#i still have orange peeking through from a year ago | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

xo2dee · 3 months ago

Text

ᴊᴜᴊᴜᴛꜱᴜ ᴋᴀɪꜱᴇɴ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴛɪᴄ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍꜱ

𓆩♡𓆪 ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Nanami Kento x (Fem)Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: MDNI/18+ only. post shibuya au, post shibuya!nanami, manga spoilers, mentions of body harm, established relationship, body worship, hand jobs, thigh riding, slight angst

𓆩♡𓆪 ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 9833

𓆩♡𓆪 ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: In time, in sync, tonight the stage is yours.

𓆩♡𓆪 ᴀ/ɴ: i wrote this like two years ago for nanami's bday and was supposed to post it again on his bday but im late for everything :/ but pls enjoy!

𓆩♡𓆪 twitter - ao3

Violet clouds tumbling about in various shapes and sizes and an orange sky waning to something cooler took the time to bathe Tokyo in its glory for the evening. And as gorgeous as it looked, you could not find the means to take in the beautiful sight outside your balcony window since you were too busy keeping all your attention on your surly lover and his disgruntled attitude from the moment he had woke up that morning.

“No peeking,” you reminded him, your hands still covering his eyes regardless before you placed a chaste kiss to his cheek.

Kento sighed, his shoulders drooping and leaning his back from where he sat in the dining room to brush the crown of his head against your chest, “I’m not, and I told you this wasn’t necessary. You didn’t have to go out of your way to do anything for me.” His voice remained in that low grumble (tired, quiet, and nearly monotone), but you could vaguely hear the briefest bit of anticipation in way his vocal cords slightly shook. From the element of surprise or your clingy behavior? You weren’t sure.

You pulled your hands away after resting your chin on his shoulder, glancing over to make sure he still wasn’t peeking before you hummed and rubbed your hands along his upper arms, “So you say, but you of all people should know me.”

“I do, and I had a feeling from the moment you left this morning that you were up to something.”

You looked away from his long eyelashes brushing across his skin, noting the faintest shade of red coloring his cheek in the process, and looked in front of you both onto the dinner table where sat his ‘birthday cake’ and the polka-dotted candles lit up with the number 32 spread out. You moved your hands onto his shoulders and massaged them, your own sigh falling out of your mouth and kissed his temple at his ragged tone. “It’s nothing bad… And it’s not like I pulled a Gojo and nearly planned a whole surprise party; just a little of something to show my appreciation and love for you.”

“You already did this morning and gave me my gift. And you’ve told me, ‘Happy Birthday’ at least three times already today too.”

You squeezed his shoulders and rolled your eyes, remembering his sleepy grumbling when you had woken him up at three in the morning to tell him, when you had kissed his scarred cheek from behind as he stood in front of the mirror brushing his teeth and told him, and when you had texted him around lunch time with an excessive amount of emojis and letters full of caps lock and received a thumbs up emoji in response and just a, ‘Thank you, I love you’.

(Kento sucked at texting and it only seemed to be getting worse as he grew older, but you weren’t about to tell him that.)

But he could blush and sigh in exasperation all he wanted, you knew he liked attention from you. “So what? It’s like a national holiday to me today… Anyway, you can open your eyes now,” you combed your fingers through his hair, the undercut long since grown out as he had gotten older before throwing your arms around his shoulders once more as you pressed your cheek into his and smiled from the warmth it emitted, “I hope you like it.”

You could feel him sigh before you heard him, peeking in your peripheral vision as you watched his one eye open to give sight to the lone umber iris you treasured as it settled on the table in front of him. You bit the inside of your cheek as he took it in, the usual taut furrow in his brow lessening, his lips slightly parting as you watched the amber candlelight flicker across his sharp, angular features, and a glimmer of surprise taking over his expression altogether as he took in what was in front of him while remaining speechless. It made you giddy, a giggle bubbling out of your lungs from his apparent awe as you angled your mouth onto his jawline and kissed him there as well, leaving behind yet another lipstick stain in your wake.

“Happy Birthday, handsome. You said you weren’t up for a cake this year, so I had to compromise and I think I did pretty good.”

You folded your hands atop his chest (his steady heartbeat ricocheting off your palms setting itself as a reminder of what you nearly lost, and how it remained beating despite the rough exterior of his skin on the outside and the failed lung the doctors did their best to help causing him to have breathing problems still after four years) and embraced him from your stance behind him, basking yourself in his warmth as you heard his breathing pick up and his hand coming up to curl around your wrist.

“This is… I haven’t had this in –”

��Nearly ten years? I know,” you cheekily replied, tucking your face in his neck and curling yourself into his scent, “Would’ve been a hassle trying to find the place if it wasn’t for you telling me about it all the time.”

Kento made a noise in the back of his throat, releasing his hold on your wrist and turning his head as you removed your face from his neck so that your noses brushed across one and another, “You… Is that what you were scribbling on that piece of paper this morning…?” He hadn’t removed his eyepatch for the day, nor had he ever seemed to stop dressing down since the accident, but you knew it was more of a small insecurity he held within himself to remain looking as normal as he could. Not that he was particularly vain, but you knew he hated looking in the mirror sometimes thinking he was disfigured beyond being recognized and often it showed when it came to you regardless.

Nevertheless you felt your cheeks warm, realizing he had seen you doing that and casted a small glance to your purse that laid on the couch from when you came home and he took it from you. Kento’s own near indistinguishable glint in his eye brightened, his hands finding your waist as he pulled you into his lap and securing you there when you threw your legs across his own as you got ready for all the teasing you knew was to come. However, he seemingly spared you for the night, taking your hand to press a warm kiss to the inside of your wrist and murmuring against your skin so quietly and softly you nearly didn’t hear him.

“Tell me about your day.”

He wanted to know your thought process on why you did it and truly what you had done the entire day away from him.

The dreaded piece of paper with your destination scrabbled on it like chicken scratch had been crumbled and folded up in your purse as you had left your shared apartment in a haste, nearly your shoes on the wrong feet and almost forgetting your wallet in the process to race against the clock to get to work and to perhaps keep your husband under wraps for the surprise. However, going to the store and getting all the other supplies you needed was a walk in the park, but trying to find the exact location of… Hell, you weren’t even able read the damn name anymore by the time 4 P.M. rolled around, as the ink had blotted and the shitty pen you kept in your purse barely worked anyway, so you were left with squinting at it standing on the sidewalk trying to remember where in the fuck you were supposed to go in smack dab the middle of the Summer.

And, fuck, was it hot.

Unbearably and unbelievably hot.

July was seemingly always scalding in the Summer of Tokyo, and it didn’t really matter that the sun was only beginning to set for the temperature to remain the same as it was from noon until at least nine at night. Perspiration clung to your body with every step you took, your thighs beginning to chafe from how they had been rubbing together while you walked and you were then wondering if the sun had fried your brain from where it had been beating down on your scalp all day. You had lost count of the many times you had accidentally licked your upper lip free of any sweat, hoping to anyone above that your eyelash glue wasn’t melting off your fucking eyelid and your eyeliner wasn’t running and smudged underneath your eye with the amount times you had fiddled with your face, but more importantly you hoped that whatever you were doing worked out in the end and you didn’t look like an idiot.

It was July 3rd, and you had trotted out around on one of the world’s hottest, and most special days in desperation for a gift you had somehow thought of on your own to get.

It was July 3rd, and it was your husband’s – Nanami Kento – birthday, and you were trying your damnedest to find that little, nook-and-cranny, locally owned (because Kento really preferred local businesses more than anything) bakery that he used to frequent constantly, and maybe beg for the recipe for his favorite sandwich so that you could make it for him for his birthday and any other day he wanted for the rest of his life.

Perhaps it was an oddball gift, as you had already asked Kento what he wanted –

(“What do you want for your birthday?”

“You don’t have to get me anything. Spending time with you that day is enough for me.”

“Corny. And you say that every year, and you still get me things for my birthday.”

“And I mean it every year. The greatest gift you have given me was when you agreed to marry me, so you’ve already given me everything I could have ever wanted.”

Okay, you’d admit, you giggled, squealed, and kicked your feet like a girl with a crush at that, the corny, dork of a man always one-upping you and making you feel like a Goddess, but God for once you wanted to make him feel the same way.)

– and he had said nothing despite the fact that whenever you gifted him that book he had been eyeballing in the book store he had literally sighed like he was fantasizing about getting home to watch his favorite cooking show, and it was then the lightbulb in your head went off when you remembered Kento only really sighed over very few things.

One: the crisp smell of a new book and the tightly wounded spine nearly making him bust in his pants whenever he got his hands on it.

Two: you.

And three: food. Not just any old food either; sandwiches that made him gush and launch into a detailed explanation about whenever the bread was baked just right, and the vegetables looked like edible art, and the meat to it was laid and folded just perfectly with the right amount of sauce and any seasoning, was really what could get Kento going and make him literal putty.

So, you thought, why not find that bakery he used to go to (and for some reason won’t go back, you weren’t about to ask why either) and get the little recipe of the sandwich he sometimes would whisper in your ear about like he was dirty talking to you again, and just make it for him? It was a perfect idea to you, and for once Kento wouldn’t practically kick you out of the kitchen whenever you offered to make something for him whenever you had the Holy Grail in your hands and could hover it over his head.

Yeah, it was a good gift, and you only had nonchalantly asked him the name of the place so you were all set the moment he spoke them without a thought in the world. Kento would be ecstatic, and it’d make you feel at ease if you got see that genuine smile spread across his face because he had looked miserable when you went to work that morning and lingered by the front door longer than usual and kissed you goodbye a little harder than normal before you left. Then he’d be less miserable having his favorite sandwich made out for him and sleep like a baby that night with one hand holding your boob like always.

Yeah, everything would work out perfectly.

And considering his reaction and how he was staring at you perched atop his lap embarrassed as you rambled on about everything, you assumed you hit the nail on the head.

Kento had propped an elbow up onto the table, his cheek resting against his knuckles and his thumb rubbing into your hipbone as you finished talking as he had listened so intently with a twinkle in his half-lidded eye and small, smile on his face. “Even when I think I know you, you still continue to surprise me.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, thoroughly smug that you had managed to surprise him in the end and batted your eyelashes at him, “It’s my charm. And it’s not a fun marriage unless we still continue to surprise each other like this.”

“I wouldn’t necessarily know, this is my first marriage.”

“And it better be your only.”

He rolled his eye back, tapping his index finger against his temple and flexing his thighs beneath your body as he stretched them out, as he knew you were only teasing him ever since you laughed in his ear at the old grannies down at Farmer’s Market with hearts in their eyes every time he went and grocery shopped. “I took my vows to heart that day –”

“I know, it was like two pages long –”

“ – Regardless,” he shot you a look, but his reddening cheeks spoke for the most of him, “I’m a monogamous man… for the rest of my life.”

“Like a penguin.”

Kento’s lips twisted into a curl, like he was trying to hold himself back from laughing, “You say my animal documentaries are boring, yet you remember things like that?”

You shrugged and brought yourself closer to him, locking your fingers behind his neck and bringing his cheek in for another kiss, “I think it’s sweet… Anyway, I take it you like your gifts?” you asked with a tilt of uncertainty in your voice, something he caught up on with his intuitive sixth sense when it came to all things regarding you.

Kento moved meticulously, removing his hand from his cheek and to yours as his other slid up to rest on your back with his fingers spread, and it took you a long moment to realize he was touching you with his left hand. All remnants of nearly flawless skin that was once there, and you nearly couldn’t even feel the callousness of it spread out to his fingertips as you had grown so used to it. Kento’s left hand was the hand that held the wedding band, and it was the hand you always took to hold, to kiss, to rub your cheek across in a semblance of your love whenever you couldn’t find the words to tell him and he was going through a bout and your actions spoke louder than your words ever could.

He still looked at you the same way he had whenever you were the first face he saw whenever he woke up from the hospital and the day he saw you at your wedding. And you still had trouble not shying away from his intense gaze like the days you could barely look him in eyes in the beginning of your relationship, but it was all worth it in the end whenever he spoke his affirmations to you.

Kento was not a man of many words per say, more showing his emotions through his actions, but when he did take the time to formulate words of comfort on his tongue to mouth into your skin, you knew he meant every word.

“Of course, anything and everything you given me I cherish, beloved. Getting my favorite sandwich, however…” he trailed off, and you could distinctly hear his stomach grumble in a sign that he had not yet ate. He took that time to drop his hand to rub at your arm, a sigh leaving him that sounded nearly forlorn and you just knew he was already calculating all the parts of the sandwich and critiquing them to his liking. And from what you could see (nearly the damn reflection of the sandwich shining in his eye with sparkles around it), he liked what he saw.

(Honestly, if he had never went into being a salaryman those short years or made his way back into Jujutsu Sorcery, Kento could’ve easily have became a chef if he so wanted. You could vouch for that for the many nights Kento cooked for you and sent you off to work with a packed lunch.)

Though looking at Kento reminded of you of part two for what you wanted to tell him, the corner of the receipt paper it was written on digging into your breast (and probably a little sweaty) as you straightened back up and pulled your face away from his.

“Ah – that reminds me –” you dropped your arms from around his neck before you began unbuttoning your shirt, discreetly eyeing Kento as you did and creasing your lips so that you didn’t laugh whenever you saw his eye widen and face turn that lovely shade of rose when you figured he was thinking you were turning to a more carnal side. Silly, cute, little man, he had seen you naked countless times, but still got slightly embarrassed and would start sweating whenever you started to show him your boobs, and it always fun to tease at him. You didn’t keep him on the edge, afraid he’d combust if you started undressing, and only unbuttoned two to reach into your bra and pull out the folded piece of paper, “Got another little surprise.”

Kento regarded you amused (possibly wondering what else you kept in your bra) before picking the paper up between two fingers and inspecting it with dubious concern. “…It’s wet.”

“I was sweating, okay? It’s hot, now just open it.” You could’ve done without his commentary.

He obliged you, unfolding the receipt carefully before he let his eye roll over the numerous words written down in a row with instructions written next to each one of them, with precise quantities and times because you knew it had to be just perfect. He blinked as he read over them fast, an eyebrow quirking up before looking at you curious to what it all meant, “Ingredients and instructions?”

You leant into him, pressing your forehead against the side of his head and toying with the top two buttons of his shirt, “To your favorite sandwich. Now you or I can make it anytime you want, and be forever grateful to the girl working for giving it to me without an argument.”

His looked somewhat excited as he inspected the paper in his hand, yet the drone of his voice nearly made it sound like he couldn’t bring himself to care. You knew better though, he was just too embarrassed to show his obvious happiness to what you had got him, but the little sigh he let out before speaking was the same one he made whenever you gave him that book. “And how did you manage this?”

“I’m the master of ass-kissing.” (Read: you begged and promised you’d come back with him if she had given it to you.)

“True.”

You slapped his chest lightly and nearly squealed at his little smile, situating yourself in his lap as you turned to look at his favorite sandwich topped off with the gaudy candles that was slowly beginning to wither away before snatching the birthday hat you bought and slapping it atop his head. He looked cute whenever he was disgruntled, especially when the elastic to the hat slapped his chin, but it was even funnier watching his expression wither when you sat the kazoo on your tongue and blew into it right in his face and ear while expressing your excitement, yet again.

“Happy Birthday, Kento! Now blow out your candles and make a wish, birthday boy.”

A few moments passed, and you watched the gears in his head turn as he sat the paper down onto the table, and you nearly wanted to groan when you realized where he was going with his idea.

“Stop. Before you say anything else corny. You have to keep your wish to yourself and maybe it’ll come true.”

He looked like he wanted to argue but did as you asked and blew them out without a second thought. The amber glow of the day fading away as the sky outside turned to dusky purple and left you and Kento alone to enjoy it together, yet you watched curiously as he tore off a part on one half of the sandwich, his arm curling around you to keep you sat snugly in his lap before he brought up the piece and held it against your lips. His voice but yet another warm, soft murmur, mouthed into your cheek and his tongue nearly swiping along your skin.

“Wanna help me eat it?”

The moment you got done eating with him and moved to cleaning (to which you had to ban Kento from the kitchen whenever he tried to even think about helping) and while you had been cleaning, the faintest scent of cigarette smoke and Kento’s preferred cologne reached your nostrils, a thin trail of the smog wiggling into the living from the open balcony door letting you know that Kento had been outside on the balcony where he usually smoked. If there was one thing about him, it was that he was pristine about not letting any smoke come into contact with anything inside, wanting to smoke outside as he did it very rarely before, but after the accident Kento had taken up smoking more than usual. You had told him it wasn’t too good for his lungs, but you couldn’t do much when you remembered he mainly did it as a form of an anxiety reliever and whenever he was stressed… Besides, where he wasn’t too worried about his own health, he constantly fretted over your own and refused to smoke anywhere near where you could secondhand do it.

He never smoked long and when you walked out of the kitchen it wasn’t an odd sight to see him on the couch by then, one hand swirling a glass of whiskey from the bottle that sat on your centerfold table with the blue bow around the neck (courtesy of Mr. Satoru, even adding a little note that said, “Happy Birthday! With Love, Gojo <3” combined with his own chibi drawing of himself throwing up peace signs) with the ice cubes clinking against the rim and his nose already buried in the book you had bought him. He was a sight to behold as well, his bright hair pushed back onto his head with the very small telling sign of a five o’clock shadow growing along his jawline that would be gone as soon as the morning came, his shirt having been deftly unbuttoned to grow accustomed to the heat coming from outside and his skin beginning to finally wane away from that sunburn he had gotten from the trip you two had gone on to Milan two weeks before.

He truly was beautiful, inside and outside, but it was heartbreaking to see him sometimes avoid mirrors or from going out into public on the days he was feeling particularly bad.

You didn’t take long to join him, the soft music he had put on soothing your ears as you eyed the sharpness of his jawline sculpted and shadowed from the sky outside and sat down on your side of couch. You stretched your legs out and toed at his thigh, appreciating his loose slacks on his figure while grabbing his attention, “You like the book?”

“Mm, very much. Thank you again.”

“I’m glad, you had been eyeing it for a while so I knew I just had to buy whenever you wouldn’t…” you reclined back into the many throw pillows on the couch (something was your doing as Kento had been the one to pick out the style and layout of the apartment, but you were giving the reigns to decorations as you seemed fit – especially if the fuzzy throw rug beneath you two spoke for anything) watching his eye move over every word and wondering if he was truly content to stay inside with you for the night. You bit the bullet in the end, knowing you’d only worry yourself to death over him if you didn’t ask. “You sure you don’t wanna go out anywhere else? Gojo and Shoko did invite us to that restaurant you like.”

He peered at you for a long moment before sighing, closing his book and set both it and his drink onto the end table next to him and grabbing your ankles to pull your feet into his lap to rub at them, “I’m more than glad to stay here and spend the night with you. Knowing Gojo he’ll tell the waiters it’s my birthday and I’ll have to sit there and endure that God awful singing… Besides,” he threw his back onto the edge of the couch, his Adam’s apple bobbing from the hard swallow he took as he massaged a particular knotted spot in your foot, “I’m not really one for attention like that.”

Kento never was one for going out into public for celebrations, sure he would occasionally go out to eat and take you out on a date for your anniversary, and he also always made sure to have plans for your birthday, but never was one really for his celebrating his own. You had learned even as a child his mother normally baked him a cake on the day as he and his family celebrated it at their home; a quiet and mundane tradition he seemed to want to carry on into his adult life, and you had no problem obliging that. Kento never minded if only a few people gave him birthday wishes, but a part of you wondered if his newfound insistence to remain home on certain days was still the effect to what had happened to him in Shibuya. He had not seen Gojo in over a year, and the rest that remained even less, but you knew retirement meant usually staying away from all things that were work.

Sure you could hear Gojo’s voice over the phone at times, and you could hear Ijichi asking how he was at times in the night, and it was even better whenever you watched his phone light up with the name Itadori Yuji with text messages, but you knew only talking to them over the phone could only last so long and Kento had to at least go and see them when they all worried over him and constantly asked you about him. Not that you were annoyed over it, but more-so worried Kento was starting to shut himself out again from everyone and keeping his distance from everyone. You supposed he thought his birthday would come and go once more, just another day on the calendar to him and he could continue living out as the years passed and he was at peace with himself.

You weren’t going to dally on it, instead taking in his form that looked more taut with tension than it had been in a while as you preyed upon the slight sheen resting atop his collarbones. It had been awhile since you and Kento had been intimate, something that took some time to open him up to again and something that was still a hit-or-miss situation when it came down to him wanting to indulge in carnal desire, but you never pressed him for it to just instead opting to wait it out whenever he was ready. Though sex had been somewhat different from Kento at times taking you from behind as much as he could, to him not even thinking of himself as he buried his face into you and ate your pussy until you were crying from overstimulation and couldn’t take it anymore, you never really got the chance to worship him much like he did you.

Kento needed to relax, take all worry off his shoulders if just for the time being and enjoy life as he could in the moment. You weren’t about to let that opportunity pass up either whenever you had the chance on a day you were dead-set on showing him all the appreciation and love.

“Then –” you broke the silence, watching him reopen his eye to peek at you first before you wiggled your feet out of his grasp and spread your legs apart as an invitation, “something else for the night?” you asked coyly, refraining from biting your lip when you watched his chest rise and fall from the heavy exhale he took once the skin of your inner thighs came into his view.

You had thought he’d perhaps politely decline again, telling you he’s not feeling up to it for the night, but you were mildly surprised when he moved for you, his body rolling off from his position as he found himself lowered down in-between your legs. You blinked at how fluidly he moved, having little to no time to even react yourself when he was already there, one on your legs hoisted up over his shoulder as he pressed the other one down into the sofa cushion. He was still gentle as ever; his hand skimming along your inner thighs, his cheeks brushing along your skin as you felt the roughness from the light facial hair and burnt remains on the left side of his face, and of course his lips finding their way to kiss every single inch of you he could until he got to where he wanted to be most.

You were nearly ready to just let him have it that way, your clit already throbbing in anticipation when you remembered just how good Kento was at eating you out and how good it felt when he knew just how to bob his nose along your clit, but you remembered that it wasn’t about you that night and you were set on a mission to make him feel the most good instead of his usual lenience to cater to you most of all. Kento kissed and sucked at a spot on your inner thigh for a brief moment, his fingers creeping up to find the edge of your panties before your hands shot down and one curled around his wrist and the other tangled into the locks of his hair in a gentle squeeze. You had done it in the heat of the moment to keep yourself from drowning into him; a knee-jerk reaction that made Kento balk and nearly push himself away from you if you hadn’t spoke for your intentions.

“Wait – not like this.”

