#i gave up on spelling 2 words in that tag.

[fordeadleaves]

ive just been rotating branzy in my mind slowly like rotisserie chicken for the last like 48 hours

[dancingbirdie]

Okay so on Astarion, I was reading this fic about him not knowing Tavs true intentions with him and it bothering Astarion a lot, so what if he goes to some mage or magic user and asks them to show Tavs true intentions to him, when he does the vision he sees is just... being snuggled. It's Tav on top of him and the both of you are falling asleep, his hands are under your shirt softly petting your skin as your sleepy self is contently snuggled up to him. I just start crying about him finding out that Tavs DASTARDLY and EVIL plan with him, their greatest desire from him... is to simply be held. 🥺

Hi @goblin-creatcher! Thank you so much for this BEAUTIFUL prompt. I, uhh, kind of took it and went a million miles an hour with it. This is honestly one of my favorite things I've ever written. I hope you enjoy it as well! xoxoxo

Something Imagined / Something Real

Word Count: 3.9K

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Astarion x f!Tav

Warnings/Tags: Brief but detailed description of rough consensual sex, descriptions and references to Astarion's trauma/trauma responses, minor Act 1 and Act 2 spoilers, FLUFF, angst

Suggested Song Pairing: Slow Dancing in A Burning Room (Stripped) - cover by ST LUNA

Summary: Astarion has been suspicious of Tav’s true intentions toward him. He persuades Gale to cast a spell and reveal her motivations. ANGST and FLUFF ensue. A rewriting of Astarion’s confession scene from Act 2.

The sun had just begun to set on the campsite when Astarion decided to put his plan into action. He had waited until Tav departed with some of the other party members before making his way over to the wizard. Gale was too busy reassembling the bookshelf inside his tent to notice Astarion’s approach. It wasn’t until he gave a polite cough that Gale jumped and whirled to face him. 

“No, no, no,” he began all at once, hands raised in a sort of shooing motion. Astarion stared at him in confusion. “I can respect Tav’s indulging in your need for blood, but as I’ve said before: I taste terrible.” 

Astarion scoffed. “Charming. Actually, wizard, I was coming to request your aid in a different, though somewhat related, matter.”

“Really? Care to elaborate?” Gale responded, still somewhat wary. It wasn’t often he found himself alone with the vampire. 

“Testy, I see,” Astarion crooned teasingly. His knee-jerk response to people treating him like a monster, to behave in the most false saccharine sort of way. 

But he drew up short, censoring himself before saying anything else he might regret. He knew he needed to get on the wizard’s good side if he had any chance of getting the answers he sought. 

“I was hoping you knew a spell to reveal someone’s true intentions. Their… motivations for behaving in a certain way, so to speak,” he finished more seriously. 

Gale pondered the question for a moment before answering. 

“Hmm… yes, there is magic to determine that sort of thing… Although it’s been some time since I practiced it…” He trailed off, rubbing his chin in thought. 

“Why are you asking for such a thing?” he asked suddenly. 

Astarion had been prepared for this question, of course. No one did anything for free, no questions asked. He delivered his explanation perfectly, as he’d been rehearsing in his mind.

“One might say our dear sweet Tav and I have been growing a bit… closer these days, but I can sense a master manipulator when I see one. I just simply want to ensure their intentions toward me - toward the party - are true,” he replied with mock innocence. 

“Ah, yes,” Gale nodded. “I gathered as much when the two of you slipped away from the tiefling’s party a few nights ago.” 

“But,” he continued on,”I needn’t think you should worry when it comes to Tav. She seems about as transparent as they come. I’m sure any intentions she has toward you are true.”

Yes, but the best actors always mask their motivations behind innocence and transparency, Astarion thought to himself. I should know. I’ve been doing it for centuries.

After the party’s unfortunate meeting with that Gur in the Sunlit Wetlands, Astarion realized he would have to take potential threats from Cazador even more seriously. He wasn’t about to lose his freedom, not now that he finally had some small taste of it. 

It didn’t hurt to be more suspicious of everyone he encountered, even the sweetling Tav. Anyone could be an operative sent by Cazador, and the best ones would be as skilled as he was in the art of manipulation. It was well-known at this point that the person he’d grown the closest to on their journey was their brave party leader, Tav. Unlikely as it may be that she was scheming for his master, Astarion’s paranoia wouldn’t let him indulge in interactions with her a second longer unless he knew how she truly felt. 

Given Gale’s hesitation, Astarion knew he would have to kick his acting up a notch. Press on that wizard’s heartstrings. Touch the one nerve he knew he was sensitive to.

“Gale, darling, from one literally damaged soul to another, indulge me just this once,” Astarion beseeched him. 

The wizard glared at him a moment, before finally relenting with a heavy sigh. “Fine. Fine. But I want it known that I don’t agree with this so-called solution one whit,” he grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Yes, yes, noted and formally documented, on my word as a former Baldurian magistrate,” Astarion replied cheerily. “So, let’s hop to it then, shall we?”

“What, right now?” Gale asked, shocked. “Shouldn’t we be, I don’t know, a little less conspicuous?” 

“What better time than now?” Astarion responded. “Tav’s out gathering firewood with Wyll and Karlach. They won’t be back for some time. As for Lae’zel and Shadowheart, well…” he paused, gesturing over his shoulder. 

Said two were engaged in a heated sparring session on the outskirts of the camp. Snarls and curses could be heard emanating from both warriors as they tried, and failed, to gain the upper hand against their opponent.

“That lovers’ dance could go on until morning,” Astarion finished. 

“Fair point,” Gale admitted begrudgingly, grimacing at the sound of swords clashing violently. “Very well. Let’s get started.” 

Clearing his throat, Gale began to utter a series of phrases completely foreign to Astarion. He watched as the wizard began moving his hands in a wavelike pattern, forming a circle before them. Suddenly, a mist began to form from seemingly thin air, taking shape according to the boundaries Gale’s hands were creating. The mist grew more and more opaque until it appeared before them like a clouded mirror. 

As the fogginess of the ethereal magic began to clear, the “mirror” became a confusing blur of scenes whipping by, too fast for Astarion or Gale to really comprehend. There were flashes of Tav and Astarion, together and separate, but they disappeared too quickly to ascertain their context. It was as though the spell was shuffling through the entirety of Tav’s thoughts, assessing each one at breakneck speed. 

Finally, the spell slowed to a halt, stopping on one scene in particular. Astarion was struck speechless by what began playing out in the foggy portal before them. So distracted, he didn’t even notice Gale’s tight cough, or how the wizard suddenly became intensely interested in a copse of trees nearby, rather than the revelation the spell was revealing.

Not that the scene was especially profound, objectively speaking. In fact, to anyone else, it might be viewed as the least revelatory thing possible that the spell could have shown. Boring. Inconsequential, even. But to Astarion, it was almost earth shattering. 

He saw himself - he could see his face! - with Tav, lying tangled together in some immaculate four-poster bed. 

That was the first shock that coursed through him, nearly causing his knees to buckle. He was seeing himself for the first time in over 200 years. Or at least, he was seeing himself as Tav saw him. And… the person he saw… Well, he was gorgeous. White blonde locks, curled and tousled in a devil-may-care sort of way. A strong, patrician nose that suggested good breeding. High, sharp cheekbones. Full lips, upturned in a thoughtless grin. Red eyes bordered by long, sweeping lashes. Delicately pointed elven ears. Smooth alabaster skin, without blemish or spot. 

Astarion could scarcely believe his own eyes. 

The second shock to his system was the nature of their activities. He would have been less surprised had the vision shown them fucking. Him taking her roughly from behind perhaps. His name a cry of ecstasy from her lips as he pistoned in and out of her with a feral sort of determination. 

Fantasies of lust, of total domination, now those were things he was familiar with inspiring in the minds of the victims he had taken as lovers. It was what he strove for, in all honesty. Desire like that all but ensured he would capture his prey and live to serve another day for his master. 

But nothing of the sort was occurring between vision-Tav and himself. Instead, they were just… embracing? What in sweet hells was this?

She lay halfway on top of him. Her hair was mussed, perhaps from sleep or perhaps from previous lovemaking. One hand was drawing absentminded shapes across his chest, her lips trailing behind, leaving kisses in their wake. He watched as vision-Astarion chuckled softly, as his hands slipped beneath her sleepshirt to caress her waist, as he placed an innocent kiss on the top of Tav’s head. Eventually, she reached for his hand. They both watched their fingers intertwine, blissfully content.

It was the purest, unadulterated expression of affection that Astarion had ever seen. Something in his heart quaked at the sight of it. He wanted that moment. He envied, he hated, vision-Astarion for enjoying such apparent happiness.

So absorbed in the vision and its implications, Astarion failed to notice the soft padding of feet that indicated someone’s re-entry into the camp. 

“If the two of you are quite finished poking around in my head,” an angry voice suddenly spat from behind them, “I’d appreciate you preserving what little privacy I have left and shutting that damn spell off.”

Mortified, Astarion and Gale turned to see Tav, arms crossed and visibly seething with rage. Gale quickly dispelled the magic with a flick of his wrist. A blush was slowly but surely rising up Tav’s neck to reach her cheeks. Whether from rage or embarrassment, Astarion couldn’t be certain. 

“Tav, let us explain-” Astarion started.

“It was his idea-” Gale blurted at the same time, pointing at Astarion. 

Both paused, glaring at one another. But Tav would have none of their feeble attempts at backpedaling. 

“The explanation doesn’t matter. Whose idea it was doesn’t matter. The fact is that both of you violated the privacy of my mind, which I’ll remind you, has ALREADY been violated by having a bloody tadpole forced inside of it!” Tav shouted. At their words, the camp became enveloped in a heavy silence. Even the crickets ceased their chirping.

Astarion cringed inwardly, knowing the other party members could plainly hear this altercation and had likely stopped whatever it was that they had been doing to listen in. He noted the sounds of swords clanging together had ceased. He was certain Lae’zel and Shadowheart at least were aware of what was happening. Nosy bastards, all of them.

But what disturbed him even more was the realization that Tav’s eyes were welling with tears. She was too proud to acknowledge them or wipe them away. Such was her nature. But they were there nonetheless, and the knowledge that Astarion had brought her to the point of tears was enough to spur a rush of utter self-loathing inside him.

Without another word, Tav turned on her heel and marched stiffly out of camp, toward the direction of a nearby creek they’d identified as a water source earlier in the day.

“I can’t believe I let you convince me to perform that spell,” Gale said as she disappeared between the trees. He dragged his hands down his face. 

“How could we have been so doltish, forgetting that all of our privacies have already been violated with this tadpole business?”

Astarion didn’t have an answer to that. At least, not one the wizard could possibly understand. 

The thought hadn’t occurred to Astarion, he realized, because violations of privacy had been something so intrinsic to his being for over 200 years. He didn’t even recognize it as something abnormal. Like a fish unaware that the water surrounding it is, in fact, water. 

Violations of privacy were a part of life, at least for him. So much so that his request for Gale to perform that magic hadn’t even occurred to him as an overstepping of boundaries. To Astarion, it had simply been a matter of survival. He had needed to know another potentially manipulative person’s true intentions, and so he had found a means to uncover it and maintain the upper hand. 

Belatedly, he also realized that Gale’s hesitation to cast the spell had had nothing to do with being inconvenienced for the evening, but because the wizard had known that it was improper to do to another person. If he had misread that, Astarion wondered, then what other truly benevolent behaviors had he mistaken as pragmatic manipulation?

“I need to go find her,” Astarion murmured, clenching and unclenching his fists in an uncharacteristic fit of uncertainty. 

“Yes, you do,” Gale asserted. “We both owe her a sincere apology… if she’ll even accept it.”

“I’ll see if I can convince her to come back to camp,” Astarion replied, making to leave in the direction Tav had stormed off. 

“Wait,” Gale said, a hand on his shoulder. Astarion turned to meet his gaze. 

“Look, well, I’m obviously not an expert in healthy demonstrations of affection. But I do think it’s obvious from what you saw in that spell that Tav well and truly cares about you. In perhaps the purest way possible. Treat that carefully.”

Part of Astarion wanted to laugh aloud in utter hopelessness at the wizard’s advice. Someone cared for him? Truly and purely? No hidden games, no strings attached? Oh certainly, that wouldn’t be a problem for Astarion at all. Obviously, his 200-year existence as a master-manipulator-fetch-hound for a power-hungry vampire lord had perfectly prepared him to respond to this situation in a healthy manner. Obviously.

But all that was too much to reveal to someone he barely knew and too heavy to say aloud. Rather than giving some smarmy retort, Astarion opted instead to give a stiff nod and continue walking toward the edge of camp. He had no idea how he could make things right with Tav, but at the very least he could try. 

***

He found Tav sitting on a fallen tree near the edge of the creek bed. Her legs were drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around them as she rested a cheek to her knees. In the waning twilight, she reminded Astarion of some misbegotten gargoyle perched on the roof of a temple, solitary and so very sad. 

Her ears twitched as she noted his arrival. Astarion wasn’t trying to be stealthy. On top of everything else, the last thing he needed to do was scare her. 

“Can I join you?” he asked softly, wincing to himself at the awkwardness of the question. 

The reality was that there was no way to broach this conversation without some stilted beginning, and he hated it. Navigating tricky conversations was normally something he excelled at. But as he was quickly finding, when it related to Tav, nothing in his past life had prepared him to respond to her well. 

“If you’d like,” Tav answered tonelessly. 

Knowing it was probably the best response he was going to get, Astarion swallowed thickly and moved to sit down on the log next to her. 

“I… wanted to… apologize for what you saw, back at camp,” he began.

“Apologize for doing it, or apologize for getting caught?” Tav asked as she turned her head to look at him, resting her other cheek on her knees. 

Astarion balked at the question. Her piercing gaze unnerved him. He hadn’t really thought that far. 

“Both, I suppose?” he answered honestly, although it sounded more like a question to Tav. She huffed a laugh.

“You know, part of me really wants to yell at you. Scream in your face. Tell you off proper,” she mused.

“So why don’t you?” Astarion asked, perplexed. 

Tav didn’t respond at first, just sat there studying him. As if by staring at him long enough, she could project the answer into his mind. 

Astarion didn’t interrupt her, much as he would have liked to. Part of him always bristled when people gazed at him for too long. It was unfair that they could study him, when he hadn’t been able to so much as glance at his reflection in over 200 years. 

Finally, Tav released a heavy sigh, her body curling further in on itself. She closed her eyes as she spoke.

“Because then I would be just like every other bastard in your life who’s mistreated you.”

Astarion flinched in surprise. Those had not been the sort of words he’d been expecting. The truth of them cut deeper than had she raged at him like she wanted to. It left him feeling even more vulnerable, and that in turn made him want to retreat into the comfort of viciousness.

“I don’t need you to pull any punches,” he scoffed, glaring at her. “Go ahead and say what you will.”

She straightened up at his tone, opening her eyes and returning his glare. 

“No. I don’t want to,” she said testily.

“I don’t need your pity,” he hissed. “It’s insulting.”

“Gods damn it all, Astarion!” Tav exclaimed suddenly, causing him to jump in surprise. She threw her hands up in defeat. “I’m not doing anything out of pity! I don’t want to rage at you, because I know that whatever I say right now, I won’t mean it come the morning!”

Astarion blinked. Once again he was left feeling flat footed by the turn of the conversation. Sensing his surprise, Tav continued on with her deluge of words.

“You hurt me tonight, and I’m angry at you - and at Gale, for that matter - for what you did. But you’ve shared enough of your… history… with me, that I realize your behavior is just… just a byproduct of centuries of abuse and manipulation you’ve endured! And I won’t be another abuser in your life. I won’t,” she asserted. 

Astarion continued staring at her, as if she were some otherworldly creature that had just wandered across his path. He watched as Tav inhaled a deep breath, releasing it shakily. She turned away from him to peer out into the forest, uncertain. She opened and closed her mouth several times before actually speaking. As if whatever she was about to say was more intimidating to her than anything else she’d said tonight. 

“I… care deeply for you, Astarion,” she said quietly. “You obviously saw that in the vision. I’m not playing any games. There’s no hidden motive. I’m not trying to manipulate you.”

She turned to look at him again before continuing, her breathing a bit unsteady. 

“I didn’t sleep with you that night of the tiefling party as some sort of maneuver to gain your trust. Although I understand if that was your motivation for doing so.” 

Astarion’s expression morphed into one of guilt. But Tav nodded soberly, as if she had already expected it, before continuing on. 

“It’s okay. I’m not angry. But I’m putting all my cards on the table now, so to speak. Actually, your decision tonight forced my hand, but I had been planning on telling you soon anyway. So, there you have it. The truth of my intentions. What you do with that information is up to you.”

She turned back to gaze out at their surroundings. Like she was giving him the opportunity to bolt away without her watching him. As if she expected him to flee from her confession. 

But Astarion didn’t flee. He remained seated, staring at her in complete wonderment. 

“Why?” he asked quietly.

She looked back at him again, confusion evident on her face. 

“Why what?”

“Why do you care for me? You’re so… well-adjusted. And I’m well… this,” he finished lamely, placing a hand on his chest. 

Tav pursed her lips. “It would be a mistake to misconstrue my empathy for you as me being well-adjusted. Everyone has their own demons, Astarion,” she murmured. “Mine just look different from yours.”

Astarion mulled her words over in his mind, considering them. He leaned forward to brace his forearms on his knees, his head drooping slightly. 

“I…,” he started, unsure. “That vision… what it implied… You deserve something real, Tav. You’re incredible… truly.” 

Tav closed her eyes, bracing for the fallout. Even though she would accept his decision, whatever it was, she didn’t think she could bear to watch him deny her. It would hurt too much. 

“Look. When we met, I had a plan. A nice, simple plan,” he blurted all at once. Rising swiftly to his feet, Tav watched as he began to pace before her, near to bursting with frenetic energy. 

“Seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me,” he counted off, laughing half-heartedly. “It was… easy - instinctive. Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it. And all I had to do… was not fall for you… which is where my nice, simple plan fell apart,” he finished, stopping to stand before her. 

She held his gaze, speechless. 

“I want you,” he whispered fervently. “I want what was in that vision… I want us to be something real.”

Never in a million years had she thought he would respond to her like this. She opened her mouth to speak, but Astarion cut her off with another sudden exclamation. 

“I just don’t know what real is,” he confessed, his tone a touch hysterical. Tav knew from his body language that being this transparent was completely out of Astarion’s comfort zone. 

“Being… close to someone - any kind of intimacy - was something I performed to lure people back. For him. Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels… tainted. Still brings up those feelings of disgust, and loathing. I… I don’t know how else to be with someone. No matter how much I’d like to,” he finished, staring at her with beseeching eyes, willing her to understand.

Tav rose to her feet, coming to stand before him. 

“I don’t want you for your body,” she whispered. “Or to perform any acts of intimacy. We can be together, without sleeping together, for as long as you need.”

“Really,” he asked softly, his voice pitched low, rough with emotion.

“Really,” Tav asserted, giving him a small smile. “Would it be all right if…” she paused, conflicted. He eyed her curiously.

“Could I hug you?” she whispered.

The fact that she asked before doing so caused a well of emotion to spring up inside him. Eyes watering, Astarion nodded. 

Slowly, Tav moved forward to wrap her arms around his waist. Her head nestled into the crook of his neck and shoulder. A perfect fit. He felt her exhale a deep sigh.

Tav hugging him was a sensation unlike any he had ever felt. At least, any he could remember feeling. The act of being touched, embraced, without any desire for something more. She just wanted to hold him, feel him close to her. It was incomprehensible to him, but utterly enjoyable, at the same time. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, Astarion raised his arms to return Tav’s embrace. Drawing her even closer, he bowed his head to rest his cheek against her hair. It was soft, like the finest silk. He closed his eyes as he inhaled deeply, appreciating her sweet, floral scent.   

She made to pull away after a moment, not wishing to overwhelm him. But Astarion gripped her more firmly, a silent urge for them to stay that way a little longer. 

“This… this is nice,” he whispered. 

He both felt and heard Tav hum contentedly in response. 

It wasn’t identical to the vision from Tav’s mind that he had seen, but Astarion reveled in their embrace nonetheless. It felt like the beginning of something new. And for the first time in his very, very long life, Astarion felt excited at the prospects of what would come next. 

[mcrdvcks]

Nasty

Summary: You and Logan deal with the aftermath of your mission.

Word Count: 5.4k+

Pairing: Logan (X-Men) x fem!reader

Notes: i thought i'd put part 2 at out at the same time just 'cause. enjoy this pure smut!

(and yes, both titles are ariana grande songs, sue me)

warnings/tags: some uses of y/n, pet names, porn no plot, oral sex (m and f receiving), swearing, unprotected sex, creampie, not proofread

Part 1

The mission at the gala and the following one where the X-Men saved the mutants from the trafficking ring went on without a hitch.

But there was one thing you and Logan weren’t the greatest at. Talking about feelings.

You’re very aware that emotions are your specialty, being able to feel how everyone else feels, but you usually despise your own.

Despite the kiss incident at the gala, you and Logan acted normal around each other. The flirty comments to each other didn’t stop, not in the slightest.

You were leaning against the kitchen counter, a mug of coffee in your hands, watching Logan rummage through the fridge.

“So, doll, you gonna keep ignoring the elephant in the room, or should I spell it out?” Logan’s voice was gruff, but there was that smirk on his face, the one he gave you whenever he knew he was pushing your buttons.

You raised an eyebrow, sipping your coffee slowly, playing it off. “What elephant? There’s just you and your terrible food choices.”

Logan chuckled, grabbing a leftover sandwich and leaning against the counter across from you. “Oh, you know damn well what elephant I’m talking about. You gonna pretend nothing happened?”

“I’m not pretending anything, Logan,” you replied, eyes narrowing slightly. “We kissed. So what? It’s not like it means anything.”

He raised an eyebrow, biting into his sandwich, clearly not buying it. “Is that what you’re telling yourself, Psionix?” he asked, using your code name like it was some kind of challenge.

You hated when he called you that in moments like this. It was like he was reminding you that you could feel his emotions, that you knew there was something more bubbling under the surface. Something you were avoiding.

“Yeah, well, maybe I am,” you shot back, setting your mug down with a little more force than intended.

Logan didn’t back down. “You’re a terrible liar, doll. Always have been.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, crossing your arms over your chest. “What do you want me to say, Logan? That I haven’t thought about it? That it didn’t make things... complicated?”

“Complicated, huh?” Logan pushed himself off the counter, his tone teasing but with a serious edge. He walked towards you, closing the distance between you both. “That what you’re afraid of? A little complication?”

You could feel his emotions swirling—interest, concern, a bit of hesitation—but also something more. Something deeper. It wasn’t like Logan to open up, and you weren’t exactly thrilled about digging into your own feelings either.

“What if I am?” you shot back, eyes meeting his. “What if things get... messy?”

Logan’s gaze softened just a bit, though that smug smirk didn’t leave his lips. “Messy’s my specialty, doll. And you can handle messy. You’ve been handling me all this time.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was truth in his words. Despite all the walls both of you had, there was something there. Something neither of you wanted to talk about, but neither of you could avoid.

“And what about you?” you countered, taking a step closer, not backing down. “You gonna pretend like nothing’s going on? Like you’re not... feeling something?”

Logan’s eyes darkened slightly, his jaw tightening. “I don’t pretend about much, especially not with you,” he said, his voice low.

There was a tension in the air now, thicker than usual, and you could feel your heart beating a little faster. You hated how easily he got under your skin, but at the same time, you didn’t want him to stop.

“So what do we do, Logan? Keep flirting, keep dancing around it? Or do we—”

Before you could finish, Logan stepped even closer, his voice dropping to a near growl. “We could stop dancing around it anytime, doll. You know that.”

Your breath caught in your throat for a second, the weight of his words hitting you harder than expected. He wasn’t joking, wasn’t teasing anymore. This was serious. And suddenly, you realized just how much you were standing at the edge of something you weren’t sure you were ready for.

But Logan... Logan wasn’t the kind to wait around. Not when he wanted something.

“You ready to stop pretending?” His voice was rough, but there was that familiar glint in his eye.

For a moment, you considered stepping back, saying something sarcastic to deflect, to keep things light like you always did. But you couldn’t.

So, against your better judgment you repeated what you did at the gala. Your hands found Logan’s jaw, the coarse texture of his beard grazing your fingers as you pulled him into a kiss. His lips met yours with a fierceness that made your head spin. It wasn’t soft or tentative like the last time; it was hard, demanding, like he was done with all the talking, the flirting. His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you flush against him, the heat between your bodies immediate, burning through your clothes.

You gasped against his mouth as he pressed you back against the counter, the edge digging into your lower back, but you didn’t care. The kiss deepened, his tongue sliding against yours, hungry, searching. You could feel the tension in his muscles, the way his hands moved up your sides, possessive. He didn’t ask for permission. He just took, and fuck, you liked that.

Logan broke the kiss, his lips moving down your neck, nipping at your skin. You tilted your head back, giving him access, your breath coming out in quick, shallow bursts. “Logan—”

“Shut up,” he growled against your throat, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear. One hand slid up to cup your breast through your shirt, fingers squeezing just hard enough to make you gasp. You could feel him pressing against you, hard and insistent, leaving no room for guessing what he wanted.

You arched into him, the heat pooling low in your stomach, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. “I’m not pretending anymore,” you whispered, your voice shaky but firm.

He chuckled darkly, his lips brushing against your collarbone. “Good. Neither am I.”

With a rough shove, you sent Logan backward, his body landing hard on the kitchen chair. The scrape of wood against the floor echoed through the room, but neither of you cared. Your thighs straddled his, grinding down as your mouths crashed together in a frenzy of heat, teeth clashing, tongues desperate for more.

Logan’s hands were on you immediately, gripping your hips with a possessiveness that sent a jolt of arousal through you. You tugged at his hair, breaking the kiss only long enough to catch a ragged breath. His cock pressed thick and hard against you through his jeans, and you felt it pulse as you rolled your hips over him, teasing.

His growl was low, primal, his hands sliding under your shirt, rough fingers kneading the flesh of your sides. You could feel him straining for control, his jaw clenched as he tried not to rip your clothes off right there.

Without another word, you slid off him and dropped to your knees between his legs. Logan’s eyes darkened as you reached for his belt, yanking it open with a sharp tug, the clink of metal punctuating the thick silence. He leaned back, his smirk dangerous as he watched you, those animal eyes locked onto every move you made.

The zipper came down next, your fingers brushing against his thick length straining against the fabric. Logan didn’t flinch, didn’t break eye contact, but the tension in his body said enough. He wanted this as much as you did.

“Fuck, doll, you gonna make me wait?” His voice was low, rough, like he was barely holding it together.

You didn’t bother with a reply. Instead, you pulled him free, his cock springing out, thick and hard in your hand. You stroked him once, slowly, enjoying the way his jaw tightened, the way his fingers dug into the arms of the chair.

