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jolalibrary · 5 months ago

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v. if you cling on, i will too

joel miller x f!reader | chapter five of honey stained hands

chapter summary: things take time to heal, but will you be the same you when you do?

wordcount: 3.5k warnings: typical canon-angst/grief. angst. injury/comfort recovery. joel calls reader honey (because she bakes). smutty? this pair are together but won't admit it. mentions of joels attempt on himself but minimal, lots of healing angst. but it's me so the ending is... nice. an: we should all thank je te laisserai des mots for the final chapter to this series! and also @thetriumphantpanda who i said "hey, can i ask a favour" and then dumped this on her without her prior knowledge.

The grip of winter slowly loosens, the world beginning to thaw as your wounds heal.

Green begins protruding where there had only been white, shooting up hope, a silent promise of renewal etched into every bud and leaf.

Joel supposes the promise came true.

By the time the first flowers emerge in a riot of colours, their vibrant hues a stark contrast against the lingering remnants of frost, he’d asked if you wished to move in. To have your things more officially with his. Less a cluster of things you’d “take back the next time you do” and more a permanent place for them to collect.

Saves you havin’ to walk back and forth.

Joel is thankful you smiled at the kitchen table and said yes.

Because it had been convenient, easy, to have you here with him when the two of you had arrived back. When your wounds were scarlet and tacky, bruises convulsing and growing under your skin until it made you hiss and whine at each movement. Then, there were the bones you feigned weren’t broken, in the same way you pretended your soul wasn’t fragmented.

Then, there was the simple fact you could barely dismount from your horse as a worried crowd approached, news of your missing nature now resolved.

You clung to him as you shied away from questionable eyes and paused glances. Horror sketched into the faces, blanketing over earlier panic—faces that had only shown you prior kindness. Because the monster you kept at bay until you were outside of the walls, was tired, depleted and very much on parade as Joel helped you down from the horse and the others, who had come to help retrieve them both, stood back to let the audience gawk.

If it stung, you never showed it. Holding him tight, gripping. Using all of your left strength to remain upright and desperately rooted to him.

You are stubborn in that way, and in the way you tipped up your chin, daring them to see what had been inflicted for the sake of their survival.

Good girl he had almost whispered into your ear.

He saved whispering that for over a week when you’d clung different to him, when your eye was no longer swollen shut and you begged to feel him—feel something other than hands that weren’t his.

Those two words ran from his tongue like they’d been swallowed back for too long. Pressing to your skin wherever possible, attempting to heal what he couldn’t understand, see or feel.

Things flower in the spring. The sun rises and lingers for longer before darkness crests over the world briefly.

Flowers shift towards the sunlight, laughter runs along the streets; coats are hidden away, with thinner layers covering bodies and trade shifts from boots to things that are easier to enjoy the warmer weather in.

You don’t bloom though.

Something altered in you, forever cracked. A thing that kept you from sleeping and dreaming when your wounds looked angry and raw; the cracks not healing, even incorrectly, when your skin stitched itself together.

It doesn’t ease when you stop hissing as you descend the stairs, when you’re able to walk for longer than a minute before pausing for a break. It only appears to lessen when you visit the bees. You avoid the other animals, though. Weighing it up, acknowledging with your head bowed that the strength isn’t there. Apologising in heavy whispers to Maria, to yourself, to the air and the cold and the breeze.

He waits for you to bake, to begin rolling things in a bowl and allowing the house to smell like yours used to. It doesn’t come. Not even when he returns from patrol and finds you in a similar state to when he left you.

Your monster is more than wounded, so close to dead that he struggles to work out how to heal it.

Joel doesn’t ask, and you don’t tell.

He could assume, formulate a story; he could create the pieces of the puzzle that were missing.

Instead, he leaves it alone. Rather wishing to live with the unknown than what he feels he’d have to pry from your clenched fists.

“You tried talkin’ to her brother?”

“Nothin’ to talk about.”