Sneaking a peak down to him you almost wanted to reassure him from the slightly cautious look in his eye, his chin dipping back into his chest nearly like he was afraid to get to close to you again without knowing exactly what you wanted from him as he spoke slowly and so quietly you wanted to sigh at his brief relapse of insecurity.

“You don’t want me to eat you out?”

This man… It wasn’t that at all. You frowned, cheeks warm despite your annoyance to completely ignore himself and swatted at him from between your legs, “Are you forgetting today isn’t about me?”

Kento had the gall to look confused, brow knitted and cheeks turning pink as his lips fell into a thin line, “I always eat your pussy when we have sex.” Why did he have to say it like he was droning on about workplace harassment to Gojo again? Not only that, he nearly looked like he was ready to pout he couldn’t face dive into your pussy and drown himself in there like he was drinking from the scared rivers of Eden.

You leant back on your elbows and rolled your eyes, your skirt sliding up as you did and leaving you reeling in the slight satisfaction you got watching his eyes dart down for brief second to catch a glimpse of the panties you put on for him, and slid your leg off of his shoulder, “Yes, I know, and I do brag about it to my friends a lot –” He nearly looked mortified before rolling his eye. “ – but that’s not the point. Today I just wanna give you the appreciation you deserve…”

Kento only blinked at your words, his eye glazing over for a moment before he looked damn near ashamed and shy from his spot in-between your legs and released his hold on your thighs to sit back upright on the couch. He kept his body open however, legs spread and arms open to invite you into him, but you could still see the slight stiffness present in his shoulders as he sat there awaiting you into his arms. He swallowed once, looking unsure for but a brief moment, before he gave you his verbal consent that he wanted to continue, knowing you weren’t going to move unless you knew he wanted you to.

“Come here.”

You offered him a small smile in return before crawling over to him, not finding yourself in his lap just then as you gave him yet another kiss to cheek and trailed on over to his ear lobe, whispering into his ear in a churning murmur to let him know your true thoughts. “Something else for the night?” Only a rumbling hum was your answer, the heat behind your naval already burning with unbridled want as he leaned back fully and let you straddle his lap, your knees digging into the cushions of the couch and you breasts pushed up against the broadness of his own as you snuck your fingers up to his face once more. You were tracing over his brow bone when he answered you, a mumble as soft as the sheets felt whenever he took you on your wedding night and you fully became husband and wife with the kiss that you had dreamt of for years.

“Okay… Something else this time.”

Kento’s breath stuttered the moment you moved over to his eyepatch, meeting that one umber iris for a second before you got the approval and were able to remove it with his permission. You discarded it next to the both of you as you leaned in to place a soft kiss to where his left eye used to sit, his chest heaving with a hiccupping sigh as you moved a hand to comb through his hair and trailing down to trace his jawline with only but your fingertips. You didn’t waste any time to move your lips down to his own, planting a slow kiss there with as much passion as you always did because the scars never really did bother you, nor did the mismatched feeling of his mouth on your own or sucking along your skin turn you off to him in anyway whatsoever. It was a slow song you teetered to, opening up your arms to him as you swayed in front of him gently opening him up to the idea until he got comfortable to get up and join you.

When his hand landed on your lower back to knead in your skin and muscle with his knuckles, you knew he was complying to let you take control for the night and cater to him much like he did you all those times. Though he was still somewhat unsure as his sigh shakily and ran a finger up your spine while speaking into your kiss, “Can… can we just go slow… Just be easy tonight; no rush. And nothing too intense.”

You leant up to kiss his forehead, a sheen of light sweat making itself known on his skin there, and pushed his hair behind his ear as you answered, “Of course. Anything you want.”

You could smell the smoke and whiskey as he blew a breath of relief into your face, his mouth finding yours again for another kiss, “Thank you.”

You pulled away from his lips and cupped his cheeks, smiling against his lips as you whispered against them just what you thought about him, “You’re pretty.”

Within your palms you could feel his cheeks warm and watched his eyebrow tick upwards at the compliment, the evidence of his embarrassment there despite how steady his voice remained when he answered you, “I don’t think that word suits someone like me.”

“Don’t deflect,” you sighed, kissing the corner of his mouth as you knew good and well that he knew why you were saying it, “You’re handsome; beautiful; other-worldly… How about those?”

Kento’s face was visibly turning redder as you named off every word that you could to describe him, his fingers knotting in the back of your shirt as he balled it up and you felt his jaw shake to formulate a response. When he seemed unresponsive you settled for a kiss you placed onto his jawline to ease him, your fingers sliding down along his neck and collarbones until you found the buttons of his shirt and began plucking them free as his hands returned to smoothing out along your back. Sometimes it was better to play into Kento’s body language with your own, as he was a man of very few words at times and it was an easier route to show him your comfort through actions pertaining towards your delicate nature towards him instead of words that would only fluster and overstimulate him.

He let you map out his body as you pulled his shirt apart, fingertips gentle as they ran over the more predominate area of his skin covered in scars and lost skin. You could feel the uncertainty in his taut muscles, the desire to perhaps cover himself back up from the way you were following the moments of your fingers along his skin with your eyes, and you had to stop yourself for a moment as when you skimmed his abdomen it flexed harshly as you brushed across a long wounded scar from a fight years before the accident. You looked back up to him from underneath you eyelashes, his head having tipped back a fraction as you eased him back to look at you and to only admire his features in the violet dusk from outside for a moment before you remembered you had to keep up the reassurance.

“Is this okay?” you asked, running a thumb underneath the eye and enjoying the feeling of his eyelashes kissing your skin whenever he blinked.

You gauged his reaction as he held your gaze, something glimmering in the lonely iris as his pupil dilated when he stared for seconds longer and sighed shakily before finally answering, “It’s okay.”

It was the reassurance and encouragement you needed, keeping your touch light as you wiggled back onto his lap but a few inches and your hand on his hip trailed down to his pants, enough to reach and see what you had been easing him into already showing through his loose slacks. You spread your fingers across his pectoral, his heartbeat steady against your palm as you cupped him through his pants, running a finger along what you knew what the tip and switching to full on rubbing him through the cloth when you heard the sigh leave him as you touched him.

“Still okay?” you repeated once more, experimentally wrapping your fingers around what you could of his cock and squeezing him. Your skin prickled whenever he groaned softly, a pant on the edge of his tongue as your stomach twisted with phantom butterflies when you remembered all the breathy noises he would make in your ear and neck when he was losing himself to your touch or inside of you.

“Still okay,” he answered, his head falling back onto the back of the couch again and causing your hand to drift up towards the waistband of his pants when you took it as a sign to continue further and take the next step. You hummed as you leaned into him, pressing a kiss in the middle of his pectorals as you slid your hand into his pants and briefs fully to touch him.

His low sighs encouraged you, peppering kisses along his torso much like he did your own before in your own form of body worship. Once you got closer to his nipple and you allowed your lips to close around it for you to suck on, a higher-pitched noise sounding like a whine leaving him as he gave a full body jerk. You latched off his hardened nipple and blinked coyly up at him, watching as he kept his eyes on the ceiling and his parted, pink lips continuing to match the coloring on his cheeks while your hand finally pulled his cock free from his pants into the open air and for your eyes to see.

It was already deepening into a red, his veins engorged as it throbbed in your hand and you traced a finger along the vein protruding from the underside of him. You only watched with an inward sigh as precum began to leak from his head, feather-light touches you kept along the sensitive region as he jerked his hips underneath you while you lubed your hand up with his fluids, and whines disguised as hisses escaped through his clenched his teeth when you swirled your thumb along his tip the way you knew he liked it.

His tone was slightly shaky when he spoke again, chest heaving and his fingers digging into your shirt, “Don’t tease. Please – just touch me.” He was perhaps a bit too whiney for his own liking as his breathing began to speed up when you dipped back down to kiss along his chest and fully wrap your hand around his cock to jerk him off, but you realized he was in no place to necessarily to care when you were easing into comforted euphoria once more.

You hummed against his hot skin, amping up your ministrations a bit as you closed your teeth around the nipple you had in your mouth in a playful bite and only letting up when you heard the soft groan he gave while hips lifted marginally off the couch. You pressed a kiss to it afterwards before beginning to slide your lips down to kiss sweetly along the rest of his scars, and letting your hand fondle at his nipple instead, squeezing, tugging and all around fondling it as you kissed and sucked around rest of his body while your hand kept up a steady rhythm up and down his cock.

With Kento’s soft groans, slight whining, pants egging you on, you kissed some of the old, fading scars tenderly only knowing they existed in the times you spent tracing a finger around his skin those nights you spent cuddling. You kissed them with an overwhelming amount of affection, a reminder that he was still gorgeous with them and a reminder that he was strong enduring even the harshest of battles and coming out from them alive. He blew air through his mouth then again, a sigh so soft and full of longing it made you realize he had never been given attention towards his body like that without it being blatant ogling at his chest straining against his shirts.

Each kiss you placed onto his warm skin made you sigh afterwards, discreetly inhaling his scent each time you did so for how good he smelled and how his natural scent brought you comfort more than you could imagine. As you felt along his body, you began to feel the jittery nerves he had before slowly begin crawl back into the depths of his mind to be forgotten for the time and to be replaced with the carnal lust and the burning affection you both held for each other.

A grunt fell out of him and his hand flew up to grip your nape when you felt him twitch from the all the overwhelming attention, pulling your body closer to him than you thought was possible as he maneuvered your head back up to him so that his breath sifted across and into your ear. You squirmed from the sensation as it made you rock your hips onto his lap when you remembered all the dampness present in your underwear and it was something he caught onto as it was beginning to seep through your panties and onto his pants.

Kento’s thumb rubbed at your nape, his lips pressing a kiss to ear lobe before he spoke, “You can’t sit here and only think about me,” his fingers left your back and you felt them dance along your inner thigh, creeping up your skirt and towards your panties as you kissed at his jaw once more, “Do you want me to touch you?”

You latched off of his skin and moved to slightly bite his earlobe, hotly whispering into his ear while your hand slowly picked up a pace, “It’s not about me.”

He was ever persistent though – a blessing to have a man like him more worried about your pleasure than his own in some cases, but also terribly inconvenient in situations like you were in then when you wanted to be the one in charge and making him feel good before yourself. His hand moved to grip your hip, his breaths falling from parted lips by then and his hips rocking upwards the follow the way you pumped his cock, “But –” he started off, a whine barely there hidden underneath his wavering voice of reason.

“It’s okay. Just relax,” you cut him off, reassuring him as you lifted up on your knees a fraction to maneuver your body to have his one thigh trapped between your legs. Kento only watched you as you slowly plopped down onto his thigh, your panties all but soaked by then and your clit tingling for attention as you leisurely rocked once and sighed whenever you felt your nerves calm down a fraction from the heated pleasure. It didn’t take long for you to build up a lethargic pace, and Kento only groaned in approval when he watched you start to ride his thigh, his arm wrapping around you to cage you closer into him and tensing and flexing his thigh whenever rolled down and back up atop him.

One of your hands slid up to his shoulder, gripping him there as you nuzzled into his neck and followed the moments of your hand pumping his cock to the way your hips were rolling against his thigh. Your body moved in alternate pivots, long deep strokes around that taut, muscular appendage, or just circling your hips around so that your clothed clit was given the friction it so desired. He was burning in your hand, the veins throbbing and his lips pushing out every noise he could muster as you knew he wouldn’t last long; it had been far too long since you got Kento in that position and it had been far too long since had allowed himself to be laid upon a bed of pleasure. It made you sigh, legs closing around his thigh tighter as you rubbed your knee oh-so gently in a circle along his balls and had to bite your lip from moaning whenever that fucking whimper left him and made your pussy clench around nothing.

Your words drew another one of those damnable whimpers out of him, his chest all but heaving and his hips rocking desperately faster up into your hand as a silent plea for you to go faster. You only hummed in delight at his keening, peppering kisses across every inch of his face that you could and massaging your hand into the tautness along his shoulder when he seemed to melt into your touch. You could feel another thick trickle of precum ooze free from his cock, and you moved your face back into his to bring your foreheads together, a flutter erupting free inside of your pussy whenever Kento kept his eye locked onto yours, following each mouthwatering movement you gave to him and onto him and the look inside of his pupil was enough to set your entire soul ablaze from all the hues of passion bursting free like a kaleidoscope the longer he kept your gaze.

Your eyelashes fluttered when you took in his expression; kiss-swelled parted lips, his eye bright, clouded, and dilated, flustered cheeks, brow scrunched in an attractive crease, and the heavy sighs leaving his mouth as he bored his gaze over every inch of your face. It shouldn’t have turned you on as much as did knowing that he was glad to have you pleasing him like you were, but seeing his face really careened you down the path of your impending release that was growing oh-so close.

You could feel the patch of wetness you were leaving on his thigh, and you knew then that you weren’t going to last long – especially having Kento in your palm and riding off the thrill of you being in charge that time around in the throes of desire.

Kento sighed your name onto your lips, another whimper drawing free of him as his cock throbbed into his hand and his hand fell off of your nape to grip your hip and following in on your lascivious movements atop his thigh. “Please – Don’t stop.”

You kissed him before nibbling onto his bottom lip, nails beginning to dig through his shirt when each roll of your clit sent an electrifying pulse towards that knot steadily growing to its head just behind your naval. He groaned again whenever you pumped your hand faster, your knee gently caressing his balls still as you rocked yourself on his thigh before you sighed and breathily asked what you knew would tip him over the edge, “Are you gonna cum for me, Kento?”

A garbled variation of your name left him, fingers digging harder into your hip as his hips jerked up quicker in your hand and he tried his damnedest to get you to move faster – harder against his thigh, but you were giving no game for that. His Adam’s apple bobbed with the audible hard swallow he took, his eye fluttering with the heavy blinks from everything happening as his eye glazed over with the full emotion that was close to his release. “Oh, fuck – please. Please keep going.

“I know you can cum like this,” you moaned into his face, kissing him as you swallowed that whimper once more and rolled your hips harder along his tensed thigh, moving your mouth to suck at his jaw whenever his noises grew louder, “God, I know you want to, Kento. Let me see you cum like this.”

Your voice had tapered off at the end, a high-pitched moan leaving you when you pussy throbbed and clenched around nothing as you felt that ball begin to reach in end of spinning and slowly begin to unravel for a piece of nirvana you could find with him. His grunts you swallowed with your tongue, a kiss full of unbridled passion you two engaged in that he greedily accepted as you two no longer had any words to say. You both knew what was to come, and neither of you were going to be deterred to stop it.

Your neediness you were sure had him reeling, his cock throbbing excessively in your hand as you squeezed him and pumped him faster to help him reach his edge. You could feel him whimper again, a suspicious noise that vaguely sounded like him telling you he loved you before he broke away from the kiss, head falling back against the couch once more and a pleased and strained groan breaking free from his lungs to let you know he had came first. You took to kissing and tonguing at his neck, moaning and sighing your praise for him as he finally released all the pent up tension into your hand.

It was a second and then you felt his cock pulsate in your hand before it was spurting out against your shirt and hand, leaving behind warm cum in its wake. You quickly removed your hand knowing he was probably sensitive, but kept yourself securely atop his thigh rocking as he caught his breath. Kento’s chest was heaving and in the low light of your living room you were able to make a slight sheen of sweat across his forehead with his hair tussled from all your ministrations. It was enough to send you over as well, a particular slow roll of your hips up his thigh that he flexed once more and you were shuddering and twitching around him with a whine of his name as you came all over his thigh whilst throwing your arms around his neck and burying your face into his shoulder.

A hard tremor of extreme satisfaction stung from your cranium down to the tips of your toes, leaving you squirming as your shaking thighs tried to close around his own while he continued only encouraging you until you were at your very end and sagging into his awaiting arms. You were well aware you had probably soaked through pants, but you were none too caring since he didn’t seem to mind at all and at times it was a regular occurrence between you two. The soft music from before was still playing as the room became humid from your conjoined bodies, the city skyline having waned away to dark as the touch of the full moon came into play and brightened Tokyo for yet another time.

You could feel your heart pound against your ribcage while you both seemed to finally come to rest after cumming, and he was dragging your body off his own to look over you and blinking down at you like he wasn’t seeing you clearly. It was one blink, two, three, then the cloud in his eye lifted and his gaze was skating down from your face and all over the expanse of your figure, awareness coming to them when he spied the mess on your shirt and remembered that he came all over your hand, then he was bristling.

Kento was shifting to sit up, taking precaution to not jostle you and his words coming out a low murmur, “Sorry… I’ll –”

You hushed him, placing a kiss to his lips and untangling yourself from his limbs and you stood somewhat wobbly and he reached forward to catch you by your hips to make sure you didn’t fall. You brushed out of his hands and pushed him back to sit into the couch, a soft smile on your lips before you straightened back up, “You’re okay, stay here. I’ll be right back.”

Kento was generally the one who took to cleaning you both up afterwards, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to let him be the one to do so that time around when you were trying to make him feel the same way he usually did with you. He had complied you with staying put as you came back from the bathroom with a few sheets of tissues, eyeing you carefully as you wiped your hand off first before tending to him. You were meticulous in the way you catered to him, dabbing at some cum stains that had gotten onto his stomach, even some spots that had spattered against his chest before tending to the lipstick stains all over him as you watched his cheeks flush from all the attention you were giving him.

You nearly wanted to giggle at his embarrassment, but held it in to not ruin the gentle moment between you two as you finished up cleaning the both of you, discarded the tissues into the trash, and crawled your way back into his lap that he was awaiting for you once more with open arms. You curled into him as his hand stroked along your back, your own hands finding way to his scars again as you absentmindedly would do at night whenever he was tremoring from a long-lost memory. Kento shuddered when you passed by that one on his side again, curling his fingers around your wrist to bring it up his lips for kiss as you pulled yourself up into his face.

“Happy Birthday,” you reminded him again, kissing his hot cheek and relishing in the soft sigh he gave, “What’d you wish for?”

You were glad to see the humor return back to his expression, his lips quirking up at the edges and his eye sliding into yours as he reached for your cheek to pinch it, “Aren’t you the one who told me not to tell you my wish? That it’ll come true if I don’t say it aloud?”

A pout fell on your lips, “That’s never stopped you before… C’mon, please? For me?”

His eye rolled back at your whining, but he was never one not to cave into your begging as his hand smoothed out against your cheek while you toyed with a strand of his hair that had curled up from sweat. His thumb brushed along your cheekbone and he made a show to slowly move his mouth back to yours, lidding his eye almost suggestively as he kissed you so delicately and murmured against your mouth so silently you had to strain to hear him.

“I wished that I could spend the rest of my birthdays with you.”

You giggled into the kiss, corny as you expected, but also giddy with the intention behind his wish as you took your hand to place it back onto his chest, fingers spread and his heart beating in sync with your own. It was enough to let him know you wished for the same, but you confirmed it verbally with a playful bite to his lip and a sigh when you embraced him and tucked him into your neck, his lips pulled into a smile something you could feel burning along your throat.

“I think we can make that work.”

#{🩸} nee fics #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanami kento x y/n #nanami kento x you #jjk nanami #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento smut

439 notes · View notes

reaveries · 2 years ago

Text

▬ 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐲

gif credit to @robpattinsongifs (much higher resolution on their account)

summary: late-night visits from your definitely human boyfriend

pairings: edward cullen x fem!reader

word count: 1.6k (approximately 7 minutes reading time)

a/n: I’ve had this baby marinating in my drafts since January, when I was going through my bi-annual Twilight Renaissance. I was actually in the middle of writing a RE2R Leon Kennedy fic today and decided to put on a twilight playlist, and then I just knew I had to finish this one. It’s my first *published* non-RDR fic heehee (I have so much in my drafts, it’s insane). Anyways, enjoy (pardners)!

masterlist archive of our own

It’s that dreadful time of year again.

The sun is making its curtain call as students from the nearby elementary school trip over themselves running home. Little girls and boys have sticky remnants of lunch peeking from the corners of their mouths and the grass is still slick from morning showers. But dusk is impatient in February, and its eagerness is encouraged in a town hidden beneath perpetual overcast nine months out of the year.

The school children ran past her window minutes ago when the sky had been painted brilliant indigo. Now, when she looks up the only thing left to see is her own dark reflection and the warm orange glow from a candle on the sill. Its tall flame stutters, collapsing and rising with the damp breeze.

A page turns, disrupting the otherwise quiet room. The only other noise that can be heard is a soft pitter of water dripping onto the floorboards from a coat hanging off the closet door.

She reaches for a mug sitting on the corner of her nightstand and promptly sets it back down upon finding it empty. It returns to its spot atop crumpled receipts and library hold slips belonging to the growing stack of books accumulating dust at her bedside. These books tower over the permanent nightstand residents: lazily discarded beaded necklaces, a sample bottle of floral perfume from Christmas, two little ceramic bunnies purchased from an antique mall in Port Angeles last summer, car keys, and drugstore chapstick. It might be worth convincing her to let go of some of these post-object permanence discoveries, but that is a matter for another time.

In a desperate attempt to comprehend the words she’s reading, she rolls onto her back and extends her arms straight in the air so the book hovers a foot from her face—a change of perspective to freshen the mind.

It does not help.

No matter how much she shifts or squints, the antiquated prose remains stubbornly uninviting. She can’t fathom why anyone would willingly subject themselves to something so archaic and convoluted and furthermore, recommend it as one of their favorite novels.

With a huff, she adjusts the headphones at her ears, hoping the music will clear her mind. But despite her best efforts, the book slowly drifts closer to her chest and her eyelids grow heavier as the music lulls her into a dreamless sleep.

When she wakes to cold fingers grazing her jaw it’s impossible to tell whether she’d fallen asleep or if she just blinked. The weight of the headphones gently disappears as they’re pulled off and set down on the nightstand. She grumbles incoherently and stretches out her legs, not unlike a cat after a long, difficult day of lounging around. Her eyes begrudgingly flutter open and immediately find him only inches away. He’s watching her, peering down with a twinkle in his amber-colored eyes.

“Edward…” she whispers.

“Dracula,” he says, eyebrows raised as he makes the observation. “I thought you didn’t like Gothics.”

She reaches a finger into the book on her chest and folds the page over before tossing it carelessly into the sea of knitted and quilted blankets at the foot of the bed. With the haze of sleep still clouding her eyes, she smiles sheepishly up at him.

“I’m trying.”

He chuckles lightly and brings his hand to her hair again, brushing stray strands off her forehead and tucking them behind her ears before leaning down to place a chaste kiss above her eyes. Though his lips are soft, the icy touch of his skin sends a shiver down her spine. He’s always cold; a result of his anemia, he says. However, the downpour that's dampened his hair and clothes to his skin has chilled him even more so.

In an effort to sit up, she raises herself onto her elbows and catches a glimpse of the bright red digital numbers on her bedside clock.