Then you wrapped your lips around the head, taking him into your mouth, slow at first, letting your tongue swirl around the tip, tasting him. Logan’s hand immediately found the back of your head, not pushing, just holding you there, like he needed to feel your mouth on him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his hips shifting slightly as you took him deeper. You hollowed your cheeks, sucking hard as you slid down, inch by inch, feeling his cock throb against your tongue. Logan’s grip tightened in your hair, his breathing ragged.

You set a rhythm, bobbing your head, your hand stroking what you couldn’t take in. Logan’s grunts and curses filled the air, and you felt a surge of satisfaction knowing how much you were getting to him. His thighs tensed, muscles coiled with that barely-contained need.

“Goddamn, sweetheart,” he growled, his voice strained. “You always did have a smart mouth.”

You hummed around him in response, the vibration making him twitch in your mouth. His control was slipping, and you could feel it in the way his hand tightened in your hair, the way his hips started to thrust, small, sharp movements as he fought the urge to fuck your throat.

You pulled off with a slick pop, your lips swollen, a string of spit connecting your mouth to his cock. Logan’s eyes were wild, his chest rising and falling in heavy breaths as he stared down at you, his hand still tangled in your hair.

“Up,” he growled, the command rough but filled with need.

You didn’t hesitate, standing quickly as Logan’s hands gripped your waist, pulling you up into his arms. His lips were on yours again, hard and demanding, as he lifted you effortlessly. Before you knew it, you were stumbling through the kitchen, your back slamming into the hallway wall as he kissed you like he was starved for it.

“Bedroom,” he growled against your lips, his voice hoarse with desire.

You barely made it to the bed. Logan was on you before you hit the mattress, his body pinning yours as he ripped your shirt over your head, his teeth nipping at your neck, your collarbone, anywhere he could reach. His hands were everywhere, possessive, greedy, as he shoved your pants down, his fingers teasing your soaked panties.

“Fuck, doll,” he muttered, his breath hot against your skin. “You’re already so fucking wet.”

His fingers grazed over your panties, feeling the dampness soaking through. With a low growl, he hooked his fingers into the fabric and yanked them down in one swift motion, tossing them aside. His gaze burned as he stared at your pussy, glistening and ready for him.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, spreading your legs wider with his hands, positioning himself between your thighs. “You’ve been teasing me long enough.” His rough hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he leaned down, his breath fanning over your swollen clit, teasing you with the promise of what was coming.

You bit your lip, trying to keep some semblance of control, but when his tongue flicked out, just barely brushing your clit, you couldn’t help the gasp that escaped your throat. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. “Fuck, Logan,” you groaned, your hips bucking slightly, desperate for more.

He didn’t need any more encouragement. With a growl, his mouth was on you, tongue lashing over your clit in slow, deliberate strokes, each one sending a jolt of electricity through your body. You could feel the heat building in your core, your body responding to every flick of his tongue, every wet slide against your most sensitive spot.

“God, you taste so fucking good,” he muttered between licks, his voice vibrating against your clit, making your back arch off the bed. He didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down, his mouth working you over like he was starving for it, like he couldn’t get enough. And fuck, neither could you.

Your moans filled the room, breathless and ragged, each one louder than the last as his tongue worked you closer to the edge. His fingers dug into your hips, holding you in place as he devoured you, lips wrapping around your clit and sucking hard enough to make your toes curl. You could feel the pressure building, feel yourself getting closer and closer to that breaking point.

“Logan,” you gasped, your hips grinding against his face, chasing that release. “Fuck, don’t stop.”

His tongue worked you relentlessly, flicking and lapping at your clit, his growls vibrating through your body, driving you mad with every stroke. Logan didn’t let up, sucking your clit into his mouth with just the right amount of pressure, sending sparks down your spine. His stubble scratched your inner thighs, the burn only adding to the pleasure as he devoured you, like he couldn’t get enough.

"Fuck, you're gonna make me come," you panted, fingers gripping his hair tight, pushing him deeper against you. Your thighs trembled, and Logan groaned, his tongue sliding lower, licking through your folds, teasing your entrance before diving back up to swirl around your swollen clit.

He growled low in his throat, hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise as he held you in place, forcing you to ride his face. His tongue was relentless, flicking back and forth over your clit, each pass sending a shockwave through your core. Your breath hitched, a gasp escaping your lips as the pressure built inside you, everything coiling tighter and tighter.

"Logan... fuck, I’m gonna—"

He didn’t let you finish, sucking hard on your clit, his tongue swirling faster, pushing you over the edge. Your body jerked, hips bucking against his mouth as the orgasm tore through you, a strangled cry escaping your throat.

"Ahhh, fuck... fuck, Logan!"

Your whole body tensed, thighs squeezing around his head as you came, the pleasure ripping through you in waves. Logan didn’t stop, his mouth working you through the orgasm, licking and sucking every drop as you trembled above him, breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Jesus," you muttered, trying to catch your breath, your legs shaking uncontrollably. Logan chuckled darkly, his hands squeezing your hips as he kissed up your thigh, his lips slick with your arousal.

"Told ya," Logan growled, voice thick with the weight of his hunger. He wiped the slick wetness of your release from his lips with the back of his hand, his eyes hooded and dark, locked on you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world. That wolfish grin flashed across his face, knowing damn well he’d had you shuddering beneath him like that.

He was still on his knees between your legs, his body a wall of muscle as he prowled closer, bracing himself with one hand beside your head, the other trailing up the inside of your thigh. His fingers grazed over your soaked folds, and you jolted, still sensitive from his mouth. He smirked at the way you twitched, unable to hide the raw arousal that had never truly ebbed.

"You're a fucking tease, doll." His voice was low, gravelly, lips brushing your ear as his fingers danced between your legs again, slipping over your entrance, teasing just enough to make you squirm.

You gasped, fingers curling into the sheets beneath you as he toyed with you, his fingers sliding against your soaked pussy but never giving you what you wanted. "Maybe I just know what you like," you whispered, breathless, grinning up at him through half-lidded eyes.

Logan growled low in his throat, leaning in to bite at your neck, sharp and possessive. "That so?" His fingers slid inside you then, two thick digits curling deep, stretching you in ways that had you biting back a moan.

"Fuck, Logan…" Your hips rolled against his hand, chasing that delicious friction, your body already wound tight again.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes smoldering as he watched your face twist in pleasure. "That’s it, doll. Show me how bad you want it." His thumb found your clit, rubbing tight circles that made your back arch off the bed, your breath catching in your throat.

You reached up, hooking your fingers into his belt loops, yanking him closer. "Fuck me," you demanded, voice raw, needy. You couldn’t take it anymore, the teasing, the way he kept pushing you higher without giving you the release you craved.

His grin widened, dangerous and dark. "Patience." But you felt the way he shifted his hips, the weight of his cock straining against his jeans.

"Fuck patience." You reached between you, hand bold as you cupped him through the denim, squeezing just enough to make him hiss through his teeth. His cock jumped in your hand, hard and ready. "I want you inside me, Logan."

That was all it took to snap his restraint. He let out a rough curse and pulled back just enough to shed his clothes, his jeans hitting the floor with a heavy thud. You watched every movement, eyes riveted to the thick length of him, pulsing and ready, the head glistening with pre-cum. He was so fucking hard it made your mouth water.

"Turn over," he growled, voice thick with command, as he yanked you up from the bed. You obeyed without hesitation, flipping onto your stomach, pushing your ass up for him, wanting to feel that heavy weight slide into you, to be filled so completely you’d forget everything but him.

Logan grabbed your hips, dragging you back against him. "Fuck, look at that pussy. So fucking wet for me, doll," he muttered, voice rough with desire. He ran the head of his cock through your folds, slicking himself with your arousal, teasing you again until you whimpered, pushing back against him.

"Please," you panted, desperate now, needing him to just take you already. "I need it, Logan."

He didn’t need to hear another word. With one sharp thrust, he buried himself inside you, stretching you wide around his thick cock, the feeling so intense it knocked the air from your lungs. You cried out, fingers clawing at the sheets, body taut as you tried to adjust to the sheer size of him.

“Fuck…” you gasped, your voice rough, the word a breathy moan as Logan began to move inside you. The stretch burned at first, but the way his cock filled you, the thickness pressing deep, made your entire body hum with raw, throbbing need.

Logan growled, the sound vibrating deep in his chest, primal. “Tight as fuck, doll,” he muttered, his hands gripping your hips like a vice, fingers digging into your flesh as he set a punishing rhythm, each thrust slamming into you, pushing you up the bed.

Every thrust had you keening, the pleasure dizzying, your mind blanking to everything except the way Logan filled you, stretched you, claimed you. "Logan… fuck, yes…" you moaned, hips bucking back to meet him, desperate to take him even deeper.

"Goddamn, you feel so fucking good," he groaned, voice gravelly, dark with lust. His pace quickened, his cock driving into you harder, each thrust sending jolts of electricity through your core, setting you on fire. He was relentless, the heat of him searing, his breath hot against the back of your neck as he leaned over you, his weight pressing you into the mattress.

You pushed back against him, arching your back to take him even deeper. "More," you gasped, voice hoarse with need. "Fuck, Logan, don't stop."

He didn't. If anything, his thrusts became rougher, more demanding, his cock pounding into you with a force that made you cry out, the sound a raw, guttural moan. His grip tightened on your hips, pulling you back onto him with every stroke, driving himself deeper into your soaked, aching pussy.

“Fuck, doll, you’re squeezing me so tight,” he growled, voice rough with need as his hips snapped forward, each thrust deep and brutal, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. “You love this, don’t you? Love being fucked like this.”

“Y-yes,” you gasped, pushing back harder, your body desperate for more, for everything he could give you. “Fuck, yes, Logan!”

He let out a dark chuckle, low and hungry, and leaned over you, his mouth brushing your ear. “Good girl.” His breath was hot, his voice a growl as he pounded into you, hips slamming against your ass. “Such a good fuckin’ girl.”

You whimpered, the sound high-pitched and breathless, your body trembling beneath him, every nerve ending on fire. His cock stretched you to the limit, each deep, hard thrust sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you, driving you higher and higher, the pressure building, coiling tight in your belly.

“Logan… I’m—” The words barely made it past your lips before you felt yourself shatter, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave, the pleasure so intense it knocked the breath from your lungs. You screamed his name, your pussy clenching tight around him, squeezing him so hard it drew a rough groan from his throat.

Logan didn’t stop, didn’t let up, his thrusts hard and unrelenting as he fucked you through your orgasm, driving you higher, deeper into that blissful haze. “Fuck,” he growled, voice hoarse as he felt you clench around him, your walls milking his cock, your body trembling beneath him. “You’re so fucking tight, doll… squeezing me so goddamn hard…”

Logan’s eyes were practically feral, his grip on your hips ironclad as he flipped you onto your back. You barely had time to catch your breath before his body was on top of yours again, pressing you into the mattress. The weight of him was heavy, grounding, but it did nothing to dim the heat burning between your legs.

His lips crashed against yours, rough and demanding, teeth nipping at your lower lip until you opened for him, letting him devour you like he had your pussy moments ago. His hand found your breast, squeezing hard, tweaking your nipple until you gasped against his mouth. You were slick with sweat, still trembling from the orgasm that had just ripped through you, but you wanted more.

“Logan…” You moaned his name, your legs falling open in invitation, your body still aching with need. The feeling of his cock, still hard and throbbing against your thigh, had you arching into him, desperate for him to fill you again.

He smirked down at you, one hand sliding down your side, brushing over your still-sensitive clit, making you twitch and gasp. “So eager, doll,” he growled, his fingers teasing your entrance, gathering the slickness there. “Didn’t get enough already?”

“You’ve been teasing me for months,” you shot back, your voice breathless but sharp, your hands grabbing at his biceps, pulling him closer. “About time you deliver.”

That earned you a low, dangerous laugh from him, his breath hot against your ear. “You’re a fucking tease,” he muttered, his fingers sliding inside you, curling in just the right way to make your back arch off the bed. “You think I haven’t noticed?”

You gasped, rolling your hips against his hand, already close again. “Fuck, Logan…”

He growled, his fingers pulling out suddenly, leaving you empty and aching. You barely had a chance to whimper before he was between your legs again, the head of his cock sliding through your folds, slicking himself up with your arousal. You were wet, dripping, your pussy still clenching around nothing, desperate to be filled.

“You ready for this, doll?” Logan’s voice was low, gravelly, as he positioned himself at your entrance, his cock teasing you, just barely pressing inside. You could feel the heat of him, the thickness that was about to stretch you again, and it made your head spin.

“Yes,” you gasped, your hands gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. “Please, Logan, fuck me.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. With one hard thrust, he buried himself inside you, stretching you wide around his thick cock. You cried out, the feeling overwhelming, a mix of pain and pleasure as your body adjusted to him. He didn’t stop, didn’t give you a moment to catch your breath. He pulled back, only to slam into you again, each thrust deep, hard, and unrelenting.

“Fuck, Logan…” Your voice was hoarse, your body trembling beneath him as he set a punishing pace. He was so deep inside you, filling you completely, and every time he thrust, it sent shockwaves of pleasure through you, making you cry out, moan, beg for more.

“Goddamn, you’re perfect,” Logan groaned, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise as he fucked you into the mattress. His eyes were dark, burning with lust as he watched your face twist in pleasure, your mouth open, gasping for breath. “So fucking good.”

“Logan… oh god, yes…” You were babbling now, barely able to form coherent words as he pounded into you, each thrust driving you higher, closer to that edge again. Your nails dug into his skin, your hips bucking against him, desperate to take him even deeper.

Logan's lips curled into that feral grin, sweat dripping down his temples as he watched you lose yourself beneath him. "Fuckin' beautiful," he growled, hips snapping forward, burying himself balls-deep inside her. "Takin' me so damn good, doll. That sweet little cunt of yours—" His voice was hoarse, breath ragged as he kept pounding into you, the slap of skin against skin filling the room.

Your hands shot up to his shoulders, dragging him down until his chest was pressed to your, needing to feel him, all of him. "God, Logan… I can feel everything…" she whispered, voice broken with need. Your psionics were kicking in, amplifying the intensity between them, feeling his hunger, his desire, like it was your own. You could barely think, your mind a whirlwind of lust and pleasure.

"Yeah?" Logan's voice rumbled against your ear, low and dangerous, and he drove into you harder, grinding his cock against your G-spot. "You feel that, huh?" His lips brushed your neck, teeth grazing your skin just before he bit down, marking you. The rough scrape of his beard against your sensitive skin only sent you spiraling deeper into the haze of pleasure.

You whimpered, legs trembling as you wrapped them around his waist, heels digging into his back, trying to pull him impossibly closer. "Logan, fuck!" You could barely get the words out, your body on fire, every nerve lit up with need. Your pussy clenched tight around him, slick and hot, as his cock pounded relentlessly into you.

He growled in response, one hand moving under your head as he yanked your head back so he could look into your eyes. "Look at me, doll," he ordered, his voice a rough command. "Wanna see that pretty face when I fuck you."

The weight of him pressed you deeper into the mattress as his hips drove forward, cock burying into your slick heat, every inch of him making you feel like you were about to split apart, but in the best way. Your lips parted in a sharp gasp, your body jerking from the intensity. “Logan—fuck,” you groaned, legs trembling as you tightened them around his waist, dragging him even closer. His cock filled you, stretching you so perfectly that you couldn’t help but whimper, the sound ragged, desperate.

His lips curled into a smirk as he watched you struggle to catch your breath, watched you squirm beneath him, utterly wrecked and begging for more. “You feel that, huh?” His voice was a low, dangerous rasp. “Feel how deep I’m inside you? Every inch of my cock stretching this pussy of yours?” He leaned down, his teeth grazing your ear, sending a fresh jolt of electricity through your already sensitized body.

You were barely coherent, your nails digging into his shoulders, desperate to hang on as Logan’s rhythm grew faster, rougher. “Fuck, Logan,” you gasped, hips bucking up to meet his every brutal thrust. His cock slammed into you, hitting that sweet spot deep inside that had you seeing stars, your back arching off the bed, mouth open in a silent cry.

Logan grunted, his grip on your hair easing just enough to let you move your head, but he didn’t let you escape the intensity of his gaze. He wanted to see you fall apart for him, wanted to watch you lose control, knowing he was the one doing it to you. “That’s it, doll,” he muttered, voice thick with lust. “Fucking take it. Let me feel how much you want this.”

You whimpered, biting your lip as you struggled to form words. “I—I need more…” Your voice was raw, shaky, but still laced with that bold edge that had always kept Logan coming back, that constant push and pull between you. You could feel the heat building again, that tight coil in your belly about to snap, and you needed more—needed him to take you higher, harder, faster.

Logan growled, a sound so deep and feral it sent shivers down your spine. “Greedy little thing,” he muttered, pulling out just enough to leave you aching, empty, before slamming back into you. “I’ll give you more.”

You cried out, fingers gripping his biceps as your entire body rocked from the force of his thrusts. Every inch of your skin was on fire, every nerve ending lit up, all of it focused on where his cock was buried deep inside you, pounding relentlessly. “Fuck, Logan!” Your voice was a ragged moan, the words half-gasped as he drove you closer and closer to the edge.

“Yeah, you love this,” he growled, hips snapping forward with each brutal thrust, your body jolting beneath him. “You love being fucked like this, don’t you? Love how hard I’m fucking you?” His breath was hot against your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin just hard enough to make you gasp.

“Yes! Fuck, yes, Logan—don’t stop,” you begged, your hips bucking up to meet his, desperate to feel every inch of him as he filled you, stretched you. Your walls clenched around him, slick and hot, your body already trembling with the buildup of another orgasm. “I’m so fucking close…”

Logan’s grin was dark, dangerous, his eyes locked on yours as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “Good girl,” he growled, his voice a rough command that made your entire body shudder. “Come for me, doll. Let me feel you come around my cock.”

His words were all it took. That tight coil in your belly snapped, sending you crashing over the edge. Your body convulsed, every muscle tightening as the orgasm tore through you, the pleasure so intense you couldn’t even scream. Your pussy clenched hard around his cock, milking him, pulling him deeper as you rode the waves of pleasure.

Logan groaned, his hips slamming into you harder, faster, driving you through your orgasm, prolonging every pulse of pleasure. “Fuck, Y/N…” His voice was hoarse, thick with need as he felt you tighten around him, your body trembling beneath him. His rhythm stuttered, his thrusts growing more erratic, more desperate.

You were still gasping for breath, your body still trembling from the aftershocks, but you weren’t done yet. Not even close. You wrapped your legs tighter around him, pulling him even closer, feeling his cock pulse inside you. “Come for me, Logan,” you whispered, your voice low, seductive. “I want to feel you come inside me.”

That was it. Logan let out a rough curse, his grip on your hips tightening as he thrust into you one last time, his cock buried deep inside you. You felt him pulse, felt the heat of his release flood into you, and it sent another shiver of pleasure down your spine. He groaned your name, his body going rigid as he emptied himself into you, his breath hot against your skin.

For a moment, neither of you moved, both of you still catching your breath, still tangled in each other. You could feel the slick heat of your combined releases dripping between your thighs, but you didn’t care. You just lay there, wrapped up in Logan’s heat, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your chest.

“Jesus,” you finally muttered, your voice hoarse, breathless. “You really don’t hold back, do you?”

Logan chuckled, low and rough, the sound vibrating through your chest. “Told ya, doll. I don’t do half-measures.” He lifted his head, that familiar smirk tugging at his lips as he looked down at you, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “But you didn’t either, did you?”

You grinned, still breathless, still riding the high of what had just happened. “Guess not.”

tags: @freythecrazyfae, @its-in-the-woods

[eddieandbird]

How Romantic—

You’re Corroded Coffin’s tour manager and you wake up realizing you drunkenly got married to Eddie the night before.

Part 2 | Part 3

tags/warnings: fluff | 2.7k words | f!reader | rockstar!Eddie | alcohol ment

———

Nothing seemed too out of the ordinary when you opened your eyes this morning. Your head was pounding, but you expected that after Corroded Coffin’s first show in Las Vegas. You went to rub the sleep out from your eyes but you winced in pain as you felt a small object scratch the corner of your eye.

“Ow! What the hell?” You hissed. You sat up and flicked on the bedside lamp.

A diamond ring sat on the third knuckle of your left hand, the sight causing you to flinch like it were a spider crawling up your leg.

“Eddie?” You shoved your sleeping client beside you. “Eddie, I think we did something really stupid last night,”

“What? Of course, we did! We’re rockstars, idiot,” He grumbled, rolling his shoulders to shake off your hand.

He attempted to roll over and fall back asleep, but this wasn’t a situation you could press the snooze button on. In a panic you pulled him up by his long hair, forcing him to sit up beside you.

“Hey!—“

“Eddie, shut up,” You said sternly, interrupting his whining. “Let me see your hands,”

You fumbled around to get a hold of them, light scratches exchanged between the both of you as you slapped each other like bickering children. Somehow you were able to catch his wrist, bringing his left hand closer to the light.

As you feared, he wore a gold band on his ring finger, with white diamonds that glistened, mocking you.

“Holy shit, no, no, no-” You cursed under your breath when you wanted to scream, but the ever-present headache prevented you from raising your voice.

Eddie flinched as you tugged at him, then chuckled when he caught the sight of his own ring.

“Looks like we got a matching set,” He said casually.

His expression didn’t change, leaving you utterly dumbfounded. You could tell he was not understanding the gravity of the situation at all.

“A matching set?— Eddie this isn’t some cute friendship bracelet thing!” You shook your head then forced his hand closer to his face like it could get him to understand.

Eddie wasn’t stupid by any means, but boy did he struggle to get the point sometimes. You knew to cut him some slack considering he was hungover just like you. However, you didn’t think you had to spell this all out for him.

Another moment passed before his eyes opened up fully. “Oh… OH!” He exclaimed.

“Yeah, oh,” You sighed, relieved and irritated.

He studied his hand for a moment, tilting it in the light as he observed the jewels embedded into the gold.

“Oh wow, this is-” He mumbled to himself, his voice getting lost in a trail of thoughts.

He then went silent for a moment before suddenly grabbing your hand harshly, and yanking it into the light. “I bet yours is nicer, let me see,” He grumbled, his tone sounding almost jealous. It did nothing but work you up even more. You were unfortunately going to have to spell it out for him.

You flailed out of bed, ripping off the robe that hung on the lampshade, and covered yourself. The bewildered glare you gave Eddie only caused him to look more confused. You sighed and rubbed your aching head.

“I can’t believe I’m even explaining this to you right now,” You mumbled to yourself. You put your hands together and pointed the form at him. “Eddie, I think we got married last night,”

You hoped and prayed he would give you a different look, one that didn’t make you believe he didn’t even know his own name.

“You think? Or you know?” He countered, raising his eyebrows at you. “These rings could mean nothing, we just have to make sure,”

His expression was far more casual than it should’ve been. You didn’t know how much longer you would be able to stay patient, he was making your blood boil. He was treating this as if you were scolding him for showing up late to the gig.

As much as you wanted him to prove your theory wrong, you feared it wasn’t likely. Your eyes scanned the trashed hotel room for any other sign. To your dismay, there was a white dress tossed to the side of the bathroom. Disgust and regret painted your face as you lifted it. It was covered in red wine and smelled even worse.

“I think I found my wedding dress,” You gagged, holding it up to show Eddie.

You groaned as you just as quickly threw it back down on the floor.

Eddie’s smile wavered as he saw the state of your wedding dress. He suddenly looked nauseous as he observed the wine stains and messy wrinkles.

“We must’ve been super wasted last night,” He thought back to the night before, his mind desperately trying to recall any other details. “I can’t remember a damn thing after the first hour or so,” He said, running a hand through his messy hair.

“Yeah, no kidding,”

You examined the dress again from where you stood and bits and pieces of last night suddenly came back to you. The cheap rhinestones on it formed a pattern that haunted you.

The sight took you back to when Eddie and you stumbled downtown, giggling as you tried to keep each other upright. With one arm wrapped around your waist to keep you steady, he used the other to point out the ridiculously lit chapel you were passing by. A window peered into a showroom with a plethora of wedding dresses.

You let out a low whistle with your finger pointed at the glass. “Jeez what a dress, huh? Have you ever seen anything more gaudy?” You elbowed Eddie in the chest playfully.

You were too amused to see that he hardly gave that stupid dress more than one glance. He was too captivated by the way you looked underneath the twinkling lights.

“I dunno. I bet you’d make it look good,” Eddie slurred back, raising his eyebrows to fight his half-lidded eyes. His sudden suggestive tone took you aback. He was always crass and liked to push buttons, but never had he been this forward with you. You felt a strange flutter in the pit of your stomach that you had every intention of ignoring.

“Alright, buddy, I gotta get you back to the hotel. You’re too far gone if you’re imagining your manager in a wedding dress,” You hiccupped, trying to pry Eddie away from the chapel windows, but he was sturdy like a wall. You yelped as he pulled you by the wrist back into him.

“I think you should go in and try it on,” He whispered, his lips grazing your ear.

Shivers went down your spine, traveling down your body and convincing you it was a good idea. The sloshing liquor in your gut and the rasp of his voice was a dangerous combination. It created a switch inside your head that drained you of your professionalism, leaving only traits that would make you the woman of Eddie’s dreams. This included the boldness to slip your hand into his and say “Aw… Fuck it, why not? Let’s see how stupid it looks,”

Eddie hastily led you into the chapel, walking through the doorway and into the showroom full of gowns. The two of you were greeted by a bored employee who couldn’t look less interested in her job, but somehow had the energy to sneer at the both of you. You only took it as a sign that you should try on the stupid dress if only to spite that miserable lady at the front desk.

Just as you were joking about before, you took the gown that sat in the window and brought it with you to the fitting room. It was way too ornate and flashy for your taste, but you had the itch to try it on to humor Eddie’s curiosity. One outfit change later and you came out, propped up against the doorframe with a hand on your hip. Despite your slightly pained expression, you glittered beautifully in the dress.

“Okay I’m pretty sure this thing is a size too small because I can hardly breathe, but here it is. Happy now, Munson?” You gave an ironic smile.

You expected Eddie to laugh along with you, maybe even make a few digs at how awful the get-up was, but he didn’t. Instead, he stared at you slack-jawed. You had brought an entire galaxy to his hazy eyes. His pupils dilated with desire as he took a few sudden strides toward you.

“There is no way you’re actually making that dress look good,” He muttered in disbelief, pawing at your hips.

Eddie dragged his fingertips along your jawline, gently pushing your hair behind the shoulders. He took a step back to admire the skin around your neck that he just exposed. Your silhouette was being squeezed into the fabric and hardly left anything to the imagination. There was really no stopping Eddie now. With an uncoordinated tug, your body was pressed to his.