Because Tommy doesn’t know that the forest and cabin know all the secrets, the rest withered and shaved down inside of you. Doesn’t understand what it is that remains in a person who temporarily hangs between the living and the dead.

The only time he heard you reference it, what happened out there, was when he overheard you with Ellie. Honey-yellow light splayed across the landing, his feet pausing near the creakier floorboards as Ellie’s voice rang out in the quiet, in the heavy air that was desperate to splinter or slither away.

“You survived.”

He likes to imagine your hand sliding into hers, that you nodded, before you realised the meaning of the girl’s words. Maybe your head snapped up, stared into her younger eyes and hunted for the thing that neither of them should have had to suffer through.

“We both did, Ellie,” he heard you say, and his hand goes to the wall for leverage, for stability. “We survived… because we’re stronger than them.”

Then, he breathes out. A heavy one, a puff. An exclamation that loosens the knot around his heart—because it’s that or let the tears burn his eyes. Hand on the wall of the place that now feels home, steadying himself on the stairs that the two of you climb each night before you slide into the bed you now call yours.

Before you call him yours, mouth wrapping around the head of him, taking more of him than he can wrap his head around down your throat. M-i-n-e you stain against his cock, swirl it with your tongue until pulls you from him, burying the same word inside of you, making you arch as the word shifts into something else.

Us.

In the summer, you laugh.

A sound you’ve left escape a handful of times, but nothing like this. Head thrown back, neck elongated—eyes shimmering with mischief and sarcasm and all the other things he noticed in you.

He wonders if you’re better. If things are better.

Ellie has made friends, informs him over breakfast that she’ll be here, there or anywhere, and he just hides a smile behind his mug. Nods, agrees. Asks what time he’ll expect her as he internally grumbles about teenagers. Then, you descend the stairs, half-dressed in you and half-dressed in him, a picture, a sight for the sorest of eyes.

Your kisses have grown softer in the day, than just at night—almost reminiscent of the ones he received before you left that day.

“You still like shortbread, Miller?”

He snorts, elbow on the table that needs tightening, watching you fold your arms—cockiness sewn into your mannerism, in the way you sit. “That what we callin’ between your legs, honey.”

“After last night, y’can call her whatever you goddamn please.”

He snorts, briefly. Instead choosing to hear the lilt of your laugh, watching as it paints sunshine around the room. As it trickles out and flutters, before chair legs scream against floorboards and you’re by his side, palm on his jaw, on the wiry hair that grows in odd ways and leaves patches that never fill.

“Can you walk with me to see the animals?”

He does.

A gut instinct he ignores as your fingers slot themselves in his, tight, holding him as you don’t ask for a breather, don’t sound ragged or out of breath. Only letting go where you near the pen, when your voice becomes that high-pitched tone he remembers briefly—akin to a parent speaking to a baby.

Joel recognises it before you do. Counts, studies—looks for the familiar pattern on the one sheep that sticks out like a sore thumb. He swallows, dread filling his chest, making his stomach bubble and knot.

You look at him.

Sadness blended with hysteria, alarm. Body over the fence, running with awkwardness from healing wrong, until you slow at the side of the place where the animals sleep.

Roscoe on his side, cold, still. Gone.

His heart, whatever remains left of it, breaks when he sees you go to your knees. Tentative shaky hand brushing over sheepskin, before your body rocks, tremors, and you burst.

It’s more than mourning an animal that you’ve cared for. It’s more than mourning itself.

So, he steps back and stands on the other side of the barn door as he listens to the sobs, the cries, the wails and incoherent ramblings. All things that remind him of a loss he never sits too much with. A loss that made a barrel press to his forehead and made him feel like a hole had been left in him forever—one in his chest, not even close to where he’d tried to pull the trigger.

He wonders if you’ll laugh again.

Joel also worries he’s lost you again.

The sun is setting when he returns from patrol, the air sweet when he opens the door—it creaks, protesting against him, and he wonders, briefly if he’s entered the wrong place.