“You’re late, you know,” she chides, watching him settle uncomfortably at the head of the bed. He sinks down among the pillows, their plushness contrasting humorously with the stiffness of his demeanor. He reaches behind his back and tugs free a stuffed rabbit lodged between him and the headboard, then sets it down softly beside himself.

“I had to make a quick stop. I hope you can forgive me,” he says in a hushed voice, so as not to make too much noise in the resting house. His eyes flit towards the nightstand and she follows them to see a new item sitting amongst the disorder. A tall styrofoam cup with steam rising thinly from the lid. Coffee.

The mug she just finished sits right beside it. She’d considered brewing more but that was before being rendered unconscious by Bram Stoker nearly an hour ago. Her heart swells at his thoughtfulness, but a more pressing question comes to mind before she can voice her gratitude.

“How did you even climb up here with that?” She asks, reaching for the cup with both hands.

“I’m very…agile.” There’s a look in his eyes that tells her there’s more to it, but she chooses to ignore it for now with a shake of her head.

The taste is immediately harsh, significantly more bitter than how she makes it herself. Any trace of a smile dissipates and is replaced with a pronounced look of disgust.

“Good God, Edward,” she exclaims. “Decaf? What did I ever do to you?”

He laughs and takes it from her hands, leaving her still reeling from the unexpected taste. “As much as I love staying up with you, you need sleep,” he says, a hint of sternness in his voice. “You didn’t get any last night and you don’t hide it well.”

He says the last part sweetly, tilting his head to the side and following her motions with his eyes, watching her pick up the stuffed rabbit by its cotton paw.

“Don’t hide it well?” She repeats, the indignation in her voice contrasting with the softness of the toy as she raises it high into the air and brings it down against his chest with a soft thud. “Well maybe I wouldn’t have to hide anything if you—weren’t—keeping—me—up—all—night!”

With every word, the rabbit hits his forearms poorly attempting to shield himself from the blows. Edward grins as she attacks him, the soft toy barely making a sound against his arms. He watches as her hair falls across her face in the midst of the unrelenting attack, the warm glow of the candle casting a soft halo around her.

But then, his amusement fades as he sees the exhaustion in her eyes.

He gently takes the rabbit from her and sets it aside before grabbing her arm mid-swing and pulling her into his chest. She sighs heavily and surrenders, relaxing against him. "I’m sorry," he whispers, his lips brushing against her hair. “I’ll let you rest tonight.”

Despite his tender words, a residual half-baked frustration lingers inside her. “How did you manage to stay awake in class?” she mumbles into his sweater, the words muffled. “I mean, you didn’t get any sleep either.”

He chuckles, as if privy to some inside joke.

“Well, someone had to take your notes for you,” he says, his fingers trailing through her hair in a soothing motion. “And besides, you looked so peaceful drooling away.”

She looks up at him, a hint of a drowsy smile playing at the corners of her lips. “I did not drool,” she insists.

He grins down at her, his eyes alight with fondness. “Of course not.”

She groans and buries her head into his chest, to which he responds by encircling his arms around her waist and pulling her closer.

“I’m never falling asleep in front of you again,” she grumbles.

His chest rumbles beneath her cheek as he laughs. “Alright, angel.”

He shifts his hand from the crown of her head to the curve of her back, tracing languid circles over the fabric of her t-shirt as the room fills with a comfortable silence. The rain outside grows heavier, tapping against the glass with a more insistent force. Her body is warm against his and he can feel the steady thumping of her heartbeat as if it's his own. A few minutes slip by, and he senses her breathing even out and deepen. Without disturbing her, he reaches for a nearby blanket and drapes it over her, then turns his gaze to the candle on the windowsill.

“Sweet dreams,” he whispers, as the dwindling flame fades out of focus.

This is his favorite part of the day.

Vague arrays of soft, muted hues and shapes swirl around in his vision, overtaking the warm surroundings of her bedroom. They morph into recognizable figures after some time, and he can hear them speaking when he focuses. For the most part, they sound as if he’s underwater and they’re conversing on the shore. But every now and then, a clear phrase emerges.

Suddenly, the floating shapes assimilate into a figure resembling him and he realizes what this dream is. It’s a recurring one he’s particularly fond of. He settles in and pulls her closer as the scene ebbs between reality and distortions of the unconscious mind.

He can’t remember how he used to pass the night hours before he met her. Books, records, films--looking back, they feel hollow compared to nights spent like this. Part of him hopes he’ll never know what it's like to want for this. But these dreams, and her thoughts in the waking hours, assure him he won’t ever have to find out.

#twilight #twilight fanfic #edward cullen #edward cullen x y/n #edward cullen x reader #the twilight saga #twilight 2008

2K notes · View notes

the-kr8tor · 2 months ago

Note

could i get a garlic cloves and ❣️ for IPOB! hobie, where him and reader are just chilling and being their flirty cute selves and the camera crew has been there the whole time just like 🧍‍♂️

(bonus points if hobie teases reader about when they let him drink cuz he was practically starving himself)

pls and thank you 🙏🏾

Hehehehe hope you like it!!! I love when an ipob request falls into my lap

Pairing: Vampire! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, cw suggestive, cw blood mention, cw injury. Vampire au, wwdits au, mockumentary au, in pursuit of blood au, FLUFF.

Katy's one year celebration 🎉

In Pursuit of Blood Masterlist

You hold an ice pack to your tender neck, condensation dripping from the thin towel covering the ice down to your arm. “—So that's how my great aunt turned into a chupacabra.”

The man behind the camera shares a look towards his producer. The harsh lights of the set stings your sensitive eyes, a dizzying feeling comes in waves, turning your head into mush. You wobble slightly on the plush seat, head lolling to the side as the producer gives you a concerned look.

“I'm fine.” You sniff, giving them an unconvincing smile. The ache on your neck pinches when you fix your posture, making you wince. The sound guy offers you a juice box from somewhere. The drink barely shows on the camera as you raise your eyebrow at the man. “D’you carry that around wherever you go?” You ask but you still take it. Surprisingly, it's still cold.

A familiar cool breeze rushes past behind you, the camera could only see a flash of black smoke before it zooms out to see Hobie's chin perched on top of your head. You hide your smile behind the juice box, hand reaching out to pat his cheek.

“You shouldn't be up and about after that.” Hobie says against your hair, voice muffled, the audio guy is irked by it. The vampire sends him his piercing gaze, red eyes glowing briefly before you reach up again to hold his nape gently. To which he calms down almost immediately. His head cranes down to rest on your shoulder while he sits on the arms of the chair for comfortability.

“Has anyone told you that you get clingy after you feed?” You ask, the straw of the orange juice is perched in between your lips.

Hobie takes the unopened juice box from your lap, and then slides the straw away from your lips to punch a hole in the box. You watch with shining eyes despite your dizziness. He hands it to you, concern still evident on his face.

“Only the ones who survive after.” His fingers brush along your neck, the presumed bite still hidden behind the ice pack. “You sure you're alright?”

The crew stays silent throughout the whole ordeal, afraid that they might ruin the moment or startle their subjects as if they're filming a scene for national geographic where two bugs communicate to each other through their antennae.

You take a sip from your juice while he observes your tender flesh peeking out from under the pack. “It was just a nip, Hobie.” You lean away to his dismay, that you immediately correct by taking the cold compress away to show him that it wasn't such a big deal as two pinpricks in the shape of his fangs have stopped bleeding a while ago. “Besides, you were starving. It's either me or Bob the sound guy.” From your peripheral, you see Bob's eyes widen.

“Still, my fault for forgettin’ to feed again.” Hobie takes the ice pack from your thigh to place it back atop your bite, he doesn't mind the cold when his flesh is just as freezing.

“Maybe next time I'll bring you to my childhood bully’s house.” You tease, “or maybe even wall street.”

“Isn't that against your family's code or some shit?” He chuckles, the camera crew feels like they're watching something they shouldn't. But they're not leaving until they get their content.

“Living with a vampire is against our hunter's code, but here I am.” You smile, sipping loudly to annoy him. It doesn't work as he stares back at you with endearment, red eyes soft just for you.

Hobie grins, fangs in full show. “‘m startin’ to think you like gettin’ fed on.”

You choke, coughing while the crew all share a knowing look. Composing yourself, you return your eyes back to the very smug vampire next to you. Lips curling into a smirk, you decide to tease him back. “And what of it, hm? What are you planning to do, vampire?” You lean closer, tips of your nose brush along his own. His wine red eyes reflect your own flirty expression. “Drain me dry?”

You and Hobie seem to forget the handful of people and the cameras watching the two of you.

He smirks back, playful eyes winking back at you. “Don't threaten me with a good time, love.” Tossing the ice pack away, breaking a few vintage glasses, he moves his head while his palm rests on your jaw. Leaning towards your bare neck, his lips are dangerously close to your flesh. “Or you could do the bitin’ this time.”

You breathily sigh, skin on fire, the butterflies in your stomach feel like they're having a party. Your eyes flick over to the crew, whose eyes are avoiding your own. You feel his lips graze your tender bite mark. Your hands sliding behind his neck, palms kneading at his skin before you yank him away by the scruff of his neck.

“Ow.” He feigns hurt with a lopsided grin, you smile back but with you subtly gesturing towards the crew, he immediately clamps up.

The documentary crew feels like they struck gold when they just caught a flustered vampire on camera for the very first time. Or so they thought.

Hobie tilts his head eerily, sending shivers down each crew member's spine, almost as if he's sucking the air out of the atmosphere. “Leave before your ratings turn from teens and up to somethin’ that will get your show canceled before you could even air it.”

With the sound of filming equipment quickly getting lifted up, and footsteps retreating away towards the front doors— your giggles can still be heard as Hobie shuts and locks the doors without lifting a finger.

102 notes · View notes

who-knew-a-sheep-can-write · 7 months ago

Text

In A Week's Time: Elliott x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Contains: Soft sex, creampies

Summer. A scorching summer season had settled amongst the valley. Where others saw a reason to just flock to the beach and wade in the oceans or to take advantage of the museum’s better quality air conditioner, you had been excited for this season to make profits. Sure, you had made a good profit off of spring’s fresh crops what of strawberries and parsnips and bulbs of garlic all in a row; it was summer you were waiting for as well as many other farmers around. You could just imagine your crop fields full of patches of blueberries and of melons, peach and orange trees in full bloom as well as stalks of hops to keep the kegs full of aging beer (and let’s not get started about the starfruit patches to which you’ll be turning into wine by the end of their respected harvest).

You were out of bed before Elliott - which was rare as he’s used to waking with the gulls cawing horribly before the sun even rises over the ocean’s shore. The writer’s eyes prying open to see you already out the door, flowing auburn hair a mess against the soft pillow covers, sticking to his chiseled face as he watched on in confusion as you bolted out of the front door. He squinted, grumbling something under his breath about how eager you were and quickly followed behind you.

The early summer morning breeze was cool, crisp, inviting as you overlooked the expanse of your farm from your porch. The sun barely peeking over the trees of the forest bordering the outskirts of the farm, bits of orange rays poking through, and twinkling off of the iridium sprinklers littered around, scarecrows still standing tall, protecting the now empty fields of dead spring crops.

The front door opened behind you, you peered over your shoulder to see your beloved husband standing there, squinting as the sun slowly rises over the horizon and spill into the farm. You always loved how squinty-eyed he was when he wakes, hair tied back. He was always so handsome, even when he had just woken up. You giggled, remembering how he had woken up when the spring had started and you had woken early to start planting the usual plots of strawberries, parsnips, and beans. The poor man had his shirt on backwards and nearly had his shoes on the wrong feet before you helped correct him. It was always so sweet of him to wake up early with you every crop season to help you clear and plant and water with you.

“My darling?” he mumbled behind you.

“It’s summer, Elliott! Time for the biggest harvests of the year!” you proclaimed, puffing your chest out proudly.

“I’ll make coffee,” he nodded, leaving the front door open to allow your cat to slip outside and happily trot towards the barn and coop towards the south exit of your farm that leads to Marnie’s ranch.

Around midday, you had retired back to the house where Elliott was waiting, radiating with excitement. He had just come back two hours ago from Pierre’s store with many bags of seeds roped around his hands and wrists for you to start sowing. You climbed the stairs and overlooked the expanse of your farm with your husband. You both took in the tilled dirt ready to be watered after lunch. You were both excited to slowly be able to see the dull beige and browns and ochres of the farm’s soil to slowly bloom vibrant greens and pinks and blues and yellows of fresh vegetation by the end of the season.

“Tired, my darling?” he stepped inside, allowing you to pass into your home.

“Not yet,” you hummed.

“Good! I have wonderful news I’d love for you to hear,” he chimed.

“Oh? And what would that be, Elliott?”

Leading you towards the kitchen, you noticed a large, square vanilla envelope bent in a slight curve. A glass mixing bowl sat a little ways away, most likely used to press out the envelope. It was opened, the obvious tear towards the top of the envelope, the contents gently pushed back inside. What looked to be a single sheet of paper was inside.

“Do you remember the genre of book you’ve inspired me to write, my love?” Elliott hummed.

You could remember that day clearly. Nearly two seasons had passed, the end of the scorching summer was settled on the land, the valley preparing for fall. The weather had cooled just a tad, but it was enough to warrant you a trip down to the beach for a dip in the ocean. Your crops were all done for the season, every last bundle of blueberries plucked, every melon uprooted, hot peppers and tomatoes picked from every patch you had planted. You were done for the rest of the season when it had come to the farm.

But as soon as you arrived at the beach, you had immediately lost all focus upon seeing Elliott’s cabin. You had been meaning to visit, and before you could even realize it, you were knocking at his front door. The poet was surprised to see you, emerald green eyes widening in pure delight at the sight of a new visitor.

Auburn hair tied back by a vibrant green ribbon, delicate locks not long enough framed his face nicely. Sharp jawline freshly shaved, not a single hair missed nor a single blemish on his healthy tanned skin. A loose white button-up long sleeve shirt sat unbuttoned a bit on the top. His shirt had been tucked into a pair of loose black slacks. If you hadn’t been blushing at the sight of a man as handsome as Elliott, you would’ve questioned him on why he decided to dress like a pirate.

Instead, he had roped you into an elegant conversation, allowing you to step into his cabin. Enchanted with his delicate words, you soon found yourself staring at him as he looked at you, groomed dark brows pulled up slightly as he waited for your answer.

He smirked as you shook your head slightly, clearing the fog from your mind as you suddenly found yourself in an embarrassing position.

“Sorry, excuse me,” you stuttered, feeling your cheeks heat up.

Elliott simply chuckled softly. His silky voice filled your ears before he glanced back at you, a smile still tugging on his chiseled lips. Yoba, they looked so soft.

“It’s this awful heat. I find myself losing my words too. I was asking you your favorite genre to read.”

“Oh!” You felt your stomach tighten into even tighter knots. “I… Romance I guess. I haven’t really had a lot of time to sit down and read something proper like an actual book. Maybe a news article on my phone or something but…”

“Romance? Ah, a classic form of literature! I find myself sinking into romantic novels myself, especially during a storm.”

“Romance,” you hummed.

He pulled the single piece of thick paper from the envelope, still a little curved from its time spent in the mailbox since early this morning.

“It’s a very short notice for such big news, but I’ve been invited to do a reading tour for the book you’ve inspired me to write.”

He handed you the piece of paper.

It was from his publisher, a full schedule on the bottom of the short notice. Every day was packed with readings to signings and meetups, all scheduled for one week.

Next week.

“You’re leaving Saturday,” you noted the date stamped at the very bottom, the following Sunday being his return.

“I am. But only for one week, my radiance.” He paused for a moment, you looked up at him with wide eyes full of excitement. “Will you be alright? I’ll be gone for one week and it’s already the start of a new crop season for us-”

“Go on it! This is what you’ve wanted, yeah? I’ll be fine!”

Elliott stared at you with slight shock, soon melting into a warm smile full of absolute love.

“I’ll be here for the rest of the week, though. I’ll still be here to help water what is not covered, help with your animals.”

You nodded and looked back down at the paper in your hands. You noticed the time to leave on Saturday is missing.

“When do you leave Saturday?”

“I believe before noon.”

Elliott produced one round-trip bus ticket from the envelope. The same company that brought you here to Pelican Town a little over two years ago.

Lo and behold, he would be leaving at ten o'clock in the morning.

Elliott plucked the schedule and ticket from your hands and placed them back on the counter. He quickly replaced the empty space between your hands, he filled them with his own. Grasping them tightly with his own, he pulled you closer to him.

His hands were strong, skin soft, fingertips scarred slightly from countless papercuts he’s given himself from binge-reading new and old books on rainy days as well as spending countless and stressful days writing, editing, and rereading his work that he’ll now read to many people out there in the world. You loved how nice his hands felt, warm, but not too warm to make your hands overheat. His hands were bigger than yours, enveloping them with their strong warmth as he pulled you closer until you both were pressed flush up against each other.

You caught whiffs of him. You always loved how Elliott smelled, from his shampoo and conditioner to the subtle hints of his aftershave and cologne. Pomegranate was the main node you would get (it was really the fruit that had started your acquaintance with him when he asked if you grew them on the farm) but he would also always smell somewhat like the sea. Sea salt in the ocean breeze, fresh and alive, and inviting like the ocean on a hot summer’s day.

And looking at your husband before you, you could feel your body heat up even more. His hands slowly rising in temperature, slowly roasting your fingers and palms still a little cool from handling your iridium hoe. You swore you could feel little tingles sparking between the minute gaps between your fingers and palms, fireworks, explosions of nerves edging you both further and further closer to the end of the cliff until-

You both suddenly found yourselves suddenly tangled in each other’s limbs. Bodies pressed flush up against each other, no room between your persons. Your breasts pressed firmly against his chest, stomachs with no gaps between, legs struggling to stand up properly and support each other.

Your hands snatched at the collar of Elliott’s button-up, crisp and clean with no wrinkles in sight now sat crumbled in your grasping hands. Your fingers flexing, suddenly releasing the collar to claw and crawl to his broad shoulders, snatching at the thin, soft material by the handful, pulling him closer if that was any more possible.

Elliott’s passion placed into his display of affections always seemed to catch you off guard. You knew Elliott was a passionate man the moment you met him, but as you grew to knew him and quickly fell for him, you learned that Elliott and romance went together like Gus and any event where he’s able to serve the town. Elliott always made you feel loved, always made you feel beautiful. He may look like he belongs on the front of a romance novel cover with his god-like appearance, but damn it all if he doesn’t know how to absolutely ravish you as the books would suggest.

One of Elliott’s strong hands had come to the back of your head, agile fingers gently grasping at the back of your head, fingers wrapped around your locks, locking your heads together. The other went around to behind your shoulders. He grabbed at the back of your shirt, a fistful of cloth fabric teasing him whereas he teased you with a few tugs, threatening to rip your shirt right off of your body without another thought.

It wouldn’t have been the first time he would have done that.

Elliott’s lips seemed to be made for yours. Every kiss was perfect.

Elliott softly moaned into the kiss, the swaying weight between you two nearly had your legs fumbling, nearly allowing the two of you to fall over yourselves. Elliott pulled away for just a moment, emerald green eyes gazing into yours for a brief moment, lust filling his gorgeous hues the more he looked at you, a faint pink blush dashing over his chiseled cheeks. You could feel your face heating up as well, the apples of your cheeks suddenly scorching just looking at him right here, nose to nose with your loving husband.

He had quickly pulled you into another kiss, lips tenderly pressing against yours in a passionate embrace, lulling your legs to finally be able to move towards the bedroom.

It was sloppy, your backs pressing against the walls of the short hallway connecting the living room to your shared bedroom. Elliott had you pinned to the wall at one point, your head pushed to the side, mouth open as soft mewls and moans escaping from your slick lips as Elliott sucked at the nape of your neck. His large, strong hands were squeezing your wrists, your fingers limp yet curling as you felt him pressed his clothed erection brush against your person.

You both had managed to tear yourselves from the wall, suddenly another mess of tangled arms, hands grasping in hair and snatching at clothing until Elliott’s nimble fingers had finally dipped under the bottom hem of your shirt, carefully peeling the hem up into a small curl of fabric until he could firmly grab at it with both hands. With a swift and sudden pull of his hands, you had suddenly found yourself topless in the sights of your beloved.

Flushing under his emerald gaze, Elliott had paused for a brief moment to look over your body, eyes scanning your form, lust slowly consuming his features the more he gazed at your form with fluttering eyes. Elliott hummed deep within his throat, hands coming up to cup at your shoulders. Hooking his thumbs under the straps of your bra, he delicately slid them off of the curve of your shoulders and crawled his fingers to the hooks behind your back. Your bra quickly came undone in his hands, the delicate lingerie now sliding off of your body with a tug of his agile hands and carelessly tossed over his shoulder.

The sight of your naked breasts alone was enough for Elliott to start to unravel more and more.

A coy little smirk fell upon your lips as you saw out of the corner of your eye the tenting in his pants, noting how the fabric was tightening more and more as the seconds ticked by.

“I hardly think it’s fair for you to still be dressed while you’re stripping off all of my clothes,” you pointed out.

“My dearest, I believe you’re right. How rude of me.”

Elliott had complied with your statement, but he was a little shit. Nimble fingers that had just ravaged your top and bra off of your person within just a few seconds, had plucked the top two buttons of his shirt apart at a snail’s pace; All with a devilish look in his eye as looked directly at you.

You flung yourself at him, hands grabbing the collar of his button-up and pulling his close to connect your lips once more. Elliott’s hands moved from his shirt to grip at the sides of your head firmly, sinking his fingers into the locks of your hair. Your hands fumbled down to the rest of the buttons, fingers struggling to pluck them apart one by one until you had no more to unbutton. Your fingers brushed against his bare chest and abdomen, lightly sun-kissed skin, toned generously as the lean muscle under your fingertips flexed softly at your bare touch.

Elliott shrugged his button-up off of his shoulders and tossed it aside, the hunk of material sliding against the hardwood floors.

Elliott advanced towards you, pushing you backwards until the back of your knees bumped into the lip of the bed. You stumbled back a bit, losing your balance and falling back into the mattress, your body bouncing a bit as you landed on the springy mattress. Elliott smirked, enjoying as your breasts bounced with you.

Elliott’s graceful fingers moved from your shoulders downward, fingers dancing down your body, past the curve of your breasts, and digging gently into the soft skin of your stomach until his fingers danced along the waistband of your pants. The button had suddenly slipped free and the zipper had been pulled down.

Elliott had leaned forward, you softly gasped when you felt his warm lips press gentle kisses down the center of your torso in a straight line, going from the bottom of your neck to in between the space of your breasts down to your belly button all while he had wrestled your pants out from under your rear. He worked your trousers down the length of your legs, eventually hitching them off from where they bunched up at your ankles and allowed the trousers to flop onto the floor, all while he was still trailing kisses right down your center.