“What are you doing?” You asked him like he was a toddler getting caught stealing sweets from the kitchen. Delirious giggles rang out of you as half-heartedly pushed him.

“Taking my bride to the altar, duh,” Eddie leaned in, his lips tickling the nape of your neck. He spoke in that false innocent tone that you knew was laced with devious intentions. Your eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of his feather-like touches.

“You’re gonna marry me, right, princess?” His silky voice was incredibly inviting in the state you were in.

“I um- well m-” You stuttered. You could hardly stand straight, let alone answer his question properly. “Yeah?”

“Mhm, that’s what I thought. C’mon, sweetheart, you’re mine now,” He triumphantly laughed.

The receptionist’s eyes widened in complete shock as Eddie suddenly picked you up off the floor. He began walking back out the door, carrying you like a damsel in distress. Your giggling, mixed with the employee’s confused protesting was the only noise heard through the room.

Eddie barreled down the aisle of the chapel. He laughed with misplaced enthusiasm as you both stumbled closer and closer toward the pastor waiting at the end of the aisle.

You couldn’t bear to remember anything beyond that. A full-body shiver came over you as you snapped out of the memory of the night before. You couldn’t hear anything for a moment over the pounding of your heart in your ears. Your mind couldn’t wrap around Eddie and you sharing a moment so intimate and unfortunately so permanent.

“Oh, right… that’s what happened,” His voice pulled your attention back to him.

As he laid his eyes upon the dress, it repeated the events to him in his mind. He was tempted to brag about how steady he kept you in his arms even while he wasted, but he bit his tongue, knowing you’d probably snap at him again.

As the realization hit Eddie, he felt overwhelmed with emotion. Part of him couldn’t believe that the both of him had gotten married so recklessly, but another part felt a strange fluttering in his chest.

“Yeah, how romantic,” You groaned, limping to the bathroom to splash cold water on your face.

Eddie followed after you, leaning against the bathroom door frame.

“You um- You’re not thinking of breaking all this off right?” he asked timidly.

As if this morning couldn’t get any more insane, of course, he had to ask you that. You shot a glare in the mirror reflection for a moment before whipping around with your arms folded.

“Munson… What the hell are you saying?” Although the message was harsh, your tone had no bite to it. You sounded much more confused than upset at this moment. You didn’t want to believe that he was genuinely considering remaining married to you.

“Hear me out,” He set his hands out, gesturing you to stop whatever angry rant you wished to go on. “Maybe this doesn’t have to be the worst thing that could happen to us,”

“What do you mean?”

“I doubt that we weren’t spotted in that chapel. If we’re lucky we have until the afternoon before we see headlines about Corroded Coffin’s main guitarist and his manager getting hitched in Vegas,” He scrunched his nose and shook a hand through his tangled hair.

There goes your deer-in-headlights look again. “God, I really am an idiot! How did I not think of that? I-”

Eddie pressed a finger to your lips, promptly shutting you up. “Yeah, yeah, you’re the tortured manager of our band, we get it. But hey, just stay with me,” He dismissed your spiral before it could even happen. He swept you up similar to how he did last night, but this time to sit you down on the bathroom counter.

“What if we just stayed married for a little while?” He pursed his lips and shrugged. “Think about it. All that press Corroded Coffin would get over something like this. We’d be a household name! It’s kind of genius,” With his hands caging you into your spot on the counter, he smiled proudly at you as he explained what he had in mind.

He could see your mind racing behind your eyes, clearly contemplating the logistics of getting media attention out of this. He leaned closer to you, keeping you to the counter. He placed his hands on either side of your thighs.

“I know you hate the attention,” He continued softly, looking at you with puppy dog eyes. “But this is a good idea. We have to capitalize on our screw-up... For the band of course.”

A choked exhale escaped you before you set your head in your hands for a moment. Your mind drew up a montage of all the disapproving faces you’d have to explain this to, all the uncomfortable interviews you’d have to speak in, and all the death threats made by Corroded Coffin’s fans to you.

“Do I really have a choice in all this?” You mumbled through the spaces in between your fingers.

Eddie flashed a wry smile. “I guess not,” he teasingly held up his ring finger as if he was flipping you off. “Bottom line, when we walk out of this hotel, we are officially husband and wife. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t want this to make the rest of the tour miserable. So you can either mope around the bus for the next two months and have more rumors spread in your absence, or you can hold your head up high and make a spectacle of our marriage for the sake of the band,”

Eddie’s grin grew wider as he saw the exhaustion creeping onto your face. He knew exactly how much you hated the attention, but he also knew that you cared just as much about the success of Corroded Coffin. He leaned closer to you, his body now almost completely pressed against yours.

“I don’t like either of those options, just throw me off the balcony and be done with it,” You dramatically huffed and smacked your head on his shoulder. He snorted at your reaction.

“Oh come on, sweetheart,” he taunted, his fingers gripping your thighs in a tight but affectionate grip. “Where’s that infamous strength of yours, huh? What happened to the badass manager that keeps us in line?”

You gave him the weakest glare you had yet. He was right about one thing: you cared about Corroded Coffin more than anything else. It was time to step up and do what you had to for them, for Eddie.

“Alright!” You blurted out. “Fine, let’s do this, but as soon as tour is over, we get a quiet divorce and we move on like nothing ever happened,”

“Yeah, totally, for sure,” Eddie nodded his head half-convincingly, then lightly smacked your leg with approval. He was beaming, looking forward to all the fun he was about to have with you. “Alright, get all dolled up for brunch, I’m starving. It’s time for your grand debut, Mrs. Munson,”

“Hey, I never agreed on changing my name!” you whined, pushing Eddie off of you to get down from the counter.

Eddie chuckled as you suddenly stood up from the counter.

“Well get used to it, because I’m going to keep calling you that,” he teased. “You’re officially stuck with me now, Mrs. Munson,”

[blkgirl-writing]

Hi, I saw your smut requests post and was wondering if you could write one about touch starved Gale finally being alone with reader/Tav and getting his satisfaction? (Yeah, I got inspired by your nsfw headcanons about him, how could you tell?) Please and thank you!

PS Can I be 🧀 anon?

What happened at the moon lit pond

Gale X Fem!Reader

Baldurs gate 3

It’s been, probably three years since I’ve written a full fanfic? I’ll admit I’m probably a little rusty. Thank y’all for hanging in, and I hope this fulfills our nerdy wizard boy needs. thank you so much 🧀 anon for the request! I hope you stay and request some more.

Important tags: lots of pining, some angst (no sad ending), smutty (male and female Masterbation, male giving female oral), spoilers for gales mid game story, romance, Gale is an anxious mess, The thought of gale brushing his hair from his face got me GOING 😩

Word count: 1.9k

(Part 1.5 HERE) (PART 2 HERE)

(Gale headcanons that inspired this here)

-

Gale didn’t know how to handle these new feelings for you. He makes a fool of himself everyday, it seems. He always offers you a slice of his bread, even if you gave your own, he saves some of his own morning coffee for you, since he wakes up earlier, and even warm it up for you with a spell.

He simply wanted you to like him. That would be all he needed, but anything else that may follow that would be a true blessing. Gale wanted nothing more than to make you laugh, to see your smile and know he was the reason why, to camp and be the first and last person you’d speak to before sleep.

Gale wouldn’t let his mind wander much past that, or he tried to not let it. The occasional dream would slip through where you were his, and he was yours. It simply put him in panic mode In the waking hours, trying to not be obvious, scared you’d find out, what exactly? He wasn’t sure. You were too kind to break his heart so effortlessly, like he feared you would.

Endless scenarios danced in gales head of rejection, humiliation, and what would happen if he let himself go, life he was tasked to do. It wouldn’t take much, to convince him to live. Friendship, a place to call home, even if it was ever moving. Company he could entrust his life to. It was all so appealing. Luring him into life, breathing a new passion into his purpose, one he’d lost many years ago, sometime when he was alone for so many years.

Those thoughts seemed to linger on forever, sweeping over his barely conscious brain to awaken him again, rustling him from what could be a good nights rest. Eventually, Gale decided to just get up and go for a walk.

Camp had been set up in one of the most beautiful places any of you had seen. Waterfalls tinted emerald green, sand fine and shimmering in the light, may it be sun or moon. I’m one of those waterfalls, he found you.

Waist deep in the pond. Skin and hair dripping wet, shining more than usual water would, adding a silver glow to the night. You looked better than a goddess could ever imagine, and still, his eyes never dipped below you shoulders, even though he deeply wanted to look lower. Instead, he stood there, looking like a fucking idiot, gods know how long. Maybe a tree branch snapped, or maybe you finally snapped out of your trance, but your head whipped in his direction, eyes darting across the small beach, only relaxing when you realize only gale stands before you.

“Oh, Gale, it’s just you…” you let out a deep, jagged breath, the anxiety flowing out of your body just as quickly as it racked through it.

“Just? Are you disappointed?” Gale smirked, although his heart raced in his chest, one word and he'd sulk back to camp, but gods he wanted to stay and spend the whole night with you under the stars.

“Far from it, really. I was just thinking about how much you’d enjoy this view if you were here” you tore your eyes away from Gale, focusing on the stars. “I thought it may remind you of waterdeep. You paint a very beautiful picture of home.”

“I can think of a few things much, much more beautiful than Waterdeep,” his voice low, raspier than usual. Easily explained away from the lack of sleep or old sleeping bags, not for what it really was. Deep yearning, wanting, needing.

“I’d love to see them someday, then.”

“We’ll just have to get you a mirror, then,” “All the beauty in the world would reflct

"Gale, I-" You finally looked into his eyes, he wore his heart on his sleeve, at least for a moment. Those puppy eyes, dark bust glistening in the full moonlight, his hair messy from turning in his sleep, he wanted you, in many more ways than one. Gale's emotions could never be that simple, of course.

"Well," you walked towards him, water inching lower and lower, revealing more and more of your body, yet gales eyes stayed on yours. "Why don't you join me for a swim. It's a beautiful night."

"an offer I could not refuse." Gale's face was plastered with that cocky smile, the one that could melt anyone into a puddle in seconds.

He might have been a gentleman and kept his eyes upwards, but you were not so much, Gale untied his robes, gods why were there so many damn layers? It was quite a sight, his little mannerisms that showed more of him to you than he had shown to you. He was nervous, his fingers missing the simple ties frequently, he got annoyed by his hair getting in his eyes, a grimace appearing before he swept his hair behind his ear.

Your eyes lingered on his circle smoke tattoo, his toned arms, his downright massive hands. he was more tan than you realized, To be fair, he's always covered in those loose robes, leaving you to wonder what was underneath. You were more than happy to finally be finding out. But not below the waist.

"Isn't it a bit cold to be this naked?"

"The water is warmer than the air, I promise." You extended a hand out to Gale, even though he was feet away from you. "Come on, Gale from Waterdeep being afraid of some cold water? Sounds redundant."

"You got me there." He finally stepped into the glimmering pond surrounded by rocks and sand, enough to have your own little corner, to lessen the echo if it was needed. The whole camp didn't need to know all of your business. It must've been a magical lake, as both you and Gale noted separately. Unnaturally still, even when you moved freely, small glowing lights pooled at your sides, occasionally bubbling into the air once you leaned against a large, bright rock.

"May I ask what you were doing out here at this hour?" Gale spoke, still much further away from you than he wanted to be,

"Can I not take a mid-night swim?" You raised your brows in a questioning glance his way "A woman needs time to herself. These days and nights have been very stressful."

Gales very audible oh, slipped through the silence. "You don't have to relax alone." His eyes finally gave in to the need, scanning your body with a low moan slipping past his lips. His excitement was immediate, brushing against your lower stomach all the way past your navel.

"You've wanted this." You stated, brushing your hand against his thigh.

"There's plenty of magic around us, I want the Gale right in front of me." You dared to inch even closer, his thigh fully slipping between yours, inches away from touching your pussy. His hands floated inches from your waist, "Let me give you everything"

"Give me everything" With that, Gale's hand grabbed your waist, gently guiding you onto his thigh, motioning your hips down and swaying only him. The sensation sent sparks flying through his body, you were right in front of him, completely bare and rocking with pleasure onto him. Better than any dream he'd thought up, any fantasy that ran through his head even at the most inappropriate of times. Yes even during the throws of battle. Even in hard times like that, he was so drawn to you.

Gales other hand came up to your jawline, tilting your head so he could latch his mouth around your neck. Deep marks left behind while he inches his way in hickeys up your neck, jaw, and finally to your lips. Any semblance of anonymity flew out the window, not a single person could miss what he gave you, artfully placed dark spots painting your skin. "I have never seen such a beautiful being in my life"

"I could say the same about you gale," You said betwixt breathy moans, picking up the pace of your grinding hips against his thigh, his hand on your waist moving between a tight grip on your ass, and a light but so effective caress of your clit. Every time you got so close, his fingers moved, he was teasing you. His cocky smirk felt even through his kiss.

"I want you to come on my mouth." As if he was reading your slightly frustrated thoughts, "I want to taste you in my dreams."

All you could manage was a frantic nod, a mumbled yes, and shakily hoisting yourself up onto a rock that was perfect for gales pretty head to be between your thighs. Gale pushed your thighs apart with one hand, which stayed firmly grabbing onto you. The other sneaked up your thigh, tracing patterns along your skin. "Gale, please," you whispered out of pure desperation. The only warmth coming from your feet still in the water, otherwise your skin exposed to the biting air.

"All you had to do was ask, my lady" Gales fingers easily slid into you, curling up and pumping in and out, while he leaned into your pussy, maintaining eye contact as he placed one kiss just to the right of where you needed him to be. All he needed was to be touched, to touch you. Your legs wrapped around him to get Gale even closer, urging him closer.

"Touch yourself" Barely a whisper, but Gale caught it, and certainly didn't need to be told twice. Secretly, he could cum from this alone, your taste, how soft you were, how loud you could get. It was more than enough to orgasm right there with you, however, that is not exactly how he wanted your first sexual experience to go. His hand clutching your thigh came to his cock, rubbing much faster and harder than he was fingering you. he was eager. He wanted this to last forever, he wanted you to cum again and again and again into his mouth. He wanted his face even more dripping from your juices.

"Gale I can't hold it-" You nearly screamed, his tongue swirling and sucking, lightly biting, it was almost too much. Then, he moaned. A loud, deep moan and that was it. Vibrations running through your body from his mouth. there noise that left your mouth could've been heard across Baldurs gate, you silently thanked this magical pound for being so secluded, as you would be borderline embarrassed if people heard. Gales didn't come back up for hair until he was sure you were finished, getting every last drop of you.

"You certainly are loud" Gales tone was so smug it almost made you laugh. You gripped onto his shoulders as he swept you down from the perch, pressing his whole body to yours. After all that, after her definitely came, he was still so hard, and so pressed against you that you couldn't help but gasp. "I want to hear that again."

"Hear what, exactly?" you teased, lifting a finger to trace his chest.

"To hear you cum," his lips dipped down to your ear, slightly nibbling on it, before he rasped "and to feel you on my cock."

-

Part two, here

(Requests Open)

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet Cute - Law's Story - 3

Source for pic

The Great Pretender 3

Word Count: 3599

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Law is a soft dom; you have bratty tendencies (not all the time); voice kink; praise kink; cursing; very suggestive behaviour and innuendo from the start; sexual tension; teasing; so much flirting; romance; slow-burn; fluff; slight angst; mature audiences (though explicit NSFW moments will be properly tagged on the chapter); possessive Law; protective Law; soft Law; teasing Law; manipulative Doflamingo; inappropriate Doflamingo; fake relationship trope; only one-bed trope; reader has some anxiety issues; reader is a control freak and perfectionist; modern day AU

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Law (your father's doctor) start to build a flirty friendship because of your father’s procedure. So much so that when he’s invited to Baby 5’s wedding (his cousin), he asks you to be his date. His uncle Doflamingo - who is filthy rich - is very adamant on finding a suitable wife for him. Seeing as he wants to avoid that, he asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for the weekend.

Notes: Chapter 3 is now up! Let's enjoy these simple interactions before everything becomes fun complicated, shall we?

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06

Masterlist

|Chapter 2| | |Chapter 4|

You barely sleep all night. Every moan or noise coming from your father wakes you up. If he grunts in pain, you are by his side in a second. You keep checking to see if he’s feverish, cold, asleep or awake, struggling or sleeping soundly…

You are even more exhausted than yesterday.

When the morning nurse comes to check on him, you excuse yourself to get some breakfast and to go to the property to check on the animals or see if Ace needs any help. You gulp down a huge cup of coffee before leaving, though, hoping that it gives you enough energy to handle the rest of the day.

When you get home, Ace tells you he has everything under control and you should just go rest. You don’t rest, but you take a well-deserved shower, change clothes, have breakfast, drink another big cup of coffee and go back to the hospital. You have this day off work as well and then it’s the weekend so you can stay by your father’s side the whole day. 

As you reach the hospital, you have another coffee and this time you feel it kick in as exhaustion is pushed to the back of your mind and you feel a bit more ready to tackle the day. 

“Hey, dad. I’m back.” You say as you enter the room and sit by the chair. “How do you feel?”

He grins. “Much better. The nurse bathed me.”

Your smile quickly turns into a frown. “Are you serious?” 

“Yeah, bug. And then she gave me some more drugs because my back was throbbing like hell, and now I’m suuuuuper fine.”

You want to keep giving him an annoyed look, but you can’t help but chuckle at his silliness. “You’re incorrigible dad.”

He nods and grabs the remote, leaving it on some news channel. “Bug, you look like shit.”

The frown is back on your face in the blink of an eye. “Dad!”

“Sorry, but you do! Have you slept?” His gaze leaves the TV to settle on you again.

“I… I… a bit!” You stammer. “But I drank coffee, I’m fine!”

“Your eye bags say otherwise.” He shrugs. “Lean back, bug. Sleep a little bit. Or go home. I’m fine.”

You shake your head, cross your arms and stare at the uninteresting show with the highlights of some football game. “I’m not sleepy.”

“How many coffees have you had?” His voice is stern so you avoid his gaze.

“Some.”

“Bug…”

“Three! I’m fine!” Then you fish a book from your purse and open it, clearly putting an end to the conversation. “Let me read.”

Shanks doesn’t press and you actually manage to read a few chapters uninterrupted. For about an hour before you’re overcome by yawns. Looking at the time, you decide to try and take a quick nap before Law comes over to check on your father. Just a quick shut-eye.

You close your book and are about to get comfortable when the door opens and Law comes in, effectively chasing away all semblance of sleep left. 

“Law!” Your dad exclaims, clearly still under the happy effect of the drugs. The doctor nods at him as he greets both of you and enters the room. His eyes linger on you, a slight crinkle between them as he takes in your state. 

Your dad said you look like shit and he's not the most attentive person on earth so… you really must be looking terrible. Dreadful enough for the handsome doctor to notice. 

“How are you both feeling today?” Shanks grins and gives him an enthusiastic thumbs up. Then Law says your name and you shrug, forcing a tired smile to form on your lips and mumbling a weak ‘fine’. “Maybe you should be resting. You know your father is fine and he's got the best care team looking out for him.”

Sighing, your smile turns real. “I know. But I need to be here for him. I need to know everything that’s going on and if I'm home alone, I'll just go crazy!”

That sly smirk tugs at his lips and he nods slowly. “It's a control thing, right? You just can't let go.” Your chest constricts and your breath hitches, the way he speaks those words… they bring such promises attached to them, it makes you want to let go, to surrender. But to what? 

To him? 

He keeps holding your stare. A piercing amber gaze that seems to bore straight into your soul, leaving your secrets bare and open for him to find and read them. 

“Let's check you out, shall we, Mr. S.?”

And as he examines your father, you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom and splash some water on your flaming cheeks. 

-*-

By the time you get back, Law is finished and the nurses are bringing lunch for your dad. Your stomach growls as it smells food - even though it's hospital food - and you wonder if you should eat a sandwich from the machine or at the hospital bar. 

Law says goodbye to your dad and intercepts you at the door. “Have lunch with me.” It's not a request. It's basically a command, the way he carries his low voice, a slight slur to the words. You want to say yes immediately, but you're frightened - and intrigued - by the hold this man has over you, so you shake your head. 

“I shouldn't.” But you don't elaborate. Because why shouldn't you? You like speaking with Law and he's not your doctor. He's your father's doctor, so there’s nothing inappropriate about a simple lunch. 

And he immediately sees through your facade. 

“You shouldn't, but you want to.” Fuck. “We'll just grab a quick bite. You need to eat. I'm alone, you're alone. It's perfect.”

It really is. 

“Go with him, bug!” Your dad sing-songs from his bed as the nurse helps him eat. 

“Butt out, dad! And eat the food by yourself! You're perfectly capable of doing it with one arm! You've been doing that practically my whole life.”

Law purses his lips but you can see the amusement in his eyes before he raises his eyebrows. “Come with me.” He says and you let out a big sigh. 

“Fine. Let me get my purse.” Entering the room, you glare at Shanks who keeps being fed by the nurse and tell him you won't be long. As you cross the mirror peeking at you from inside the bathroom, you frown and tell Law you'll meet him in five by the hospital entrance. Then you try your best to look presentable by combing your hair and fixing your clothes. It will have to do. 

-*-

“So you entered university two years earlier. You're a prodigy.” A smirk leaves your lips as you nibble your food. Conversation has been flowing smoothly between you both and you've learned that he lived with his uncles since he was ten until he entered university, because his parents passed - he didn't share how and you didn't press. He just added that information when you shared you were a child of divorce and were reconnecting with your father. 

You've been sharing professional and educational experiences and turns out Kaya was right. The man is a freaking genius. And you realise that that fact just turns his sexy points up by one thousand. You're so doomed. 

As he's about to answer you, his phone rings. He excuses himself and takes a look, then a frown and a deep scowl etch upon his face but he quickly dismisses it and sets the phone aside. Just for it to start ringing again. 

He sighs. “Sorry, I can't mute it because of the hospital and the clinic, but this is a bothersome call that I would rather not take.” Another sigh as the caller tries one more time. He excuses himself but doesn't get up to answer it. “I'm busy.” It's all he says, but you can sense him tense up, the mask of perfect control he usually holds crumbling slightly as he clenches his jaw with stress and tension. “Yes, I RSVP'd, didn’t I?” His throat bobs up and down and you try to focus on something else because you don't want to pry. “I don't know yet. Bye.

Law locks the phone with a grunt and sighs. “Sorry about that. It was my uncle.” You smile and nod. Could it have been Doflamingo? You noticed the way he talked about his uncle Rosinante - Cora - with a fondness in his words and kindness in his eyes, but he didn't elaborate on his relationship with the eldest uncle so it strikes you as somewhat strained. “Where were we?” He continues where you left off and you keep talking and getting acquainted. 

-*-

Lunch went by in the blink of an eye and, once again, you realise how simple and nice it is to speak with Law. He's very profound in many subjects, intelligent, clever, witty and with an odd sense of humour. The only thing you barely got a read on, was his emotions. He seems to guard the way he feels about things behind a well-crafted mask of control and assertion. And you have yet to take a peek behind it. 

Though his uncle calling him certainly got a rise out of him and they barely exchanged three sentences. 

Law walks you to the hospital and stops. He had said earlier that he was returning to the clinic for some appointments and then had surgery to perform before dinnertime. He promised to visit your dad before heading home, to see how he was doing. 

You start to feel exhaustion settling into your bones again, so you sip your coffee while nodding. 

“You can't fight exhaustion with coffee for too long. Get some rest. Your father’s fine. This is an order. A doctor's order.” He adds with a slight smirk. 

“I told you I don't follow all manner of instructions, Law.” He hums low and your knees tremble.

“I can see that.” He uses your name sternly and your eyes glint with amusement and desire. “We're still getting to know each other, but I'm sure you'll soon find out that following my instructions can be quite… rewarding.”

You can feel your pulse quicken as his amber gaze pierces, once again, so deep that it almost reaches your soul. 

“I'll think about it.” You say meekly and the semblance of a smirk he had before transforms into a deep grin. 

“Good.” He drags the word and you're left craving for more. Good girl, that's all you wanted to hear from his lips. He said it once. It was meant as a joke but the sound still echoes in your brain. Fuck. 

You're so doomed. 

-*-

When the sun begins to set on the horizon, you try to fight sleep so you can be awake for Law's last check-up before he leaves. But he said he was going to be in surgery so maybe the surgery ran late because he should've appeared by now. 

Your dad is engrossed in another football match and you can't focus on the words of your book anymore. You try to browse through your socials but easily lose interest. Games don't help either, so you decide to just lay your weary head down for a moment. 

You cross your arms on your father's bed and lay your head on them, your back stretching a bit from your sitting position on the chair but you have been bent for a while so it's a welcome stretch. 

Closing your eyes, you sigh softly. You don't even notice when sleep claims you. 

-*-

Law removes his contaminated scrubs and washes his hands. His surgery took much longer than planned and he hated that. He should be used to it by now, surgeries very rarely take the time they were meant to. And he always adjusts his plans according to that. But this one ran three hours late. 

And he promised you he'd check on your dad before he left for the day. 

And as much as he likes being in control, he hates to break promises. 

So he rushed his after-surgery routine, hoping you'd still be there by your father's side, waiting for him. 

You have an inexplicable hold on him. He can, at the same time, understand you as if you were an open book and yet be left wanting to learn more about who you are. He suspects there are parts of yourself still hidden from your own knowledge. 

And Law thrives on knowledge so he's very eager to learn all there is to know about you.

By the time he reaches your father's room, the lights are already dim and dinner has been served. His own stomach grumbles to remind him he should eat something too, but he pushes his hunger to the back of his mind as he pushes the doors to the room open. 

He's about to start talking when Shanks shushes him with a finger to his lips and a whispered shh. His chest constricts as he sets his eyes on you. You're in a godawful position that is not doing your back any good, but you look adorable in your sleep. 

There's a strong feeling within him that urges him to protect and care for you and he doesn't really know how he can feel so strongly about someone he practically just met. 

Truth be told, you have spent some time together thanks to your father's appointments and exams, and you have claimed permanent residence in his brain, complete with zip code, mailbox, address, you name it! Still… 

He sighs as he sets down your father's patient chart. “That can't be comfortable. How long has she been in this position?” He whispers as he approaches. 

Shanks shrugs and pats your head softly. “Hours. She has been surviving on coffee for more than a day. She just blacked out.”

“Yeah, she didn't look her best earlier and I did tell her to rest. But her back is going to kill her tomorrow.” Law sighs once more as he removes your purse, book and jacket from the corner chair and presses the switch to recline it. Then he sets the pillow near the head and approaches you. 

This is the tricky part, how to move you without waking you up? 

Easily, it seems. You must've really been exhausted because he picks you up bridal style and lays you on the chair, setting you in the most comfortable way before using his doctor's coat to cover you up and you barely stir. 