His boots thudding, coat hanging—ache blooming behind his bones.

But it’s all righted when he sees a mixing bowl, egg shells and a pot of honey. In the mess, a plate. Stacked high, and then you.

Different from the person who used to bake in your kitchen, but also different from the person he’d left this morning, tangled in sheets. The one who looked lost, and now appears more found than he’s known in months.

“Hello, stranger.”

Even the sound of you is familiar. That tone, all flirtatious and confident, parcelled in someone who grins as he moves closer.

“Ellie’s out—she stole one, though. So, she’s eaten.”

He snorts. “Just us then?”

Nodding, undoing your apron, sliding it from over your head as you fold it onto his kitchen counter and he keeps approaching. Hand scratching at his patchy beard, watching as you tilt your head, and let your lips slide into your cheek.

You’re back, here—existing.

It’s different, the attraction that thrums in his bones. It had begun as a need, primal, unexplainable, before it shifted, changed, and became something foreign yet oddly familiar, and now it was just desire, longing.

And you kiss him hard as though acknowledging it. Pressing yourself as firmly as you can, smothering yourself to him as though attempting to merge with him. Your tongue licking behind his teeth as you moan, as you equally long, lust and need.

You trail him with your palms, across his chest, shoulders and neck. Trailing them down his back, kneading out aches you haven’t heard him complain about yet, before you’re palming him over his jeans, whimpering at the feel of him hard and desperate.

“Like how you want me, Miller.”

“Like how you take me, honey,” he groans, runs his nose along your neck, licks at your skin—tasting the sweat of your labour having mixed with the sweetness of the air.

It isn’t all the time like he wishes. Tiredness and age played a factor, but right now—like this, a reminder of a memory, he feels anew. Younger. More capable. Roughly shifting you until it’s you pressed against a counter, until he’s pawing at your clothes until he can admire, feel smooth skin with his worn, calloused hands.

“Missed you.”

It leaves his mouth before he can stop it.

Because you’ve been here. But not like this. It is far too honest for what the two of you are technically, but not quite what the two of you have become.

Thankful you grasp his cheek and pull his mouth to yours, but he swears he tastes your reply before he earns it. Before his hand slides inside the band of your cotton panties and makes you hiss against his teeth, slick coating his fingers. An urge to drive you to the edge, to have you pleading, to have you call him Joel and not Miller, to have you seeing white and erode your pain from your body and fill it only with bliss.

He’s a mess, and you’ve barely touched him. The sight of you, unhinged, wild and free. Head thrown back as his thumb swirls circles on your hardening nerves, as your pussy tightens around the fingers he has buried in it. As you moan, as you plea, as you cry and whine for him, almost needing to command you to come so he can sheath his cock in you and feel you.

But, then you surprise him.

As you always fucking do.

“Missed you too,” you whimper, hips grinding against his hand—teetering in the land where you find it hard to shy away and can only emit honesty.

Your eyes, the deepest valley of affection, so much he almost feels he must look away. Undeserving of it. A thing he finds on the tip of his tongue before you call him Joel, before you moan for him.

“Y’perfect, you know that? All o’you,” he confesses, buries it into your ear. “Your tight pussy, your anger, your stubbornness—”

“—Fuck, Joel—”

“Can’t be without you. Not this version. Need you too much—like I need y’to come. Can you come for me, honey? Make a mess of my hand, let me lick you clean—”

“Shit, m’close.”

He knows. Your jaw clenched, body rigid—eyes creased closed as your hips grind slower but deeper, more intense, until they lose rhythm and you snap. In a completely different way than you did all those months ago.

Because this time, he thinks you’ve snapped back into place.

Because when your eyes open, he doesn’t greet a pair that he doesn’t know, but a pair he knows intimately. It’s why he pants, and loses his breath—that, and the fact you grab his hand from between your thighs and bring it to your lips, tasting yourself, licking yourself clean from him.