He briefly looked up at you under a near curtain of auburn locks, emerald green hues amused at your heated face, wonderful lips smirking as you softly begged him to keep going.

His index fingers hooked around the delicate upper hemline of your underwear. Twisting his fingers just a bit to secure the hemline, he slowly pulled downwards, peeling your panties away from your pussy and down the length of your legs, soon joining your pants on the floor. The sight of you dripping wet, heat blooming from between your legs stirred Elliott onwards, but he remained collected; no matter how much he wished to absolutely ravage your body.

Elliott had stood up, you whined a bit as you immediately missed the feeling of his lips trailing up and down your torso, worshipping you, ravishing you with his soft kisses.

Your loving husband gripped the waistband of his own trousers and fiddled with the buckle of his leather belt. Shiny brass clicking a little at him fiddling and soon the long strip of punched leather slid out from the belt loops of his black slacks and was tossed onto your trousers pooling at his feet. You watched on in awe as he slowly dipped his hands under the waistband for just a brief second before plucking apart the button of his own pants and pulling the zipper down, revealing straining boxer-briefs.

You flushed at the outline hidden inside the confinements of his underwear. Cock straining, erect, yet tortured to be stuck into tightening underwear.

The black slacks dropped to the floor, Elliott nudging both his trousers and yours off to the side of the bed just out of the way. The matching black boxer-briefs looked awfully tight, you could only imagine the struggle Elliott was going through as he looked over your delightful form.

A few locks of auburn hair drifted out of place, some sticking to his slightly sweaty forehead while the others hung loose in his face, covering his eyes slightly. A faint blush still settled on his cheeks as he looked down at you with half-lidded eyes full of lust and desire.

“Elliott,” you cooed, your body heating up.

Your gut was coiling, heat pooling more around your pussy, your stomach feeling full of butterflies. You could hear your heart pounding in your ears, feel your blood roaring with life.

You needed him inside of you now.

“My dear (Y/n), what do you need?” he purred, still eyeing you as if you were nothing else but prey.

“You,” you whimpered.

“And what do you want me to do?” he teased, the corners of his lips twitching upwards into a coy smile.

“I want you to fuck me into this mattress.”

You swore you could see something snap inside of Elliott. The once calm and collected writer you called a husband seemingly snapped. You could no longer see the emerald in his eyes. The sea of lovely green now consumed by his pupils blown wide.

It was a good thing you both live on a farm, a good walking distance away from the rest of Pelican Town, otherwise, you and Elliott would be looking at many noise complaints from the rest of the town.

You watched as he snatched off his boxer-briefs, the poor man-handled fabric flung away, no longer in your line of sight.

What was in your line of sight, however, was your husband’s cock springing outwards, now free of its confinements.

You only had mere seconds to gaze at it before Elliott had pinned you to the mattress, the man hovering over you, hands pinning your shoulders to the mattress, impaling you with his cock.

A moan lodged in your throat, choking slightly as you cried out in pleasure at the tightness. Elliott gave a satisfied groan as well, broad shoulders sagging for just a mere moment to lose himself in the sea of pleasure he found himself in.

You loved how Elliott’s cock fit inside of you so perfectly, it was like to was made for you. His cock was large, thick, always stretching your tight pussy just right. Just the feeling of being stretched had you whining, clawing at the sheets by the handful. Your head rocked back into the mattress, cradled by the bunched up sheets under your head and neck. Your eyes screwed shut at the painful stretch.

Elliott moaning softly, panting against your chest. His long auburn locks had spilled across your sweaty chest, thick strands clinging to your breasts, pooling on your person for a brief moment as Elliott had dipped his head to revel in the feeling of his cock in your tight pussy.

He craned his head back up, looking down at your sweaty face, mouth wide open as you cried and mewled under him. A wild smirk spread across his lips.

He was generous enough to give you a quick second to adjust to the tight stretch before he had started to slowly piston his hips.

The back of your head curled into the sheets piled underneath you more, your throat stretching, baring more skin to him. Elliott had leaned back down again, still pistoning his hips at a slow rate to enjoy the tight feeling of your slick walls around his cock.

Your guts were knotted with lust, only wanting you to raise your hips and match him with his thrusts, meet his cock thrusting inwards with you lifting your hips up, wanting your sexes to slap together, to rock the bed and make it groan like you normally do together. You loved how wild and powerful Elliott could be in bed.

Elliott’s hands snatched at your hips, nails digging into the soft skin. You whimpered at the bite of crescent moons, loving the pain adding on to the pleasure bubbling inside of your person. Each thrust seemed to make your organs knot closer together, made the coils heat up, and tighten. Your moans only spurred him to speed up once he had given you ample time to adjust to the tightness inside of you.

Elliott had let go of your hips, favoring to trap the sides of your head by placing his hands out flat against the ruffles and rumples of the sheets now bunched under the back of your skull, careful not to snag at any of your locks. His grip on the sheets tightened, supporting him better as he rocked his hips back and forth at a great pace, pounding into you like a machine powered by pistons.

He had dipped his head down to meet your parted lips. He groaned into the cavity of your mouth, wincing and tightening his grip on the sheets as your walls had clamped down on his cock. You could hear the sheets creaking, the soft fabric stretching and compressing under the intense grip Elliott was putting it through until he had released it just a touch.

He pressed hot, open-mouth kisses all around your face. He trailed kisses along the curve of your jaw all the way back to your earlobes where he would nip and gently tug at them. He would trail a sloppy line down the curve of your neck, grazing the columns of your throat with his teeth. He definitely had produced a good amount of hickies along your neck and upper chest, so much to possibly warrant a turtleneck at the beginning of summer if you were to have made any plans of going out in public. He had even gently sunk his teeth into the soft plush of one of your breasts, enjoying the little squeaks you produced as your clawed at Elliott’s back and grabbed at his broad shoulders.

Once he had deemed he had marked you up enough, he had only continued to ramp up his pace until you suddenly choke at the speed. You gasped, feeling your passageway clamp down on him once more, your husband crying out in pleasure and tossing his head back to revel in the feelings spiking through him.

You cried out, feeling the coils inside of you tighten even more, now white-hot as the seed about to enter your womb pretty soon as your climax was fast approaching.

You caught sight of Elliott’s eyes, emerald hues still missing, lost in a sea of black. His pupils dilated, still-full blown with lust, looking as though he had captured a starless sky in his eyes.

It was hypnotic, and the thundering of your blood in your ear like war drums had only added on to the pressure building up in your core. The splitting pressure inside of you had you squeezing your eyes closed, wincing, a soft moan passing through grit teeth as a wave of painful pleasure rattled through you, only tightening the coils inside of you even more.

Elliott was unraveling as well, auburn locks falling in his face, hiding his reddened and sweaty rugged face behind the curtain of his groomed mane. His shoulders tensed, lean muscle flexing in his shoulders and biceps, veins poking against his lightly tanned skin. His thrusts had gone from fast and passionate to sporadic and sloppy, longing and yearning to finally release inside of you.

A sudden eruption of heat spilled from between your legs, a massive release of pent up pain and turned to pleasure. A lewd moan had spilled from your open mouth, eyes rolling to the back of your head as Elliott groaned above you, riding and thrusting into your slickening pussy, only allowing him to lose himself to his gaining lust.

Your limbs suddenly felt heavy, weighed down by bones seemingly made of lead and iridium, allowing you to sink into the plush comfort of the mattress as Elliott continuously pounded into your pussy without fail. The man of many elegant words had crippled down to only guttural moans and heavy groans. He could barely make any other noises, he was too busy chasing his won climax. He huffed and puffed in your ears, shoulders shaking as he pistoned his hips back and forth like a well-oiled machine.

It had nearly been another full minute before you felt the slight twitch inside of your passageway, his cock stiffening ever so slowly in between the rushed thrusts of his hips. His thrusts were growing sloppier by the thrust, the bed groaning under the two of you as it rocked with each thrust. The two of you were a flurry of moans and lingering kisses, Elliott occasionally kissing down your jaw or sucking at your neck. Your pussy still slick with your sweet only allowed him to seemingly thrust faster inside of you, you could feel his cock twitch a bit more.

He was going to cum quickly.

His hands on either side of your head snatched at more of the rumpled bedsheets, twisting as his back arched downwards. With each thrust, there was no room left between your two persons, no air gaps between your sexes, drawing his cock nearly out of you only to slam right back into you without mercy. You swore you were drooling, trapped in the starry bliss clouding your mind, still chasing the joys of your climax as he only ravaged your pussy more and more.

The stiffer he got, the sloppier he got with his thrusts until hot milky white suddenly erupted from Elliott’s cock, the man coming with a choked shout. His shoulders curled up into his neck, head shooting back, auburn locks spilling over his broad shoulders and you milked every last drop of semen out of his cock still buried inside of you.

You cried, mewled as you felt the fullness inside of you, only to exhale as Elliott’s cock had slid right out of your passageway, his semen following quickly after to spill onto the bed.

Elliott nearly collapsed on top of your worn person, the man of elegance managing to roll himself to land right next to you. He draped one of his tanned arms over your body, the meat of his arm over your breasts so his hand could reach under your armpit, dragging you closer to his sweaty chest. You both laid there panting, hearts racing as moments ticked by, the thrill of your orgasms slowly riding down as you both looked at each other in the eye. Sweaty faces, blushed at the cheeks and noses, you both couldn’t help the small and loving smiles spreading across your faces. You both looked at each other through the messy, frizzy locks clinging to your sweaty faces. A good shower was to be put in order now, but it would have to wait.

You shivered, still feeling his hot seed spilling slowly out between your nether lips, tangling with the sheets under your person, a mess you would both clean in just a moment.

You stood there by the bus stop, waiting for the bus to arrive with your husband right by your side. You could tell he was nervous, he would always toy with his long locks when he was. He had even pulled his hair back and tied it to try and stop himself from fiddling with his luscious auburn locks, but he couldn’t help himself.

He was nervous, and rightfully so!

He was going to be gone for a week, reading for his adoring fans, signing autographs, meeting new and important people.

You took his hand, startling the man out of his daydream. Wide emerald eyes looking at you for a mere second before he seemingly calmed down… just a bit.

“You’ll do great out there. I promise,” you smiled. “Just breathe, remember to stay calm and you’ll do great.”

Elliott smiled warmly at you. He only wished you could come along with him, join him on this adventure he was going to have, but you had a farm to take care of, animals to raise and crops to tend to so you can help feed the town.

You had your responsibilities, and now, he did too. This would open up a lot of doors, a lot of opportunities to expand his craft, make good relationships and business partners, spread the word about his writing more and more.

He only wished he could have you by his side. After all, you were his biggest inspiration for finishing his book. This was all because of you; Because you had introduced yourself to him your first day of arriving at Pelican Town, because you took up his many requests on the wanted board in front of Pierre’s, because you had taken the time to get to know him, to give him many wonderful gifts, to give him the mermaid’s pendant… You had spoken to him nearly every day, no matter if you were covered in dirt from the farm or covered in slime and bits of dead bugs and whatever horrors you had slain in the mines, you made it your goal to befriend him, to stick your muddy boot through his cabin door and get to know him. Even now, the mermaid’s pendant sat heavily against his throat, the polished silver chain choking him with suspense as he started to worry.

What if something happened and he wasn’t here to help? What if something happened to the farm? It’s summer, storms would surely come to try and wreck the farm. What if you were caught outside? What if you were caught in the barns? What if you got hurt and he wasn’t there to help you? To protect you?

The bus had rolled down the street and stopped right in front of you both. You both eyed each other one last time before you fully turned to him, Elliott doing the same.

Now face to face with your husband, you reached out and pulled him into a tight embrace. You could feel your throat tightening up just a tad as he wrapped his strong arms around your person, a quick press of his lips against your cheekbone.

“I promise to write to you every day, my radiance,” he murmured into your ear.

“Every day?”

“Every day without fail.”

“I love you, Elliott.”

“And I love you, (Y/n).”

The doors to the bus swung open, the bus driver not even looking in your direction at first.

Elliott pulled away only to press his lips to yours. The kiss was so full of passion for how brief it had to be without keeping the bus driver and the other bus occupants waiting.

You pulled away to look him in the eyes. You could see the yearning for him to stay with you, but you both knew this was coming sooner or later.

“Be careful, yeah?”

“Of course, my dearest.”

And with that, Elliott picked up his (overstuffed) suitcase and carry-on bag and set off into the bus.

You watched on with a reassuring smile as Elliott sat down at the window facing you. You followed the bus as far down the sidewalk as you could until there was no walkway left. You watched from your spot on the sidewalk as the bus was slowly swallowed by the darkness of the tunnel, heading towards the city.

With a soft sigh, you glanced down at the mermaid pendant sitting around your neck. You gently grasped the shimmering blue twisted shell and gazed back at the tunnel.

You ignored the biting, bitter feeling bubbling in your gut, wrinkling your nose at the sensation of dread wafting around your mind, and turned to follow the trail back to your farm.

Maybe if you busied yourself with farm work and the mines and whatever foraging you could find, the week would fly by quickly and Elliott would return to you sooner than you would think.

Upon arriving at the farm, you sighed. You knew the farm felt emptier the moment you stepped foot on the land. Even as your cat brushed around your leg and trotted towards the barn and coop, you hoped time would fly by quickly.

Picking up the milking bucket and shears from the chest by your house, you followed behind your faithful kitty, attempting to busy your lonely mind with work until your beloved author returned to you.

#stardew valley #elliott x reader #elliott x farmer

157 notes · View notes

cosmicpearlz · 1 month ago

Text

halloween is cool

summary: jude hadn’t really thought twice about spooky season or halloween.. well until you came along.

pairing: jude bellingham x reader

a/n: slightly projecting on this one because halloween/spooky szn is possibly my favorite holiday

october. the month of everything spooky and filled with autumn like colors. it's possibly your favorite month to ever exist. loving the pumpkins, the slight chill that graced the air, and the halloween decor. let's not forget that it happens to be sweater weather too.

"baby! baby! baby!" your cheery voice rang through the house. jude could almost picture the smile that resided on your face. a smile itching its way onto his, as your footsteps became closer.

"yes m'love?" you sit next to him on the couch with a bounce, beaming from ear to ear.

"it's october."

"the first of the month to be exact."

"well, aren't you excited?"

"for what?" you gasp dramatically at his question and stare at him with wide eyes. jude finds it harder to contain the smile that wanted to come out and rest on his face.

"it's spooky season."

"i know baby."

"we should be celebrating. why aren't you happy about the best time of the year?" your eyebrows furrowed and jude's heart couldn't take how cute you looked. he loved seeing you so passion and happy about something.

"never really thought twice about it," he says, while shrugging his shoulders. a moment of silence passes by the two of you. then it hit you. a grin replaces the smile that rested on your face just a few minutes ago.

"can we decorate the house?"

"whatever you want baby. we can go shopping for some stuff tomorrow after training." you excitedly squealed and jumped into his arms. the boy barely having time to catch you but still wrapping his arms around you tightly. laughter fills the living room as you pressed kisses all over his face.

over the next couple of days, you were determined to turn the house into halloween theme for the season. from pumpkins that sat in front of the door to the skeletons that hung in the living room and kitchen. little touches of orange and black and the fake spiderwebs filled the house as well. the decorations weren't over the top, but it made the house fit more in tune with october.

"we should plan a halloween party or have matching costumes! or maybe both." you wrap your arms around his was it. hugging him from the back.

"what happened to good morning? how was your sleep babe?"

"oops, sorry. good morning my love, how was your sleep?" you lean on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. jude chuckles quietly to himself, you feel the vibrations of his laughter being that you were still pressed up against his back.

"it was alright, i couldn't sleep much. so, i started cleaning the house a bit. how'd you sleep darling?" he turns around to face you. his hands now resting on your hips. fingertips lightly brushing the bare skin that peeked out from your sleep shirt. your arms find their place around his neck and give him a smile.

"wow, i can't believe you actually cleaned the house. they get so old," you say with fake sniffles to tease him. jude playfully rolls his eyes and pulls you closer to him. "i slept well though. i will say, i did miss seeing your pretty face in bed when i woke up."

"you flirt."

"only for you bellingham," you winked and press a kiss to his lips.

"we can go right back to bed if you keep acting like this," he bites his lip, gazing into your eyes. you shake your head and laugh.

"you freak."

"only for you darling."

"you didn't give me an answer to my suggestions."

"baby, wasn't decorating the house enough?"

"no."

"seriously?"

"seriously jude." he stares you down as if waiting for you to suddenly change your mind. "oh c'mon, work with me here!" you whined and pouted your bottom lip. jude groans and closes his eyes.

"i hate when you give me puppy dog eyes with that adorable pout of yours. i can never say no to you! you're cheating."

"it's not cheating love. it's called knowing how to get your boyfriend to say yes to your amazingly cool ideas." you took it a step further and batted your eyelashes. jude smile grows watching you attempt anything to get your way. you both knew that it was gonna work anyway.

"how about we compromise?"

"what are we compromising?" you lift an eyebrow in question.

"ditch the halloween party but we can do the matching-"

"deal."

"you didn't even let me finish." you both burst into laughter.

"all i heard was a yes, so consider me happy."

"i'm glad you're happy baby. all i ever want to do is make you happy. even if it means catering to your weird obsession with halloween."

"heyyy! it's not weird. halloween is cool baby. get with the program."

"yeah yeah, whatever you say m'love."

jude pulls you even closer to him. fronts pressing against each other. leaning down, he connects his lips to yours in a passionate kiss. preferring to take his time with the kiss rather than rushing it. it was slow and full of love. making your heartbeat just a bit faster than it normally does. the only thing that runs through the boy's head is how much he loved you and getting to spend mornings like this with you was the best feeling. little did he know, you were thinking the exact same.

#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham fluff

137 notes · View notes

xxnghtclls · 11 months ago

Text

Permission

Chapter 48

(Chapter 47)

True Form Sukuna x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warning: Graphic Depiction Of Violence

Please see Chapter 1 for tags!

Epilogue

Leaves and twigs crack under your feet, leaving trails and patterns on the snowy forest floor.

It’s night. Darkness interrupted by red, little sparks flying through the air. The stinging smell of smoke creeps into your nose. Remnants of the moonlight, far away, quietly shine through the branches of the trees, painting creepy shadows on the white canvas you’re walking on. The further you walk, the more those shadows dance on an orange tint, that starts to coat the snow, coming from a source, that you’ve set up not far away. Carefully, listening to the sounds of the forest, you walk back to that source.

A flame, a campfire. Right here, in the middle of the woods.

Step by step, you’re approaching that fire, holding wood in your arms to keep it burning. The sound of munching echoes in your ear, the sound of feasting, devouring.

It’s been years, since he liberated you. Unintentionally freed you from a miserable life in a miserable village.

Not knowing, what you were destined to become.

A destiny that no one foresaw.

Not even the King of Curses.

Coming closer, you can see the silhouette of your King, sitting on the very same tree he did a year ago.

When he waited night for night, waited for you to go back with him.

You start humming his melody, as your feet carry you back to the fireplace. The fireplace that made you fall in love with this monster, before you put the new wood down onto the ground.

And then, quietly, you turn to him, watching how he’s gnawing some meat off a bone, occasionally humming in satisfaction.

It’s been months, since you completed the ritual.

Since you’ve been killed and reborn and marked with a sign on the skin that covers your heart.

Months of being his and him being yours.

In the shrine you can now call home.

You look at him and smile softly to yourself, finding it cute how invested he is not to waste any meat that’s on that bone, although you have plenty left.

Sitting down on the log to the left of your King, you feel the warmth of his body on your skin and hear his gentle munching in your ear.

And you feel your love for him, still, despite putting you through all this. You lost your heart to him and, no matter what he did, you don’t want it back.

Ever again.

Asshole.

It’s been days since the both of you came back to this place.

A place you cherish in your heart.

And maybe, you hope, Sukuna cherishes it, too.

The crackling of the fire becomes louder and his noises quiet, making you both just sit there in silence, next to each other. He flicks the bare bone into the flames, before you gently lean against his shoulder, let your head quietly bump against him to be closer, feeling his calm breath beneath your soul.

And both of you just watch the fire in front of you, like you did so many times a year ago, when neither of you could express what’s going on.

Heartache.

It’s been seconds, since he let you know how he feels about you.

Although he never says them out loud, those three words that you’ve told him over and over again and still do.

But he doesn’t has to. Because, you know.

This curse.

So overwhelming, so consuming. Tying your souls together so tightly.

And some words don’t need to be spoken to be true.

Sukuna grabs another piece of meat and holds it under your nose. You cooked it yourself, with fresh herbs that you found earlier in the nearby bushes. It smells delicious. You lean back and sit straight again, before you grab the meat and take a bite.

It’s hot, warming you from the inside. You keep blowing and carefully gnawing and nibbling, until you finally can rip off a bigger piece. Feeling his bottom pair of eyes watching you constantly, you peek over to him quickly.

“What?” you ask with your mouth full, making him smirk, as he musters your stuffed cheeks and big eyes.

“Nothing.”

You pause your chewing, pondering.

“Is it how I eat?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

And he doesn’t respond, just keeps focusing on the fire, a hint of his smirk still decorating the corners of his mouth. The flames flicker in his red eyes, the orange light dances on his face and wrinkles. You can’t help to take them in, over and over again, although you already know his features so well, as if they’ve been imprinted on your eyelids.

So beautiful.

You smile to yourself, before you focus back on your meal, until you throw the remaining bone into the fire. Satisfied, you sigh, until you swallow the last bite you took.

Suddenly, something cold gently falls upon on your forehead and you look up. Delicate flakes of fresh snow are illuminated against the dark canvas of the night, falling down right upon you and Sukuna.

You smile softly, before you turn your head to look at him. He’s looking up into the sky, too and you witness, just in time, how a small flake lands on the tip of his nose, melting in an instant. You huff lovingly, before you gently touch that very spot with your finger. More flakes follow, landing on his mask, his eyebrows and lashes, before he opens his mouth, trying to bite your finger that’s resting on his nose.

Clack.

His teeth close around nothing and you quickly retrieve your hand to poke him into his shoulder instead.

Hard.

It makes his lip twitch, before he leans down to you, close to your face, cocking his eyebrow.

“Harder.” he whispers with a smirk, with this… undertone.

And you blush, remembering it’s what you moaned into his ear last night.

When you felt cold and the fire was not enough to warm your moving bodies.

When your skins and limbs and lips were intertwined, like those of lovers are.

When you kissed each other and hold each other dearly, when your hearts started to miss each other and their embrace.

“Are you sure?” you mumble, trying to keep composure. His gentle eyes roam over your face, scan how your delicate skin rushes full of extra heat.

