotten so used to playing a character, that you sometimes forget what the rest of your life is outside of your role. This.

Being alone in a room.

But what was this? What was anything? What were you?

Who were you?

The usual intrusive thoughts plague your mind, as they have since you were of adolescence -- when will someone finally fall in love with you for a change? What are you going to do if this job doesn’t pan out? Who would you have to be tomorrow?

You cup your hands in the sink and create a small pool of water in your palms, lightly splashing it over your face.

It gets harder each day not falling into these negative headspaces. You could spend all night in your head, driving yourself insane, before a new thought passes by and suddenly it has become the new object of your attention. So goes the cycle, though really it no longer distracts from things like it used to.

You bring more water to your face, rubbing your hands against you, as you hold yourself for a moment. You attempt to pep yourself up for tonight, running by all the nice things that could happen later. There were a number of possibilities, in fact.

All would bring some long awaited levity.

You don’t hear the knocking on your door until you turn the sink off. You weren't expecting any visitors. You step back into your room after drying off your face, making your leisurely way over to the front entrance, as you pull the door open. It's almost pathetic how happy it made you to see the Commander standing on the other side.

Graves’ expression lit up the second he could see you, his face beaming with amusement. He’s dressed out of his uniform now, opting for a more casual jeans and button-down look. A mix of something comfy yet deliberately put together. From his fragrance, you see he’s managed to squeeze in a quick shower as well.

The man was certainly ready for a good night out. You haven’t even gotten out of your own uniform yet.

You rest daintily in the doorway, your smile inviting. “Commander,” you coo. “Visiting me for a change."

Graves licks his lips with a chuckle, as he tells you, "You're a hard woman to stay away from."

"I know," you tease. "I'm quite the catch."

"I'm glad you're aware," he says playfully. "Mind if I come in?"

“Is that wise?” you ask coolly. “Someone might see.”

“We’ll have a lot of explaining to do then."

There was something about how Graves used his words -- how natural he could be so sly and yet beguiling. You knew he liked to play with his vocabulary, even as he never hid behind it. He understood the craft of wordplay, and enjoyed doing so when it was presented.

And oh how it had a way of pulling you in.

You don’t respond, merely smirking at your commander as you step aside, leaving the door open. He steps in, using his back to close the door behind himself. The whole time, you're laser focused on each other, devouring one another with your gaze.

The door hadn’t even clicked shut before he’d taken a few swift steps towards you; his entire being encompassing you. Though to your surprise, rather than come in for a kiss or something a little more straightforward, he extends his arms out, and wraps you into a warm embrace.

Graves arms envelop your small frame, your face pressing into the crook of his neck. His scent takes over your senses, and he holds you like a snug hoodie. A proper hug. Small gestures of affection were never really his style. It's not what you expected from him, so you can’t help but gasp a little.

"You did one hell of a job today baby," he said. "One hell of a job!"

So that's what this is about. Work.

"You say that like there was ever any doubt," you joke.

"No," he pulls away from the hug, keeping his hands on your shoulders. He wanted to look at you when saying this. "There’s never a doubt in my mind when it comes to you, Y/N."

You'd beg to differ.

Graves only continues speaking, caught up in his own words to really notice anything.

"Our odds at fixing this just went up tenfold," he said. "If we stay on top of things, we'll be home free before you know it. Then we can be done with this bullshit, and get back to how things were."

One thing you've begun to notice about Graves is how often he speaks at you. It wasn't on purpose. He was a passionate man, when it was something he found worth putting the time into. Which in that case, Graves would move mountains if they were in his way.

And it's not that what he's talking about is unimportant either. What goes on with your missions right now effects you just as much as it does him, and you feel no shame in admitting you care even more about it simply because it means a lot to your commander.

Him wanting to talk to you about it should feel flattering. And yet…

"Just a few more steps then," you say.

"Just a few more.”

And suddenly, it's as though all that optimism he'd built up over the last couple minutes got pushed away somewhere. Replaced by something more… biting. You’re reminded how close you still are to him, his hands resting on your arms.

"That was quite a show you put on back there with the Task Force."

"Oh?"

It's not every day he makes comments like that one.

"You shoulda seen 'em," he boasts. "You’ll have 'em wrapped around your finger in no time with that performance. You nearly had me convinced you were 141. You even had Ghost praising you; that's some serious dedication, Songbird."

"Killing with kindness is my specialty, right?" You tease.

He adjusts his hold on your arms as he looks off for a second, laughing under his breath. Indeed, you knew these past couple of hours must have given him something to think about. He's not this tight-lipped otherwise.

“I must admit,” he says. “Watching you out there made me…”

“Jealous?”

Graves raises an eyebrow and smirks. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“It might make me giggle,” you say. “Only a little.”

In one suave motion, his hand sneaks up to the left side of your face, taking hold of your head in his hand rather dominantly. He didn't think twice about it; it interrupts your train of thought, causing your breath to catch in your throat. That only amuses him, as his eyes look down at your lips hungrily.

When he came in close like this, it was difficult not to let the sheer dominance of his nature swallow you completely. Like a magnet, you were pulled in violently.