“Get upstairs, Miller.”

His brow arches, mouth clamping shut. A fire building in his chest, his other hand flexing at his side, wanting to slap it to your ass and ask you to repeat yourself.

But, you straighten your spine, look him dead in the eye. “Wanna ride you, Joel.”

Before autumn comes—before leaves change and the Jackson is shadowed by earlier nights and later mornings. When it looks close to the misery and horror that lives outside of the walls. Joel is on his knees.

Tools close to his fingers, red toolbox to the side.

Itching, necessarily torturing himself by fixing things that don’t need fixing, just to busy his hands, keep his mind on something, to not worry, to not hate, to not be angry.

“She’s going to be alright.”

Joel almost snorts, but buries it under a cough. Twists the bolt into the wood, checking the panel with a rough tug as Ellie shifts position, as she comes to a place he can’t avoid not glancing at her. Now scowling and making her be distant with him even more than she already is.

Because his mind is a storm, all concocted with worry he doesn’t what to do with, with fear he hasn’t been able to displace. Each horrid thought is thunderous, like a crack in the silence as the house creaks and he struggles to keep himself from splintering. Twisted up, insides knotted, every distant shout or laugh setting his already tired heart racing—forcing it to pound against his ribs like a prisoner desperate to escape.

He’s not the same man he was before. Not sure if he’d have the strength to keep you safe in the way you’d not needed then, but could now.

It’s why he keeps picturing you, darkness closing in, shadows formed with malicious intent attempting to take you. It makes his hands shake, as he grips the tool tighter, almost as if by holding onto something solid he can anchor his thoughts. Images of your last injury flashed in his mind—the blood, the pain, the helplessness he felt.

How angelically gothic you looked surrounded by snow. How he can still taste the metallic tang in the air if he thinks about it too much

“She’s not wrong,” a voice says.

One that forces his head up, one that makes him double-take.

You standing, with no scratch, no markings. Not a figment of his imagination, but something real from the shadows that stretch from your legs across the ground. Not an illusion as Ellie throws herself at you, all arms and cheerful glee.

Real, real, real, as you step up the porch, as you crouch down and grumble at the ache in your bones, and kiss his mouth. Warm, and all very you.

“You been worryin’ about me, Miller?”

He chews his tongue, drops his gaze before he flicks it back up. “No.”

You smirk, devious, but yet still so sweet. “Good.”

Hand still caressing his skin, thumb brushing over the patch you comment looks like a heart—one you brought up some weeks back, asking if it’s for you, if it doesn’t grow just for you. Smirking, laughing, leg bent over his hip as you continue to tease. Is this how you tell me you love me, by shaving a heart, Miller? And, just for me, a heart all of my own?

“You fancy getting a drink with me tonight?”

Frowning, he lowers the tool back to the floor. “Y’wanna go out?”

“With you? Yeah.”

Swallowing, he glances over your shoulder to see Ellie smirking, looking more pleased than he’s ever known her. Swaying, folded arms as she begins to nod at him, mouthing say yes, say yes.

“Ellie wants to go to Dina’s,” you add, as though spotting where his gaze has gone. “And, I realised something.”

He hums as you lower to your knees in front of him, as you cup his cheek and tug his eyes back to you.

“We never watched that VHS, either. Did we?”

Clearing his throat, hand coming to rest on your wrist, thumb drawing a shape against it. “No. We didn’t.”

Smiling, face lighting up—shimmering. Exactly like that time you had brought him shortbread in a tin. “Y’wanna go on a date with me, Joel? Drink and a movie.”

Glancing at Ellie, and then back to you. Spreading his hand from your wrist up to the back of your hand, it dwarfing yours against his cheek, staring into your eyes—so sure he sees your monster smiling at him too.

“Let me clean up. You… Y’deserve that.”

“Alright,” you reply.

“What, no arguin’?”

Shrugging, dropping your hand as you sigh. “I know when to pick my arguments with my man.”