He doesn't resist tucking your hair away from your face before turning to your father - who's watching him with slight amusement. 

“Well done, Law. She didn't even stir. Those surgeons' hands are very steady.”

Law chuckles as he begins his routine examination. “They have to be, Mr. S. People's lives depend on it. And your daughter is just a heavy sleeper.”

“Perhaps… but I've noticed the extra care.” He winks before a frown takes over his face. “She could really use the extra care…”

Law doesn't really want to press, though he's curious. He's pretty sure your father said that because of your cheating ex. And though he's itching to know what kind of special asshole is capable of cheating on you, he lets it slide, as he adjusts the drugs in the IV and checks if the incision in Shanks’ back is recovering nicely. 

Law and Shanks make small talk during the rest of the examination and Law can't resist tugging the coat a bit more snugly around you and making sure you're comfortable before heading towards the door. 

Shanks’ eyes are closed when he speaks, but the older man can't quite hide the grin that overcomes his face. “You know, having a doctor as a son-in-law is something I wouldn't mind.”

Law snickers as he says goodnight and closes the door. That's a thought that will wander through his mind tonight. 

-*-

You wake up to the sound of chatter in the room. The morning nurse is fussing over your father, giggling like a schoolgirl as Shanks cracks jokes filled with innuendo. You blink and take a while to adjust to your surroundings because you're quite sure you'd fallen asleep near your father's bed, in the uncomfortable chair. 

A familiar soothing scent overwhelms you and you smile, feeling relaxed and at peace. It's a musky scent with hints of pine and… disinfectant? 

Looking down you immediately find the source of the scent: it's Law's coat. The corner of your lips tugs upwards as you smile and remove the item from over you. He must've found you asleep when he came to see your father yesterday. Was he also the one who moved you? Couldn't have been Shanks. 

“Hey, sunshine! You're up.” Your father greets cheerily as the nurse tugs the sheets around his torso and gives him a sultry wave before leaving. 

“Dad. Stop flirting with the nurses.” You say sternly as you get up, stretch and fold the coat neatly before settling it back down on the chair. Then you saunter towards Shanks and give him a peck on the forehead. “How do you feel? What did Law say yesterday?”

“I don't flirt with the nurses, bug, they flirt with me. I'm irresistible.”

“Insufferable is the word you're looking for.” You correct him with a smirk. 

“Law said everything was recovering nicely and I might even go home earlier than expected.” You sigh in relief. You know there's still a fair amount of chance for infections or other problems to arise, but it seems your dad is on his way to recovery. At least he's in good spirits and that always helps. “You know what Law also did?”

The blush in your cheeks is faint but you still turn your face away. “I can put two and two together, dad.” You mumble as you fidget with your phone. 

Shanks smirks. “So can I, bug.” You stare at him deadpan as he raises his eyebrows suggestively. 

“Well, you seem to be feeling fine, so I'm heading home to check on the property.”

“Ace's got it, bug!”

“And to take a shower and change. Need anything?” You add as he shakes his head. So, gathering your stuff, you promise to come back later and repeat the routine from the day before. Except this time you pack a meagre lunch so you don't have to go out to eat. Law said he would visit your father but he had a very busy day at the clinic so he wasn't quite sure when he would appear. 

As you return to your father's side, you discover that Law had already come by - much to your chagrin. You weren't quite sure why you felt disappointed not seeing him for the whole day, so you brushed that thought aside as you made small talk with Shanks. 

-*-

The weekend ended pretty soon and Law said your father would be released by Monday at the end of the day, depending on how he was feeling by then. He had already been able to get up on his own, shower and use the bathroom without any help. His back was still swollen, as expected, but otherwise he was recovering fully. You had been sleeping at home since you really didn't see the need to be by his side all the time and you were fully rested. 

On Monday, almost at dinnertime, Law released your father from the hospital. He advised caution, rest, no heavy lifting or driving, and reminded him to take his pills. 

The follow-up consultation - back at the clinic instead of the hospital - was set for next week and you were already feeling a pang of longing from not seeing Law every day, like you've now grown accustomed to. 

“If you have any doubts, worries, or just want to talk about something,” Law's eyes glance at yours, “just call me. If I don't pick up immediately it is because I'm in surgery, but even then, if it's urgent just text, I usually have a nurse monitoring any urgent texts.”

“We would never disturb your surgery hours because of something small.” You mutter as his gaze rests on you again. 

“Fair enough. But if it's serious, just do that. Okay?” You nod and your dad thanks him. He walks you both to the hospital entrance and before you leave to get the car, he touches your arm. It's a very light touch, barely two fingers, but it manages to send a jolt of electricity up your arm, making you gasp as you turn to him, lips slightly parted at the intensity you just experienced. “Don't be a stranger.” He murmurs and you smile. 

“Well, remember I have the best coffee in town - second only to Sanji's - whenever you feel like drinking something other than hospital swill.” You smirk and he grins. 

“I might just take you up on that.”

“Please, do.” You notice how his pupils dilate and his lips purse as you say ‘please’. It nearly has the same effect on him as him saying ‘good girl’ to you. The tension between both of you is palpable. 

If only you were brave enough to glimpse inside the door you closed for yourself. No men. No relationships. No heartache. As simple as that. 

But it’s all so tempting.

“Bug, the car?”

“Right!” You answer, a bit dazed by the intensity of the situation. “See you soon, Law!” You exclaim before leaving to get the car so you and your father can both head home.

|Chapter 4|

[roguishcat]

Augustarion Day 6 - Cream

Pairing: the reader (You) x Astarion

Tags: just silliness and fluff

Word count: 2.3k

Excerpt: “Oh, goodie! Someone in need of a rescue,” Astarion whined and threw his arms up dramatically. “What is it with people falling over themselves to get into trouble just so we can play hero time and time again! Let’s just go,” he said with an air of an overtired toddler.

A/N If you want to be on the tag list, feel free to send me a message or leave a comment. ❤️

Day 1 - 🍓, Day 2 - 🌊, Day 4 - Mythologies, Day 7 - Underwear, Day 14 - Protective, Day 15 - Shirt that goes hard

It started with you craving some pastries. The four of you were making your way through the city when you caught a whiff of something sweet, delicious and so very tempting. You kept on walking at first, because you were on a budget and new armour for Karlach was more important than letting your sweet tooth dictate your purchases. But then your stomach made itself known, to your embarrassment.

Gale smiled and pointed in the direction of the bakery. “Seeing as we are nowhere near Elfsong, how about indulging in some baked goods? I, for one, wouldn’t mind having a sweet butter bun or two.”

Well, that was a different matter entirely! If it wasn’t a senseless purchase but rather something to improve morale, who were you to refuse?

“And I find your blood tastes just a little sweeter if you enjoy yourself, dear,” Astarion whispered into your ear.

“Oooh, I’ve heard about this place!” Karlach pushed the door open, “it’s meant to have the meanest, best damn apple pie in the city!”

Looking around, you wondered why Karlach was excited about the place. The bakery looked like any ordinary bakery except for one detail. It seemed to be suspiciously empty of any people. You listened carefully. There was shouting and thumping coming from the direction of the kitchen. Something seemed off.

“Oh, goodie! Someone in need of a rescue,” Astarion whined and threw his arms up dramatically. “What is it with people falling over themselves to get into trouble just so we can play hero time and time again! Let’s just go,” he said with an air of an overtired toddler.

“We can’t leave!” you frowned, bow at the ready as you took a step in the direction of the commotion, “they might need help!”

“Well, then some other do-gooder is welcome to come by and- hey!”

Ignoring Astarion’s protests, you burst through the kitchen door, the rest following close behind, to be greeted with a most peculiar sight.

Kobolds pranced around the kitchen to the dismay of the baker and a woman who appeared to be his spouse, the latter’s face almost puce as she shouted at the wretched creatures to leave. The kobolds seemed to think that her shouts and the weak, spluttering spells aimed at them were a nice accompaniment to their meal. They mostly ignored the couple and seemed to be quite content to gorge themselves on the pastries and cakes and, cream, cream, cream and more cream! What did not get eaten got carelessly thrown at the floor, the walls and the owners. There was a great big glop of custard on the baker’s cheek and his wife almost slipped in the puddle of jam on the floor.

Astarion doubled over in laughter.

“Oh, this was not what I expected to see but I definitely needed this!”

“Oh hush,” you admonished him, feeling your own lips twitch as you fought a smile. “We have to help them.”

“The kobolds?”

You gave him a deadpan look.

“Right, so how should we go about this one, soldier?” Karlach shouldered her axe with a frown, “can hardly use most of my attacks.”

“Yes, in such close quarters and with this much flour in the air, a single spark will set off an explosion. Most magic might prove too destructive. I doubt that us destroying the building in an effort to drive the kobolds out will be received with thanks,” Gale frowned.

“Perhaps we could try to reason with them?” you suggested weakly. The idea was not without its merit. You did have a somewhat successful chat with the kobold at the Circus of the Last Days.

“Are you proposing to hold a conversation with these base creatures? Oh, I have to see this,” Astarion grinned, giving you a shallow mocking bow and motioning for you to proceed with the entertainment.

That bastard. Sometimes you could not believe that you let him get away with being such an ass.

You cleared your throat loudly, which garnered no reaction from both the battling parties. It took Gale briefly casting a Silence spell on the kobolds for them to realise that you and your companions were even in the kitchen. All inhuman senseless eyes turned to you as the creatures adjusted their stances, clearly seeing your group as a bigger threat than the baker and his wife.

“Right. Can somebody please tell me what is going on?” you motioned at the destruction.

“We give money for treatos!” kobolds screeched, each wanting to be the first to complain.

“One gold piece! It was not enough for all the buns that they demanded from us!” the baker protested loudly.

“You give no treatos, so we take treatos!”

“Oh, and just look at all the damage that you have done!” the baker’s wife lamented, wringing her hands and being quite understandably upset.

“Next time, you remember to give treatos. We give money!” the kobolds defended themselves, tongues flicking out of their mouths, shaking their scaly fists as they shouted about the great injustice that was committed against them.

“So how are you planning to defuse this one, darling?” Astarion leaned closer to you.

“Enjoying yourself, are you?”

“Very much.”

“Any chance you might want to contribute to the conversation?”

“When you are doing so splendidly? I don’t think so.”

The kobolds seemed to have decided that you were not on their side and started gathering whatever buns and cakes that were not destroyed. Their ammunition in their hands, they attacked in quick succession. Karlach and Gale were fortunately out of their range, but you and Astarion found yourself swiftly covered in jam, and cream, and sticky dough. Astarion roughly pulled you down behind an overturned table, the second barrage missing you by an inch as you dropped to the floor.

“Argh, just look at me! Will the horrors never cease!” Astarion flicked a flaky piece off his shoulder and into your face. “This is all your fault, you know! If only you did not have some kind of hero complex, we would have grabbed some cakes and been on our merry way. But noooo, we have to get involved!”

“Oh, shut it,” you hissed, “how could I have known this would happen?”

“Rule of thumb, if you see people in trouble, you walk away!”

“Astarion?”

“Yes?”

“You have jam in your curls.”

The look of pure horror on Astarion’s handsome face was just the revenge you needed.

“Gale! Slow spell!” you commanded, hoping he could still hear you over the cacophony of shrieks and cries.

“On it!”

You heard the incantation and dared peek from behind the table. The kobolds were still on the offensive, but their movements were sluggish, as if the air thickened and they had to fight against it.

“This is your last warning, you little rat bastards! Either you stop this, or we are going to turn your asses to stone and sell you to Popper!”

“Popper? You tell Popper? No tell Popper!”

Apparently, you mentioning the kobold from the Circus of the Last Days did the trick, as he was the law and order when it came to their community in the city. You rubbing shoulders with Popper, the best and the greatest of them all, was reason enough for the kobolds to regret their actions, renounce their fiendish ways, promise to never set foot near the bakery, and hastily make their way out of the kitchen.

Finally, there was silence. Complete blessed silence. Beautiful silence that lasted for a grand total of ten seconds before it was broken.

“Oh, these horrible creatures, I thought they would never leave!” the baker’s wife wiped her eyes as she tried and failed to hold back tears, “However can we thank you?”

“Coin always works best,” Astarion chose that moment to speak up.

“What coin?” the plump woman bawled pitifully, “we didn’t have the chance to sell anything!”

“Don’t worry about it,” you shot Astarion a look full of admonishment, “we were glad to help.”

“But of course we were,” Astarion rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “It was a pleasure to be of service,” he mocked and marched out of the room, muttering something derogatory under his breath.

The walk back to Elfsong was uncomfortable and silent. You were hungry, sticky and quite frankly not in the mood to entertain one of Astarion’s moods.

You knew that he was right, in a way. You didn’t have to help out everyone you came across on your journey. You could have looked the other way, turned a blind eye. But that wouldn’t be you. So, he would just have to deal with it!

You loved Astarion, faults and all. But if he berated you every time you chose to do a kind turn and made you feel small and stupid, then perhaps he shouldn’t have chosen to be in a relationship with you. Because you would do anything for Astarion, but you refused to change who you were on the off chance you would get a smidge of approval from him.

When you opened the door to your shared room at first there was complete silence. Everyone was trying and failing to keep a straight face as they looked at the damage done to you and Astarion.

“Oh, shut up!” Astarion shoved past Shadowheart, making sure to leave traces of cream and jam on her as he pushed her out of the way.

“I see you clearly fought a great, formidable foe today,” Lae’zel quipped sarcastically, “at least tell me that you were the victors.”

“Argh, so not in the mood to talk about it! Gale, could you do the talking, please? I just want to wash and sleep,” you grumbled and dropped your bow and arrows near the trunk. You could not wait to get out of your clothes and into a bath.

“Certainly, my friend,” Gale wanted to pat your shoulder, but then decided against it, not wanting to get whatever was on you onto himself.

It took several changes of water for you to scrub yourself clean. You were bone tired and prickly when you finally settled in, choosing to sleep alone rather than in the bed you and Astarion have been sharing pretty much ever since you started staying at Elfsong. You heard his annoyed huff from across the room and squeezed your eyes shut. If Astarion had a problem with your sleeping arrangements, he could shove his complaints in any orifice of his choosing. In spite of being worn out, it took hours of tossing and turning for you to finally drift off.

You were woken up by sunlight spilling into your eyes through the gap in the curtains. Rising and groggily rubbing your eyes, you noticed that your living quarters were empty, the others apparently deciding to let you sleep in and having gone out hours ago. You flopped back onto the bed and stretched out your sore muscles. Perhaps yesterday’s humiliating display was worth it if you were given the chance to have a lazy morning. But then you remembered your fight with Astarion, and your smile turned sour.

You heard the door open and shut as the subject of your musings came into the room. You quickly turned away and pretended to be resting, not really sure what to say to him. You felt the bed dip as he sat on the edge.

“Darling, I know that you are awake. Will you look at me, please? I come bearing treatos.”

And he did. He held a tray laden with butter buns, delicate little pastries, fruit tarts and an assortment of other mouthwatering, freshly baked delights.

“The baker sends his regards and says that you, as his favourite customer, can be assured to have a discount for life. So, dig in my sweet! I got you the coffee you like to go with it.”

You sat up and looked at your vampire, worrying your bottom lip with blunt teeth. Cautiously, as if not unsure whether you will accept the gesture, Astarion took your hand into his, bringing your fingers to his lips and kissing them gently.

“I think an apology is in order. I- I do get annoyed that you spend your energies on creatures who, quite frankly, don’t deserve you giving them a moment of your precious time. Someone odd and pathetic that you pick up on the roadside and decide their cause is worth fighting for.”

He put a cream puff onto a plate and handed it to you, long cool fingers brushing against yours. You took a tentative bite without breaking eye contact. It was lovely, not too sweet, delicious and flaky. Astarion brushed a speck off your lips with his thumb and cupped your cheek tenderly.

“But then I realised that at some point I too was an oddity that you chose not to leave behind. A creature who did not deserve your protection, just seeking to take advantage of your kind nature at the time. Recognising your worth and how truly wonderful you are as I got to know you.”

You felt something warm and pleasant bloom in your chest, Astarion’s words making your shoulders relax as you all but melted into his touch.

“So, no matter how aggravating you may be, and how you drive me up the wall with your selflessness, I do not want you to change. You are perfect in every way.”

And then you thew your arms around your vampire and kissed him, all the worries and troubles seeming insignificant as you got lost in each other’s touch. You felt Astarion release a shuddering breath against your lips as he deepened the kiss.

All was well in his world. You were his and he wanted you, faults and all. Even if that meant that he had to spend half the evening getting various foodstuffs out of his curls.

💖 Tag list 💖:

@ninty900, @ayselluna, @dajeong, @ravenswritingroom,

@misscrissfemmefatale, @clazberryk, @anukulee,

@preciouslittlebhaalbae,

@sh3rl0ck, @mellowenthusiast2299,

@fleetstreet78, @starlight-rogue,

@obsessedwhyyes, @arzen9

[owliellder]

Two's A Crowd

College Bully! Leon Kennedy x fem! Reader

MDNI 18+

(Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5)

Description: College is proving to be a lot harder than you imagined. You cannot fail this math class. So when you've tried everything else, a well-known student is recommended to you by your professor for tutoring lessons, not really leaving you with much of a choice but to work with him.

Warnings: Not proofread, No Use of Y/N, Dub-Con, Unprotected Sex, Bullying, Yelling, Cursing

Tags: College AU, Bully! Leon, Shy! Reader, both are in their early 20's, Leon is Rude AF in the beginning, Loss of Virginity, Oral Sex, Fingering, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mention of a Fight, Additional Tags to be Added

Author's Note: Ahh thank you for 1,000 followers!! I don't even know how that happened!! Anyways, I think it's a little anticlimactic? I just feel like since I am definitely not the kind to raise my voice, a shy reader wouldn't either. Besides, disappointment hurts more than anger, right?

Cross-posted onto AO3

Chapter 4:

Leon really did like you, honest. You were such a sweet girl, so innocent and clueless. Maybe it’s because he never gave his one night stands the time of day, or maybe it was just the sheer amount of time he had to spend with you to get this close, but now he knew he was a pretty terrible person for taking that bet

In the beginning he didn’t feel the slightest twinge of guilt due to the words the frat spewed at him. He knew all the right questions to ask, all the right things to say, the sweetness of it all had you under a spell.  It was also such a menial thing to get, a single pair of panties… You probably wouldn’t even know it was missing!

But as time went on, it got harder and harder for Leon to stomach just what he was doing. You’d opened up so much to him about your home life, how stressed you were, how much pressure you were under. Doing this would absolutely ruin you so he did his best to convince himself that he was being the nice one by waiting to complete the bet until you had finished all your finals. All that time spent together had him second guessing, triple guessing, even quadruple guessing his decision to go through with this. The good grades were important to you, he didn’t want to draw your focus away from that.

It was a shame his friends couldn’t keep the damn thing to themselves even if their life depended on it. He’d explicitly told them that it’s done and there was nothing more to it, yet of course they just had to snicker and make snide little comments to each other the next day when they saw you in passing.

Leon wouldn’t admit out loud that you’d really grown on him over the months, so he could only brush his friends off whenever they’d tease him about getting angry whenever the topic arose. Chris was the worst out of all of them, being his best friend, it seemed like his mission was to dance on Leon’s nerves any chance he got.

“Delete that.” A scowl graced Leon’s features as he glared at Chris, who’d stepped back from the agitated man. Almost the entire frat had posed with the panties Leon stole from you, all of them making some form of exaggerated pose and face. What was only meant to be goofy on their part was making the man responsible furious.

“Relax, it’s just a picture. I thought you’d find it funny.” Chris chuckled, bringing his phone back in to look at it again himself. “You’re acting real sour for nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. You’re all acting like a bunch of fucking idiots and I’m sick of it. Now delete that damn picture before I smash your phone with a hammer.” The nonchalant attitude from Chris was driving Leon up the wall. He already knew he’d fucked up big time, and with the way everyone was acting would only get him into bigger trouble.

“Shut up, man.” Chris laughed, like this was all some big joke. Everything was a joke to him. “Acting like you’re gonna explode or something.” This man was an actual dumbass, never taking a moment to actually think about what consequences having photo evidence with the entirety of the frat’s members posing with something stolen would have.

Leon scoffed, holding his hands up before letting them fall dramatically to slap against the tops of his thighs. “No fucking way..” One hand came back up to cover his mouth, breathing out sharply through his nose. It was a sad attempt to keep himself from pouncing on the other man, seeing as not barely five seconds later he tackled Chris, hands scrambling to rip the phone from his hand.

Chris was a few inches taller than Leon, a bit stronger too, so the scuffle didn’t last long. Some punches thrown here, a few kicks there, and Leon had the wind knocked out of him at some point, thrown to the side and left to struggle to get up off the floor while Chris decided to make his way to a different part of the house, muttering under his breath all the while.

“God dammit-” Leon wheezed, on his hands and knees, one hand against his chest as he tried to catch his breath. Sure he reacted purely on instinct, but Chris could stand to be knocked down a few pegs in his opinion. The guy is an ass.

After finally collecting himself, Leon slowly spun around to rest his back against the foot of the couch, elbows resting on his knees. He coughed a couple times and let his eyes fall closed, eyebrows furrowed as he silently seethed. Chris was most definitely going to send that picture around since he obviously thinks it’s the funniest thing to ever grace this planet. You were going to see the picture. That thought alone had his head falling forward in defeat, breathing out a weak sigh and a few more coughs. 

If he had just followed his own shitty advice, he would’ve taken a second to think about it. Why didn’t he just tell you in the first place? Why didn’t he just go to the store and buy a random pair of panties? Why did he follow through on such a meaningless bet?

Now that Leon thinks about it, he was the dumbass in this scenario. A royal one.

He probably sat there for an hour with his eyes closed, mind racing a million miles a minute. Trying not to make another stupid decision, he decided the best course of action would be to tell you before you saw that picture. You should hear it from him and not a total stranger. It was the right thing to do. Right?

He let out a few more strangled coughs and wheezes as he stood up off the floor and threw his coat on, beginning the walk of shame to your building. It wouldn’t have taken that long, but the snow and sludge on the ground made it a bit more dangerous, he needed to tread carefully. In more ways than one.

The extended walk left him alone with his thoughts, seeing as he didn’t grab his own phone to bring with him. With every step his mind grew heavier, an involuntary grimace scrunching his face up as he mulled over what exactly he’d done. He was mentally beating himself up over how easy it would’ve been to avoid this situation if he’d just thought outside of himself for one singular minute.

What had he done? 

Leon stomped the excess snow off his boots once inside of the dorm building, hands hidden in the pockets of his jackets as he meandered over to the stairs to get up to the second floor where your dorm was. He took his sweet time, practicing what he wanted to say under his breath as he stared down at his feet while walking up the steps.

Your dorm was down the hall around the corner, allowing him the few extra seconds it would take to get there to get his heart under control. You would be mad, rightfully so, but would you forgive him? Is it selfish to hope that you would?

He stood in front of your door for a minute longer, hand hovering just in front of it, trying to bring  himself to knock. Licking his dry lips, he quickly hit the knuckle on his index finger against the door three times, his eyes downturned. As much as he wanted to be the bigger person, it scared him to no end. He’s never cared this much before, so why was he so worried about it now?

Leon’s eyes shot up at the sound of the door opening, immediately showing his confusion when it was Sky on the other side. They didn’t say a word, but they looked mad, or at least very irritated. “Hey, I really need to talk to-,” they cut him off by simply holding up the palm of their hand to him, taking in a deep breath. “We saw it.”

Those three words made his heart drop to his stomach, his eyes quickly darting to look through the opening in the door to see if he could see you. “Please, if you would just let me explain I can-”

“Don’t embarrass yourself. Just go.” Sky was just about to close the door before they quickly looked over their shoulder, shutting the door almost all the way. Leon could hear them whispering to you, and though he desperately wanted to listen in, he decided to take a step back from the door and wait patiently. It was the least he could do.

He looked side to side to make sure no one was walking through the hallways, not wanting anyone to eavesdrop on such a sensitive situation. The door reopened, only this time it was you standing in the doorway. You looked so sad, so disappointed.

Leon hesitated before opening his mouth, yet you cut him off before he could even get a word in. “I trusted you,” you rasped quietly, a shaky sigh passing your lips, “I-.. I trusted you… and this is how you treat me..?” His shoulders slumped as he listened to you. He didn’t think he could feel any worse about this, but here you were, reminding him just how much of an ass he’s been.

“All that time we spent together.. all those kind, encouraging words you told me.. were all a lie?” You sniffled, arms slinking around yourself tightly. Sky was standing out of his view rubbing your back, knowing you wanted, no, needed to confront him yourself.

“No- I-..” Leon stuttered, trying to find the best way to explain everything. And no matter how many times he formulated it in his head, the explanation would never justify his actions. Instead he settled on something that would probably mean and do nothing for you. It was worth saying, though. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I’m so sorry,” his voice fell to a whisper as he repeated himself, eyes remaining on yours. What else could he say?

Silence fell between you as you only stared back at him with glassy eyes, your every breath shaky as you held back sobs. Crying in front of him would only give him more fuel, was your thought process. In your mind, he couldn’t even be trusted with your trash. 

By now, Sky had walked over and grabbed your suitcase, rolling it over next to you. You were leaving a day earlier than you said you would, Sky having offered to drive you back home since your hometown was only a couple hours away from where theirs was.

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of a response, instead taking the handle of your suitcase from your friend before silently walking out of the room, past Leon, and down around the corner. He only stood and watched you walk off with a deep frown, head turning back to look at Sky when he heard them lock the door behind themself. 

“You’re only sorry that you got caught.” They grumbled as they walked past him, giving him a quick yet harsh glare. They soon disappeared around the same corner you had, leaving him all alone in the now quiet hallway. 

You were the nicest, most considerate person he’s ever had the pleasure to know and he blew it. The worst part about it all was you didn’t even seem mad, just heartbroken. Disappointed in him.

You had put so much of your trust into him, even after he’d been so nasty towards you in the beginning, and what did he do with it? He basically spit on it, lit it on fire, and then flushed the remnants. He was only annoyed with you the first few times he had to help you study, the bickering the two of you shared easily becoming one of the things he liked about you.

Leon honestly liked you from the start, so determined to pass a class that you’d put up with what was basically harassment from him. When he told his frat buddies about you, they were quick to draw up that bet. Unfortunately, he’d known most of these guys since middle school, and you were just a girl he met on chance. His friends’ words blanketed his own morals, and because they saw you as a target, so did he, that subconscious need for peer approval leading him to make one of the worst decisions he’s ever made thus far.

If he was in your shoes, he’d raise hell, so your decision to leave was completely understandable. For some reason you’d let him off easy and he knew he didn’t deserve such light treatment. 