And then he nods, almost unnoticeable, almost hypnotised, as his gaze falls down to your lips.

The string on your heart pulls you in, let your breaths collide and mingle, until they merge, as you start kissing him on his soft lips while feeling small, freezing flakes fall upon your faces. He quietly sighs against your face and keeps squeezing on your beating heart, before you gently lick and suck on his tongue and bottom lip.

“Okay.” you breathe against his pretty mouth, your breath and heartbeat quickened. “Wait here.”

His pupils are blown, already drowning in your being, before you stand up and walk into the snow.

You feel his needy eyes bore into your back, the string on your heart pulling harshly.

To make you walk back to him, to devour your flesh once again. Like last night, like lovers do.

But first, you crouch down, shove some snow between your hands and form a ball. Then, with all your strength, you turn around and throw it at him. Sukuna leans back to dodge but-

Bam!

The snowball hits his shoulder with a wet impact, shattering in a million pieces.

And you gasp in victory, as you throw your arms up in the air.

“Ahhh hahahah!” you exclaim, before a wide grin spreads onto his lips and he flashes his teeth. A sadistic, aroused chuckle escapes his throat, as his eyes flicker right at you, as he slowly rises to his feet, cracking his neck and knuckles, before he growls in excitement.

“So, you wanna play?”

160 notes · View notes

bruh-anator3000 · 1 year ago

Text

CAT-astrophic

~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~

A/n: *pushes rock I live under over and peeks out of the black abyss* Hey, have you guys seen a Car Wash Miguel fic anywhere? I don't know what happened to it but it's no longer here. Might've escaped... anyways, watch this cat for me while I look? Thanks. And don't mind the hot homeless dude who talks to him, they're bonding. *returns into the depths of the void*

Summary: A hot dude won't stop talking to your cat, it's kind of freaking you out.

WC: 1.7k, edited by google docs...

Pairing: Miguel x GN!Reader

Warnings: crack fic, Spider-cat's real name is Sir Jeffords bc i said so, clueless reader, pro outdoor cat (i'm not actually, keep ur cats safe pls), future-ish?, accidentally snuck in some world building, in Lyla we trust 🙏, Miguel in tight clothing bc I also said so, and wait wtf are you doing with a dead rat miguel, AND WTF IS THIS WHITE STUFF DUDE?!

Also no Spanish bc I've done some research and those who do speak it have asked non-native speaker to avoid it, to prevent bad google translations and maintain respect!

Okay, enjoy~

~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~

You were about to head in for the night when you were not tripped by your cat for his dinner. After a quick search around your apartment, you sighed upon realizing he was still outside. Shrugging on a coat, mismatched slippers, and grabbing a flashlight, you went out to look for him.

Plenty of people told you to keep your cat inside. That it was vital to their health to keep them safe indoors. There were plenty of articles stating the cons of letting a domesticated cat roam freely outside with no supervision. They were also written 80 years ago. The world has changed since then, drastically.

Sure, it would still be smart to keep Sir Jeffords inside. Less late night searches for him, no more worrying if that scratch on his right paw was from running too fast along pavement or something worse. But he came from the life of an alley cat, and no matter what you tried, he had to be out there for a few hours a day. Last time you tried to stop him, he went under your radar for three days. You had a panic attack, worried he didn't love you anymore, but he did eventually come back. Chipper and eager, and he made sure you left his cat door unlocked.

The streets were cleaner than 80 years ago. The people were kinder. The city more accommodating to everyone, even stray animals. Sir Jeffords was mirco chipped, and even if it didn't work for tracking half the time, the shelter folks could scan his neck and drop him back home.

There were no pounds or pest controls anymore, just volunteers who helped poor animals stay warm. And find whoever left them in the streets. It was a crime to leave them now, resulting in 6 months of detention if caught dumping your animal friend into the alleys.

Jeffords was a smart cat. He knew what he was doing. You trusted him. In the event of something bad happening, you made him swore he would come find you right away. Though he couldn't speak, his tail wrapping around your pinky seemed solid enough.

You called out his name, followed by a few 'pspspsps's to really seal the deal. Your flashlight shining in the darker corners of the streets he may be hiding in. Cats and their dark, unreachable corners, Sir Jeffords fell victim to any cozy spot he could barely tuck himself into.

It wasn't until a few blocks away, a little past the bank, when you heard a meow. Very similar to his, you quietly sped your pace, wanting to grab your kitty and go home. The closer you got, it seemed more like he was responding to someone else more than you.

"-and your service is always appreciated." You heard a deep voice whisper. Their voice a grumble echoing through the alley they hid in. "You're one of our best." Your brows pinching together, you turned the corner of the bank, flashlight illuminating your fluffy orange cat. Who was rubbing up against the shin of a random man.

He looked up at you, eyes darkened as he blocked your flashlight with his large hand. They almost seemed red as he stayed squatted, Sir Jeffords head butting his knee. His face pure sharp angles, with a scowl permanently in place. His black shirt a tight, compressing fit. Clinging to each muscle and vein in his arm, stopping halfway down his bicep. His calves just as impressive. His shorts doing nothing but making him look even hotter.

Wait, no. This was a random man, he wasn't hot.

You lowered the light and gave an awkward smile. Seemingly unimpressed, his hardened gaze turned back to your cat. "He's yours?" He asked, voice rumbling low in his chest. With a nod, he added, "He's... cute."

Okay, maybe he was a little hot.

"Right?" Your smile smoothed into something more natural. "He's the cutest cat to ever exist." You lowered yourself down onto your knees with a soft baby call. Sir Jeffords trotting into your lap happily, orange fur swaying with his steps.

Your hand ran through his silky fur. Tension easing from you as you held him close again. Though his three day disappearance had yet to happen again, you still worried. He was your precious baby, after all. The one you shared everything with, and he never once judged.

Your fingers caught on something sticky, stopping short of his lower back. Pulling your hand away, strings of white followed, sticking to your fingertips. The feeling moist and far too clingy for comfort. A disgusted shiver ran up your spine at the horrible sensory.

The man stood then, tossing a tissue at you as he did. His gaze stayed on your cat, never faltering. He pushed his dark hair away from his face, still scowling.

Glancing between your hand and the man that now towered over you, you almost gagged. This wasn't... his, right?

"It was the rat." Like he read your mind, the mysterious stranger held out his other hand. A dead rat laid in his palm.

"That... doesn't make me feel much better." You suppressed another full body shake, quickly wiping your hand off. This guy may be extremely attractive to look at but the longer you stayed there, the more uncomfortable you got. "How would a mouse... And what is this?" You felt yourself getting sick as you held the tissue out, the white stuff now sticking to the paper instead

"Webs. And, it's a rat." He stated with a straight face. More angry at your confusion than anything. "Chased him through some spider webs."

You let out a soft 'oh.' But that didn't explain why he was holding onto the dead rat.

And he let it stay that way. Instead of reading your mind like he had been this entire time, he just... walked off. With a dead animal in his grasp. Without a word.

Your confused gaze turned to your cat, knees beginning to ache from the pressure of concrete beneath. Sir Jeffords purred into your stomach loudly.

"You're not allowed to hang out with that guy, ever again."

...

"Christ!" Miguel tossed the rat at the wall, hearing him curse. The small animal glitched into a grown adult, body morphing sickly. "That..." The villain panted, rubbing at his neck. Bruises from how tightly he was held already forming there. "... was not what I was expecting."

Miguel squatted back down, balancing on his toes as the hologram of regular clothes shifted back into his suit. "You chose to become a rat, in a world whose Spider-Man is a cat." He slammed down a disk, red netting encasing the fool. "That was your own fault."

"It was the only way I could get into the bank!" The villain squeaked. Miguel tuned out almost immediately, eyes turning to his watch. Setting the portal to his universe, and making sure he wasn't needed elsewhere. He entertained the villain in a tacky grey suit with distant hums and 'oh, yeah, uh-huh's. It was best to just let them get it out of their system then try to shut them up.

"And I would've gotten away with it, too! If it weren't for you and your cat!" The shape shifter writhed in the nets.

"Sound like a damn Scooby-Doo villain." Miguel stood up with a huff. He would never admit it, but Hobie used the term so often, he had to look up what he was referencing. Only to end up watching the first few seasons. He had to stop around the third season, a sick sense of deja vu hitting him with a bat. The cartoons reminded him too much of the daughter he never really had.

With a sigh, "Lyla," He called.

The AI appeared before him, wearing a shit eating smirk. He opened his mouth to command something else when she beat him to it. "You should've asked for their number."

"What?" Miguel's head snapped up, eyes wide.

"They were cute, should've asked them on a date." She glitched to his side with a teasing laugh.

"Lyla, I... no." He grumbled, flicking at his watch.

"Oh, you know?" Miguel tried to smack her away, only for her to reappear on his left shoulder. "You should go back, then."

Miguel glared at her, ignoring how the tips of his ears began to burn. "I can't, its-"

"Not a canon event." They said at the same time. Lyla rolling her eyes behind her heart-shaped glasses, Miguel focusing on creating a portal. "You're such a loser, you know that?" She huffed and puffed, spawning with her back turned to him.

He tried to reach out with a heavy breath, but she moved further away. This time sitting with her arms crossed and pouting.

"They were cute." The villain nodded from his fetal position on the ground. Earning a glare from the two. Shrinking further into himself, the shape-shifter apologized.

Miguel thrust his forearms forward, his mantis blades catching on the fabric of time. Ripping them apart with a grunt. Orange and purple twisted in front of him, and he grabbed a hold of the red netting the anomaly was in.

"Meet me back at HQ," He spoke to his AI with a nod. Foot already in the portal, he turned to cast a menacing glance at Lyla. "And do not try anything."

She held up her hands in defense, watching the portal close behind him. It wasn't like she even had to do anything - not anymore. She already slipped his multiversal number into the collar of Spider-Cat. All that needed to happen was you either found it, or it fell out. Lyla just had to wait to see which option would be canon.

~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~~◇◇◇~~~♡♡♡~~

Check out my Masterlist!

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x you #miguel x reader #spiderman atsv #miguel o'hara fanfiction #bruh writes #spiderverse fanfic #x you

227 notes · View notes

b1ackoutartist · 1 year ago

Text

Songs of the Heart

natasha x reader

this was written randomly while I was bored in a meeting a few days ago...so no promises for correct grammar or anything

ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗��⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗ⴵ⧗

The evening sun set the sky ablaze in hues of orange, pink, and gold, the last light of the day reflecting off the calm waters of the small, secluded beach. The sand felt warm beneath Y/N’s feet, the remnants of the day’s heat captured between each grain.

She walked hand in hand with Natasha Romanoff, the global superstar with a voice that had enchanted millions. Away from the limelight, however, she was simply Tasha – Y/N's girlfriend.

Despite the roaring success of Natasha's new album, the two had managed to keep their relationship under wraps. Their getaways, like this hidden beach, were their sanctuary.

"I sometimes wonder," Natasha mused, squeezing Y/N’s hand gently, "if there’s a song out there that could truly describe what I feel when I’m with you."

Y/N chuckled, "Considering you're the superstar, shouldn't you be writing that song?"

Natasha stopped walking and turned to Y/N, her green eyes shimmering with a mix of mischief and warmth. "Maybe I already have," she whispered, pulling Y/N close. The world seemed to stand still as their lips met, a soft and lingering kiss, full of a year’s worth of shared secrets and love.

Pulling apart, Y/N grinned, "Then when do I get a private performance?"

As Natasha leaned her forehead against Y/N’s, she whispered, "How about tonight, under the stars?" A small gust of wind lightly tousled their hair, blending the fiery hue of Natasha's locks with Y/N's softer shades.

Y/N looked deep into Natasha's eyes, nodding. "I'd love that."

A few steps later, they came across a small alcove in the rocks. It was shielded on three sides, with a clear view of the ocean. The waves gently crashed, and the last rays of the sun gave the world an ethereal glow. Natasha spread out a picnic blanket she'd discreetly carried in her tote bag.

As Y/N laid back, Natasha carefully placed a delicate string of fairy lights around the alcove, turning it into a haven of soft, twinkling stars.

“I had a feeling we'd find the perfect spot,” Natasha smirked.

They settled down, side by side, their fingers intertwining. Y/N watched as Natasha took out a pair of wine glasses and poured a soft, rose-hued drink. “A little rosé to match the sunset?” Natasha proposed, raising her glass.

“To us,” Y/N countered, her glass meeting Natasha’s with a delicate chime.

Unbeknownst to them, a camouflaged photographer captured that intimate toast, the way their fingers remained interlocked even as they sipped, and the pure, unadulterated joy in their eyes.

The night deepened. At one point, Natasha gently nudged Y/N, pointing to the sky. A shooting star! Both women closed their eyes, making silent wishes. The hidden camera clicked again, capturing the profiles of two women, lost in dreams and wishes under a canopy of stars.

The following morning, Y/N entered her college, sensing a palpable shift. Whispers followed her, eyes discreetly peeking over textbooks and from behind laptops.

The palpable shift in the atmosphere was unmistakable. As Y/N made her way through the hallways, the air felt charged, alive with murmurs and stolen glances. She tried to maintain a facade of normalcy, but every hushed whisper, every furtive look, made her acutely aware of the scrutiny she was under.

Y/N's best friend, Kate, quickly joined her side, a mix of concern and surprise evident in her eyes. "Did you know about this?" Kate inquired, showing her phone screen which displayed the now-viral photos of Y/N and Natasha.

"I had no idea," Y/N whispered, pushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear, a nervous habit she'd developed over the years. "It was supposed to be a private evening."

Kate, ever the protective friend, frowned. "These paparazzi, they have no respect for boundaries."

Before Y/N could respond, her phone buzzed. It was a message from Natasha, attaching the link to an online article. Y/N's fingers hesitated for a moment before tapping on it. The article was filled with the same pictures Kate had just shown her – Y/N and Natasha beneath the canopy of fairy lights, their figures illuminated against the twilight sky, lost in each other's company.

The article's title read, “Beyond the Spotlight: Natasha Romanoff's Starry-Eyed Romance.” The words that followed painted a picture of two people deeply in love, away from the world's eyes. Though the tone was respectful, Y/N couldn't help but feel exposed.

Another buzz. Another message from Natasha: "I'm so sorry, detka. I never intended for this to happen. I just wanted a perfect night with you."

Y/N quickly typed back, "Natasha, it's okay. Yes, it was a secret but this doesn´t mean it can´t be private anymore."

A few moments later, Natasha responded, "You're incredible. I don't deserve you."

Kate, who had been watching the exchange over Y/N's shoulder, chuckled softly. "You two are so sweet it's almost sickening. In a good way."

Y/N laughed, nudging Kate with her elbow, "Thanks for that, Kate."

Kate wrapped an arm around Y/N’s shoulders, pulling her into a side hug. "Just remember," she whispered, "love like yours is rare. And even if the whole world knows about it, it doesn't change what you two have."

Y/N looked at the photos once more, Natasha's smile radiating warmth and love. She replied to Natasha, "We'll get through this together. Always."

And as Y/N walked through the college corridors, with Kate by her side, she felt a newfound sense of pride. Yes, their love story was now public, but it was theirs. And nothing could ever take that away.

#marvel #black widow #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanov

128 notes · View notes

pullhisteeth · 1 year ago

Text

the bone crush | eddie munson

summary you’re five years out of high school and your boyfriend's managed to get famous. some days are harder than others, but he goes to great lengths to make it better. [5.5k]

contains modern!au, fem!reader, rockstar!Eddie/famous!Eddie, established relationship, insecure reader, a fight (kind of), depression, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff

something I dreamed up on the train home from work one evening because I was listening to Taylor and getting all emo. lots of love xxx

But I don't like a gold rush / I don't like anticipating my face in a red flush / I don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch / everybody wants you / everybody wonders what it would be like to love you.

A tingling sensation spreads from your fingers into your hand, creeping slowly up the length of you arm where it’s pressed between your body and the couch.

You’ve been lying here, on your side on the couch in your apartment, for three hours. The sun’s gone down but you’ve made no effort to move to switch on a light, or to eat, or to do anything, really, besides scrolling mindlessly through every app at your disposal. It began with TikTok, which you opened upon slumping down on the couch after work, still in your stuffy trousers and button-up shirt. It moved to Twitter for a while, then over to Instagram, and back round to TikTok. At one point you even entertained Pinterest, keying doomed phrases into the search bar that you knew would drive you further into the hole.

You’re on Twitter right now. Somehow, you landed on a thread dedicated to the lead guitarist of a well-known rock band. Each new tweet is another photograph of him showing another way that he is, as the poster claims, boyfriend material.

They’re not wrong. The photos are candid shots, taken behind the stage after a gig, or at stage-door late into the night. In each one he looks sleepy, soft, a direct contrast to the gritty stage persona he adopts. He’s got a dopey half-smile or he’s sticking his tongue out; in some, he’s wearing a beanie, and in others he’s got a black hoodie on.

You keep going, reading the replies to each tweet individually, scores of young women cooing over him. Your screen is awash with hearts and flames and flowers, exclamation points and capital letters.

One of the photos catches your eye. You linger on it for a few minutes, studying the details, reading the replies. You swipe up from the bottom of your screen to close the app, replacing it quickly with your camera roll. You swipe quick, scrolling upwards until you reach your photos from six or seven months ago.

Eddie had been on a tour across Europe. He’d left in February and come home in May, leaving you behind. But in mid-April he’d flown you out to Spain, where the band had a week break between shows. You’d spent six days trawling the streets of a small coastal town, eating your body weight in paella and swimming for hours in the sea. When you got home you’d posted a photo on your Instagram, just one. You like to keep these moments to yourselves, and usually you don’t share much of anything of your life with the world. When you do, though, the fans go wild.

It’s a photo of Eddie at a restaurant. It looks intimate, like it’s just the two of you, though no one’s to know you were surrounded by the band and crew. It was a clear evening, warm and fresh, and he was sat opposite you in a pretty shirt, top three buttons undone so his ink-splattered chest peeked out. He’d tied his hair back, though by this point it was loose, and the ring on the chain around his neck reflects in the light of the candle between the two of you.

He’s looking past the camera, up and over it to your face. You think about what you must have looked like, tongue between your teeth while you got the right shot, head pulled back, the angle unflattering, but it never changed the way he looked at you. The way he always looks at you.

His big, round eyes catch the light, too, deep and rich in the orange glow. His skin’s lit just the same, and so he looks softer than ever. It’s one of your favourite photos of him, which is all the more reason for you to regret ever sharing it.

You take the dangerous leap with this tweet in particular: checking the quote replies. The ones usually hidden from you, only seen if you go looking, which is precisely what you’re doing now. You know this never ends well, only ever leaves you with a deep pit in your stomach, but you have no will to stop yourself.

You know this because this has become routine for you over the past weeks. It’s like a drug, addictive though it does no benefit to you really. Acknowledging that the mean comments sent your way were increasing was your first mistake; seeking them out is where you fell down the hole.

As the window opens, the first tweet you’re greeted with is surprisingly tame and kind, something sweet about how pretty he looks. True.

But then the second, and the third and another a few tweets down, is where it gets bitter. See, when you’re as famous as Eddie is, with such a dedicated following of young girls, your life is never private, and never can be. These girls know who took what picture and when. They think they know how he felt in each one, or who was making him laugh, or where he’d just been. This one is no exception, and their biting remarks resemble thousands you’ve seen before.

He always looks so bored of her.

Surely he can’t enjoy being kept away from the band???

Am I the only one that thinks he hates her lmao

It doesn’t stop there - it goes on for ages, tweet after tweet after tweet of sarcastic or scathing comments about you. Your appearance (which has never been good enough for anyone, apparently), your personality (boring, stuck-up, controlling), and, most commonly, the fact you are a - quote - clout chaser.

Your arm’s completely numb now. You tell yourself that you couldn’t turn your phone off if you tried, despite the fact your thumb is scrolling just fine. You ingest every word, find new fan accounts to trawl and new insults thrown your way to soak up. There are maybe three photos of you online now, and they circulate through these accounts like paper money, exchanged for nothing but the venom of teenage girls. Are they teenagers? You’re not even sure; some of them definitely are, but you’re convinced most of these people are adults.

A call comes through just as you open another series of replies - this time to a thread titled times Eddie Munson looked good enough to eat. It breaks your concentration, your eyes flitting up to the little picture in the corner of the screen.

Eddie.

You can’t bear to answer the phone. You haven’t spoken to him yet today, and the last time you texted him was yesterday, on your lunch break. Sometimes he’s busier than usual; you’re no stranger to a bit of distance.

You let it ring out, the little green telephone going until it stops, the notification sliding back up the screen. Soon enough you get another, for a text, but you swipe it away before you can read the preview.

You stare at the replies for a while, lingering on the ones that claim they could be better girlfriends than her, before finally hitting the lock button and letting your phone drop onto the carpet. You roll onto your back, groaning when the blood rushes back into your arm and the tingling feeling comes back, and muster the energy to push yourself up and stretch.

As the joints in your back and across your shoulders pop, you toe your shoes off and stare blankly at the wall. There's that feeling that always follows these late-night escapades into the depths of the little yet dedicated following Corroded Coffin have amassed: it's a hollow feeling that somehow still fills you entirely. It rips through you, a deep and unwavering yearning for him.

He's been away since August, and now it's October. Two weeks ago, you'd laid here for a few hours after your friends had packed up the dinner party at midnight, looking up at the ceiling, counting the weeks you'd spent with Eddie this year.

So far, it was fewer than you'd spent apart. Of course, watching the man you love do the thing he loves so much is one of life's biggest blessings, but you'd be a fool if you tried to convince anyone that it didn't hurt. Even if you have friends, and your own life, and a job. That clawing yearning, it grows, expanding by the second every time he leaves for another grand tour of some continent somewhere, with his childhood friends and their insatiable libidos, their lowkey stimulant dependencies and the roadies.

He's home in a month, which is really a month and a half but giving yourself more manageable goalposts is something that helps. You're definitely not delusional.

You decide you’ll spend the rest of the evening offline. It’s 9pm, so you strip your work clothes and pull on something comfier. You put bread in the toaster and when it’s done you spread peanut butter on one slice and jam on the other, and on your way to bed you pick your phone up off the floor.

Your offline evening lasts maybe twenty-five minutes. Something about the comfort of bed and the need for something to entertain you while you eat two slices of toast lulls you back to the welcoming arms of evil fans.

It’s 1am when you get another call from Eddie. You managed half a slice of the jam-covered toast before discarding it in favour of your favourite meal - the insults of strangers - and you’ve been curled up in a ball scrolling TikTok for three and a half hours.

Should you answer it? Probably, yeah. For some reason, though, it feels like you’re angry at him, even though he's done nothing. Something spiky flares inside you when he calls, like you’re jealous, or bitter. It’s entirely your own doing and yet you’re punishing him for it.