He tries not to show how that warms him, the words replaying over and over. It makes his chest tighten in a way he doesn’t hate. My man. A phrase that carries a weight, an intimacy he's not accustomed to out here, only ever when he’s buried inside of you and your skin is glistening with sweat, him and his spend.

He swallows hard, masking the fluttering in his chest, concealing the way his breath catches ever so slightly. A vulnerability in those words—how you’ve exposed yourself. Changed your tune from no names to this. A soft promise he’s struggling to wrap his head around. He knows you see it, that flicker of something unguarded in his eyes.

His hand balls into a fist, his thumb sliding over his fingers, levelling himself as the emotions surge, unbidden and uncontrollable. Feeling exposed, as though you’ve peeled back the layers of his defences with a single phrase, laid bare the raw, tender part of him he thought long buried.

But he doesn’t hate it. Not the strange comfort in being wanted or seen, even less so by you. How it makes him want to run and stay all at once. He suspects you know the turmoil you’ve stirred, having done so to yourself with the confession.

And somehow, knowing that helps him swallow it, accept it, finding it true.

“Tha’ make you mine, then?”

Shrugging, you roll your lips, a coy, more nervous smile there. “If you want.”

If he wants, he snorts.

Three words he repeats hours later, when he’s stripping you bare, lying you down on the bed that belongs to you as much as him.

“If I want?” he repeats, your lips curling into a smirk.

Before he’s dipping his mouth between your thighs, writing with his tongue how he's wanted that for months now, maybe even since the very beginning.

an: it may have taken me a long time, but, i hope in some way it was worth it. thank you for reading! eeeep I finished a joel 😂

npts for those who loved them the whole time (sorry if you didn’t want this tag, forgive meeee):

@swiftispunk @missladym1981 @ptime1999 @survivingandenduring @pimosworld

@sawymredfox @thelightsandtheroses

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dnpanimationstudioclone · 4 months ago

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Meet Valentino🦋☠️

Meet my take on Valentino! This one took the longest for me to get around to.

Made him a Monarch Butterfly!🦋 I love the whole reverse Predator and Prey thing going on with him and Angel so what if he was a creature that would normally be considered Prey, if it didn’t have its own trick up its sleeve. Poison! ☠️ plus butterflies are often depicted as sweet and pretty, which would really lean into how he puts on a sweet face to hide his true colors.😈Though who’s to say he even is that(wink😉). Made his wings a warm gradient, added some sparkle ✨ and allude subtly to a split heart with the lines and dots💔 @the-burd-lord also pointed out they give off tears💧😢

Gave him a more bug like head, mouth, eyes and only has three fingers.

Gave him heart bent stripes like Angel Dust(@a-sterling-rose shared a cool idea that an overlord can change their contracted souls) wanted it to allude to bee stripes(bees love flowers and make sweet things) and other…striped insects.

Leaned with 70’s, DISCO !!!!!!!🕺🪩💃 Bell bottoms, matching top, PLATFORMS! The whole works! I figure it fits with his timeline a lot and with what he’s usually wearing. Plus he’s def into the club scene.

Replaced his top hat with a heart shaped fedora hat! Adorned it with all kinds of different flowers!!!!! Stuff like roses, Bleeding hearts, milkweed and the big flower he’s wearing is meant to allude to the Cattleya Orchid(Colombias national flower and symbolizes fertility and virility) roses are also very popular there! They even have a holiday around flowers called the “festival of the flowers”!🌼🌹.

For his sleeves wanted to allude to another Colombia flower “devils breath” highly toxic flower and in the same toxic family as the “Angels Trumpet”. Also a street term for the dangerous drug, scopolamine which is derived from the seeds of Borrachero trees, primarily found in South America like Colombia! 🇨🇴

Kept the heart buckle belt his og had but made it hollow. Hollow heart.

Gave him a cane that’s also a disco heart 🪩❤️which may not be able to squeeze out toxic gas and other tricks.