All he could do now was hope you’d come back next semester. He’d be fine just getting to see you in passing since you most likely wouldn’t want to be anywhere near him anymore, your friends would certainly keep him at a distance away from you. 

Would writing a message be okay? You need time before he approaches the topic with you. Should he leave you be? No, you deserve an apology, even if you don’t want it, nor accept it. 

Someone brushed by Leon, breaking his train of thought. He was still standing in the hallway in front of your dorm room. He needed to go and try to make this right, or at the very least rip everyone at the frat a new one. He wasn’t sure, maybe it was because he was angry at them and himself, but leaving the frat sounded like a pretty good way to start righting his wrongs. Not before he made sure that the picture was wiped from everyone’s phone and the panties he stole were kept far away from everyone there. 

Chris sent the picture to you, which means it was sent to a bunch of other people too. He’ll spend all winter break tracking down every last person it was sent to, tell professors what he’d done just so it didn’t spread any further. And if it meant he’d lose his scholarship, then so be it.

tags:

@kayotee4 @k-fallingstar @bobastayhigh @mi-zer-y @chasingkennedy @l30nva @espressonerd @jjouki @5tarx @bunnybreadloaves @whoisgami @cyanscribe @c4b3r1a @darichvep @mmmangel @kingtacocat @klee-iii @baby--vera @dakiniii @kenma-izhu @aliidarling @leonsmamacita @deadghxsty @nekoheist @dumbassmortal @cassiecasluciluce @iovewilliams @maeplayscello @deddiemunsonsblog @paranoid-but-android @mariesmain @tteokhwaa @bonnibuckets @eilonwykennedy @1dk-anym0r3 @papatyacikcik @animesnowstorm @lexi-zsy09 @mylifedoesntexist @ifeellikedying @yourmommylol04 @ravioli19 @dakiniii @papichulo120627

(few of your blogs won't work, i tried though 😭)

[justpearlysworld]

Wouldn't mind being sandwiched between Soap and Price :) that's a fun smut combo I think doesn't get enough appreciation around here

good idea!!!!!!!!!!!!! you have a massive squishy brain and i would love to give it a kiss b/c this is SO GOOD:33 🐻‍❄️🐻‍❄️

(cw!!: smut, spit roasting, p in v penetration, reader is afab :3)

MDNI!

threesome w/ soap and price!

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

price lets his hands run from the top of your shoulders, to the fat of your tits, all the way down to where your abdomen meets your thighs. he gazes into your eyes and pulls you into a deep and feverish kiss

soap on the other hand, was seated on his knees on the floor. he gave small kisses from your calves to your inner thighs where he let himself stay sucked on, leaving little love bites all over your legs.

-“fuck, god. you’re so beautiful. so so pretty and so fucking sexy, dove”

prices voice was dripping in need and arousal; need to have you split open on his cock. he depended the kiss and began to kneed your squishy tits in his warm hands.

his voice had sent shockwaves rippling through your body and had furthered the wetness dripping down your pussy. soap didn’t let this go. he let his mouth move from your inner thighs to your plush cunt where he let himself ravage you like a starved man.

you pulled away from price to let out a whimper.

-“so wet bonnie. can’t help but eat you like my last meal”

you groan out at his words and flex your thighs and slightly clamp them around johnny’s head.

john took this time to unbuckle his pants and pull himself out of the confines of his boxers. he stood at half-mast and had some pre-cum leaking from his tip.

you look at him with sweet doe eyes pleading if you can give into your desires. he wraps his hand around his cock and guides it to your plush lips. he lets you set a quick pace as you hurry to stuff him down your throat to

-“damn, really that eager to be taken. johnny, why don’t you take her pussy first?”

soap removes himself from between your legs. he makes quick work of his pants and lets his cock run up and down your slit. he smiles down at you and enters his tip.

you moan around price as you grip his thigh to ground yourself.

-“bonnie, really squeezin’ down here!”

he too sets a pace, fast and rough, as soon as you give him the go ahead to begin moving. you had adjusted so you were being spit-roasted by the two of them.

price continued to fuck himself into your mouth and soap had been practically nailing you into the bed. for every thrust forward from soap, was a thrust out for price. they continued this rhythm so that you were getting constant stimulation by the two of them.

-“o-oh gosh, i feel like i’m gonna cum soon! johnny pleasee go harder!”

your sweet pleas did not fall on deaf ears. he quickened his pace to the point where you were stuck choking on price’s dick.

-“fuck. bonnie cum with me. cum around my cock pretty girl come on!”

it was also pretty apparent that price was about to cum as well. his hips had been jerking erratically and he was gripping your hair much tighter than he had been before.

-“come on dove, cum for us. please pretty girl”

you felt your orgasm wash over you and you clamped down on soap, and hard too. your cunt so tightly wrapped around his cock caused him to fall into his orgasm as well. price had steadied himself and forced his cock down into your throat. his salty cum dripping down your through as you coughed up around him.

soap steadied his hips and let out a feral moan as he spurted his seed into your greedy pussy.

price pulled his cock out to let you breath, standing up and giving soap a look.

-“switch places. round 2?”

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

(a/n): not proofread so there’s probably some spelling errors !!!!

Requests Are Open!

wittle tag list!!: @godihatethiswebsite @bravo-001

[dancingbirdie]

This request is really out of the blue but, i need I CRAVE i require a fic where tav and astarion finally find a cure for his vampirism (in dnd5 it can actually happen yay!) and he manages to see his reflection again and finally have his natural eye color again (blue bc he's prob a moon elf but I don't mind other colors too). The fangs can stay or not, idc, i just want my boy happy, in love, and cared for. Bonus points if there's cuddles too

OK first of all, thanks for this prompt!! Second, I had to break this up into two parts because I'm afraid of how unwieldy it would get otherwise. So see part 1 below. I'm actively writing part 2 and should have that posted within the next few days. Hope you enjoy!

UPDATE: Chapter 2 available here!

I Promised You (Chapter 1)

Rating: G

Pairing: Astarion x GN!reader

Word Count: 3.1K

Warnings/Tags: mentions of unconsciousness, cheeky banter, domestic life, post-events of BG3, potentially problematic levels of self-sacrifice by reader.

***

“All right. I think you’re ready,” Gale affirmed as he peered over your shoulder, analyzing your hand movements as you practiced the incantation. 

“You think? Shouldn’t we wait until you’re sure?” you replied, heavy skepticism coloring your tone. 

“I can’t give you my complete assurance because you haven’t actually cast the spell,” the wizard sighed. 

The two of you had had this argument many times over the past several months as you studied and practiced. And studied and practiced some more. The conclusion was always the same, but your anxiety always managed to convince you that a different outcome would be had if you just asked him again. 

Conjuration magic was one of the most difficult forms to master. Yes, you had specialized in it during your formative years, under the tutelage of several learned wizards across Faerûn, but this spell was perhaps the pinnacle of feats in conjuration. Only a handful of wizards could perform it. Thankfully Gale was among that number, which is why you had come to him for help.

“As I’ve said, this isn’t a spell you can just cast for practice runs,” he continued. “You have one chance. And if it works, the sheer power of it is undoubtedly going to knock you unconscious.” 

“I know, I know,” you grumbled. “I just… I need to be absolutely perfect. I have to do this. For him.” 

“Have you told him what you’re planning yet?” Gale prodded.

“No. Not yet. I didn’t want to get his hopes up. Or have him tell me how unlikely success will be. Not until I was absolutely sure I could do this.” 

“I see,” the wizard returned, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Well, tonight is as good a time to tell him as any. There’s nothing more I can teach you to prepare for this. You know the incantation by heart. You perform the gestures almost through muscle memory now. You’re ready.”

“I’m ready,” you repeated, as if saying the words would will it to be so. 

“Send me a missive if he wants to go through with this. I’ll come to the cottage and oversee the spell’s casting.”

“All right,” you nodded.

“It’s going to work. You have to believe it’s going to work,” Gale encouraged, meeting your eyes with a serious, stern sort of expression.

“It’s going to work,” you agreed. “It’s going to work.” 

***

It was dusk by the time you returned to the cottage. It was a modest home you shared with Astarion, situated just outside the city walls. It had a lovely view of the rolling hills that surrounded Baldur’s Gate, and proximity to the Chionthar River gave the air a refreshing, misty feel. Pastoral communities dotted the countryside with sheep and cattle grazing freely during the day, though they had returned to their stables long before your return.

Astarion was no fan of the bucolic lifestyle, as he was wont to remind you. But you both agreed that this living situation afforded him better meal prospects than the rats, cats and errant stray dogs that dwelled within the city limits. At least this way, he had more fulfilling options for food, since the livestock attracted their fair share of large predators. A mild, perpetual confusion charm that you cast kept the neighbors from questioning why – unlike their peers in neighboring villages and towns – their animals were never plagued by roving bears and panthers. 

Astarion was lounging listlessly in the bay window of the den when you entered your home, one leg dangling off the ledge of his reading nook while he carelessly flipped through a book. Probably one he had pilfered from Gale’s stockpile a few weeks ago, you surmised. There had been an uptick in the wizard’s grumbling about discrepancies in his library catalog of late. 

“Anything interesting?” you asked as you shrugged out of your traveler’s cloak and hung it on the coat rack by the door. 

“Ugh, hardly,” Astarion grouched. “Nothing but debunked theories and philosophies from bloated scholars who died a hundred years ago.”

“You’re going to have to return Gale’s books to him eventually, you know. He’s beginning to realize how many from his library are missing.”

“Haven’t the slightest clue what you’re referring to, darling,” he replied breezily.

“Of course, love,” you chuckled, planting a kiss on his forehead as you passed him by to make your way into the kitchen. 

“Care for a glass of wine?” you called.

“Mm, yes,” Astarion returned. “Red, please, dear.”

Uncorking the bottle and pouring the glasses gave you a brief moment to collect your thoughts. To steel your nerves for the conversation looming before you. Drawing a deep breath in and exhaling it slowly, you made your way back into the den and braced for the inevitable. 

“Darling, do you have a moment?” you asked as you offered Astarion his glass before taking a seat next to him. “I’d like to talk to you about something.”

“Gods, it must be serious,” he teased, straightening from his reclined pose to take the proffered glass and make room for you. “You like you’re about to be ill. Go on then, love, before you faint and spill this vintage all over the floor.”

“It is rather serious, in fact,” you began, clearing your throat that had suddenly become tight with nerves.  “I’ve waited to tell you until now, but I’ve been researching some more difficult conjuration magic with Gale the past few months…”

“Oh?” Astarion prompted as you paused. “For what purpose, darling? I thought you had already mastered the school of conjuration.”

“I have. But this is a more specialized form. More… niche, I guess one might say. And, well…” you trailed off again, hesitant.

“Go on,” he encouraged. 

“I’ve-been-researching-a-spell-that-cures-vampirism-and-I-think-I’ve-found-a-way,” you spat out all at once, the words tumbling into each other like a wagon train gone wild. 

Astarion met your eyes with a blank stare, seemingly forgetting that his one hand had been in the process of lifting the wine glass to his lips. 

“I beg your pardon?” he asked hoarsely.

You coughed to clear your throat. “What I mean to say is: I’ve been working with Gale for months now to learn a spell that can cure your vampirism. He and I believe I’m ready to perform it. If you would allow me to try, that is.”

“If this is your idea of a joke,” he murmured, a slight quiver in his voice. “Then I have to tell you, it’s absolutely not funny at all.”

“It’s not a joke!” you assured. “I swear to you, Astarion. It’s not a joke,” you continued, squeezing one of his hands in yours. 

He nodded absently, his gaze trained on your thumb as it soothed over the knuckles of his fingers.

“H-how?” he whispered finally. “How can you cure it? I’ve read every tome I could get my hands on for over two hundred years. Nothing, nothing, I’ve read has ever offered a solution.”

“Because this is a highly guarded spell. It’s only passed down through oral tradition among wizards who specialize in conjuration magic. Which is why I’ve needed Gale’s help,” you explained. “I broached the topic with him some time ago, told him how we were going to look for some way to cure your vampirism. Being a master of magicks himself, I thought he would be a good source of information for me to begin my research. I wasn’t even aware of the spell until he shared it with me. He’s been teaching me the mechanics of it since then. It’s been a difficult spell to master but–” 

“What’s the cost?” Astarion interjected suddenly, meeting your gaze with a new intensity.

“It will cost you nothing, obviously,” you retorted, disliking where the conversation was heading. 

Astarion huffed through his nose. A caustic, frustrated sort of sound. “Don’t play cute with me, darling. You know what I mean.”

“No. I don’t,” you hedged.

“What will the spell cost you,” he bit out through a clenched jaw. 

You bit your lip, hesitant to reply. Astarion’s gaze never wavered. 

Finally you sighed. Better to reveal the consequences of it all than attempt to hide the downsides from him. Even though they were negligible in your eyes, compared to the wonder that would be returning his elfhood to him, you knew he would resent being told only partial truths. You couldn’t fault him for it. You would feel the same, were the roles reversed. 

“It will permanently weaken me. There’s a small, very small, chance it could kill me if I perform it wrong,” you confessed.

“No,” Astarion responded bluntly, without a hint of hesitation. He rose from the bench and made to leave the room. As if the matter had been settled and it was time to crack on. 

“Wait! What do you mean, ‘no’?” you blurted. Jumping to your feet, you snatched at the sleeve of his nightshirt. 

He turned to peer at you with a haughty gaze, one eyebrow arched delicately. “Exactly that. No. You’re not risking your life on the off chance of this working.”

“But it’s not an off chance. It will work! And the likelihood of me dying is incredibly slim!” you protested.

“But the likelihood of you being ‘permanently weakened’ is essentially certain, yes?” 

You rolled your eyes. “I’m sure it’s not as bad as it sounds. And besides, I don’t mind. I want to do this, Astarion.”

He scoffed. “Have you gone absolutely mad? ‘It’s not as bad as it sounds.’ Do you even know what will actually happen to you afterwards?” he shot back angrily.

“No,” you admitted, a bit quieter. 

He deliberately widened his eyes at your response, crossing his arms across his chest as if to say See? My point proven. 

“But I know I can handle it! And I love you enough to try!” you retorted.

That appeared to be the wrong choice of words. You realized it immediately as his expression morphed from outright anger to something darker, icier.

“Well then, it seems we’re at an impasse, darling,” he growled. “Because I love you enough not to have you go through with this.” 

You opened your mouth to object once more, but he continued, ignoring you. 

“AND, since it is my body and my life we’re discussing, it means I have the final say on the matter. My answer is no.”

You had anticipated this conversation going many different ways. You thought you had prepared for the most likely scenarios. But, in all your pondering, you hadn’t seriously considered the possibility that Astarion would reject this opportunity outright. 

Your eyes welled with tears. Hot, angry, disconsolate tears. 

“Astarion,” you murmured, desperate. Angry though you both were, you couldn’t resist the urge to curl into his embrace. Gently, you pulled at his arms in an attempt to un-cross them. With a soft sigh, he allowed you to manipulate him so that you were pressed chest to chest. Your arms banded around his waist, locking him against you. Slowly, he raised his arms to mimic your stance, peering down at you.  

“Astarion, my darling, this is your chance. It’s the only chance we’ve found in over two years of searching. I know I can do it. And you can win it all back. I can help you. Let me do this,” you pleaded. 

“Darling, how could I ever ‘win it all back�� when there’s a possibility I could lose you forever? Or that you could be seriously harmed in the process?” he lifted a hand to cup your cheek, smiling sadly. “I would never forgive myself if you were harmed in an attempt to cure me.”

You closed your eyes, tears slipping freely down your cheeks. “Please. I know I can do this. Please let me do this. I want to do this for you.”

“Come, pup, no more tears. I’ve given you my answer,” he murmured, swiping a thumb across your cheekbones to catch each tear.

You opened your eyes to glare at him. “If the roles were reversed, would you want to try this for me?”

“Of course,” Astarion huffed. “But that’s obviously different, I –”

“WHY? Why is it different?” you cried, clutching him. 

“Because you’re worth it!” he implored, arms vibrating as though he were resisting the urge to shake sense into you. “Your soul is worth a thousand of mine! It’s not marred by death and torture and sacrilege. Can’t you see that? Don’t you see?”

“No, I don’t,” you argued obstinately. “Because you are worth it to me. Your soul is priceless to me. I love you. You’re the love of my life.”

Astarion said nothing, just stared at you with sad eyes. You couldn’t tell if his silence meant you were persuading him, but you couldn’t relent without giving at least one more desperate plea. 

“I promised you. Remember? After everything that happened, I promised you we would find a way for you to walk in the sun once more. I didn’t make that promise lightly. I want to do this for you.”

“Darling…” he murmured sadly, shaking his head. 

“Astarion, please,” you beseeched, shifting to clutch his face between both of your palms. “I’m literally begging you to let me try. Gale and I have been practicing for almost a year now. He wouldn’t tell me I was ready unless he was certain. I know I can do this. Please. Let me try.”

“Don’t you have any regard for your own life?” he whispered. “How is it that I’m more concerned for your well being than you are?” 

“Darling, all of us have the slightest potential of dying every single day we continue to breathe. Anything poses some risk to our lives. I’m telling you, the risk of me dying from this is the same as the risk I take casting any other magic.”

“But there’s still a permanent cost to doing this. Have you even asked Gale to elaborate on what that entails?” 

“No,” you admitted a bit sheepishly. “I didn’t really think about it.” 

Astarion rolled his eyes but planted a kiss against your forehead. “You’re ridiculous, you know.”

“I’m sorry that I was so ecstatic about finding a cure that I leapt straight into studying it!” you said defensively, although your tone lacked teeth. 

He chuckled and wrapped you in a tighter embrace, resting his cheek on the top of your head. The two of you stood like that for some time, arms wrapped around each other, lost in thought. 

After a while, Astarion cleared his throat. “I want us to speak to Gale. I want to know the full details, the consequences of a spell like this.”

You jerked your head up in surprise, staring at him with wide, elated eyes. 

“I’m not saying yes,” he clarified, attempting to tamp down your burgeoning excitement. “But I’m willing to hear more about this… possibility.”

A delighted squeal rocketed up your throat. Quick as a flash, you jumped to wrap your legs around his waist. Long used to your ebullient antics, Astarion caught you with a practiced ease. His arms banded under your thighs and across your lower back, squeezing gently. 

“I love you, you daft, feral thing,” he chuckled, nuzzling your cheek. 

***

“I would have gone over this months ago, had you afforded me the opportunity,” Gale had groused upon arriving at the cottage the following evening. The three of you shared a bottle of barrel-aged Callidyren while Astarion peppered the wizard with umpteen questions about the spell’s mechanics. To his credit, Gale managed to assuage Astarion’s concerns. At least for the most part. 

The permanent effects of casting the spell, you both learned, would diminish your inner well of magic, rendering you unable to cast as many spells as you currently could before resting for a longer period of time. Almost as though the cost of performing the spell would revert you back to the strength you had had as an apprentice so many years ago. You would still be powerful, capable of wielding even the most intricate of spells. But your endurance would be shorter, more concentrated. It was a price you were more than willing to pay. Even more so now that you had actually allowed Gale to describe the effects in detail. 

“I still can’t believe you didn’t press for more details,” Astarion grumbled. 

“It didn’t seem important at the time,” you sniffed, waving a hand dismissively. “Still doesn’t, in my opinion.”

“You know, in some schools of thought,” Astarion countered dryly, “people believe the difference between bravery and complete idiocy is so fine a line that it frequently gets crossed.”

“So I’ve heard,” you crooned. “But, alas, I’m nothing if not an incredibly adept fool in love.” 

Gale observed the two of you warily, as if uncertain whether this exchange constituted harmless domestic banter or an undercurrent of severe agitation. 

“Yes, well,” he interrupted awkwardly, “as I said before, you’re as ready as you will ever be to perform this magic. I’ll be here to supervise and intervene, if necessary, though I don’t think it will be.”

“Bully for us. Is there anything else we should be prepared for, if we’re to go through with this?” Astarion snapped. “Sudden onset sliminess? Gills? Frothing at the mouth?”

You winced. He was always his most discourteous self when he was afraid. Gale might not realize it, but you knew him well enough to tell when his rudeness was obfuscation.   

“Ahem,” Gale coughed, clearly affronted by the impertinent question. “No, nothing of that sort. But this spell is incredibly demanding on one’s body. It’s very likely they’ll fall unconscious once it’s been cast. The effect shouldn’t last for more than a few hours. Enough time for a proper rest.”  

“You failed to mention that yesterday,” Astarion said peevishly, glaring at you from across the dining table. 

“Because it’s the equivalent to me needing a good sleep after a tiring day,” you quipped. 

Gale winced. “It’s a bit more serious than that, I’d argue.”

“Thank you,” Astarion intoned. 

“Tsk. An inconvenience at worst. Nothing unmanageable,” you retorted. “So, what say you, darling? Are you willing to give this a try?”

Astarion’s glare shifted between you and Gale, studying you both. 

“And you both swear to me that all information is now disclosed, yes? No partial truths, no hidden side effects?”

“I swear,” the two of you responded in unison. You reached for Astarion’s hand across the table. 

“My darling, this will work. I’m going to be fine. And you’re going to be cured,” you smiled gently. “Please, trust me.”

He squeezed your hand, crimson eyes boring into your own. 

Finally, after a moment, he gave you a terse nod.

“All right. Let’s try,” he agreed.

[satrs]

𝘎𝘰 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦? PART 2! /// 1°

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ; How they ask you out + where your first date would be!

ꜰᴇᴀᴛᴜʀɪɴɢ; Barou Shoei. Oliver Aiku. Sendo Shuto. gn!reader.

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ; 0.8k

TAGS; fluff. crack(?). kissing.

ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+ (proplayers)!

BAROU SHOEI

He is nervous. Nervous in like - heart rapidly beating, sweaty forehead, feeling like he is on fire. But did he show all that on the outside? Of course not, he's the King.

"Shoei are you alright?" Your voice snapped him out of his mind state, wiping his hand across his face to wipe off the sweat.

"Who are those flowers for? Are you planning on confessing to someone?" Oh god. His hand fiddled with his shirt in an attempt to escape the intense heat he was feeling. Is it summer time already?

You leaned against your doorframe, starring daggers into the poor man, clearly suspicious about his unusual behaviour. He was clearly really nervous and yes, the both of you are friends but why is he at your doorstep without even informing you beforhand?

" For You."

.・゜゜・

"So what is this exactly?" His attention was glued on scrubbing the surface, eyes swiftly glancing at you, floor wiper in hand as one hand rested on your hip, looking at him.

"A date." He walked up to you, taking the wiper from you, eyes nervously glancing away from yours as a grin played itself on your lips. "Cleaning my house?" He scoffed at that. "Well, it's not exactly clean, you know." An offended gasp left your lips as you lightly slapped his shoulder. "Hey! Well there's no kiss in for you today, that's for sure."

You giggled at his shift in expression. "What- wait! I didn't mean-!" You quickly shut him up with a kiss to his lips, leaving him perplexed as you took the wiper back, continuing your previous actions innocently.

OLIVER AIKU

What kind of spell did you cast on this man??? Why was he acting and thinking like this?? Him- the Oliver Aiku, wanting to date someone for good???

"You know, you're acting kind of weird, Oli'." Oh how he loved the nickname you gave him, a cheeky grin adoring his handsome face. "Oh, how come?" "You just seem a bit nervous." He craned his neck in your direction, hetrocromic orbs starring at you. "That's because I am. I have to do something I've never done before."

You laughed at that, his expression turning curious. "What? Bungee jumping?" He giggled at that. "Close one. Actually, I wanted to ask you out." Heat shot up your face, making him laugh in return. "So?"

"So? You're really serious about this?" He nodded at that, bright grin displayed on his lips. "Damn right."

.・゜゜・

"You really know how to flatter a girl, huh?" You stated, taking the bunch of flowers from his hold, admiring the colorful flowers. "Where did you buy them?"

He put up his hands as an answer, scars decorating his rough hands, impling that he plucked them himself. You hummed in approval, impressed by his efford. "You really are serious about this."

He stepped closer to you, caressing your cheek. "I am. About this - about us. I really want this. If you want it, too." To hide your perplexed expression, you cleared your throat, looking away.

"Don't you think I deserve a kiss for my speech." You playfully roled your eyes, placing a quick peek to his cheek. "Cheeky fool."

SENDOU SHUTO

Oh my god NAHHHH LMFOAOAOAOA

"Just spit it out already!" You irritaded voice caused the man to flinch, nervous smile adoring his handsome features as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I-I don't know how to tell you." you laughed at that, lightly hitting him at the shoulder at that. "Why? Are you gonna ask me out or something?" Your eyes widdened as you saw the young man turn brightly red at your words, lightbulb in your head lighting up.

.・゜゜・

"I was excited for this the whole month, Shuto!" He still couldn't belief that you actually accepted his weak confession, and even showed up on the date he had planned.

He giggled as he saw your excited expression as the both of you stood infront of the karaoke bar, an advise he got from Oliver. "What are you waiting for?" Your words snapped him out of his thoughts, causing him to flash you a warm smile. "Let's go in!"

He admired you from afar, lovestruck smile on his face as he hummed along to the song you sung to, your bright smile making his heart jump in happiness.

"Don't you want to try too?" He waved you off, saying that he was a horrible singer, but you showed no sign of letting go. "Nuh uh, there's no backing out now. Maybe you'll even get a kiss of you do really well."

There was no way you had to tell him twice as he sprung up to his feet, taking the microphone from your hand as he sang to the song with all his might.

No way he's letting a chance of getting a kiss slip!

©︎𝐊-𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐒. all rights reserved. Do NOT plagiarize, copy, modify, republish, or translate my work in any way!

[turtleybeachin]

Okay I have finally thought of an ask! Not sure if you remember me or not but that's okay. It kinda has to do with the summoning through pacts. I was wondering if you could write something along the lines of an MC who is usually calm, but a MC having a panic attack or is just scared and accidentally summons a brother? I'd like to request all of the brothers or even the dateables but I don't want to ask that much. Do whoever you want with this ask if you do it at all! ❤️❤️

Hi I totally remember you and never forgot this but got way too in my own head about it. I think I crawled back out now. Thanks for being patient with me. ♥ So first of all, I love the concept of accidentally summoning someone to you. Sure, the actual summoning spell is great, but the idea of panic-summoning and maybe not even fully intentionally? Amazing. I started writing how they'd comfort you but got too in my head trying to do everyone (and not feel like i was rehashing Burnout), so I have a few that are spawning future updates to Burnout (for the new side characters), and then some one-offs I'll share as I finish them as well. But! Here are some thoughts I had on alternative summonings when upset.

Characters: Everyone! :) and a GN!MC (reader) Rating: G Word Count: ~2.3k Tagging: references to MC struggling mentally/emotionally, some fluffy affection, mostly a think piece on unintended summoning. Spoiler warnings for OG game, most notably for end of season 2, a bit of season 3, and vaguely part of season 4. Nothing too big, but there nonetheless.