He calls again when you don’t pick up, and then texts when you let this one ring out too. You try to swipe the notification away again but click it by accident, opening your conversation, which is awash with grey bubbles where he’s tried to reach you with no reply.

The latest one, above the bouncing bubble with three dots, reads: is everything okay?

No, you think to yourself. You watch the dots, addicted to knowledge that he's out there somewhere, texting you after a gig, when everyone else is getting drunk or high or laid. You know this isn’t healthy, but tonight you feel particularly self-destructive.

give me a call when you wake up. xxx

He thinks you’re asleep, so you’re off the hook for now. You can return to your mind numbing, to breaking down your brain cells one by one, until your eyes force themselves shut and your brain winds down, your phone still open in your hand, playing the same video on loop into the night.

It’s a restless sleep, broken too many times and not deep enough to really count as sleep at all. You eventually drift off properly, some time in the early morning, and when you wake, the light’s blinding. You didn’t close the curtains before you went to bed - did you even try to close them at all? - so as the sun’s moved across the room, it’s landed directly over your face. You’re splayed out on your stomach, drool in your hair.

The sun seems high, too high for an autumn morning. You reach around, patting the mattress and your bedside table in search of your phone. With no luck you sit up slowly, groaning, rubbing your sleep-laden eyes.

Your phone’s on the floor beside your bed. You reach it and find that it’s dead, so you tug the charger cable out from where it’s lodged down the side of the bed and plug it in.

For a few minutes you lie there, befuddled, with no idea of the time or how long you were asleep. Impatient, you get out of bed, aching and creaking because of how you slept, and pad across the room to the bathroom. After you pee and dodge your reflection in the bathroom mirror, you head to the kitchen.

The little fluorescent numbers on your stove read 12:08.

Shit.

Turning on your heels, you run back to the bedroom, throwing yourself over the bed onto your stomach. You grab your phone and try to power it up but it’s still flashing the little battery at you, almost like it’s angry you’d even try to turn it on.

Shit, shit, shit.

How long were you out? It’s definitely nearly 12 hours since Eddie last called, and it’s now 48 hours since you spoke to him on your break.

The wait for your phone to come back to life is agonisingly long, a painful three minutes wherein you pace and sit, break out in a sweat, and even start making your bed in desperation.

Finally it buzzes and you jump. As it comes to life it buzzes again, and again and again, and you freak out, dropping it onto the bed.

4 more missed calls from Eddie, and 3 texts. Normal, to be expected with your lack of response.

But the strange thing is the texts from your friends. Each one of them has text you multiple times, at various points since 6am. Even your mum has called, which is strange for a Saturday.

You’re not sure where to begin, so you start with where’s comfortable: Eddie.

I’m worried, sweets. text me soon x

this is getting weird, what’s going on?

any sign of life?

You tap a response quickly, too quick to keep up with yourself. You’re floating in a post-late-night haze, thick with guilt from the night before and head stinging from staring at your screen for so long.

I'm alive! give me a call when you’re free. love you xx

Almost as soon as you hit send, your phone’s buzzing again, Eddie’s name and picture flashing up on screen.

“Hello,” you say quickly as you answer it, bringing the phone to your ear and holding it with both hands, as though it might slip away if you’re not careful.

“Christ, y/n, you scared the shit outta me.”

“Sorry,” is all you can say. He sounds so breathless and it makes your nose burn.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I just... I was worried, ‘s’all. Sorry for all the texts.”

“No, it’s okay, I should have called.”

“It’s fine, really, I thought you might be out, after work or something, y’know, didn’t wanna bug you, but-”

“No, Eddie,” you say, cutting him off. “It’s okay, I should have text you or something, I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying sorry,” he says with a light laugh. “But you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, knowing he’ll see right through it anyway, regardless of the fact he’s miles away and hearing you down a phone line.

“What’s up?”

“It’s fine, really, I don’t wanna keep you.”

“’M not busy, sugar. Y’got me for however long ya need.”

“But-”

“Did you, uh... Did you read the news? This morning?”

“What?”

“I think you should, uh, check it. Now.”

“Is everything okay? Did something happen?”

“No, no,” he says, laughing again. “Just...” Your phone buzzes in your hand. You bring it down, setting his call to speakerphone, and see that he’s sent you a link.

You tap it and it opens a webpage. It’s an article on Rolling Stone.

Corroded Coffin postpone US tour.

“What the fuck?”

“Heh...” His nervous laugh sets you on edge, your anxious sweats not letting up.

“What does this-”

“I, uh, I’m about fifteen minutes away.”

“What?!”

“Here, I’ll explain when I’m back, okay? Just... Just please call your mum, will you? And maybe text Robin and Nance back? They’ve been on my back all morning.” And then, before you can protest or ask questions, he says, “I’ll see you soon, sugar. Love you.” The line buzzes. He’s hung up.

You bask in bewilderment for a few seconds, staring at your phone. Your messages app has a little red 57 in the corner - unheard of for you - and you have 5 missed calls - four from Eddie, one from your mum. You call her and tell her you’re okay, and that you’re sorry for the radio silence, and that you’ll tell her everything about the tour when you know more. And then you text your friends back, mostly ignoring the 40 messages in the group chat about the news, telling them the same thing, that you’ll fill them in once you can.

Fifteen minutes passes like an age. You finish making the bed, and then put on some coffee. You tidy away yesterday’s clothes, which you’d left in a pile by the bed, and splash your puffy face with cold water.

Is he angry with you? He didn’t seem angry on the phone. But why is he coming home, and why has the band postponed the tour, because you didn’t pick up the phone for one or two days? Your relationship has been long distance just as much as it hasn’t; going a day without speaking isn’t much to shout about.

You stare at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes are still puffy and there are marks down one side of your face where your bedding’s made indents in the skin. You scrub the sleep from your eyes and the drool from the corner of your mouth and run your fingers through your hair, doing your best to smooth it down.

It’s then that you hear the familiar sound of keys in the door. Just as you round the corner into the hall, sliding across the wood in your socks, you find your boyfriend closing it behind him and setting a bag down on the floor.

You’re moving before you know what you’re doing. Your body caves in from want, from the deep-seated desire to be next to him, and you can’t - won’t - stop yourself from throwing your arms around him. You squeeze him, your arms around his middle, and feel him relax into you as his own come around you. The two of you stand like that for a while, him rocking you gently, and when he pulls you back so he can look at you, he finds that you’re crying.

“Oh, baby,” he coos, pulling you back in again. You slip from his grasp, though, moving so that you can reach up and paw at his face. You plant firm lips on his and let yourself drown in the euphoria of the reunion.

“Eddie,” you pant against his mouth. “Why-”

“Hey,” he laughs. “I’ll explain, okay? Just-” Kiss. “Missed you.” Another kiss.

“I don’t-”

“Are you okay?”

You speak at the same time, but he’s sterner where you’re unsure. He's looking at you with your face in one hand, eyes hard like he’s trying to get you to fess up.

“Mm-hmm,” you hum, nodding quickly and ignoring the way the sound bubbles in the thickness of your throat.

“Here,” he says, the firmness ebbing and his face softening. He takes your hand in his and walks you to the living room, past the kitchen where a week's worth of dishes sit beside the sink. If he notices the state of the place, he doesn't say.

He sits on the couch and waits for you to join him.

He watches you when you do, and for a while it’s quiet. There are a hundred questions you have for him, but they dissipate when he holds your face in his hand again, tucking hair behind your ear like he’s in a movie, tracing the fading indents from your sheets down your temple and across your cheek.

You take in the state of him - the wildness of his hair where it’s pulled back into a scrunchie, your scrunchie, and the deep marks of tiredness beneath his eyes. Otherwise, he’s much the same as he was when he left you in August, your rockstar off to wow every state with that skill of his you love so much. He’d taken too long saying goodbye at the airport, nearly missed his flight to Washington, and when he’d finally let you go you’d stayed, sitting in a deserted café, clinging onto the last glimpse you got of him before he was weaved through security by their manager, Jason.

“What’s goin’ on, hm?” he asks, voice soft as ever and sweeter too. It brings you out of your head and you look up at his ridiculous, gorgeous face, his brown eyes burned with sorrow, the scrunch between his eyebrows that appears when he’s concerned.

“Missed you,” you tell him, whispering in case speaking louder will shatter what can surely only be a bitter daydream.

“Why’d you go all cold on me then?” He drops his hand from your face and holds your leg where it’s bent up underneath you.

“Been a bad couple days.”

“How come?”

“Just missed you,” you repeat. It’s all you can think about now he’s here and he’s got his hands on you - how you’ve missed him, his smile, his eyes, his hands, the way he smells, the space on his shoulder where your face fits when you hug him.

“Missed you too,” he tells you. “But I think you’re hidin’ somethin’ from me.”

You groan and twist in your seat, letting your legs drop off the couch, his hand falling to his own lap, and lean your head back. With your eyes shut, you breathe deep.

“Sorry I didn’t text, or call, I just... I’ve been really low.” You hear the tremor in your voice and know he can hear it too. He hopes you don’t hear his heart and the way it breaks at the sound.

“I know you don’t really go online, or whatever-”

“I know what’s been happening,” he says, cutting you off. You open your eyes and turn your head so your cheek’s pressed to the back of the couch and you can look at him. His eyes are harder now, trained somewhere away from your face, though his hand, now resting too on the back of the couch, toys silently with the ends of your hair.

“You do?”

“Yeah, Jason’s been keeping us, uh, updated, or whatever. Showing us some of it.”

His eyes meet yours and he looks back at you with a tenderness that pulls you limb from limb.

You crumble then, all the emotion of the past few weeks easing out of you like crackling smoke. You lean, without thinking, into his side and cry, wet and heavy sobs, gasping for air. Through cotton-wool ears you can hear him soothing you, feel his hands smoothing up and down your back. You listen as he coos pretty things in your hair and kisses the crown of your head until your breath’s a bit more level.

“Sorry,” you hiccup.

“Stop apologising,” he says, with that same feather-light laugh he had when he told you the same thing on the phone. And then he breathes out, slow, and says, “I knew somethin’ was up last week, when you called me from the store.”

“Oh, yeah.”

You think back to last Tuesday, when you’d been picking up groceries and only just made it back to your car before the tears had spilled over and left you in a miserable puddle in the driver’s seat. You were tired, of what you couldn’t tell: going home to an empty apartment, shopping for one person, the fact you’d had to buy a different shampoo because you’d used Eddie’s up and they didn’t have the one he usually uses at the store.

You’d called him after you’d cried, just to hear his voice, but it had been late in the afternoon wherever he was and he was getting ready to play another show so all he’d been able to say was I love you, I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?

It’d left you feeling bereft, worse than ever.

“I don’t know what to do,” you choke out, mind on that evening and the hundreds of others just like it.

“What do you mean?” he asks, taking your hands in his own, his thumb smoothing up and down the sides of your wrists.

“I can’t keep doing this,” you say flatly. “You being away so much, I... It’s so hard, Eds. I know I have friends, and-” Hiccup. “-and they’re great, they’ve been great, Nance and Rob especially, they... We have dinner every week and it’s not like I spend every night here on my own, waiting for you, or whatever, I just... Everything online is so hard to look at but it's also so hard to not look at, it’s so hard to see all these people being so invasive and weird, wanting you all the time, following you around, and sometimes it’s mean and then I think, you know, maybe they’re right sometimes. I miss you, and it hurts and I don’t know what to do because you’re so happy, and I love you and I love your band and you’re so talented but I just... I sit back here, waiting for you. It’s like I’m a... An anchor, or something, y’know? I feel like they’re right, I’m holding you back, I just-”

“Stop it,” he says. You take a well-needed breath and look at him, hearing the way his stern words come out filled with remorse, and find that his eyes are red round the edges and his mouth’s doing that thing it does before he cries.

“Oh, Eddie, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

He squeezes your hands and says, “No, it’s okay, I just- I hate when you talk like that.”

He takes a breath and, letting go of your hands, pinches the bridge of his nose. After a quiet moment he sits upright and turns to you.

“I never, ever feel held back by you. Do you hear me?”

“I know, I just-”

“I mean it. Never.”

“Okay,” you sigh.

You see him ease a little, leaning back slightly.

“I know you didn’t sign up for this, and the fact you’re still here is honestly... Maybe one of the craziest things ever. I know that it’s been bad recently, I’ve seen some of the stuff online and god knows I have to deal with it in person every time I leave a fucking building, but you can't listen to them, baby. I don’t want any of this if it’s hurting you.”

“Eddie-”

“I’m serious. I’d drop it all, leave it all behind, change my name and flee the country or something, if it meant I’d get to be with you.”

Your nose burns again, and there’s a simmering ache in your temples. You breathe and try to keep the tears at bay but it’s futile; they come without permission and quickly, thick drops down your cheeks.

“When you called last week, I... It broke my heart, sugar, I couldn’t bear it.”

“I had to get different shampoo,” you tell him bluntly, like it’s the most reasonable thing in the world to cry over the little red out of stock sticker underneath where the bergamot shampoo would usually be.

He just looks back at you sadly. You’re not sure where to go from here, because whatever outcome you know your heart will break. You could leave him, abandon all of this and start afresh somewhere new, taking your time to mourn the loss but get over it eventually. You could stay, doing this every year for the foreseeable future, playing your role as the doting girlfriend who waits patiently for her world-famous boyfriend to come home. Or Eddie quits, and you live with the guilt of what he’d lose forever.

“What’s goin’ on in there?” he asks you, tapping your forehead softly with his index finger. “Hm?”

“What do we do?” you ask him, as though he's somehow wiser than you when it comes to this.

He toys with your hair again, tucking it behind your ear. “I don’t know,” he admits, “but I’m here for now.”

“But you’ll go again,” you remind him.

“Yeah,” he responds reluctantly. “But there’re only two weeks left of tour.”

“But there’ll be another, and then another.”

“Not like this, there won’t.”

“Eddie, you can’t quit. That’s not fair, I can’t expect you to do that, I don’t want you to do that.”

“Who said anything about quitting?”

He’s suddenly got a smile on his face. It’s only small, one side of his mouth pulled up in some kind of mischievous signal.

“You can’t keep making music and not touring, that’s not-”

“I’m not quitting music, baby. Tours just won’t be this long.”

“But you’re getting more famous, you can’t-”

“Let me explain,” he drones playfully, not really fed up with you but playing into it to get you to listen.

“You’re right, you can’t expect me to quit and stay here with you, just like I can’t expect you to drop everything and come with me. I thought about it, y’know, the logistics of you coming but it’s not easy, I mean, we live on a bus for most of the tour and when we are in hotels we’re doin’ press all day, and just ‘cause we could afford it now doesn’t mean I want you to quit your job, or leave your life behind for me or anythin’. But I also... I hate this just as much as you do. I don’t know how it looks to you ‘cause my free time isn’t exactly a lot but I spend literally every minute I have on the phone to you, so much that Gareth’s started really takin’ the piss, givin’ me shit for it...”

He’s laughing and as you let yourself laugh too, feel the heavy weight of distance lifting off you. It’s been so long that you’d almost forgotten how blissful it feels to be sat with him, laughing like this in your little apartment. Almost.

“I’ve got some ideas about how we can make this work,” he continues, “but right now I’m just happy you’re okay.”

“How long are you home for?” you ask him in a low voice, hesitantly, lest you get your hopes up.

“However long you want,” he says softly, tracing the side of your face. “But probably a couple of months.”

“Months?!” you gasp, incapable of controlling your volume. He flinches and laughs again.

“Yeah. Won’t be able to sort new shows for a while anyway.”

The tears return, only this time they’re born of a deep relief. You feel it lift you and you fall into him, gripping on for dear life. Your arms wrap around his middle and your nose rests at his neck, and you squeeze him as hard as you can while he carries on laughing, his own hands matching yours. When his t-shirt is sodden with tears and your arms have eased up he brings you up to meet his eye. As you watch them flit between your own and your lips you get that feeling, the fluttering of a crush deep within. Suddenly you’re both seventeen again, when your biggest worry was whether the boy with long hair in your English class liked you back, rather than all the burdens of early adulthood and fame. And then he kisses you, a true homecoming kiss, warm and firm and sure, and you melt into him, sighing happy noises and kissing him back.

Four hours later, you’re still on the couch. He helped you clean, slowly undoing the wreckage of depression, and you both showered, washed his hair with the shampoo that will become his new smell. You’ve torn through an order of Chinese takeout and you’re halfway through a tub of Ben and Jerry’s, though currently it sits abandoned on the coffee table, the two spoons leaving melted ice cream across the varnished wood.

The conversation - about where you go from here, how you navigate this new life together - is saved for another day.

Right now you’re in his lap, right where you like to be, kissing him senseless and letting him do the same to you.

You dance your mouth across his cheek, down his jaw and onto his throat, over the scattering of pretty, blooming bruises that match your own (just marking what’s mine, he’d told you). When you reach his collarbone, he says, “Maybe we should get a cat.”

You sit upright and look at him quizzically. “A cat?”

“Yeah,” he says, a lazy smile growing. “It’d keep you company when I’m not here, and Nance would love lookin’ after it when we're away."

You dwell on the idea, your eyes dancing across his face which glows a pretty shade of pink in the low living room light.

“Okay,” you agree, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Let’s get a cat.”

One month later, you pick up Ozzy from the pound. He’s a baby, really, small but filled with restless energy. He’s black with white socks and though you dote on him endlessly, it’s Eddie he truly falls for.

At least you have something in common.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson angst #Eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fic #st 4 #stranger things vol 1 #stranger things eddie

396 notes · View notes

thefrogdalorian · 10 months ago

Text

Welcome Home, Son

Word Count: 4,166 Rating: Teen Summary: Din Djarin finds himself back on a mysterious planet that is strangely familiar to him, despite the years that have passed since he last stepped foot on it. A visit to the cabin he once shared with his family brings Din face-to-face with someone he never imagined he would again encounter for the rest of his days. Content Warnings: Grief, PTSD, survivor's guilt, grieving for parents. Author's Note: I started writing this last month, but a conversation with @djarinmuse inspired me to finish it tonight. When reading back after I finished I was like "oops this is emotional, who hurt you" so I'm sorry, and the answer is Jon Favreau, I guess. But I'm also not sorry... writing Din like this (weirdly) sparks joy.

Read on AO3

My Masterlist

It was seemingly early evening. The sun had apparently already set, as the sky was a striking shade of rapidly darkening blue. Yet, the mysterious planet was not yet plunged into the blackness of night. The man's eyes began to adjust as he surveyed the scene before him, looking for clues as to where exactly in the galaxy he currently found himself.

As he gazed around at the strangely familiar architecture, he realised in disbelief that he had somehow returned to the planet of his birth.

Several small cabins lining the main street were already glowing a pale orange from the small windows that offered a peek inside. A few of them had smoke slowly snaking their way into the serene sky from the chimneys. It was a galaxy apart from the condition the planet was in the last time he had stepped foot here. The smoke he had observed rising back then had been from the devastating destruction; that utter carnage that had robbed him of everyone he had ever loved and everything he had ever known.

The sound of tiny feet pattering against the ground as a few children passed next to him, scampering down the road and giggling playfully as they went, caused him to turn his helmeted head and watch them closely. He noticed that they were still dressed in the distinctive dark red robes that, he too, had grown up wearing. The looming, solitary figure watched as the children disappeared into a cabin, feeling a pang of grief and longing for the life he had lost. Their carefree nature caused his eyes to fill with silent, unshed tears – known only to him thanks to the helmet he wore – as he stood there, taking in the sight. He had been just like them once, running through these streets without a care in the galaxy.

It had been so many years since Din Djarin had stepped foot on this planet. But it was as familiar to him as the day he had left all that time ago, wrapped protectively in the arms of the warrior that had saved him from certain death here on Aq Vetina, as they jetted upwards, towards a different life. Now, somehow, fate had brought him back to this very place where everything had changed for him.

If anyone here who remained remembered the small dark haired boy from all those years ago, they would not recognise the form he took now. The hulking Mandalorian's features were hidden by the helmet which perfectly matched the rest of his unpainted Beskar armour, still gleaming despite the low light. A satchel was slung casually across his shoulders, resting against his side, slightly obscured by the dark, tattered cape that he wore around his neck. Din placed a protective gloved hand on the satchel, for it contained the most precious thing in the galaxy to him.

Din stood there quietly for a few more seconds, taking in how surreal it was to be back. When he had departed this place, barely anything remained. On that terrible day, most of the planet's recognisable landmarks and features were reduced to smoking piles of rubble. But it appeared they had mostly been rebuilt over the time that had passed. Standing here, in this street, was the most surreal sensation, as though Din was seeing a ghost. He shook his head slightly and finally moved, finding his feet guided as though by some immovable force. That day, he had never had the opportunity to spy what happened to his cabin. His eyes had watered from the cold air that rushed around him as the Mandalorian carried him far from the battered surface, and he had not been able to get a good look at what remained. But now, perhaps he would get the answers to its fate that had haunted him for so many years.

Despite the decades that had passed, Din found that he remembered the route to what had once been his cabin perfectly. It was set slightly back from the main street. As Din traversed the path that led to his home, he felt his pulse rate quicken. His heart pounded in his chest, he heard it reverberating in his ear drums. What if he did not receive the answers he was so desperately searching for?

The street was slightly secluded from the hubbub of the main thoroughfare but it was still in a convenient location. Din’s friends lived dotted around the various cabins that lined his route to his former home. As he passed the memorable locations, he recalled how easily his group of friends had been able to assemble for days of fun in no time at all. They would dash from cabin to cabin, weaving between the crowds of bemused adults, calling for their friends to join them for what were, at the time, seemingly endless days of fun. Until they had ended.

That was something that had always struck Din, whenever he was reminiscing about his past life during those formative painful, lonely nights in the covert on Concordia where he had been taken – how perfect his life on Aq Vetina had been. A child should never have to contend with the number of burdens that Din at such a tender age. Reminiscing as an adult gave Din a new perspective on that devastation; he frequently found himself grieving for his younger self. That small boy did not deserve a single one of the terrible things that had happened to him.

Din strode down the street purposefully, despite his nerves. But as he approached the end of the street, where his family's cabin was once located, Din felt all hope leave his body, the spark cruelly extinguished.

The cabin was dark.

Clearly, no one lived here anymore. Imagining that his parents had survived such carnage had been an absurd notion and Din was momentarily disgusted with himself for ever being delusional enough to believe such a miracle could actually have been possible.

Then, he was angry. Furious that this golden opportunity to get answers would yield no such outcome. How unjust that fate had caused him to step foot here, yet they would not allow him to gain closure. He would leave here none the wiser to the fate of his parents.