“Well," he said coolly. "I like it better when you’re with me.”

There’s a lot to unpack from that. In fact you’re almost unsure of what to say, let alone how to feel about it. A part of you felt like a schoolgirl being told their crush liked them back. It also felt rather possessive, for someone who seemed only interested in keeping things casual.

And yet, there was this small part of you that wanted his words to mean something for once.

“I’m always with you, Phillip.”

He doesn’t reply to you; he avoids it. Thinking. He never has anything to say in these moments, and his silence only made you feel rather foolish for wanting to see more in this.

Graves’ eyes lift to the cut above your brow, lingering. His lips began to purse, and for a moment you think he might frown. He doesn’t, catching himself and relaxing his features into a more neutral expression.

He takes his hand and gently rubs his thumb over the closed wound, feeling all its rough ridges from where it's scabbed over. His palm grazes your cheek; they’re both warm and callus, shaped by years of constant use. You don’t flinch at his touch, keeping your eyes on him, trying to know what he might be thinking right now.

If this is how he treats girls he fucks, you wondered how he was with someone he actually wanted. These small gestures were what confused you so much about your commander; you’ve never met a man so OK with riding the middle of things like Graves liked to.

Perhaps it was a power play you should incorporate in your own works, because the control his gentle ways had over you were astounding.

But why come see you if he did not want you? Why bother with this? If it’s just to pass the time while you two are forced to work together, he should learn not to blur these lines so much. Instead of making a mess neither of you were ready to fix.

“It doesn’t hurt,” you tell him.

“Good,” his hand falls from your face, resting it against your shoulder again. Though he continues to look at your wound, keeping up this nonchalant attitude he hid behind. “Seems I can’t trust Ghost to keep you safe after all.”

It may have been a joke, though the undertones in his voice suggested some truth in his words. You felt your previous team mate was owed some credit though.

"He saved me, actually," you say. “I’d be dead if he hadn’t been there.”

You could tell Graves hadn’t expected you to say that. He may have thought you’d agree with him and begin ripping a new one into the lieutenant. But that’s not how you felt about Ghost. Not after working with him. He seemed a good man, and one you didn’t want to see get burned by the drama you and Graves were unintentionally involving him into.

As closed off and unamused Ghost was, at least he didn’t hide that he was secretive.

You're sure it made no difference to your commander, regardless. There was never any controlling the way he'd feel about things.

“Well,” Graves says. “I’d’ve killed him if he came back without you.”

You scoff; what a drastic statement to make. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think Graves really was jealous.

“Would it be that easy?” you poke at him. “Last I checked, he has a whole foot over you.”

"He does not," Graves chuckles. “Besides, it's not the size of the man that matters. Everyone knows skill and a will to win are an unmatched duo.”

“Is that what you tell yourself?”

“Among other things,” he retorts.

“Will I ever know?”

Graves takes hold of your hips, pulling you to him again.

“I’m an open book, darlin’.”

You laugh and cross your arms. “And I’m an actress.”

“I’d come watch you in a heartbeat.”

A single hand takes you by the throat -- his grasp is gentle, though firm enough so that you were aware of his sudden hold on you. You’re all but powerless when he brings his lips down to yours, all senses now absorbed by the man in front of you.

Despite everything, he kissed you sweetly, making sure that each one he left was long enough for the sensation of him to settle in. A reminder of his well-trained ways of intimacy.

His hand loosens on your neck now. He slowly curves it up to the side of your face, as you feel his fingers graze your ear, his thumb resting gently at the corner of your jawline. He slowly brings his thumb to your bottom lip, grazing it gently in between kisses. He tugs lightly, opening your mouth enough for him to deepen the kiss, before retaking hold of your face once his tongue found its way inside.

Unconsciously you reciprocate his warm gestures, resting your hands on either side of his neck and stepping up on your tiptoes to match him. He kisses you like he hadn't seen you for awhile, even though it’d only been maybe an hour since. Like a man on a mission, he keeps hold of you so that you could not slip from him. He feels you melt in his hands, and carries on with his work.

This was a fondness you’ve never gotten from Graves before, catching you off guard to the point of nearly making you weary. You rest your hand against his chest and pull away, smiling. You felt it was time you were the one to keep things straight for a change.

“We shouldn’t keep the others waiting” you giggle. “Unless you’re tryin’ to fuck right now.”

Graves straightens up. It almost seemed like he wasn’t sure what brought that on either. But never one to be caught off guard for too long (at least noticeably), he has a rebuttal.

“Right,” he says. “Can’t get too carried away. As much as I would love to show you how happy I am with your work today.”

“Buy a girl a drink first,” you tease.

“Yes ma’am.”

Graves steals another kiss from you -- a quick peck on the lips -- as he makes his way over to the exit. “Try and have some fun tonight,” he says. “You earned it.”

“Will do Commander,” you wave.

The door closes, and just like that, you’re back in an empty room. Only now it didn’t feel so refreshing to be here.

You could really use a drink right about now.

...Chapter Seven Here!

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