Lucifer's Ring of Light is a perfect fidget piece. Spinning it around your finger, rubbing your thumb along the band, pressing on the edges of the stones to let the dull pinch ground you. It's always there on your finger, always present, always twinkling in the corner of your eye as a reminder you aren't alone. It is not his any longer, but that doesn't mean he isn't still aware of it, that a little piece of him isn't still present in a little piece of its inherent magic. And when you're spinning it and digging it into your palm and distressed, he feels an echo of that pain. It pulls him to you. Perhaps, in your own way, you're admitting you need his presence, his strength, his help, and he is not about to start abandoning his loved ones now.

With Mammon's keychain of that chocolate lizard, your thumb knew all the grooves, the smooth spots and the rough ones, the little spot where paint was chipped away that you knew you shouldn't pick at but it just happened anyway, your nail catching on the rough edge. You fidget with it when anxious because you know Mammon used to fidget with it just the same, and isn't that comforting, to know that even a powerful ancient fallen angel would run his thumb along the very same ridges you do? It's almost like you can still feel the warmth of his touch there. And you can't really think your First Man ain't gonna know you as well as he knows himself, can you? That he doesn't know when you need him, when you're tuggin' on the pact like that?

Leviathan's script he gave you? You've memorized it by now. In times when everything is spiraling, you remember your favorite lines, the ones that remind you to stay strong. You recite them to yourself between shaking breaths. Because when you can't be strong and cool and calm yourself, sometimes it helps to put yourselves in the shoes of Henry, the shoes of the Romantic Lead, the shoes of the characters written to always have a happy ending. It is, you realize, the same way Levi puts himself in the shoes of the Lord of Shadows, wrapping the cool-clever-badass-strong cloak around him as an armor. There's no Lord of Shadows without his Henry, and there's no you without him. And just like how in book six, the Lord of Shadows gets accidentally bound to Henry with a spell and is able to feel when Henry's in need and the Lord of Shadows leaves his lair without knowing where he's really going just knowing that he's needed and he ends up following this magical instinctive pull to find Henry and get to him just in time to save him from his enemies who were-- ...well, let's just say that Levi won't leave you to fight your mind alone for long.

Satan wasn't wrong that cats are perfect for calming the emotional storm inside you. They're good little listeners, and their company is a great distraction from the voices in your head. Watching the little fuzzballs roll around, or nap in a sunbeam, or prowl through the grass, it distracts you from all the frustration and anxiety and worries. Whether it's watching neighborhood cats, or visiting a cafe, or popping into a shelter, you've taken to Satan's favorite hack for handling your wayward emotions. On the really bad days, it's nice to know you can vent and cry to them and they won't judge you or tell anyone your secrets. But did you forget, MC, the stories about cats that traverse the realms? They won't ever tell anyone, but they might wander from you to their favorite place in the Devildom and they might headbutt a certain blond demon's shin and chirp for him to follow them. They are, after all, very good listeners. And so is he.

With Asmodeus, you look at the photos of him on your phone, at your selfies together and how big you smiled beside him. You blink away burning tears to focus on how he looks not at the camera but at you, his body angled not to show his best side (which is every side of course) but to press always closer to you, and how no matter where you two were or what was happening your smiles were always so bright and genuine with him. When everything feels like too much and not worth it and you feel trapped and cornered by situations beyond your control, you find yourself clutching your phone and swiping through hundreds of pictures of laughter and kisses and hugs and twirls and snuggles and you whisper a promise that one day, soon, we'll be together again. Sooner than you expect, of course, because did you really think that he wouldn't feel your burning need for him across realms, hon?

Beelzebub just has to be comfort food, our precious glutton. When life without your demons is getting you down, it's the salty snacks, the sweet treats, the tubs of ice cream with the chunks of something extra to dig for like buried treasure. And whenever you indulge, you can't help but think of your gentle giant and what he'd have to say about everything. He'd be happy you're eating, of course, and then what would he think of your human world snacks? Which makes you think of your favorite Devildom snacks, and that just hits you with a fresh wave of homesickness. But somewhere out there, a realm away, one particular Avatar just gets this feeling, you know? Like the way he knows when Belphie is craving quetzalcoatl brains, or is napping in the garden. Just that instinct. And his instinct is telling him you need your favorite cupcakes. Surely Lucifer will understand how vital it is he takes these three dozen cupcakes to the human world right now. And if he doesn't, well, that argument with his brother can wait until after your craving is satisfied.

Belphegor of course is our star-gazing boy, and while you like the idea of looking into the sky to seek out any possible shared stars to look at with him, you can't always see the stars at night everywhere, and the human realm has day and night cycles that hide them for at least half the day anyhow. For Belphie, you have a pillow from him (that he either gifted or didn't complain about your stealing) that you keep with you -- not for sleeping, but for comfort. A pillow to smother your tears on the rough nights, a pillow to pummel on your frustrated days. A pillow you curl around and snuggle for a memory of contact now distant. And when you drift off in those fitful sleeps of exhaustion, you wander in your dreams to another dream unknowingly. He's with you when you rest, and the moment he can get away from Lucifer's watchful gaze, he'll be there to tug the pillow out of your arms to crawl into your embrace himself.

With Diavolo, well, he knows things. Usually it's because of Barbatos, or Lucifer, or his familiars, but you? MC, you're so much more precious than the 'usual'. If asked by anyone who doesn't know him well enough to call him out, he'd say the charm he placed on you was simply for matters of Devildom security-- after all, you know possibly too much, and that could make you a target to the wrong people! (Barbatos politely does not point out that it's because he misses you so much and wants to see what you're doing.) It's not that he wants to intrude on your life or anything, it's important you have the chance to be as wonderfully human as you are, but he just worries. Are you alright? Are you comfortable? You'd mentioned once the extravagance of the brothers' lifestyle, do you have enough income? The charm is just a minor thing, a little thing, just to make sure you're well. And when you aren't? Well, paperwork and meetings will wait.

With Barbatos, he's just such a badass god-like time lord, we don't even need a pact to be connected to him. You had brought up the idea of a pact once, and he had just given you that dangerous smirk and demurred that it wasn't so much a pact you desired, surely, as his company and his attention, both of which were already yours. It seemed like such a smooth line at the time, but you didn't realize the extent of it. How you're a bright twinkling point on every timeline for him, how you are the center of every universe he knows, how he orients himself in any reality by looking to you. So when something is wrong, when you're falling apart or in danger, it's like the spiderweb crackling of a timeline splitting. Like an itch at the back of his throat, an ache behind his eyes. The choices are to let you suffer alone, or to teleport himself to your side and help you through. Do you even have to wonder which option he chooses?

Simeon may have a complicated relationship with his blessing and his celestial light, with his place and his purpose, but one thing has never felt complicated:  you. Every baked good he ever made for you was made with pure love, and every gift he bestowed -- from a little sheep plush sewn by hand to earrings made from his own feathers -- had all of his hopes and wishes and prayers for you inside them. Maybe that's why squeezing the soft little plush fills you with such warmth and comfort, and why the brush of the feather against your neck feels like a kiss. When you're struggling and upset, the gifts from Simeon make you feel grounded just a little more. And perhaps it's a prayer answered for him, too, that he just has a feeling when it's time to go visit you.

Solomon has been watching out for you longer than you know. It started in the little ways, simple defensive spells and barriers to protect you, reminding demons who looked a little too closely at you who precisely he was and what he could do. It graduated to teaching you to defend yourself, and gifting you various magical trinkets and charms to help focus and direct your growing magics. You still don't really know all the ways that he keeps an eye on you. But he does. Nothing is more important than you. When one of his spells alerts him that you're upset or in distress, well. He just so happened to be in the neighborhood, MC, and what a lucky coincidence that is!

Luke is such a literal perfect little angel baby. One who gave you his blessing, to protect you even when he can't. Everyone teases him for being so young, but he knows that you are the one human he wants to guide and shelter and protect. And sure, when he gave his blessing, it was under the assumption you might need protection from demons or fae, from magic and shadow. But that doesn't mean his blessing doesn't also guide and protect you in times of need that aren't external, MC. When you're at your lowest and feeling completely alone, he feels the pull, feels your pain, and what sort of guardian angel would he be if he left you alone?

Mephistopheles you don't have a pact with (yet?), but imagine your magic ripping open a portal to him without your conscious intent when you're feeling small and lonely and just so badly miss him and want him with you. Maybe you think of him because of the kindness he has shown himself capable of; maybe you think of him because you know he's the least likely person to tell the brothers or anyone else about you having a meltdown. And he's startled and confused when this portal opens before him, the magic somewhat familiar but certainly not demonic, and he warily steps through half-expecting some idiotic prank of one of the brothers only to find you curled up and small and fragile and all of his complaints and questions can wait. After all, clearly you can't even manage your own magic right now, so someone has to keep you from causing trouble.

With Thirteen, it's the little conversation crystal that she gifted you during The Three Worlds' Fair. Perhaps you turned it into a pendant, or perhaps it's just always in your bag or pocket, kept close as a charm for good luck and reminder of the fact you aren't alone. You don't think it would actually work across realms but still hold it tightly and whisper your frustrations or fears or doubts into it just to get things off your chest. But between your magic and hers, it does still connect, and she does hear your outbursts. And at first she just lets it happen, quietly charmed and amused you would use her gift as a secret diary. But when you're really struggling? Well. Reapers are meant to move between realms, you know. There's nowhere she won't go for you.

And Raphael is not an angel to be summoned on the whim of some human. But he is incredibly observant (even if he sometimes doesn't 'read a room' well). He is the one who reads between your lines more than you expected, more than you intended, more perhaps than you want. He sees the tension you hold, the dark circles under your eyes, the way your smiles are just a little slow and empty; he hears the silences where he expects to hear laughter or humming or conversation. And he nearly ignores it, because it's not his business, and you have plenty of other devoted fans already flocking to you, but then he realizes that in those moments you don't. In your pain, you are alone, and that is the most jarring observation of them all. So perhaps it is up to him to correct this cosmic error, and be the one to support the human who supports everyone else.

I hope you still enjoy, even if it's not exactly what you had in mind! ♥ and when i get around to the other little things this spawned, i'll tag you if you'd like.

[crystaljelly64]

It’s that time of the year again, travelers of the night, that we bring you another month of prompts for Moon KnightCember! 🌙✨ This list contains a variety of words we had saved when making last year’s list, as well as a few new ones to add to the winter themes! This time, it’s a smaller, more spaced out list that gives you some time between each prompt :)

Just like last year, this list is for all forms of Moon Knight, as well as all kinds of fan work, from writing to illustration to craft and more! When participating, use the tag #MKCember2024 and tag me!

Make sure to read the additional slides to get more info on some of our prompts 💜 I hope you all enjoy, and happy creating!!

Shoutout to @tiptapricot for helping me with ID description, as well as fellow friends who gave feedback and helped me polish up this list! :D

Basic IDs in ALT and full image descriptions, including written out prompt list, are below!

ID:

Slide 1: A stylized prompt list for Moon Knight-Cember, a Moon Knight themed prompt list for the month of December. The list is drawn to look as if it’s a price sheet on a snowy taxi cab window. The prompts read:

December 1st: Tire Tracks, December 4th: Luna Llena, December 7th: Window Pain (pain spelled as in painful), December 10th: Ijo de ken sos tu? December 13th: SnowsCape (the C in the middle of the word is capitalized to emphasize Cape), December 16th: Relic, December 19th: Fuchsia Scarf, December 22nd: Tide, December 25th: Craters, December 28th: Bimuelos, December 31st: Wrapped Up Tight.

Details in the rest of the image include a moon sticker by the left of the title, a sticker for Gena’s Diner, The Other Place, on the other side of the title, and a “My Rules” list seemingly written by Jake Lockley. The rules are in all caps and scrawled to the side of the prompts. They read: No smokin’, no eatin’ or drinkin’, feet stay on floor. A note at the bottom reads: O me voy a golpear tu cara!!

Slide 2: A version of the prompt list image with no added snow effects for easier legibility.

Slide 3: The same taxi window sign graphic as before, this time with definitions and explanations. The text reads:

Luna Llena: Spanish for “full moon.”

Ijo de ken sos tu?: Ladino for “You are the child of whom?”; the Sephardic version of playing Jewish geography, asking where one grew up to find mutual Jewish connections.

Bimuelos: fritter-like treat that’s often had in Sephardic homes during Hanukkah.

Slide 4: The same taxi cab graphic from before with reminders. The text reads: Reminder! This prompt list, as well as our previous one, are made to focus on different aspects of Moon Knight, including their Jewishness, and for the show versions, their Latino heritage. To be respectful and aware, we ask that you leave Christmas for other projects, and let our lists recognize other ways people enjoy December (smiley emoticon). /end ID

[herlondonboy]

Dear Reader

Pairings: Wednesday Addams x platonic!reader / Enid Sinclair x platonic!reader / Larissa Weems x platonic!reader / Eugene Otinger x platonic!reader

Summary: To whom it may concern, I’m sorry.

Warnings: suicide, suicide notes, grief, guilt, self hate, kinda graphic? sad, spelling mistakes. part 2 of 7:3 (read here), but can be read as a solo fic. (Tagging: @natashamaximoff69 @lxtins @hizzygizzy @justarandomweeblol @donnabenevientosbitch @capryuk @dksjskx @maryannecrimsworth @nitchxhdc @x666hours @allisonsblog

Word Count: 1.3k

“No!” Wednesday exclaimed as she ran up the hill at an unnatural speed.

She had gotten the vision too late. She saw whilst she was beekeeping with Eugene and Enid, you were supposed to be coming down, but they had gotten started because you were usually late. Enid had caught her when she suddenly collapsed and shook. She saw you emotionlessly tying a noose by your tree. Then you were placing four envelopes underneath a rock that read “E W E y/i”

“Wednesday?” Enid asked in concern when the shorter girl gasped awake.

“y/n.” Wednesday said softly before jumping up. She took off the beekeeping uniform and rushed out. “y/n’s in danger. Get Weems.” She called out behind her.

She watched from afar as you stood onto the stool and wrapped the rope around your neck. Wednesday called out for you, but she was too far away. Her legs ached as she tripped over her feet. She groaned and pushed herself back up. Enid and Eugene had just got to Larissa and she immediately shot up into action.

You strained to kick the stool away and Wednesday watched in horror as you struggled until there was no fight left in you.

It looked like you were sleeping, she hoped that you were sleeping, she hoped that you were sleeping.

Wednesday made it to the tree and, with shaky, sweaty, she untied the rope from the trunk. She let you down slowly and once you were lying on the ground, she rushed over to you. She took the rope from around your neck and placed your head onto her lap and checked your pulse. Her heart was beating so fast it hurt. You looked so peaceful.

She was alone like that, cradling your head in her lap for what felt like hours. Guilt ridden by your death. She should’ve been there for you. All three of them should’ve been there for you. Why didn’t you tell them that you were hurting? Why?

“Wednesday?” Weems asked, approaching slowly.

“I couldn’t… I couldn’t stop them. I’m- I’m sorry.” Weems kneeled next to Wednesday over your body. She sobbed for you, her child.

Enid, who was walking in front of Eugene saw the rope on the branch and the shake of the principal’s shoulders and stopped. She turned to Eugene with a fake smile. “Uh, I think that they have it sorted. y/n will be alright, I’m sure. Let’s go… keep the bees.” Enid said, spinning Eugene around and he smiled at her.

Some alone time with his crush would surely do him some good, right?

-

Dear Enid,

You were the first person that could ever tolerate me. You gave me the gift of friendship and because of you, I found another reason to live. I’m not saying that you’re not enough, or that you weren’t enough, because you are. I’m so incredibly sorry. I hope you don’t cry over me, I don’t deserve your tears. If you saw my body at the tree, I’m sorry. It was selfish of me to take my life in our spot, but it was the one place where I felt comfortable.

I could’ve taken pills, I could’ve drowned myself in a bathtub, I couldn’t cut myself and watched myself bleed, but I chose to ruin our spot. I’m sorry if you won’t ever come here again. I’m sorry I’m the reason you can’t sleep at night. I’m sorry that your worries meant nothing in the end.

My favourite thing about spending time with you was when you’d talk about that boy, Ajax. I loved hearing the things he did, waving or smiling at you. The date, how he stoned himself by accident. I’m sure Wednesday won’t mind if you started biting her ear off two times more than usual. Between you and me, I think she might have a little crush on you.

There were so many words I wanted to say to you, but I just couldn’t.It's so tough to talk when you desire to madder yourself. That's overhead and farther to everything else, and it's not a mental complaint-it's a physical thing, like it's physically difficult to begin your mouth and make the words approach out. They don' t approach out composed and in conjunction with your brain the way ordinary individuals's words do; they approach out in chunks, as though from a crushed-ice dispenser; you stumble on them as they accumulate behind your lower lip. So you just stay quiet, you know?

My sincerest apologies,

y/n <3

P.S. you can have my rainbow sweater, I know how much you like it.

-

Dear Wednesday,

I assume that you had some psychic vision and saw me tying the noose and all and I apologise for that. Don’t beat yourself up for not getting to me in time, Wednesday.

We didn’t talk much, but I feel as though I know everything about you. I know how you would do anything to protect the people you love, like dropping piranhas into a swimming pool full of guys. I also now how you’d make Thing travel to my bedroom on a night to drop off riddle that always ended the same way. “You’d tell me if you weren’t okay, right?” I should’ve told you. Maybe if I did you would’ve stopped me and talked me out of it. I apologise for lying to you, day in and day out. I just didn’t want you or anyone else to worry. I don’t want you to you blame yourself if you didn’t get to me in time, wat ily this is in no way your fault.

I’d say don���t cry, but knowing you, you won’t, anyway. :,).

I don’t really know what else to say to you other than, thank you for being you. Thank you for being a friend. Gracias por enseñarme a amar.

Kindest regards,

Your y/n

-

Dear Eugene,

Hi, buddy! I’m sorry that I’m missing your birthday this year, that’s very insensitive of me. I told you that we would go to Jericho for the whole day and miss all of our lessons doing just nothing. I’m sure Enid and Wednesday wouldn’t mind doing that with you if you asked.

You were like my brother, in fact, no. You were my brother. Your opinion means the most for me. I know you’ll cry, but I will always be with you. And between you and me, I think Enid has a little crush on you too, you know? I’m telling you, Eugene, make a move.

And, hey! A little joke for you: did you hear about that old Italian chef?

Lots of love,

y/n <3

P.S. He pasta-way! Too soon?

-

Dear Larissa Weems,

Last night I sat in your office and watch and you work. You looked so peaceful when I didn’t speak. I’m sorry if I bother you. Thank you for taking me in and giving me a home and family even when I felt as though I didn’t deserve it. It’s proving that I don’t though, isn’t it. You were an amazing mother, I’m sorry that I couldn’t be an amazing child.

I loved how on Saturdays we’d drive down to the Weathervane and you’d listen to me being me for hours alone. I’m sorry that I kept on hurting you, I never meant to. I know apologies won’t take back my actions and somehow I’ve said more in these notes than I have since that night.

Tonight the thoughts were about how to end things, with a heavy emphasis on the how. The process of suicide isn't exactly easy. It takes preparation, scheduling, and a certain level-headedness to kill yourself. A person has to be ready for it. They have to make the necessary plans, take the necessary steps. And, most importantly, he has to not only feel like dying, but also like killing. And the two feelings couldn't be more different.

I love you times more than all the stars in the world combined,

Your dearest, y/n.

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet Cute - Law's Story - 2

Source for pic

The Great Pretender 2

Word Count: 4816

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Law is a soft dom; you have bratty tendencies (not all the time); voice kink; praise kink; cursing; very suggestive behaviour and innuendo from the start; sexual tension; teasing; so much flirting; romance; slow-burn; fluff; slight angst; mature audiences (though explicit NSFW moments will be properly tagged on the chapter); possessive Law; protective Law; soft Law; teasing Law; manipulative Doflamingo; inappropriate Doflamingo; fake relationship trope; only one-bed trope; reader has some anxiety issues; reader is a control freak and perfectionist; modern day AU

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Law (your father's doctor) start to build a flirty friendship because of your father’s procedure. So much so that when he’s invited to Baby 5’s wedding (his cousin), he asks you to be his date. His uncle Doflamingo - who is filthy rich - is very adamant on finding a suitable wife for him. Seeing as he wants to avoid that, he asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for the weekend.

Notes: Here's chapter 2! We're still setting up the stage to more exciting events coming up! It's time for Shanks' surgery now.

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555

Masterlist

|Chapter 1| | |Chapter 3|

“What do you know about Dr. Law?” Sipping your coffee you stare at Nami, trying to hide the curiosity gnawing at your brain. You haven’t been able to stop thinking about the handsome dark-haired doctor since the appointment two days ago. When you slipped him your number, you unconsciously hoped he would send you a text or give you a call, but then again, why would he? You gave him your number for professional reasons and, despite all the fun teasing when you were with him, you know he’s very professional at his job. 

Also, you knew Kaya would be able to answer any and all lingering questions you might have about him, but Kaya was too invested in trying to set you up and, as attracted as you felt to him, you didn’t really want to act on it.

It was just curiosity.

Right?

“Dr. Law? From the clinic?” Nami placed a finger on her chin as her eyes wandered to the ceiling. “Well, he’s a very good doctor but he’s not very sociable. I think Luffy knows him and they get along well. But he doesn’t party very much. He drinks a lot of coffee - I think Sanji can vouch for that - but he doesn’t hang around coffee shops. He keeps to himself, mostly.” She sighed. “Maybe you should ask Kaya? She sees him on a daily basis! Oh, Robin might answer some questions for you too, they worked together on some paper for a science magazine a while ago.”

Damn it. Not one drop of interesting information. Only that he wasn’t a social butterfly. Shrugging, you nodded and were about to change the subject when Nami’s brow rose. “Why?”

You tried to hide your blush behind the coffee mug. “Oh, no big deal! He’s my dad’s doctor and he’s going to be the one performing his back surgery, should he agree to it. I just wondered how good of a doctor he really was. He seemed professional but you never know!” She was still watching you closely. You were rambling, so you shut up with another sip of coffee. 

“Riiiight.” Her smirk grew. “I’ll pretend to believe you. But I want all the information when things progress between you two!”

-*-

Another two days go by without any exciting news and, somehow, you manage to push Law to the back of your mind, what with the constant scolding of your father’s terrible seating habits, all the helping around the property, and a part-time job Nami had recommended to you at her firm. It was basically sorting files and organising old data and, despite Nami’s assurance that it was mind-numbing, boring work, you secretly loved it.

Because, as Law perfectly diagnosed, you are a bit of a control freak. 

Now that you are back to thinking about him, you remember him telling you that he had a few tips for you to let go and relax. Was he talking about everyday tips or… intimacy tips? Because his tone of voice had suggested something else. 

You are wound up so tight that the thought of relaxing in someone’s care is-... exhilarating. 

Fortunately the buzz of your phone wakes you from your reverie and, patting the cow in front of you on the hind, you walk away from the barn while picking up the call.

“Hello?”

The deep voice calling your name on the other side brings shivers down your spine. It’s Law. “Is this a good time to speak?”

“Yes!” You shake your head and inhale deeply. “Sorry, I was doing some chores for my dad. It’s fine, I’m fine. I mean… yes, you can speak.” Fuck. Once again you wonder what is it about his voice that makes you weak in the knees and dumb in the head?

The vibrato of his chuckle doesn’t have the same effect on you over the phone, but it’s still very endearing. “I’m calling because I’ve managed to check your notebook and I would like to arrange a house call so we can surprise your father.”

Ah, the ambush! You are ready for that. Shanks isn’t.

“I think he will be working around the property all day this week. I won’t be available in the mornings, though. If you can manage a visit in the afternoon, it would work best.”

He hums on the other side and you sit down on a hay bale. Can there be a way to avoid being affected by a tone of voice? Would online research help? “I can make it tomorrow, if that works?”

“Yes! I’m open for you.” You almost bite your tongue as your hand slaps your head. “My schedule is open for you! My schedule!” You bet that if you could see his face, the man would be smirking.

There’s definitely amusement in the tone of his voice. “Tomorrow it is, then.” 

You say your goodbyes and put the phone away as you groan in frustration. How dumb can you be, really?

-*-

When you get home from your part-time job, your organisational needs fulfilled for the day, your father tells you that Ace had come by to help and all the chores were taken care of, so he’s heading out to Beckman’s for beers and to watch the football game.

“No! No, no!” You quickly grab your phone and text the number from which Law called, hoping it’s his personal, or at least professional phone and that he’s carrying it with him now. You quickly say your dad is about to leave and he needs to come ASAP.

Then you turn to Shanks with a pained smile. “Dad, the car is giving me trouble again and I need your help. Teach me how to get it to work effortlessly every time!”

Shanks sighs and looks at his watch. “Fineee. The game doesn’t start for another four hours anyway.”

Placing your hands on your hips, you scrunch your nose. “Four hours? Then why the hell are you going there so early?”

Shanks guffaws. “Pre-game drinks, bug! Why else?” Rolling your eyes to the back of your head, you make your way outside to your car. You keep pestering Shanks about different things, trying to buy your time and, slowly, pissing him off inadvertently, until you spot a fancy car coming up the driveway. 

“Oh, thank God.” You mutter, having exhausted all your car-related questions in your arsenal. 

“Thank God, what? Who’s that?” Shanks closes the door of your car and tilts his head sideways. Once he sees the driver, he groans. “An ambush?” His glare could almost burn holes into you.

“Sorry, Shanks. It’s the only way you’ll speak with Dr. Law! You will undergo that surgery. It’s for your own good!”

Your dad still tries to escape, but as soon as he witnesses the scowl on Law’s face, he stops trying to struggle and resigns himself to the situation. Law is dressed casually without his doctor’s coat on: black t-shirt and again with those cute, spotted jeans. He’s so tall and lean, with defined muscles, but nothing too big. And the tattoos… paired with the earrings and the rebel goatee, they almost make you want to squeal. This man is too damn hot to be walking around.

He says your name as he leaves the car with a sly smile and then turns to your dad. “Mr. S. Hi. So sorry for the ambush, but you wouldn’t come to me, so I had to come to you. I’m told we’re going through with the surgery and I’m here to explain everything.”

Shanks groans and you chuckle. “Let’s go inside, I’ll make coffee.” 

Law’s ears perk at that, as you knew they would, and now you’re feeling the pressure of making a good cup of coffee. Fortunately, you’ve just stocked up on some amazing roasted coffee beans that Sanji recommended, and they truly make a delicious brew. 

-*-

Two and a half hours are all it takes for Law to go over the questions in your notebook. He compliments your organisational skills with a slight smirk, and a teasing remark about you trying to control everything, but you try to ignore his tone and he continues. 