Din allowed the sorrow to sweep in then. He felt profound sadness that there were to be no answers; that he would never find out what had happened to his beloved parents. For a moment, when he had arrived here, he had visions of his mother gathering him in his arms, holding the back of his head with her hand just as she did on that terrible day. Except this time, her face would not be lined with anguish and terror at the impending doom that was exploding all around him… this time she would be able to appreciate the man he had become.

Din had imagined his father placing his large, warm hand on his cheek, his face inches away, their identical brown eyes gazing into each other’s as Din explained the facial hair he kept was his way of honouring him. Din’s voice would crack as he spoke, telling them that all these years he had thought they were dead. But he had never stopped missing them, or loving them, not for one single second.

But it was not to be.

Din stood there for a few more seconds, the anguish squeezing his inside until he almost felt as though he was going to suffocate from the agony. He was about to turn on his heel and walk away, when something inside him stopped him and made him turn towards the cabin. Even if there was indeed no one inside, Din could at least step foot in the first place he had ever called home.

As Din approached the cabin, he knew with absolute certainty that this was the place where he had been born. It was unmistakably the place where he had spent such a happy childhood, with the parents who were entirely devoted to him and to each other. Before their futures had curelly been snatched away by the Separatist battle droids. The doors and windows were exactly as he remembered; the domed roof matched with the rest of the traditional architecture on Aq Vetina.

Din took a deep breath as he raised a gloved hand to the door. Then he pushed the polished wooden surface, and stepped over the threshold, simultaneously unprepared for and desperate to see what lay beyond.

In the darkness, it took a few seconds for Din’s eyes to adjust to make sense of the sight before him. There was no light coming from outside the cabin, and with no lit fire, there was certainly no light emanating from within. But once Din’s eyes had adjusted, he noticed a shock of maroon belonging to a form in the main room of the cabin.

There was a figure hunched over the fireplace. Whoever was there appeared to be placing some wood on it to light the fire. Once Din’s eyes adjusted further, he noticed how impossibly tiny the figure appeared. The slender figure was frail, clearly of an advanced age. Could it really be her?

Din was about to call his mother’s name into the darkness, to check that it really was her. But a small sound cut him off.

“Who is it? Who’s there?” A shaky voice asked into the darkness as its hunched figure straightened.

“It’s… me, Ma,” Din replied, swallowing thickly and forcing his shoulders back, to stand tall in front of her, despite how much he was trembling.

“Din? Is that… is that really you?” The woman asked in disbelief, as she shakily shuffled through the cabin and approached the door, where Din stood, unmoving.

“Yes, Ma. It’s me,” Din nodded. “I never thought I’d see you again,” Din whispered hoarsely, his voice trembling thickly with the emotion of the moment.

“You were just a little boy the last time I saw you, now look at you. You’re a man,” The elderly woman said admiringly, as she came to stand in front of the hulking frame of her beloved son, with his broad shoulders accentuated by the meticulously polished armour that he wore. "Oh, Din. I wish I could have started this fire, so I could get a proper look at you."

“Would you like me to help you light it?” Din asked, nodding in the direction of the fireplace where his mother had been hunched when he had made his surprise entrance into the cabin.

“Please,” Din’s mother nodded appreciatively. “I always struggle with the matches,” She grumbled.

As Din made his way towards the fireplace, his hands instinctively came towards his helmet. If he was going to put some fire into the room, he didn’t want his mother to be greeted with only the unrelenting blackness of his T-visor. He wanted her to be able to gaze into his eyes, the brown eyes that were so much like her own.

At that moment, thoughts of the Creed he had sworn, of his redemption in the Living Waters beneath the Mines of Mandalore, were forgotten. Din could not pass up on an opportunity like this. Besides, wasn’t family a fundamental part of what it meant to be Mandalorian? How could a way of life that taught that above anything deny a mother and son bonding again in this way, after so many years of torturous separation?

Din noticed the wood that had already been neatly placed in the fireplace, he reached for the box of matches on top of the mantlepiece. It was strange, the last time he had been here, he had looked up to the mantlepiece, it towered over him as though it was the largest thing he had ever seen. Now, though, Din was a hulking man, who loomed large over the mantlepiece, dwarfing everything else in the room.

The match sparked as it struck the textured paper, before catching light. Din lowered it down to the woods, blowing on it to get the fire going, mimicking the memories from childhood of his father lighting a fire in this very place so many times. Din’s father had made it look so effortless, even when his hands were trembling from the cold that necessitated lighting a fire. The three of them would then huddle by the fire, Din, his mother and his father.

His father.

Din had been so taken aback by his surprise reunion with his mother that he had not even considered his father's notable absence. Perhaps he was out running an errand in the town? If his mother had survived, then surely his father had, too? The last he had seen of them, they had been together after they pushed him into the below-ground cellar, where he had sheltered from the destructive rampage. Where was he now?

But before Din could ponder his father's fate any further, the fire caught, and a warm orange glow filled the cabin. Din stood up from the crouched position by the fire, careful not to disturb the satchel still slung around his body.

He turned around and could now freely gaze at the face he had been convinced he would never see again. Now his helmet was no longer darkening the already poorly-lit cabin, Din could look at his mother properly. The last time he had seen her, she had been so young, probably even younger than Din was now, a thought that was strangely disturbing to him. Din could not even contemplate the horror of losing a child at such a young age.

Even though the years had altered some of his mother's features, so much of her was instantly recognisable to Din. From her long, wavy hair that trailed down her back and around her shoulders, once the same shade of brown as Din’s but now greyed with age; to her deep brown eyes and distinctive nose, shaped so much like Din’s. It was a rare nose shape that he had not often encountered, but seeing his mother share the features made Din feel less alone in the vast galaxy. There were heavy wrinkles lining her forehead and deep bags underneath her eyes. Din thought his mother looked as though she had lived with a great deal of pain for a long time. He felt terrible, knowing that most of it was undoubtedly his fault. He cursed himself for not returning to her sooner. But Din had been so terrified that his worst fears would be confirmed: he was the last, the only survivor from that torrid day on Aq Vetina. So he ran from job to job, through every corner of the galaxy. Until he met Grogu.

As Din had been taking in her mother’s face, she, too, had been gazing at the son she idolised and adored. She was mystified by his sudden arrival, her eyes widened and her lips parted in awe. Din’s mother had long feared that her son had never survived his ordeal in the cellar; to the best of her knowledge, he had vanished without a trace from Aq Vetina. The woman consoled herself in the immediate aftermath with visions of Din getting away, growing into a handsome and strong young man, a fantasy that she had continued into her old age, that had wrapped its arms around her and comforted her when there had no longer been a physical presence remaining to do so.

“Oh, you look so handsome. Look at you.” Din’s mother murmured, as she gently cupped the stubbly cheek of the son she had believed was long dead in her frail left hand.

Her hands were wrinkled and weathered with age, but they still felt as soft as Din remembered them from his childhood. Din squeezed his eyes shut at the contact, unused to feeling the warmth of another human being on his face in this way. It was overwhelming, almost painful.

“You look so much like your father,” Din’s mother said as she stood back to admire him. “He would be so proud of you.”

“My father?” Din’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “Is he here?” He asked hopefully.

“No, Din… that day. He didn’t make it.” Din’s mother said simply, feeling that it was best to get to the point. Her face dropped from the proud, stunned expression she had been wearing as she gazed at her son to one of deep sorrow.

“Oh…” Din said, his brow furrowing as the news he had feared was relayed to him. “Then, how did you survive?” Din questioned, struggling to process how she had possibly made it out alive, when his father had been cut down so brutally.

“Yes, after we put you in the cellar that day he… he lingered just a second too long after we shut the door. He was closer to the explosion,” Din’s mother explained. “There was nothing that could be done. I’m sorry, Din. He loved you so much, with his dying wish… he wanted you to be safe. If he could see you now… he would be so proud.”

“I know. I understand that kind of love for myself, now,” Din nodded. But before he could dwell on his parental pride, Din’s thoughts turned to concern for his mother. “What were you doing without having a fire lit?”

“Oh, Din,” Din’s mother sighed, looking towards the floor in shame. “The nights get so cold, my hands don’t work the same as they used to. I struggle to gather the wood, to light the fire.”

Din shook his head and stepped towards the tiny woman, suddenly feeling a strong protective urge blossom somewhere deep inside him. Din reached out and placed his hand on the top of her arm, his gloved fingers reaching out to grip her arm tightly, as though afraid she would slip away from him once more.

“I’m here now, Ma. I’m going to take care of you.” Din pledged solemnly.

“Thank you, Din,” The old lady nodded in gratitude, before wrapping her arms around his waist, searching for the warm, fleshy parts of her son that she could feel between the cold, hard armour. Din’s mother leaned in for a hug.

For the few seconds the two remaining Djarins spent standing there, bodies close together in the small cabin on Aq Vetina, Din felt all the hurt beginning to lessen. The years of suffering, of agonising over her fate, had been replaced by gratitude that his mother had survived, despite all the odds against her. Din would properly process the loss of his father in the time to come. But for now, he relished the warm embrace of his mother. His chin resting on her thick grey hair, as he inhaled her familiar scent. It did not last, though.

“Maker, that’s cold!” Din’s mother exclaimed as she took an alarmed step back, out of the tight embrace.

“I’m sorry, Ma. I don’t often… hug people in this thing,” Din shook his head as he gestured towards his armour.

“Well, I suppose I should ask about the story behind you wearing all of that,” Din’s mother returned the gesture, her hand reaching out in the direction of his impressive Beskar’gam.

“I was rescued by Mandalorians. I was taken to a moon called Concordia, by their homeplanet of Mandalore. The Mandalorians that rescued me adhered to a strict creed. I was required to hide my face behind a helmet from a young age,” Din clarified the reason for his elaborate armour.

“My son, a Mandalorian…” Din’s mother murmured as she shook her head in shock. “I cannot believe it. I always knew you would do great things, Din.”

Din swallowed thickly, knowing that his past was far more complicated than his mother could possibly imagine. It was true that he had done a great many things she could be proud of, but it was equally true that she would probably not be able to look him in the eye if she knew the destruction and depravity he had been known to unleash throughout the galaxy.

But there was one thing above all else, that Din was undeniably proud of. That he knew would make his mother proud, too. Din knew it was now time to introduce them.

“There’s… there’s someone I want you to meet.” Din said nervously, as he moved the satchel he had been periodically placing a protective hand on throughout their conversation around to his front.

Din’s hands were trembling as his gloved hand opened the bag. The brown material was lifted, and familiar green ears of the child who had changed Din’s life suddenly poked out.

“This is my son, Grogu.” Din said proudly, feeling his eyes burn with tears, as he introduced his adopted family to the final surviving member of his biological family.

Grogu’s head peeped up beyond the bag where he had been comfortably resting, accustomed to being carried around in such a manner. His big brown eyes blinked a few times, adjusting to the light after so much time spent in the darkness of the satchel.

“Oh, Din. He’s precious,” His mother clasped her hand over her mouth at the sight of her grandson. “I always hoped that you would be a father, have a family of your own.”

“I never thought I would be a father, myself. I used to be a bounty hunter. Grogu was actually a target of mine. After I turned him in, I realised how innocent and defenceless he was,” Din said, swallowing thickly as he looked down at the tiny, innocent baby who he had once so callously betrayed. Indeed, the heavy armour that his mother had admired had been the spoils of his sin. “I had to go back to get him. We’ve been together ever since. I adopted him, he’s my son now.”

“Din, that’s wonderful. I don’t blame you, look at him. What an adorable little thing. How could anyone ever want to hurt him?” Din’s mother stepped towards them. “I’ve never seen anything like him.”

“Neither had I,” Din added in agreement. “He used to be a Jedi. Grogu had the chance to become one again but he chose…” Din swallowed, suddenly overcome with emotion when he remembered the enormity of Grogu’s decision. “He chose to come back to me.”

“The Jedi… I know them,” Din’s mother nodded. “I thought they were all long dead.”

“So did I, but I have encountered them throughout my travels,” Din recalled. “They are few in number now, but there are some left. Just like Mandalorians, they have survived.”

“Can I… would you mind if I held him?” Din’s mother asked nervously.

“Of course you can,” Din nodded encouragingly.

But as he moved to take Grogu from the satchel and carefully place his son into his mother’s arms, the child began to whine furiously. As Din lifted Grogu up, all the warmth placed into the room, thanks to the fire he had just lit, was rapidly sucked out of the cabin. Din felt cold. His mother’s face swirled, distorted before him.

Suddenly, everything faded to black.

Din awoke with a start. He was still in a cabin, but it was not his family’s cabin on Aq Vetina. He was on Nevarro, in the little home he shared with his son.

It was the middle of the night, there was hardly any light, but Din could hear Grogu’s steady breathing and the weight of his child slumbering peacefully on his chest. Din also felt the way Grogu’s tiny claw was splayed against his cheek.

There had been no reunion on Aq Vetina, Din realised. The thought distressed him, but it did not surprise him. His parents were still gone. Grogu was all he had.

Din leaned down to press a kiss to Grogu’s wrinkled forehead, feeling the fine white hairs tickle his upper lip and nose. Their bond, their closeness… it was just as profound as the love he had felt for his parents. Time had not diminished that, and Din knew that for as long as Grogu lived, for the centuries the child would likely outlive him, Grogu’s love for the Mandalorian who had rescued him and taken him in would never diminish. Din understood that the love a child had for their parents was a force more powerful than anything else he had encountered, in all of his travels throughout the galaxy. It was more powerful than anger, or hate, or fear.

With that in mind, Din placed his hand on Grogu’s back and hugged his son a little tighter than usual. Grogu was all the family Din had, he was all the family Din would ever have. It was a thought that had brought Din to his knees and humbled him countless times over the years since he had encountered Grogu on Arvala-7.

Tonight, as Din felt the little boy nuzzle into his broad chest, it did so again.

#my fics #seriously why did i write this i have no defence #din djarin #the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin fanfic #din djarin fanfiction #clan mudhorn #WITH THIS I HIT 300K WORDS ON AO3!!!#pretty insane considering i've only been writing since september #can you tell i'm neurodivergent......

32 notes · View notes

thedoover-if · 1 year ago

Note

THE EX ROUTE IS GOING TO KILL ME, WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO US😭😭

IM SORRY😭 to be fair id never forgive cheating but in games i usually always let it slide so i really wanted to have a ro where it feels very vulnerable to not only move on but also allow oneself to fall in love AGAIN... i think itll be a very interesting dynamic to explore (and i love drama LOL love when authors rip my heart to shreds and then stomp on the pieces too)

fyi youll be able to be hesitant, fearful or whatever OR you can cheat with them, not caring for their current partner and be like rory from gilmore girls where she's like "dean was mine first" (iykyk!!!!)

added a little snippet of a potential scene ive got planned with MC on 'the ex' ro route. call it a little taster LOL (under the cut)

(fyi its from the pov of an MC who still involuntarily feels something for the ex)

“don’t do that,” you spit, gaze slowly travelling down your ex-spouse’s frame. they’re seated on the opposite side of the living room, on the same exact sofa they used to occupy – be it during game nights, movie nights, or simply weekends spent quietly enjoying each other’s company. it felt like the perfect fit. they were the unique key to your lock. the gentle notes on your sometimes out of pitch days… until the music abruptly came to a halt, never to be played again. and ever since that day, three years ago, your life has been muted – dulled even. “do what?” they tilt their face up, and for a moment you’re transferred back in time. but you snap yourself out of it just as quickly; you refuse to go down that path again. although you’re stood a few metres away, you’re able to make out a shapely outline – it's you – on the otherwise empty page of the sketchbook propped on their lap. “you’re drawing me – I don’t want you to draw me.” “why can’t I? you look beautiful.” the stupidly crooked smile creeping upon their features is like a stab to the heart, and those last three words shove the knife straight through your body. just like that, your lungs implode – you’re in too deep. a tsunami of emotions rips open every old wound you nurtured close so carefully over the past months. the hours spent in therapy, flushed down the drain by a sweet compliment. soured by the wrong person. “because that’s what you did when you were with them. when I see you doing this, it makes me think about every night you lied.” your throat grows tight, your vision blurs, and yet you continue, “every night you spent with [redacted] while I was right here… waiting.” for seemingly the first time, you notice sun rays peeking through your beige curtains. it’s almost like the sun has sensed the devastation ongoing in the pit of your stomach, and so with each passing second of your skin soaking up the warm orange beams, the grey clouds inside your head clear more and more. it takes one large breath to relax the tightness of your vocal cords, before you’re able to force a sound out. “you really hurt me [redacted]…” as soon as a look of regret takes over [redacted]’s otherwise painfully gorgeous face, a small flame of hope lights up in your body – one you didn’t grant permission. it’s soothing… and familiar, yet you starve that spark and let it die. “you drawing me like that – it hurts because you know I’ll like it… and that’s not fair, [redacted]” you whisper, before standing tall, a surge of determination coursing through your veins, “I’m not going to let you do this to me again.”

#inbox <3 #ro: the ex spouse #snippet

77 notes · View notes

photogirl894 · 1 year ago

Text

@clonexreaderbingo

Square: "I love you"

Yay, my second bingo one-shot! This time, for Captain Howzer! This is my first time writing for him, so I hope I do the good Captain justice! 😊😊 Enjoy!!

“Hera? Hera! Hera! Where are you, child?”

You cried out for the young Twi’lek girl in your charge as you wandered outside on the top balcony of the Syndulla household, wondering where she had wandered off to. The child was always getting into mischief along with her C1 unit Droid, who you swear had more sass and attitude than the girl herself. You’d done your daily lessons with her and then let her be so you could prepare dinner for her as well as Cham and Eleni, the girl’s parents, who would be expected to return soon. Of course, of all the times for Hera to disappear, it had to be just before her parents came home. Though, they most likely wouldn’t be surprised, but even still, it was embarrassing for you to appear as though you’d lost their daughter. The sun was just beginning to set, coloring the sky a deep gold and orange, and you hoped you’d find Hera before it got too dark.

Looking around to the courtyard and beyond the wall of the estate, you called out again, “Hera! Chopper!” When no response came, your hands came up to your hips as a groan of frustration escaped you. “Where has that girl and her Droid gone to now?” you asked aloud. You had checked all through the house and there was no sign of her. She’d better be outside somewhere.

At the start of the Clone Wars, you were hired by the Syndulla’s to be the governess for their daughter since one or both of her parents were constantly away, especially with Cham Syndulla’s involvement in the war as well as the liberation of Ryloth. You were a simple woman who had come to Ryloth for a new start after you had lost your family to a famine on your home planet. The Syndulla’s seemed like a good family who had nothing but their people’s best interests at heart and you found there was never a dull moment with them, especially with the fiery-spirited Hera, who was on the verge of her young teenage years. They paid you and treated you well and gave you your own room in the house to stay in; you really felt like you were part of their family some days.

Then off in the distance, you managed to spot a small cloud of dust and heard the faint revving of an engine. Your eyes narrowed, trying to make out the shape coming in your direction. It was a speederbike. After a few seconds, you spotted a familiar shade of teal against the gold of the sunset sky behind him which brought a smile to your face.

It was him…Captain Howzer.

He was a Clone captain over a squadron of troops that had been sent months ago to help the citizens of Ryloth after they were liberated from the Separatists. He had also personally been assigned to serve with Cham Syndulla and his family. He had been to the Syndulla home many times. Sometimes to retrieve Cham when he was needed for a battle of some kind, to check on the wellbeing of the family or to bring Hera back after she’d scampered off somewhere…which you could tell was the reason for his unexpected visit this time as you then spotted a smaller figure peek out from behind him, her green skin and lekku illuminated by the sun.

Seeing them approaching the outer wall, you ducked out from the upper balcony, made your way through the house and went outside to meet them. Howzer drove in through the gate and brought the speederbike to a stop in the courtyard. You saw Hera slide off the back of the bike and Chopper, who had been magnetized to the very back, jumped off using his thrusters, chirping in greeting to you and waving his little mechanical arm like nothing was wrong.

“Oh, don’t act all innocent with me, Chopper,” you chided him as you walked towards them. Then you looked to Hera. “Hera Syndulla, where have you been? Your parents will be home anytime now.”

Before Hera could answer you, you all heard the sound of a shuttle approaching and saw it come zooming in overhead. It was Cham’s personal shuttle. You had a feeling he and his wife were going to question why you all were out there and possibly why Howzer was there unannounced. The shuttle came in for a landing inside the courtyard and you shielded your face from the exhaust. Within seconds, the Syndulla couple disembarked their ship.

“Well…we have quite the welcoming party, my dear,” Eleni remarked to her husband as they came your way.

“So it would seem,” replied Cham. “What are you all doing out here…and what brings you by, Howzer?”

You opened your mouth to explain what had happened, but Howzer answered first, saying, “Hera needed help replacing a part for her Droid, sir, so I offered to take her to find what she needed while (Y/N) got things prepared for dinner. We only just got back. My apologies if I overstepped.”

“Not at all. That is perfectly fine,” said Cham.

Your eyes widened slightly at Howzer and you grinned a little to yourself. He had covered for you as well as Hera…for probably the twentieth time, at this point. He was far too kind and noble…and that was why you loved him.

It hadn’t taken long after Howzer had come to Ryloth for him to catch your attention and for you to catch his. He was incredibly handsome, even with the scars on his chin and his cheek, and he thought you were beautiful beyond compare. There were many stolen glances when any of the Syndulla’s weren’t looking, secret meetings when Hera was in bed and her parents were still out and a couple lingering touches of your hands when you stood by each other. After a couple months of getting to know each other, growing closer and subtly flirting, you had finally kissed Howzer during a night alone and you both decided you wanted to be together. You weren’t sure if Cham and Eleni would approve of your relationship, so you tried your best to keep it a secret and act cordial around each other when they were present. However, you’d caught some knowing looks from Eleni a couple of times. Either you and Howzer weren’t being as discreet as you thought or Eleni was much more observant than you gave her credit for, which was already a lot. Eleni Syndulla was a sharp and witty woman that you admired a great deal. She most likely knew of your relationship with Howzer, but she’d never said anything, which gave you the idea that she didn’t mind or she approved.

To quickly move the conversation along, you spoke up, saying, "Supper is ready for you all in the dining room."

Eleni then looked to the Clone Captain and said to him, a grin on her face, "You will join us for dinner, won't you, Howzer?"

"Thank you, ma'am, but I wouldn't want to impose, especially since I'm here unexpectedly," he replied.

"Nonsense, you would never be an imposition to us," she said back. Then she smiled even more. "Besides, I'm sure our lovely governess made plenty of food for everyone."

Of course, Eleni made it a point to say you were lovely…but you simply said politely, "I did, yes. There will be enough for you, as well, Captain."