For his color scheme, @the-burd-lord suggested I'd go with RGB theme, colors on display screen(Vox is the leader and a screen) Ngl I was conflicted what colors to go with for the vees(Primary, Red blue purple etc). But then I realized when u mix those colors u get those other colors and then I decided to give the Vees two main color themes for each. One for show, the other their true colors! Val likes to use tropical warm welcoming colors(gold luxury), def still uses red for its sensual vibes….but those kinda colors are also color of many dangerous insects…warning colors⚠️‼️☣️☢️☠️☠️☠️

Made his Heart shades butterfly wing shaped like @lovesart23 did with her Val! Seriously LOVE IT!!!!!!!.

Added a heart on his chain with his initial. Was a gift from Angel Dust💔

Also wears black and white since he’s already very colorful and to appear clean with the white…the darkness often hiding under. Has some green for the leaves and thorns(every rose has its thorns) like how Velvette still wears gold colors for accesory!🍃🌿

My Valentino’s Colombian 🇨🇴 back in the 70’s a lot was happening with Drug trade(Cocaine trade) plus it’s in the warmer area of South America, where many butterflies can be found🦋🦋🦋Monarchs migrate to the south! Also great place for flowers🌹🪻🌸🌺🌷🌻🌼💐🪷

with the flowers also lowkey trying to allude with 60’s-70’s Flower power(he def likes to seem all peace and love) was also the time of the psychedelic era😵‍💫U know he def got that stuff.

Rewrite🦋☠️

Compared to OG he’s def more sly and smooth talking, often Make him ironically the more level headed of the V’s. Have him be able to keep a cool head more, try to covert his true nature, keep things under control. Play into how he likes to try a more pragmatic approach, relying on manipulation and pacifying first before getting violent if he feels like he’s not in control. They say u attract more flies with honey than vinegar afterall. he’s able to put on the charm and sweetness well enough. You do NOT want to get on his scary side…He relies a lot on manipulation but when push comes to shove, he can mess you UP☠️!!!!!!!

Leaning with the poison theme way more!☠️💊🧪.

He doesn’t just do Adult Entertainment, but also a huge drug supplier for Hell, especially for Angel💊. It’s been implied and supposed scrapped ideas and concepts have shown him feeding Angels drug addiction.

Have him be Angels main supplier and often uses his addiction to keep him under his wings, depend on him, likes to feed into it despite how much harm it does for him. He’s basically the embodiment of toxicity/addiction, things that can poison people, can become dangerous addictions and mess people up. He’s basically one of Angel’s most dangerous addictions, the toxic abusive boss/partner☠️

I honestly want him to want NOTHING with Vox’s whole revenge plan with Alastor and his new project…until he also realizes the Princess not only actually wants to help Angel but that Angel ACTUALLY might want to try to QUIT! Than he gets more involved with Vox’s schemes.

Gets his main poison from a special flower from Hell. Similar to how Monarchs get their poison from a certain plant(milkweed) as well as play into how Butterflies feed on nectar🌺🌸 perhaps has the flowers growing all throughout his studio…especially around and maybe even in Angel’s dressing room…

What do u think? How would u redesign Val if u wanted to? I’d love to know💖 I’ve also made the 🌈Hazbin Gang🌈 and his fellow VV’s, Vox & Velvette📺🧶

Oh one more thing…He’s not actually a monarch butterfly. Here’s some totally unrelated pics of wasps(one like the executioner wasp that can be found in warm places, like monarchs, spider wasps(not friendly to spiders) and….some more parasitic types)Warnign scary wasp pics) @the-burd-lord suggested the mandibles for his face(broken heart 💔)

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pooks · 3 months ago

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i got in the mood to share of one of my One Piece wips, so here it is

featured in the upcoming story, Nasu to Kaiso, this is Mori! he's a stray Wano child living in the forests near the Flower Capital where he meets Sanji (going by "Sangoro"). he has dark green hair in an uneven haircut, tanned skintone and teal eyes. everyone who knows of him refers him as "Gabu", a name he hates (it means "to gobble")

Mori met Sanji when he attempted to trade a few fishes he caught for a bowl of soba. Sanji couldn't find it in him to leave this child all alone to fend for himself and offered for him to stay with him as his little helper. and we KNOW Sanji would've given him a soba bowl for free.