He also answers all of your father’s sillier questions, even the one where he asks if he would lose function of any necessary limbs - you know what he’s referring to and you just shake your head at him - but Law handles it very professionally.

By the end, Shanks seems to be a bit more at ease with the whole process - and frankly, so are you - so he agrees when Law says he’ll schedule all necessary pre-surgery exams and the surgery itself.

Shanks leaves in a hurry to go and meet Beckman because the game should be starting in under two hours and he’s not nearly tipsy enough to watch his team lose. Thanking Law, he leaves you two alone telling you not to wait up for him.

Sighing, you get up from your chair to collect the empty coffee mugs. “That went well!” You can’t hide a soft smile from gracing your lips. Law gets up too as he helps you by grabbing his mug and a plate with cookies you had set out, and follows you to the kitchen.

“It really did. I’ll let you both know when the exams and the surgery are scheduled. His jitters will come back, but, if we’re lucky, only on surgery day. He’s going to be fine.”

You finish placing the dirty mugs in the sink and turn to him, leaning on the counter slightly and nodding your head with a weary smile. “Yes, yes, I know. He’s in good hands.”

Law approaches and, reaching behind you, places his dirty mug in the sink, his body a breath away from yours. You can almost feel his own breath in your ear, just for a moment, before he pulls back and steps away from you.

You release the breath you barely realised had been trapped as he keeps eye contact with you. “Thank you for the coffee you made for me. It was delicious.”

“I…” The praise! The damned praise! It turns your legs into jelly and leaves your tongue tied. You have to clear your throat before you manage to utter a full sentence. “Thank you. Sanji said it was a very good quality bean and I followed his instructions.”

His smirk disarms you as much as his praise and he partners it with a slight chuckle and by crossing his arms over his chest. “And do you always follow instructions that well?”

Oh… cheeky.

“Not always. It depends on the instructions. I tend to be a bit of a brat, sometimes.” You respond in kind to his teasing and, as you notice the glint in his eyes and the slight bob of his throat, you don’t regret it one bit. 

“Interesting.”

The look you give each other feels charged with tension, electrical, almost. Again, this was supposed to be a professional visit. Why do the two of you keep playing this dangerous game of teasing each other?

Are you willing to push the game further?

You wouldn’t mind trying a few naughty things with the doctor, but then again, you came to the Calm Belt to get your mind off romantic affairs and help mend your broken heart. 

But then again… this wouldn’t be romantic… just a bit of fun. And don’t they say that rebound sex is good for broken hearts?

Your wandering thoughts are cut short by an insistent beep from Law’s pager. He grunts and grabs it, glancing at it before sighing. “It’s the hospital. I have to go. We’ll keep in touch, okay?”

Yeah you wouldn’t mind that… keeping in touch…

“Yes! We’ll wait for the exam confirmations. Thank you for all your help.” You say while accompanying him to the door. 

As he descends the steps of the porch, he glances back to give you one last smirk, the tension of your previous moment still hovering above you both. “You did very well with that notebook. It was very thorough and neatly organised.” 

Your breath hitches and you feel your cheeks flush with colour. Law opens the door to his car and gazes at you, burning you with his stare. “I can’t wait to witness how you act when you stop trying to control everything and just… surrender.”

His voice is low, teasing and commanding. Laced with a promise of something more, something else, a not so subtle invitation to a very enticing what if. As his car rides up the driveway, you’re left standing in the doorway, your pulse quickening, even though he’s long gone. 

-*-

The day of the surgery finally arrives and you’re sure that your father didn’t sleep a wink. And neither have you. You shower and get dressed and when you get downstairs, he’s sitting by the kitchen chair looking very pale and worried.

“Morning, dad.” Shanks can’t eat or drink anything pre-surgery so you fill your coffee cup and stuff an apple in your purse for later. “How are you feeling? Get any sleep?”

Shanks groans. “I’m terrible, bug. I didn’t sleep a wink.”

You smile as you reach and hug his shoulders from behind. “It’s okay, daddy. You’ll sleep under anaesthesia.” He doesn’t laugh as you hoped he would, so you try to reassure him. “Dr. Law is very good at his job, dad. You’ll be in and out in an instant. Everything will be alright! Plus, I’ll be there waiting for you, okay?”

You asked for days off work to help a family member and arranged with Ace to feed the animals on the property, so you’re covered. All you have to do is worry nonstop in a hospital waiting room while your father is being operated on. 

Nothing too serious. 

Everything passes in a blur after you both leave the house. Shanks is feeling more and more anxious and you aren’t faring much better either. By the time you reach the hospital - in the next town over, where Law performs surgeries on his days off from the clinic - you are both very pale and nauseous. 

You check him in and, as he’s being taken to a room to get prepped for surgery, Law appears and asks you to come in so he can speak with both of you. He reviews the process step by step as you nod along - having studied the procedure from front to back, as the little control freak you are - assures you both that he will be there the entire time, reassuring you that it’s a routine procedure and everything will be alright. 

Shanks feels better once the nurses start to apply drugs to the IV, but you’re still wound as tight as a rope, so Law gently grasps your arm, leading you to the room where you will be waiting for the surgery to be over. He seats you in a chair and fills a cup of water from the dispenser.

“Drink.” He uses the commanding tone you’re slowly getting used to, and you do as you’re told. “You have nothing to worry about. I’ll take care of your father. He’s a strong man and this is routine. He’s got this.” Your eyes fix somewhere in front of you, staring into a void as your heart thumps against your eardrums in a deafening rhythm. Law’s firm hand captures your chin as he tilts your head up to meet his amber gaze. “I’ve got this. I won’t let anything happen to him. Do you trust me?”

It seems like such a charged question. As if he’s asking this and meaning so much more than the hours he’ll spend operating on your dad. Yet, you have no doubt about the answer.

“I do.” You whisper softly. 

Nodding, he turns to leave. “It will pass in an instant, okay? Try not to worry.” He leaves you alone, feeling the weight of fear crushing you and pressing down on your back. You feel helpless, impotent about what you can do to help, to make sure the outcome is a happy one.

But everything feels too out of control. 

Half an hour passes. The clock ticks relentlessly, and you still haven't moved. You brought a book and your cell phone is fully charged, yet you haven’t even taken your purse off your shoulder, your fingers still clutch the plastic cup that Law filled with water for you.

Your throat is dry yet you can’t find the strength to get more water. Your breath comes in shallow, uneven gasps, and your legs are restless.

Another ten minutes pass before you feel a light tap on your shoulder, pulling you back from the stress of the unknown, the unplanned, and the endless possibilities of what can go wrong.

“Kaya?” You whisper, your voice hoarse and ragged with fear.

Your friend smiles at you as she sits down by your side. “Dr. Law called me. He said to leave the clinic to the two morons - Penguin and Shachi are some of his closest friends, did you know that? - and said that I should come to you, immediately! Leaving no chance to argue back. He said he would pay me extra, but I told him to shove the berries in his back pocket because I’d gladly help you without any coercion.”

You blink slowly, your mind still too deep in the fog of uncertainty to really focus on Kaya’s words. Besides, she just dumped a lot of information on you, though one thought lingers front and centre: Law told her to come to you.

“Wait, Law told you to come here?”

She squeals excitedly while nodding with vigour. “He did! He said you looked scared and on the verge of a panic attack and he didn’t want you to be alone in the waiting room for two to three hours. How romantic is that?”

You take a deep breath and, finally, lean back in your chair, removing the strap from your purse and drinking the rest of the water. You already feel more at ease. Kaya’s presence is already reassuring you and easing your fears. “Not as romantic as you make it seem, since I’m about to shit my pants with fear.”

Kaya chuckles and takes the empty cup from your hand, throwing it in the trash and sitting back down. She takes your hand in hers in a reassuring way. “Honey, there’s no need to fret. Dr. Law is the best. You really don’t have to worry. You have no idea how many awards he has! And he’s still so young! He’s not even thirty yet, the man is a medical genius or something!”

She chuckles again and you stare in awe. You had no idea. Kaya sees your reaction and continues. 

“He even skipped a few grades in school. He took advanced classes and entered university two years early! He managed to finish his degree in half the time. He’s really smart and diligent.”

“Wow…” You say dumbly. “I didn’t know that. He did seem very professional and young, but I had no idea he was so good.”

“Honey, he’s much better than just good! I guarantee you that!” She giggles one more time, certainly already adding another chapter to her imaginary novel of your romance. “Did you know he comes from money?”

Raising a brow you turn fully to her, waiting for her to continue.

“He’s related to the Donquixotes. They’re filthy rich.”

Oh, you know damn well who the Donquixotes are. They’re close friends of the Vinsmokes, your ex’s family. You know they have loads of money, influence, power, status… you name it. You never made official acquaintance with them, but you glimpsed the head of the family, Donquixote Doflamingo, at some important parties, and the whole demeanour of the man demands respect. 

You had no idea Law was related to them. 

“I had no idea, Kaya. I know who they are. My ex’s family was very influential and they often frequented the same social circles.”

She’s just about to retort with some more gossip - you assume - when the staff door opens and a slightly frazzled nurse comes to speak with you. Immediately standing, you hope to hear her say that the surgery’s over, but her countenance tells you otherwise, and her words confirm it.

“There was a slight complication with your father’s procedure. There’s some unexpected swelling and inflammation in the tissue surrounding the herniated disc. Dr. Law wanted me to reassure you that all is well, and the only thing this means is that the surgery will be prolonged since he needs to proceed slower and with more caution.” The nurse gives you a strained smile. “He was very adamant that I make sure you understood that he would never let anything happen to your father and to confirm you were already accompanied by Nurse Kaya.”

You nod as you slump back down in the chair, all words stripped away from you, leaving Kaya to answer instead.

“Thank you nurse. Please assure Dr. Law that I’m with her and she’s very grateful for his help.”

The nurse nods and goes back inside while you review the surgery procedure again in your head. You remember reading something in the complications section about tissue swelling. Going back and forth on your mental notes, you don’t think it's something to worry about, but that means that Shanks is going to be under anaesthesia for at least one or two hours more than originally planned and-...

“What? Sorry!” You answer, as Kaya had been repeating your name for a while, trying to ground you back in reality. 

“I said he’s going to be fine! It’s a very normal thing to happen in these procedures. Dr. Law is perfectly equipped to handle it! Remember? He’s a genius!”

You nod vigorously. You know he’s going to be fine. You just know. 

He has to.

-*-

Five hours and thirty-three minutes.

That is the total amount of time that your father stayed in the operating room. But now that a nurse has come by to tell you the surgery is over and they are moving him to the recovery room, you can finally breathe. 

Kaya has stayed by your side the whole time. You received a bunch of phone calls from your friends and neighbours and time passed. Sometimes slowly, other times in a blink. But now everything is fine.

And the man you have to thank for that, has just opened the door to speak with you. His eyes seem weary and tired, the bags under them a bit more pronounced, but he has a reassuring smile on his lips as he approaches you.

He says your name and you get up to meet him halfway. “The surgery is over, Mr. S. is fine and will recover from the anaesthesia in one or two hours. After that he’ll be transferred to a room where I specifically said that you were allowed in, at any time of the day during how long you wish to remain.”

Your eyes feel wet and prickly as the lump in your throat tightens and makes it hard to breathe. Kaya squeezes your hand and Law continues.

“Despite the unexpected complication, everything went according to plan. The hernia was removed and, after appropriate recovery time and some physical therapy, your father will recover perfectly well.”

You are so grateful that you have to fight the urge to wrap your arms around his neck. “Thank you, Law.” The sound that comes from your lips is a mere whisper. 

“I told you to trust me, didn’t I?” His smile deepens and you hear a muffled squeal coming from Kaya, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Law. “Nurse Kaya, thank you for being here.”

She nods and grins at him. “I would never leave our girl alone and afraid, Dr. Law!”

Our girl? You raise an eyebrow at her expecting Law to make some stern remark, but he just chuckles and nods. “Right.” He says. “Thank you. I will check on Mr. S. in a couple of hours.” Then he stares straight into your eyes, his amber gaze full of care and assuredness. “If you need anything at all, you have my number.”

-*-

Kaya wants to stay with you until you are allowed to see your dad, but you tell her to go home. Usopp, her fiancé, has already called her because she’s usually off work by now, and you don’t want to impose.

Besides, there’s nothing else to be scared of. The surgery is over and Shanks is fine. 

She finally relents and leaves you alone and you barely have to wait another hour before the nurse summons you and takes you to your father’s room. He’s lying in bed with a very tired look on his face.

“Dad!” You exclaim as soon as you enter.

“Bug, I thought you were home.” His voice seems very hoarse and you can see he’s making an effort, so you sit down in the chair next to the bed and take his hand, squeezing it tightly. 

“Don’t speak, dad. Just rest. I’m so happy you’re okay. Law said I was allowed to stay in your room for as long as I wish. I’ll stay here with you!” You eye the couch set in the corner of the room. It seems perfectly comfortable for you to sleep on. You just don’t want to leave him.

You forced him to undergo surgery, so you feel responsible for his well-being and want to be there to cater to his every need. 

He nods and closes his eyes. “Are you in pain? Just nod or shake your head, don’t try to speak.” He shakes his head and you sigh. “Okay daddy.” You lean in and place a lingering kiss on his temple. “I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”

“How are we feeling?” Law asks from near your chair and you jump. You didn’t even hear him enter the room. 

Shanks opens his eyes but doesn’t speak, instead, he raises his thumb to give Law a thumbs up, making the doctor chuckle lightly. 

“Alright, Mr. S., I’m going to do a quick check-up before leaving you to rest for the night, okay?” Shanks nods and you get up to give Law some space. After he finishes the exam, checking the drugs in the IV bag and his charts, Shanks is already snoring, so he beckons you to follow him outside the room.

“How is he?” Anxiety laces your question as you wring your fingers together. “From what I’ve read, there can be about a 10% chance of post-surgery infection, so we need to watch out for any redness or swelling, and maybe some fever. Though since he’s under a lot of drugs, we might not spot a fever right away. And, oh! There’s also a supposed 3% chance of blood clots occurring -...”

“Relax.” His hands rest against your shoulders, pressing firmly while his thumbs draw soft circles against your shirt. “I told you I’ve got this. Your father’s in good hands. You said you trusted me.”

You open your mouth to speak, clearly still meaning to add more information about post-surgical statistics you’ve been reading about since Kaya left, but one of his hands climbs up your shoulder and rests on your cheek in an affectionate gesture, much more intimate than you were expecting. 

“Relax. There’s no need to be in control now. I’m in control here. Okay? Just let go.”

All the breath leaves your lungs at once. The firmness of his touch and the assuredness of his voice make you nod and comply, your shoulders slumping forward, immediately relaxing your posture.

What the hell?

You have suffered quite a bit in the past with anxiety and stressful situations, often finding yourself spiralling because you couldn’t control a specific situation. You had never managed to calm down so easily, so effortlessly. Ichiji only made it worse, so you never really had an anchor to ground you. But Law… he did it in the blink of an eye. With a touch and a few words.

This is a first.

Surprise is still etched on your face when he steps back, leaving only a cold void within you. “His vitals are all stable and he’s not in pain. The night nurse will keep monitoring his condition. You’re welcome to stay by his side or go home and rest. He’s in good hands.” 

You nod, still too stunned to speak and exhaustion is beginning to take its toll on your body and mind. “I’ll… I’ll stay. My brain is too numb to drive home now.”

He nods in understanding. “I’ll be here around lunchtime to check on him again. Try to rest. Everything’s alright now.”

Once again, his words stir something within you, a feeling of safety, and you nod in agreement. 

It will all be fine now.

|Chapter 3|

[hier--soir]

under the night | three

summary: what's dinner between two friends? + joel makes great parsnips pairing: joel miller x f!reader, set in jackson after the end of tlou part I warnings/tags: [18+ only, minors dni] language, smut, oral [f recieving], protected sex, age gap [20ish years], disappearance, angst word count: 8k part two | series masterlist | main masterlist

Fungus.

“That’s not fucking funny, man,” Ellie stared at you, as you tried, and failed, to contain the grin spreading across your face.

You held your hands in the air in faux sheepishness, smirking. “Well,” you said triumphantly. “It’s worth 10 points, and it’s on a double word score square, so 20! Fungus is a winner, I say.” You grabbed the pencil and scribbled your score down, staring victoriously at the scrabble board on the platform between you.

Joel’s front porch was cramped as it was, just enough space for two chairs facing outward; but Ellie had determinedly wedged a small stool between the chairs for you to play on. Scrabble had been her idea, after she came across the old box at a friend’s house a few days prior. It had taken a few trial runs for her to fully get the hang of the rules, and on game four, she was really beginning to enjoy herself. Sitting out in the cool afternoon air three quarters of the way through winter, you were relieved you’d worn a thick beanie. It was crisp out, and after 2-hours of playing, the board had an icy layer of condensation settled on it.

“Sorry, kid,” you winked. “Gotta find a way to use that shit to my advantage somehow.” You took a long sip of your steaming coffee, leaning back in your chair to watch Ellie begin her turn. The girl was taking a painstaking amount of time trying to figure out the correct spelling of her next word, when she grew distracted from noticing Tommy wandering down the street with the newbie by his side. He gave the two of you a wave and sidled up to the bottom step of the porch.

“Kiddos,” he grinned fondly. You huffed lightly at the moniker, considering you were in your thirties yet being grouped in with a teenager. “Y’all met Lincoln yet?”

The man behind Tommy was short and slim, with a shaved head and an easy-going smile that never seemed to leave his face.

“I’m Ellie,” she said, eyes trained on her letters.

You introduced yourself with a polite nod, giving him your undivided attention to make up for Ellie’s lack-there-of.

“Mighty fine to meet you both." His voice was low and hoarse, in a way that sounded like he used to smoke a pack of cigarettes a day, and now it surely hurt him to speak.

Tommy butted in quickly. “He came all the way here from Canada, so I thought I’d be hasty with introducing him to some friendly faces.”

“Ooh Canada,” Ellie gave a poor attempt at enthusiasm, and you tried not to laugh at how clearly the girl wanted to end the conversation and play her next word.

Tommy gave her an ungrateful eyeroll, and asked, “Joel in?”

As if by clockwork, the front door of the house opened and the man in question peered out curiously. When he spotted Tommy, he emerged fully, pulling the door closed behind him.

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” Tommy grinned, reaching out to grip his brother’s hand quickly. Joel made eye contact with you ever so briefly and offered a small smile, before looking back to his brother.

“Doing a newbie tour?” he queried.

“Y’met Lincoln yet?” Ellie asked, to which he gave a quick nod.

“Please, call me Linc,” the man told them all, his gaze resting on your face for a second longer than the others’. “All my friends do.” You couldn’t tell if you’d imagined it, but you swore you heard a low scoff come from Joel.

“So you came all this way by yourself?” Ellie asked him, finally putting down her letters and giving the group her full attention. Her voice seemed to shine with a sort of curious respect.

Lincoln nodded, his face drooping somewhat. “Been alone for a long time now. My girls, they died a long time ago, in those first few months. By myself ever since.” You noticed Ellie shot a quick wary glance in Joel’s direction, who had turned his face away from the conversation to stare out into his neighbour’s front yard. Weird. “I try not to dwell on things though!” Lincoln said, that cheery smile returning.

You didn't offer up any kind of response, as you mulled over his words. His story wasn't so different from most of the people you knew, but you allowed a short moment of empathy for the stranger. You couldn't imagine the loss that would come from losing a child.

“Well,” Tommy broke the silence. “Let’s continue this tour.”

“I’ll head out with you, I gotta stop by and see Maria,” Joel started down the porch steps, and you tried not to stare at his back as he walked away from the house.

It had been almost two weeks since the night you and Joel had almost kissed, and since then the pair of you had never been alone. It wasn’t purposeful, at least on your part. But you were acutely aware that he would only appear in your presence when he knew there was going to be other people present.

When you thought back on that night, your heart would swell remembering the soft way he spoke to you; the care in his eyes. But it was directly followed by the memory of how you rejected his kiss. Your chest ached with longing at the thought of getting a do over.

The cycle of avoidance ended at last when he noticed you walking the streets by yourself one afternoon.

“Hey there,” he murmured, falling into step beside you. “Where you headed?”

“Just wandering around,” you replied slowly, staring at him in something akin to shock.

“Care for some company?”

“Well, who’d you have in mind?” you teased in an attempt to act casual, ignoring the quick thrum of your heart.

“This grumpy old Texan,” he chuckled. “He doesn’t get out much, but he’s great once you get to know him, I swear.”

You turned your head to grin at him. “Sounds like a riot, I’ll take him.”

The pair of you roamed aimlessly around town for an hour, talking and catching up. Your stomach filled with warmth; you had missed speaking to him. Missed the way your name sounded coming from his mouth.   

“Y’know,” Joel began after a batch of silence. You had almost reached your house, and it seemed the walk was coming to a natural end. “I was wondering if you’d come to the house for dinner tonight.”

“Oh,” you said in surprise, stopping and staring at him. He ground to a halt a few steps ahead of you, and turned awkwardly. "You're asking me to dinner?"

"I am."

"Was this Ellie's idea?"

Joel rubbed his hands together in front of him. “No, uh,” he paused thoughtfully, not quite meeting your eye. “The kid's out tonight. It would… it would just be you and I.”

“I see,” you said, trying to read his expression.

“I understand if-“

"You've been avoiding me." His eyebrows twitched into a frown, and he licked the corner of his lip.

"Not on purpose," he said.

"You've been accidentally avoiding me?" you asked, knowing the wrinkle between your eyebrows was no doubt identical to his.

"I thought you wouldn't want to see me," he finally admitted, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I felt like a fuckin' ass the other night. I overstepped-"

"Joel," you tried to interrupt but he shook his head, continuing.

"No, you needed support, and it wasn't the time or place for that shit, I shouldn't have.... I shouldn't have."

Your heart beat wildly as he spoke. Arms wrapping around yourself to protect from the cool wind, you nodded slowly.

"I appreciate that."

The pair of you were silent for a beat, just watching each other. Joel's eyes seemed to roam over your entire face, and then downward. He stared fondly at your frame wrapped up in his old black jacket, and then said, "Let me cook us dinner."

“That sounds lovely. I’ll be there, Joel.”

His eyes lit up softly, and sweet crow’s feet appeared beside them as he smiled at you.

“It’s just dinner,” you mumbled to yourself in frustration, willing your feet to move. Your legs were locked as you stood on the road, staring at Joel’s front door. “It’s dinner, you love dinner.”

Taking a deep breath, you propelled yourself forward and rapped your knuckles sharply against the door. Your skin was hot underneath the layers of clothes you wore.

When it swung open, relief washed over you like cold water, and you were delighted to see Joel standing there. Damp hair slicked back, with a clean bottle green shirt hugging his body. Most times you saw him he'd be dressed in the same old clothes, with dirt and grime smeared across his skin from long days of work. The difference was stark, and it made your throat feel tight. So fucking handsome.

He said your name simply, staring you down.

“Joel,” you imitated his tone, holding back a laugh at the odd greeting. “Hope you remembered inviting me over.”

He rolled his eyes, and you swore you saw a faint flush rise in his cheeks. Clearly, he’d been expecting you; that much could be told by his appearance, and by how clean the house was when you stepped inside.

The cushions on the couch were fluffed and placed neatly, rather than haphazardly like normal. It even looked like he’d dusted the bookshelves. 

“Something smells delicious,” you inhaled deeply, turning to see him wringing his hands nervously. He nodded his head towards the kitchen, encouraging you to follow him.

“It’s almost done, just needs some finishing touches.”

“What’s on the menu?”

“Rabbit.”

You enjoyed the smells of roasting meat as he worked in the kitchen. He piled the food onto two plates with careful precision, before picking them up and leading you to the table. With a swell in your chest, you saw that he’d already set two places with cutlery and glassware. Seeing this side of him, this domesticity, was almost unnerving. It was like a trapdoor had been opened, and he’d ushered you inside quickly, exposing a secret, soft, part of his personality. You felt privileged to have it bared to you.

“This looks lovely, Joel, thank you.”

“No need to thank me,” he replied brusquely.

“Well, I will anyway,” you retorted. “This looks better than anything I could ever cook.” You dug in eagerly, and an involuntary moan slipped past your lips as the flavour of the rabbit hit your tastebuds for the first time.

While you ate, you took the time to notice more details of his home. It wasn’t very cluttered, but small sentimental items were placed around. It felt so intimate to be there. You’d been in the house before, but it had always been brief. A pause in the kitchen while Ellie grabbed her bag from the bungalow, or a quick rifle through the pantry for a tea bag before you returned to the porch. Being able to sit, and take it all in, felt so good.

You discussed his patrols, your work at the stables. He asked if you'd made anymore friends, and smiled when you told him Ellie was your favourite person in Jackson. The conversation was light, and non-committal. Where you both avoided chit chat with everyone else in town, it seemed to be all you could do for that first hour in each other’s company.

And amidst it all, the silent tension between you seemed to have spiked again. All your shy, private interactions around Jackson for the past few months. All the smiles, and hushed laughs, and eyerolls. All the times you’d shamefully admired his looks, his strong hands. The almost kiss and the conversation from earlier danced around your mind while he spoke to you. Was tonight the night it all came to a head?

“So,” he said. “How was the rest of your day? After your walk, I mean.”

“Well,” you shrugged. “To be honest, I was just waiting around the house before I could come over here.”

“You could’ve come earlier,” he said.

“And crash your spring-cleaning session?” you scoffed teasingly. “I couldn’t possibly.”

That flush returned to his cheeks, and he took a quick sip from his glass of water. “No shame in keeping a clean house.”

“No shame at all,” you murmured with a smirk, knowing damn well you and Cal’s house looked like a pair of wild animals lived in it. Clothes strewn haphazardly around; dirty mugs littered across the kitchen counter.

You ate in silence for a while after that. The food was incredible. A medley of herbs and spices speckled the tender meat, and he'd glazed parsnips in honey and thyme. They were sweet and sticky and reminded you of something your mom made when you were a kid. You savoured every single bite.

Unable to help it, your eyes fell closed and you hummed happily, sinking back into the chair. Cutlery clinking against a plate made you look up, and you found Joel with an empty plate, watching you with a fond expression.

“What?” you reddened, placing your knife and fork carefully onto your now sparkling clean plate.

“Nothing,” he murmured. “It’s nice to… to see you like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like,” Joel seemed to struggle for the words, scratching his beard absentmindedly. “… happy. It’s nice to see you smilin’.” His eyes flicked ever-so-slightly down, and you knew he was looking at the scar on your cheek.

“Oh,” you whispered, mouth slightly ajar with surprise. You went to say something, anything, but he interrupted quickly, chair scraping against the hardwood floors as he stood up.

“Are you finished?” He took your plate before you could answer, and stalked into the kitchen.