"Please stay and eat with us, Howzer!" cried Hera excitedly.

Seeing all the women were staring at him, Howzer stole a look at Cham. The Twi'lek leader just shrugged and said, "The ladies have spoken, Captain."

"I guess they have, sir," he said. Then he agreed, saying, "Very well."

Pleased with his response, Cham and Eleni went into the house with Chopper following behind them. However, you stopped Hera as she tried to go after them.

"Now, where were you really, young lady?" you questioned her in a low voice, your eyebrows raised and your hands on your hips.

Hera laughed sheepishly and told you, "Uh…I went to go find Uncle Gobi…because he told me if I could get away, he'd take me flying. Howzer found me instead and brought me back."

You let out an exasperated sigh. "Gobi really is a bad influence on you. You're both gonna get me in trouble someday," you commented. You gave her a pat on the head. "Go on, troublemaker, go wash up for dinner."

Hera ran off up the stairs and into the house, leaving you and Howzer alone.

"I honestly think Eleni knows about us," you commented to him.

He chuckled. "I wouldn't be surprised. She's an intelligent woman."

"Though, she hasn't said anything to me, so...I'm assuming she's okay with it?"

"She'd better be…because I would fight for you and for us if she didn't." He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, giving you butterflies in your stomach and what he had said. "Let's go, I'm dying to have some of your cooking."

Dinner went well with the Syndulla’s and Howzer complimented what you had prepared…multiple times, even. Howzer was never really around for mealtimes, so this was a very rare occasion to have him there. He too fit in well with the family dynamic.

As you were clearing the table, the Captain stood up, took up his helmet underneath his arm and stated to the room, "Thank you for the meal. It was very appreciated. I'll go ahead and leave you now for the evening."

"As you wish, Howzer," Cham responded. Then he said to you as you took his plate, "And (Y/N), you may have the rest of the evening off. Eleni and I will handle getting Hera to bed."

"Oh! Are you sure, sir?" you asked, surprised.

"I'm sure. You've worked hard today, especially after preparing this meal for all of us," he said. "Go, have some time for yourself tonight."

When he turned away, you snuck a look at Howzer, who had stopped in the front doorway when he heard Cham tell you to take the night off. He grinned at you and quickly motioned with his head outside, signaling to you that he'd wait for you, and then closed the door.

"I appreciate that very much, sir," you said gladly to Cham. "I'll go on a walk after I get the dishes."

You took the dishes into the kitchen to clean them, but found yourself intercepted by Eleni, who took the dishes from you.

"I will handle dishes, dear. No more work for you tonight," she told you. "Go enjoy your walk." Then she leaned in and whispered, "Enjoy your time with the Captain."

When she came back, she winked knowingly at you. It was certainly now safe to say that she definitely knew about you and Howzer.

Gratefully, you smiled back and replied, "I will, ma'am. Thank you."

You grabbed your jacket from your room and retreated back downstairs. You bade Hera goodnight and gave her a kiss on the forehead before heading out the door. The sun had gotten lower in the sky to where it just a soft light, the sky covered in pale pink and purple. Howzer was standing by his speederbike in the middle of the courtyard and a pleased grin crossed his face at seeing you. You broke into a run down the steps and leapt into his arms, throwing your arms around his neck. He caught you with ease and spun you around, chuckling in your ear.

"Let's get out of here," he suggested.

"Yes, please," you replied, already halfway on the back of his bike.

He got onto the bike and started it up. You wrapped your arms around his waist and the two sped off into the endless deserts of Ryloth. You rode on for a while until you came to a cluster of rocks in the middle of the desert; a spot where you and Howzer had escaped to many a time.

He helped you off the speederbike and you immediately found yourself in his arms, his lips connecting with yours passionately.

"I'd hoped I'd get you to myself tonight. I've missed you," he said, referencing that it had been a couple of days since he'd been able to see you.

"I've missed you, too," you replied.

You kissed him once again before he pulled out a blanket from the back of the speederbike. Then he laid it out on the ground for you and you sat down upon it. Then he took the time to remove his armor, stripping down to his undersuit, before joining you where you snuggled up close to him in his arms. The two of you laid back on the blanket and looked up to the sky, seeing that the pinks and purples were growing deeper in color and you could see a sea of stars beginning to appear as night was approaching. The two of you gazed up at the stars without saying a word, the beating of his heart drumming in your ear.

Finally, after a long while, you heard him ask, "What do you think will happen when the war is over? What will happen…with us?"

"I don't know," you said. "I don't know if the Syndulla’s will still need me when Cham no longer needs to fight for Ryloth…and you'll probably be shipped offworld because the Clones won't be needed either." You nestled up closer to him, your arms snaking around his waist. "What are we going to do? I don't…I don't want to lose you, Howzer."

Howzer sat up, pulling you up with him, and looked steadfastly into your eyes. "You won't lose me, babe," he promised, laying his hand on your cheek. "I don't know what our future holds for us when the war is done, but I do know this: when that time comes, wherever you choose to go in the galaxy, I will always be at your side."

You reached up and grasped his hand on your cheek, leaning into his gentle touch. "Do you really mean it?"

"Of course, I do," he said, kissing you long and slowly. His forehead tenderly touched yours when he pulled away. "I love you."

This was the first time those three words had been spoken between the two of you and a quiet gasp escaped you at hearing them. When you pulled back to gaze into his eyes, you found there wasn't a hint of any lie or uncertainty in them at all. He meant what he said truly and irrevocably. Though, you knew you shouldn't question him. Howzer would never lie to you. He was always honest in everything when it came to you. There was no reason for it to end here.

"I love you, too," you told him back with a smile. "Even when you're no longer a Captain and I'm no longer a governess, I will always love you and we'll always be together."

There, under the starry desert sky of Ryloth, you and your beloved Clone Captain promised that no matter what happened in the future, you would always have each other and that was all you would ever need to be happy.

Clone x Reader Bingo 2023

#star wars the bad batch #the bad batch #bad batch howzer #howzer x reader #cfb2023

91 notes · View notes

mountain-wire · 1 year ago

Text

September.

Rise raph + Reader (yall are strangers, so.)

Warnings: Guitar.

I was listening to September by Sparky deathcap... enjoy, i suppose!

Im throwing spaghetti at the wall and hoping it sticks with this one

~~~

Raph walked... and walked... he was lost, and in kraang territory. His shawl could only do so much to disguise him from the kraangs view...

It'd only been a year or so since the beginning, and he still wasn't as adapted to the apocalypse as much as he would like to say. It was taking it's toll on him, thats for sure.

He was lost, and his brothers should find him pretty easily with Donnies tech, but Raph wasn't sure what exactly he was supposed to do in this situation. There wasn't much to hide in, or to go to for sanctuary from the kraang in general. This place was flooded, and Raph was taking his sweet time trying to avoid these new dogs the kraang unleashed... they were freaky, to say the least.

Eventually, he stopped. In front of him was a wall of untouched trees. How...? It didn't make much sense. In fact, it made no sense. It was such a contrast, the burn land Raph was standing in, versus the lively green and brown of the treeline in front of him. Sure, quite a few of the trees were dead and also burnt, but a lot of the trees behind them were alive just as much as a year ago, being mixes of yellows and oranges and even some greens still. September...

Raph decided to test his luck in there, in the forest. Whatever was keeping the kraang out had to be better than the kraang itself... it was from earth, after all. Even that didn't make sense, why would anything from earth keep the kraang out? Nothing about this made sense.

The humidity retained by the trees and their leaves felt nice on Raphs skin, it was so hydrating after how long he'd fought in the kraangs fire.

There was another problem now, though. He was alone. Raph held onto the tails of his mask tightly, breathing in and out, in and out, to calm himself down. His separation anxiety had only gotten worse since the apocalypse started. He knew that he had to be able to be okay without his brothers, especially now, but it was hard. What if something happened to them? What if they got hurt?? What if he wasn't there to help??? Most of these scenarios involved the kraang finding them.

He leaned against a nearby tree, snapping a twig on the ground in the process. This made him feel worse. The kraang were drawn to noise as much as they were movement, he didn't want to have dogs chasing him through the forest. Even worse, what if one of the kraang itself heard and went to check out the snapping twig noise?? Not only would he be in danger, the forest would be too. The kraang would surely realize anybody could be hiding in the forests shadow, and then it'd burn it down! It'd be miserable, even in death, to think that because he stepped on a twig once the last remaining forest in the New York area would be burnt down.

Yeah his anxiety was working double right now. He pulled on the tails of his mask again, trying to ground himself. Get those thoughts out of his mind. He sat down with his shell against the tree, the spikes scratching it lightly.

He worked to calm himself, though it proved to be majorly ineffective.

He closed his eyes, squeezing them tightly together and imagining his brothers okay and looking for him.

But... a few seconds after he heard something. Something very definitively not kraang. A guitar. Who would play a guitar while the kraang were a thing now??? Especially outside! In the open, mostly, where the kraang could come up at any time!

He thought about it for a second, before slowly and quietly getting up and sneaking his way towards the tune. It sounded vaguely familiar... not entirely in a way where he's heard the song before, but just sort of in the way where it's something he used to know. Guitar, that is. Understandably, nobody dared to play anything anymore.

He peeked around trees, looking around to make sure the coast was clear from any incoming threats or dangers. This was a good way to keep his mind off of things...

Soon he reached the source of the noise. A person, sitting next to a tree, that was next to a small pond or something.

Raph stared at them from behind a tree, mostly out of confusion and concern.

They hummed along to the music they played, seemingly where words would have been if they were singing.

"...Hey." Raph said, trying to get their attention while also staying quiet.

They looked up, slowing the movement of their hands and fingers.

"Hey."

They stared at each other for a moment. This felt awkward, in multiple ways. They both were thinking for different reasons.

"You gonna... come out of the shadows, or...?" The shook their head as they spoke, feeling weird that they had to even ask this... stranger to do that. It felt like something out of a movie that had an odd vibe on purpose.

Raph looked around in every direction, along with listening at the same time. He had to make sure that it was clear to go towards the noise.

He walked forward towards them, until he was standing in front of them.

"What are you doing???" Raph questioned urgently, as if this were a total life or death situation. In a way it was.

The person with the guitar shrugged, looking back down at their guitar before putting it down next to them.

"Playing."

"Why??? It's dangerous!" Raph crouched down next to them, trying to be more on their level so that he could get through to them easier.

"It's less dangerous than you think. Relax." They said in return, gesturing towards the ground beneath them.

Raph stared at them with furrowed brows, not believing them.

They seemed calm though... and they weren't freaking out themselves... maybe he could join them for a moment. Just a moment.

He sat down, joining them on the healthy grass, though he didn't look particularly happy about it.

"How can it possibly be less dangerous than i think? The kraang will find you with you making that much noise."

"They follow noise, i know." They nodded as they spoke.

So they knew! They knew and made noise anyway. Did they want to die?

Raph had a bit of a dumbfounded look on his face, his hands resting on his thighs. He just stared at them in disbelief.

"So... you know that and you're making noise anyway??? Why would you do that?" Raphs concern came through his voice unfiltered.

"I've been watching them. I've realized things," they paused, looking to the pond beside the tree. "They haven't come into the forest yet, right? Despite the whole... apocalypse thing. They want to get rid of life, I know I know."

"They seem to be targeting the more populated areas right now... the city. Nip it in the bud, i guess." There was a good chance they weren't using that phrase right. They didn't seem to care, though.

Raph looked to the side, over to the pond that the stranger was looking at as well. He didn't say anything in response, he was surprised.

"My guitar means nothing to them while theres still life in that residential area. The sound doesn't draw them in... not yet, anyway." They didn't seem... bothered.

"I imagine it will soon, though. When most of the life over there is dealt with, they'll either move on to another part of the city, or they'll come here."

The concept of doom and the fate of the forest seemed to weigh uncomfortably little on their mind.

"And you're just... okay with that...?" Raph almost whispered, seeming shocked that anybody would just... be okay with that problem.

"It's not like i can do much about it. I have a guitar, and that's it. I can't fight em so I'm appreciating this while i still can." They leaned their head back against the tree, feeling the bark on the top of their head.

"Oh."

A few beats of silence passed.

"Can I stay here with you for a little...?" Raph questioned. Just speaking with this person seemed to get his mind off of the fact that he wasn't with his brothers.

As short as their conversation was, it did help.

"Of course." They responded, picking up their guitar again and starting to play.

Ah, that's why it was familiar. September by Sparky Deathcap.

This was one of the more positive ways to end the month.

#rise of the tmnt #raph x reader #rottmnt #rottmnt x reader #tmnt #rottmnt raph #tmnt x reader #rottmnt raphael #platonic?#romantic?#whatever yall want bby

35 notes · View notes

thiswasinevitableid · 1 year ago

Text

Late Shift (Danbrey)

The winner of the "creatures and people" prompt poll was: A vampire who works the night shift at a gas station

Anywhere else, Dani would get in serious trouble for adding fresh herbs to the donut case offerings at four-thirty am.

Amnesty Lodge, with its attached gas station, does things a little differently. For starters, the head cook at the Lodge restaurant refuses to let them sell the standard gas station snacks without adding a few of his own into the mix. Hence the fairly fresh batch of doughnuts that he dropped off fifteen minutes ago. Dani’s basil plant has been growing even wilder this year, and she worked out that a sprinkle of basil makes the lemon filled donuts–even the ones Barclay doesn’t make–taste a million times better.

At least, that’s what customers tell them. Dani hasn’t eaten a donut since 1964.

Even when Stokers Famous Tonic became mainstream, allowing vampires to eat human food without getting violently ill, it’s not always cheap to get your hands on. And Dani likes to save hers for the fresh fruit from the garden, or when Barclay wants a recipe tester or Mama invites her for an early-morning cup of tea.

Or, if she plays her cards right, dinner with her favorite regular.

The door opens and the object of her dinner plans walks in, with far more energy than most humans have in the darkness of the morning.

“Hi Dani!” Aubrey waves. She’s brightened the flame-orange streak in her hair since Friday, making the black curls around it shine like a raven in the sun.

“Hi” Dani is relieved, not for the first time, that she can no longer blush, as Aubrey bends over to grab a Double Shot Oatmilk Monster Energy Coffee. She’s in her stage outfit, black dress jacket with studs sewn on the shoulders, and shorts and white dress shirt that look like someone ripped the arms and legs from a tuxedo.

Aubrey looks over her shoulder with a smile and Dani pretends to find a spot on the counter to clean with her nail.

“Just the usual please, if you’ve got it” The magician sets the drink on the counter. Dani grabs a waffle sandwich from the warming station; eggs, cheese, and hot sauce on a slightly sweet waffle, the kind Barclay makes in huge batches and then freezes.

“We do. Did you just get back from a show?”

“Nope” Aubrey leans on the counter, allowing Dani to see the bra peeking through the dress shirt, “heading to one. They booked me for a big brunch show at some country club in Huntington but they want me there, like, super duper early. Oh, wait, do you have baby carrots today?”

“Ummm” Dani glances at the chilled food display, “nope. Shipments are still kind of weird. Sorry.”

“Dr. Harris Bonkers will live without them. I’ve got other stuff to bribe him with to stay calm in the car.” She takes her change, but doesn’t move her hand right away. Instead she adds, “But you’re gonna owe him nose pets the next time he comes in.”

“I can handle that. Break a leg at the show.”

“Always do.” Aubrey gives her a wink and heads out into the parking lot, leaving her to rest her chin in her hands and sigh at the candy display.

—----------------------------------------------------------------

Aubrey’s totally going to do it. She’s going to ask Dani out when she stops for gas today. She’s made this promise to herself every day for the last two weeks, but gosh-darnit today she means it.

Dr. Harris Bonkers, PhD, runs circles around her feet as she swipes on black lipstick and stamps on her eyeliner.

“Just a sec buddy, I’m almost done.”

A honk in reply.

“Look, if I had my way I’d spend all day petting you, but I need to get groceries and you’re not allowed in Leo’s after the banana incident.” She crouches down pets the rabbit’s nose, “but you’re coming with me tonight even though we don’t have a show. I’m gonna need emotional support for this. You gonna be my wingman?”

She moves her hand back a half-inch, and he immediately bumps it with his nose.

“Thanks doctor, knew I could count on you.”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------

Dani is dumping blood orange syrup into the slushee machine when Aubrey walks in. The magician makes a bee-line for drinks, Dr. Harris Bonkers hopping behind her. The white rabbit is close to the size of a Corgi, sporting his black harness with flames on the sides as his claws click on the tile.

Technically he’s not supposed to be in here, but Mama has never booted him when she’s spotted him inside the Lodge or the restaurant, and Dani figures people who are stopping for gas at eleven at night have more on their minds than complaining about a fluffy bunny.

She heads over to the counter and Aubrey follows her, setting her Cherry Coke next to the sign for the Kepler Trunk or Treat.

“That all for tonight?”

“Yep” Aubrey says a bit too cheerfully. She’s worrying the chain of her necklace, something Dani wishes she would do less or do much more, depending on how in control of herself she’s feeling that night.

She has such a gorgeous neck.

Oh no that’s too creepy.

“Anything for the doctor?”

“Nah, he got an apple slice earlier–Dr. Harris Bonkers you put that down.” She disappears from view, reappearing with a pack of Double Bubble in hand. There are two, square teeth marks in it.

“This too. Sorry, he really likes the smell of bubblegum.”

“Silly bunny, that’s not for you. And don’t worry about paying for it, it’s like a buck and also Indrid will eat the stuff that didn’t get chomped.”

Aubrey laughs, “Thanks. Um, so, I’m doing shows at the Kepler Fall Festival this weekend. One at eleven and one at three. I know your schedule is probably weird because you work so late here but, um, I realized I’d never actually invited you to one of my shows. This one is going to be super freaking cool, I made up some Halloween tricks and everything. Do you know it’s weirdly hard to make a pumpkin disappear? Uh, anyway, just thought I’d ask.”

If Dani goes, there’s a very high chance she’ll get a serious sunburn.

Aubrey smiles hopefully, the expression crinkling her nose and making Dani want to lean over and kiss it.

“I’ll be there.”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Dani wasn’t at the first so, and with five minutes to go before the second one starts, Aubrey’s worried she won’t show. She so rarely sees the other woman around the Lodge during the day, like she sleeps through it, and it was silly of her to think she’d see her now.

She straightens Dr. Harris Bonker’s skull and crossbones tie, looks at the crowd and doesn’t see her. So she straightens out her cuffs and looks again,

Dani is there, in a seat in the back row. Her blonde hair falls over her shoulders, and she’s wearing a long, mint-green dress, brown boots up to her knee, lacy green gloves to her elbow, and is carrying a green and white striped parasol. She looks so cool and hot, how the hell is Aubrey supposed to focus on anything else?

Then again, Dani clearly made time to come see her perform.

The festival emcee announces her name. So she strides out to give the best performance of her life.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Dani is pruning her night-blooming jasmine when she hears it; the unmistakable sound of something munching her collards.

“Hey Dani, have you seen-”

She holds up a hand to shush Barclay, “Can you see what’s making that noise at all?”

“Uhhhhh” the cook scans the beds, then raises his eyebrows, “unless my eyes are going, it’s Dr. Harris Bonkers.”

“What the hell?” Dani slips into the next row and finds Barclay is right; the massive rabbit is happily munching a big, green leaf without a care in the world.

“He must have hopped out the Lodge door.”

Barclay shakes his head, “Aubrey hasn’t been here since this morning, and I saw her leave with him in her arms. And her car isn’t in the lot now. He must have run away from home.”

Dani frowns, “Her apartment is three blocks from here. That’s a long ways for you to have gone, doctor.”

“C’mon little guy, let’s get you into the Lodge and give Aubrey a call. She’s probably worried sick.” Barclay bends down but the rabbit swiftly hops away, leaf still in its mouth.

“He’s right, we–whoops” Dani makes a grab for him, but he darts between her legs.

After ten minutes of failing to catch him, Dani is even more impressed with the fact Aubrey trained him for her act. Because if he doesn’t want to do something, there seems to be no way to make him do it.

“Hang on, I have an idea. Stay here and make sure he doesn’t run into the woods.”

Dani looks around, then turns into a bat and zips across to the gas station, grabs a pack of gum, and runs back to the Lodge garden. She kneels and calls, “Doctor, look what I’ve got.”

The rabbit, done with it’s collard, sniffs the air and turns towards her.

“It’s your favorite” She holds out the pack and the rabbit hops forward, bobbing now and then like he suspects a trap. Only when he gets his teeth on the wrapper is Dani able to scoop him into her arms.

He snorts, annoyed, as Dani passes Barclay the gum, “can you toss that or give it to Indrid? I’n gonna go call Aubrey.”

Dr Harris Bonkers explores her room as Dani picks up the landline and dials. Three tries over fifteen minutes leads to nothing. Kepler is in the NRQZ; if Aubrey’s not at home, Dani’s going to have a hell of a time getting a hold of her.

She keeps trying until it’s time to go to work, at which point she sticks the rabbit in a small laundry basket and carries him over to the gas station with her. After several attempts to get out, he calms when she gives him a few baby carrots and turns on the audiobook of Bunnicula on her phone (it helps her fall asleep).

Around midnight, the door dings and Aubrey walks in, looking more haggard than Dani’s ever seen her.

“I” she sniffs, wiping her eye, “I was wondering if you’d maybe seen Dr. Harris Bonkers? He, he got out while I was asleep earlier and I, I looked all over the neighborhood and I can’t, can’t”

“Hey, fireblossom, it’s okay.” Dani hurries around the counter a tad faster than a human should, “we found him in the garden. He’s behind the counter.”

“Ohthankfuckinggod.” Aubrey collapses against her, hugging her, “I was so worried, thank you so much, I owe you, like, big time.”

Dani hugs her back, takes a deep breath, and says, “How about dinner tomorrow?”

Aubrey looks up at her and grins, “I was hoping you’d say that” she kisses her nose, “and it’s cute that you already have a pet name for me.”

“Look, I have a lot of free time during work and it’s more fun to think about you than rearrange the candy bars again.” Dani kisses her cheek, “here, the doctor is waiting for you.”

They find the rabbit lounging, legs out, as the story drifts from the nearby phone.

“You are in big trouble young man” Aubrey scoops him up and holds him tight, “you jerk, never ever scare me like that again. You’re lucky Dani found you and not a coyote. Or the Johnson’s cat.” She pauses, listening, “awww, Dani figured out your favorite book.” She smiles like a thousand stars as she says, “I loved that one as a kid. I’ve always been a big fan of vampires.”

Dani licks a fang and kisses Aubrey on the cheek again, making her laugh, “Then I have another really good piece of news for you.”

#danbrey #aubrey little/dani #aubrey/dani #taz amnesty #promptober #vampire girlfriend

20 notes · View notes