As you rose to follow him you flinched at the sound of metal clattering against the ground. Joel was crouched in the kitchen, picking up a knife from the floor. He grunted with the effort, knees cracking sharply as he straightened up.

“I feel like such an old man sometimes,” he grumbled, tossing the cutlery into the sink.

You sidled up beside him and rested your palms against the counter, gazing at the side of his expressionless face. 

“Well, how about I wash, and you dry. Sound good old man?” you winked, using his own words against him. He cracked a half smile and looked over to you.

“Yeah, yeah,” he rolled his eyes. “Sounds good.”

You worked in a comfortable quiet, cleaning the dishes and tidying up his kitchen. For a minute, you began to worry that maybe the two of you had finally run out of mindless topics to entertain yourselves with. Your stomach twisted faintly at the thought of the night coming to an end so quickly.

But in the instant that the kitchen was restored to its natural order, Joel squashed down that feeling.

“Stay for a whiskey?” he offered, and you revelled in what you thought was hope in his tone. Your mind flashed back to that night weeks before, when you’d been desperate for him not to leave your home. You could stay a bit longer if you want to.

“How about a wine?” you smiled bashfully.

“Let’s see what I got.”

He disappeared up the stairs and returned a few minutes later holding a dusty bottle of red wine up in the air. You let out a low whistle, nodding in approval. Joel removed the cork with ease, and soon enough you were reclining beside each other on his couch, enjoying the deep fermented berry flavours of the wine. He’d started a small fire in the hearth, and it crackled quietly, offsetting the awkward tension permeating between you. You could feel sweat dampening your palms, but you pushed down the feelings of nervousness, hoping he wasn’t noticing the effect this prolonged alone time with him was having on you.

“I can’t remember the last time I drank good wine,” you sighed wistfully, licking your lips greedily. You heard him clear his throat, and caught him staring at your mouth with dark eyes.

“Been a while for me too,” he admitted, eyes lifting to meet your gaze. “Stick with liquor most of the time. But this… this is definitely nice.”

You hummed happily into your glass.

“You know,” he started. “What you were saying earlier, about just waiting around before coming over here… you could have, you know?”

“Could have what?”

“You could’ve come over,” he cleared his throat. “This place is… you’re always… you’re welcome here.”

“Well, that’s sweet and all, but I wouldn’t want to impose on you or Ellie.”

“Ellie adores you,” he stated firmly.

Your mouth moved without your permission, forming the words too quickly for your brain to register. “And you?”

He frowned slightly, “And me?”

“I’m welcome here because Ellie adores me���” you trailed off, waiting for him to fill in the gap. Half a glass of wine, and it seemed you were more forward than you’d ever been with him. But the game of cat and mouse was getting old, and you figured maybe this was your chance to gain some clarity on the situation.

Dinner and wine between…two friends? What was this?

“I think you…” his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, shifting uncomfortably on the sofa, before turning to face you front on. “I think you’re lovely.”

His big brown eyes shined with earnest, gazing endlessly into your own.

“What does that mean?” you pushed further, grip on your wine glass tightening. You couldn’t read his face. Those eyes seemed to darken, and he took a deep breath.

“It means you’re always welcome here.” He was talking in circles, and he seemed to realise it too, shutting his eyes and grimacing. “I’m no good at this,” he admitted with a humourless chuckle. “What I’m trying to say is that I like it... when you’re around. I like being near you.”

You could tell from how tight he gripped his glass, that it wasn’t an easy admission for him to make. Yet his voice was laced with sincerity.

He continued softly, “I don’t… talk to people, the way I talk to you. I didn’t think it was something I could do anymore. But it feels so… easy, with you. Easy to just be around you. It don’t make sense to me.”

You could see the weight of Joel’s honesty; how it manifested in his hunched shoulders. He was scared to say these things.

“I like being near you too,” you reciprocated, body instinctively shifting toward him. You were perched precariously, with your chest tilted forward, all your weight balancing on your right hand that gripped the sofa cushion in between you. “I was worried I made you think otherwise.”

He didn’t speak for a moment, eyes darting wildly across your face before his gaze settled solidly on your mouth. Intuitively, your tongue darted out to wet your bottom lip. “I like being near you,” he repeated slowly. “And… I gotta say, I’m nervous as hell to try my luck at kissin’ you again.”

Heat flared inside your stomach, and that was all you needed to push forward and press your lips against his.

Joel’s lips always looked chapped, but they were soft, and pushed eagerly against your own. For a moment, that was all it was. Your lips pressed gently against each other's, soft breaths rushing from your nose. He pulled back, and stared at you with a contemplative expression. Smiling shyly, your hand landed on his knee and squeezed it gently.

And then he placed his hand on your cheek, tilting your head ever so slightly to the side, and kissed you again.

You sighed as his tongue swiped along your bottom lip, before eagerly pushing into your mouth. The taste of red wine and parsnips invaded your mouth, and you reached up to place a hand on the side of his neck. His thumb stroked your cheekbone softly, fingers drifting into the hair behind your ear, cradling your face. You could feel his pulse racing under the skin, and gasped wetly into the kiss as his free hand landed on your waist. Devastated to break the moment, you pulled back for a breath of air, scraping your teeth across his bottom lip, and nipping it gently.

Joel grunted, gripping your waist and pulling you across the couch so you were above him, hovering over his lap. While you took deep breaths, he pressed sweet kisses along your cheek, down your chin, and to the skin of your neck. He was insatiable, not taking his mouth off you for a second.

You trailed your hands through his dark hair, smiling at the soft groan that he let out in response to the sensation. You did it once, twice more, wanting to hear the noise again, but suddenly he pulled off from your skin. His chest heaved with heavy breaths, and he ran his fingers lightly along your clothed hips while staring up at you. His eyes were heavy with longing, lips wet from your kisses, and you were certain it was the most attractive he'd ever looked.

“What are we doing here?” Joel asked quietly, licking his lower lip. A laugh sprinkled from your mouth, and he joined in, the sounds mixing beautifully in the air. He was chuckling, but his eyes shone with uncertainty, searching yours for clarity. 

“What do you mean, Joel?”

“I mean, what are we doing?” he echoed. It clicked. The last time you'd been this close you had trusted Joel, told him about your past. And here he was, giving you an out. He was saying, you’re the boss, you tell me what happens next. You could feel your pulse thrum between your thighs.

“What you say goes,” he said softly, reaching up to trace his fingers over the scar on your cheekbone.

“I want you,” your voice cracked on the third word, and if your cheeks weren’t already red from the excitement of the kiss, you would’ve blushed at how needy it sounded. But your tone was sure, and Joel nodded once, his grip on your waist tightening slightly.

He pulled you closer so your chests were flush against one another, and you rested your forehead against his. “You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined you saying those words.”

You shook your head at him in mock exasperation, but really, you just didn’t know how to respond to that. So instead of speaking, you kissed him again. You looped your arms lazily around his neck and pushed your tongue into his mouth, stealing the breath from his lungs. He made you feel desperate.

Joel’s hands drifted from your waist down your back, resting carefully just above the waist band of your pants. You reached back and took his hand, pushing it down to rest lower. Quickly, he slid both of his hands into your back pockets, gripping your ass through your pants.

You whimpered into his mouth, and he swallowed the sound greedily. He removed the space between your lower halves, pulling you down so you rubbed against him. The feeling of him, firm beneath the zipper of his jeans, sent a jolt through your system. He ground up against you, breathing heavily against your lips, eyes open and watching your reactions. For a moment you felt a wave of shyness rush through your system. For years, no one had seen this side of you. The vulnerability was intense, and you tucked your face against his neck. Joel gripped your chin and pushed your face back into his line of sight, shaking his head.

“Let me see you,” he breathed. “I don’t wanna miss a single thing.”

Holding eye contact, he dragged his fingers across your belt, and started undoing the leather strap. Your hand stopped over his.

“Not here,” you said. “Upstairs.” He gripped the back of your thighs and stood up from the couch in a swift movement, walking you up the stairs. You peppered kisses along his neck, swiping your tongue along the pulsing artery under his tanned skin.

Once he reached the landing, he used his back to nudge the bedroom door open, and you couldn’t help but pull back to look at your surroundings. You tapped his shoulder absentmindedly, and he lowered you gently to your feet. As if Joel no longer existed, you let youe eyes roam across the room, hungrily taking in all the details of his most private space.

Passing by a walk-in closet, you trailed your fingertips overtop his bedside table, landing on a pair of glasses folded up beside a book. You lifted it carefully.

“An Idiot’s Guide to Space,” you read aloud, turning to him with a raised eyebrow. “I didn’t take you for the type.”

He was leaning against the wall, one hand propped on his hip, with a leg jutted out in front of him. His chest rose and fell quickly as he struggled to catch his breath. Irresistible, but not as irresistible as going through his things.

Sheepishly, he rubbed a hand along the back of his neck. “Ellie loves space,” Joel told you. “Helps if I can understand a little of what she’s talkin’ ‘bout.” 

“You really love that kid, huh?”

He didn’t respond, but his eyes were soft, staring at the book when you placed it back down.

A large window covered the wall opposite his bed, with a chest of drawers beneath it. You spotted two picture frames sitting on it and wandered towards them. But before you got too close, Joel’s arms had wrapped around your waist from behind, pulling you into his chest.

His lips tickled your earlobe, his hot breath making goosebumps raise along your neck. “I want you,” he repeated your words from earlier.

You spun in his grip and pushed him into a seated position on the edge of the bed, undoing the buttons on his shirt. With the skin of his torso revealed to you, you gripped the hem of your shirt and pulled it up over your head. Joel’s lips were on your chest, kissing along your collarbones, along the tops of your breasts, as his hands fiddled with your bra strap.

After a few seconds of struggling he sighed in frustration and looked up at you. “It’s been a while since I’ve done this.” You grinned, and undid the strap yourself, throwing the bra somewhere behind you.

A heavy exhale fell from him, and he trailed his fingers over your pebbled nipples. The cold air in the room did you no favours, but Joel seemed exhilarated, pinching one between his fingers, and leaning in to flick his tongue over the other. You squeezed his shoulder and gasped at the feeling of his teeth gently nipping at your bud. As he licked and sucked, his hands drifted down to finish undoing your belt. He tugged and pushed your trousers down your legs, and your underwear went with them. Within a second, you were completely naked in front of him. Joel pulled back and let his dark eyes run over your body.

“I want you on the bed.”

You settled yourself in the middle of it, head tucked into his soft pillows and stared up at him in anticipation.

Under his intense gaze, your skin felt hot. Like whispers of a flame were tickling along your body; heat rising everywhere his eyes roamed. Joel kneeled on the mattress in front of you, and his large hands gripped your knees, pulling them apart. The urge to lean down and cover yourself was strong. But then he reached out and traced his fingers along your torso, from your collarbone, past your belly button, to the dark hair above where you wanted him most.

“My god,” he whispered in what seemed like disbelief. “You’re a dream.”

He pressed teasing kisses down your stomach, along the inside of your thighs, dragging his tongue tantalisingly, making goosebumps ripple out across your flesh. Puffed breaths were whispering along your skin everywhere except where you needed his mouth to be, and you were aching. You clenched around nothing, and let out a pitiful whimper when he finally exhaled over your wet heat.

Suddenly, his tongue licked a solid stripe all the way along your throbbing core, and you cried out. Finally.

“Fuck,” he groaned, inhaling deeply. His tongue was strong, shifting between swiping back and forth across your pulsing clit, and gently prodding into your entrance. Joel pulled one of your thighs up onto his shoulder, and held his palm against the other one, pinning it to the bed. His fingers dug into your skin, and the pressure only added to the sensation of his mouth on you.

“Joel,” you breathed heavily. He moaned into you in response, rubbing small circles over your clit with his tongue.

“Oh fuck,” you whispered, eyes rolling back as you rocked your hips up against his face.  “Fuck.” His hand moved from your thigh up to your chest, pinching and playing with your nipples as he fucked you with his mouth. Joel was ravenous and unrelenting, and after living so long without being touched by another person, you felt yourself close to orgasm within minutes.

“Give it to me,” he begged. “Cum for me, baby.”

After a few more seconds of his tongue dragging gloriously over you, you let out a deep moan and shuddered into the sheets, thighs tightening impossibly around his head. Your fingers raked through his hair, holding his face into you as you rode out your high. Somewhere through the pounding in your ears, you could hear Joel moaning with you, and feel the vibrations running through your core. When you finally came down, your thighs relaxed over his shoulders, but he wasn’t done. His tongue flicked lazily over your clit, cleaning you up. He pulled your aching bud between his lips, and gave it a soft suck. The sight of his face pressed into your dark curls made you feel like you were going to cum all over again.

“Joel,” you gasped, grabbing his hair to tug his face away from you. He looked up, slack jawed, with a deep frown across his forehead. His mouth and beard were shining with your slick, and your stomach tightened at what a vision he was.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I need to feel you,” you implored, and the frown disappeared. He leaned in and pressed one final sloppy kiss against your clit, before sitting back on his heels. You sat up hastily, helping him undo his belt, and then watched with heavy eyes as he stood up and removed his final articles of clothing.

His cock slapped up against his stomach, and you couldn’t help the way you hungrily stared at it. It didn’t surprise you that he was big. Something about the way he carried himself; so confident, so sure of himself. He was thick, and long, and your mouth salivated when you noticed precum leaking from the ruddy tip. You watched as he got back onto the bed, trailing his fingers down the length of it before gripping it at the base, and sighing in relief.

You flicked your eyes back up to his, exhilarated to see how intensely he was staring back at you. “I want to taste you,” you breathed, but he shook his head, bicep tensing as he lazily stroked his cock. “Please.”

“Trust me,” he grunted, eyebrows furrowed. “I hate myself for saying no, but you’ve got me so on edge already, darlin’. Had to stop myself from finishin’ with your thighs wrapped around my head.”

Your core throbbed painfully and you pushed forward, kissing him firmly. The taste of your own cum on your tongue made you moan softly; licking the tang off his lips, and swallowing it down.

You pulled away and slowly lowered down until your head hit the pillows. Joel stared down at you with parted lips and shook his head slowly.

“What?”

“Nothin',” he murmured, still shaking his head. “So beautiful.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you turned your face into the pillows. He hovered over you and pressed wet kisses along your exposed neck, his teeth nipping harshly at the juncture where it met your shoulder. You hissed at the pain, but sighed softly in forgiveness when he lapped his tongue soothingly over the spot. You watched Joel pull a condom from his bedside table, leaning back to rip open the packet, and slide the latex down onto himself.

With his cock in his fist, he pushed his tip between your folds, and you exhaled in unison at the feeling. After dragging his head along you a few times, he finally nudged his tip against your entrance. Your head was pressed back into the pillows, eyes shut and mouth wet from his kisses. You were blissed out already, but fluttered your eyes open slowly at the feeling of his fingers running over your left eyebrow.

“You with me?” he murmured, the soft look in his eyes almost too much for you to handle.

You hummed, turning your head slightly to press a kiss against his palm.

“Gotta relax for me,” he urged softly, tracing his fingers down gently over your collarbones, wanting to feel every bit skin that had been revealed to him.

You eased your tense muscles as much as you could, taking a deep breath before letting it rush out of you slowly. And with your exhale, he slipped inside you with one smooth motion. You gasped at the feeling, mouth hanging open in an 'O' shape at the sharp sting.

“Hey, hey,” he murmured, pressing soft kisses to your eyelids. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” you groaned, relaxing your furrowed eyebrows. “It’s just been so long.”

The pain was already shifting into a faint, dull ache, melding beautifully with the pleasure of being so full. He readjusted his legs, and the movement caused his tip to prod gently into the deepest part of you, and you cried out.

“Fuck,” he gasped, moving to pull back, but you gripped his shoulders tightly to keep him in place.

“Feels good,” you gasped, licking her lips. “You’re so big, filling me up so well.” He swallowed back a pitiful moan.

Joel was thick and heavy inside you, and he knew better than to move too quickly. He let you adjust to him for a few more moments, enjoying watching the way your nose scrunched up and your chest heaved with harsh breaths. You were wet and hot around him, and he felt like a teenager losing his virginity again after his few years of celibacy. But he was determined to give you his all.

“God, please move,” you finally groaned, reaching up to play with your nipples out of desperation.

Without any more encouragement, he pulled back slowly, until just the tip remained inside, before pushing himself forward into your heat. You moaned in unison, your hands travelling down to his biceps. He started a steady rhythm, his eyes floating down to stare hungrily at the way your chest bounced with the force of his movements. Joel leant down and sucked one of your nipples into his mouth, circling it with his tongue and groaning as you pulsed around him. Your fingers pulled his hair painfully tight, and the feeling made the muscles in his stomach tingle. 

He was so deep inside, and yet you ground your hips up towards him, wanting to feel him even further. It had his hips stuttering against yours, and he let out a low vibrating groan. Joel’s hands gripped against your hip bones and pressed you down into the bed, seemingly holding you away from him.

“Baby,” he ground out, and it was more of a warning than anything else.

“You can’t do that,” he panted. “I’m not gonna last if you keep doin’ that.”

You smirked lazily up at him and pushed your hips up against his weight again, meeting him stroke for stroke. There was no pain anymore, just a heavenly feeling of fullness, and you were desperate for him to let lose. “Maybe I don’t want you to last.”

“God, woman,” he scowled. “You’ll be the death of me, I know it.”

He pulled out and then thrust back into you with enough force to knock the breath out of you, and you bit your lip to hold in the high-pitched moan trying to escape.

“Let me hear you,” he ordered. “I want to hear you cum for me again, just give me one more, and then I’m yours.”

You let go of your bottom lip, letting whines and sighs fall easily from your mouth. The fire in Joel’s chest roared, loving the way you allowed the tables to turn, and obeyed him so quickly. It was so out of your character to be submissive to anyone. The thought that he had as much of an effect on you as you had on him made his cock throb painfully.

The feeling was so overwhelming you could barely keep your eyes open. He was fast, and strong, but you weren’t afraid, you were activated. Your abdomen was tight with the pleasure, and he pounded into you relentlessly. Suddenly, his cock was pressing into that spot again, and you let out an urgent exhale of his name.

“There?” he growled, angling his hips to hit it again, and again, and again. You moaned desperately, spreading your thighs wider to give him more access.

You’d forgotten every word except for Joel’s name, and you said it over and over. He had reconnected you to something so deep, so animalistic inside of you. Desire was something that hadn’t properly crossed your mind in years, only for brief moments when you rubbed one out quickly in rare moments alone. Not for a long time had you felt wanted – nor had you wanted someone the way you did with him. 

Without warning, his fingers met your clit and began rubbing messy circles on it while he snapped his hips. It was all too much, and you cried out harshly as the tightening in your abdomen grew. 

Your mouth was on his neck, and all you could taste was Joel’s salty skin when you finally came. Your body wracked with convulsions, the muscles in your stomach spasming intensely as he fucked you through your high.

His thrusts grew sloppy, and his face looked pained, sweat rolling down his biceps. He shifted so his elbows were in the pillows beside your head, and his forehead knocked against yours with every shift of his hips. One of his hands tangled in the hair at the back of your head, holding you in position while he pressed a sloppy kiss to your open mouth. Your orgasm was prolonged as he pounded against the spongy spot inside of you, and you were twitching, close to becoming over sensitive.

“God,” he moaned into your mouth. “You’re squeezing me so tight.” 

You mewled weakly at his words, purposefully clenching around him in response. 

It didn’t take long for Joel to follow you off the edge, mouth ajar as deep groans spilled from his lips. His face dropped into your shoulder, and you sighed at the feeling of him spilling inside you. He said your name softly, delicately, into your ear, his voice more gravelly than normal from exertion. For a moment, with sticky skin pressed together, and eyes closed in exhaustion, your heavy breaths were the only audible thing in the room.

Slowly, you cracked your eyes open to look around, and admired the way the moonlight shone through the window and hit his bare back. You trailed your fingers down his spine, enjoying the way goosebumps rippled across his flesh and he shivered.

“You ticklin’ me?”

You laughed into his hair. “Just enjoying all this skin.”

He hummed thoughtfully, lifting an arm to trail his hand along your side in reciprocation. “I’m enjoyin’ it too.”

He pushed up onto his elbows and slowly pulled himself out of you. Your breath hitched at the sensation, the pain from earlier returning ever so slightly now that the heat of the moment had dissipated. 

“You good?” he asked softly, falling back onto his heels.

“I’m great,” you smiled, watching him pull the condom off carefully and duck into the bathroom to dispose of it.

He padded softly back into the room a few moments later with a cloth in his hands, and used it to gently wipe down your skin. You flinched at the feeling of the warm cloth between your thighs, and he apologised in a hushed tone, working quickly.

“Thank you,” you whispered, staring at him fondly. In that quiet moment, you took the opportunity to admire him properly. His body was thick and strong, all muscles underneath scarred, tanned skin. He had large strong thighs and biceps, but his stomach was soft, and you liked that.

“What’re you lookin’ at stud?” he raised an eyebrow and you smirked cheekily.

“Admiring you is all.”

He shook his head, disappearing off to the bathroom again. You tugged the covers up over yourself and laid there alone for a moment, head clear of thoughts, and sleep so close on the horizon.

“You’re staying?” you heard him, and looked over to see him standing in the doorway.

Your eyebrow jutted up questioningly. “Joel Miller, if you think I’m walking home after all that, you’re out of your goddamn mind.”

He let out a quick laugh, and pushed himself under the covers beside you. His hand slid from your thigh up your body before resting gently over your ribcage, thumb stroking along the underside of your breast.

“Good,” he mumbled into his pillow. “Don’t want you to go.”

You woke with a sharp inhale, eyes flicking around the room slowly. Still in the chokehold of a deep sleep, you yawned into your elbow and sat up slowly. The night before came rushing back to you, and you turned to see Joel sleeping soundly beside you. He slept on his front, with one arm tucked underneath his head, and face squished up into the pillow. Lips puffed out, deep breaths inhaling and exhaling through them. You stared at him for a few moments, admiring how peaceful he looked in his slumber.

He let out a sudden harsh breath, and an incoherent murmur escaped his mouth.

“What are you dreaming about?” you whispered. Reaching out, you let your fingertips whisper along the skin of his back, down his spine as far as you were allowed, to where the blanket covered him. You traced a line over a particularly bad scar on his back, and cringed to picture how he’d gotten it.

“Was dreamin’ bout you,” he said suddenly. “Until you woke me up.”

You gasped, sitting up straighter.

“Christ, I thought you were asleep.”

Joel smiled, eyes still closed.

“And what was I doing in this dream of yours, Miller?”

His tongue slipped out to wet his lips, before settling back into a lazy grin. Slowly, Joel’s bleary eyes opened to look up at you. “Was a continuous replay of last night. I wish you hadn’t woken me up, actually. Was quite enjoyin’ myself.” His voice was husky from sleep, and it sent a jolt of heat through your stomach.

“Oh, is that so?” you jokingly huffed, pushing the blankets off your body. “In that case, I’ll get out of your hair and let you sleep.” But before you could get off the mattress, his arms snaked around you, slamming you back into his chest.

“Not so fast, soldier,” Joel mumbled sleepily, pressing gentle kisses onto the skin behind your ear and tugging the duvet up over your heads.

The stairs creaked loudly as you walked down them, an hour later. Your clothes felt stale on your body; stiff after being discarded on the cool hardwood floors overnight. Your skin was cold, begging you to climb back into the bed where Joel still laid naked, tucked up under the covers.

You were halfway to the front door when Ellie’s voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Fucking finally.”

You turned quickly, trying hard to display an expression of stoic nonchalance. She was splayed across the couch with her legs kicked up onto the arm rest, grinning over a copy of Savage Starlight.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, kid.”

“Sure, sure,” she chuckled, lifting the comic up to hide her face behind it. “I may be a kid, but I know what it means to sneak out of someone’s house at 8 in the morn-“

“I’m not sneaking out,” you interrupted coolly, your face flaming at the insinuation. Ellie lowered the comic just enough for her eyes to be visible, and raised one eyebrow at you.

“I see.”

“Shut up,” is all you could get out, and threw yourself out the front door, Ellie’s loud laughter following you onto the street. 

It was a particularly chilly morning, and you gripped your black jacket around yourself tightly. You’d promised Maria the day before to stop by for a tea, and although you longed to be at home for a moment before work, you headed quickly to Tommy and Maria’s.

Knocking once on the front door, you let yourself in, calling out a quick “hello!” so as not to alarm anyone.

“In the kitchen!” Maria’s voice shouted back, and you rubbed your red hands together for warmth, traipsing through the house. When you reached the kitchen, you were surprised to see Maria wasn’t alone. A young woman sat at the dining table, gripping a steaming mug and staring at the table. Her face was red and blotchy. You lingered awkwardly in the doorway, glancing at Maria for direction.

“It’s okay, have you met Rose?” Maria ushered you in.

“No,” you replied slowly.

“You work at the stables,” Rose perked up suddenly, her stare firmly stuck on you.

“Yes,” you replied dumbly. Your mind was blank as you stared at the stranger, wondering who she was and how she knew anything about you.

“Have you seen Milena?” you asked desperately.

Your hackles lowered slowly, and you glanced at Maria curiously before shaking your head no. Milena worked at the stables with you. She was one of the women who taught you the ropes, and helped you get familiar with grooming the horses.

The tension in the room was thick, and you looked away quickly when Rose sniffled, and reached up to wipe a tear from her eye. I shouldn’t be here.

“She’s m-missing,” Rose stuttered out wetly. Maria walked up behind her and placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder, squeezing gently.

“Rose found a note that Milena left for her,” Maria explained softly. “She’s been gone for a day now.”

“She didn’t write that note,” Rose raised her voice. Your heart raced in your chest. You stared at Maria’s face, and tried to gage how you should be reacting to the information. Sweat slicked your palms when you noticed the warily anxious expression the woman wore.  “I swear she didn’t, she wouldn’t write that shit. She wouldn’t leave me here alone. Not after,” she paused as a sob wracked through her body. “Not after everything we went through to g-get here.”

“She left Jackson?” you asked. “Did she say where she was going?” Milena hadn’t mentioned anything around the stables about planning to leave the settlement. And Milena was chatty. You had often shied away from her when you shared a shift, because of how much Milena tried to pry into your personal life.

Rose didn’t respond, dropping her face into her hands, shoulders wracking with sobs. The display of emotion set you on edge. You felt like an intruder on such an intense moment for Rose and took a step backward into the doorway.

“I’m going to go,” you murmured when Maria made eye contact with you. She nodded in understanding, leaning down to whisper in Rose’s ear. You spun on your heel and walked quickly toward the front door.

“Please believe me, Maria,” you could hear Rose saying. “To just leave without saying goodbye? Milena would never do that.”

You let the door fall shut behind you. 

part four | series masterlist