Mori's name is one of the most important aspects in this story; he has no name to call his own and he doesn't remember what his original name was. all he knows is that he was abandoned as baby. Mori asked Sanji to only give him a name if the cook really wants to keep him in his life. so through the whole story, Sanji kept calling Mori for "kaiso" (seaweed).

through the Wano arc, Sanji and Mori develops a deep bond and Mori proves himself being a brave, resourceful and strong boy capable of fighting. although Mori doesn't get his name until near the end of the arc, when the Straw Hats are departing Wano and Sanji takes him in as his adoptive son, giving his name Mori which means "forest".

yes, this is also a ZoSan story as well. his official name, in the end, becomes Roronoa Mori. because Sanji obviously takes Zoro's surname and severs his ties with Germa for good

yes, Mori has his own katana. it gets important later, since it's a relic from his birth father (a samurai who was killed for standing by the bushido code, he sent his son away to protect him). it looks small, but the katana is, in fact, bigger than it looks like.

#one piece #one piece au #zosan #black leg sanji #roronoa zoro #one piece oc #one piece original character #roronoa mori #zosan kid #zosan getting together by a child lmao #just interacting with mori makes them realize their feelings for each others #and that was how mori got his papa and otosan #he calls sanji for papa and zoro is otosan #lets be real luffy claimed him as nakama in 0.5 seconds #pooks draws #one piece fanart

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liillyliilly · 5 months ago

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A Prevailing Love

ukai keishin x reader words; 1614 synopsis; a memory from childhood- getting locked in the bathroom. the life he's living now still carries themes from his teenagerhood.

If there were at least two things that Ukai Keishin knew, it was that he was in love with her, and that he was a reasonable volleyball coach.

The second thing was due to all the time he spent working with the volleyball team, and ensuring that they were doing their best to perform at maximum capability. The first thing however, was much more of a challenge to understand. His love for her was blurry and confusing, like the way when he rubbed his eyes too hard and that static darkness that covered his eyelids, that was his adoration for her.

He wished that he could have been high school sweethearts with her, the girl who came to all of his games just so she could be the first person to congratulate him on a win, or be there to comfort him after a loss.

He only realized he liked her when she started dating some other guy from school, a green jealousy coating his senses as he kept being her friend.

There was always a thousand excuses for why he never said anything to her. The timing was never right, there were other people (for her, he never liked to date around), there was volleyball to focus on, a team to manage, shops to maintain up to standard.

She owns the small tea shop directly across from the Sakanoshita Store. If he times it just right, he can go for a smoke break when she goes outside to water the flowers in the pots splayed into the windowsill. Talking easily, and words flowed like the exhale of burnt smelling smoke from his lips.

She hated when he smoked, always citing studies about cigarettes. But he was a chainsmoker at this point.

She was the one who caught him more than once behind the school gym, smoking cigs and trying to burn leaves without starting an actual fire.

"Ukai, you can't be serious." She hit her hand to her forehead. He quickly threw his smoke to the ground and stamped on it with his shoes.

"I don't know what you're talking about." An eye roll later, and she dragged him to the non-gendered bathroom, locking the door behind her.

"Geez, if you wanted me alone, just say that." She filled a cup up with water and dumped it on his head. She tilted her head, as if to say: care to argue with me now?

He apologized, and took the piece of gum she offered. Chewing slowly, he climbed up and sat on the counter, the sink was running as she scrubbed his jacket and tried to massage enough hand soap on it to get rid of the scent of smoke. He had caused her more than enough trouble this time.

They had a science examination coming up, and their teacher had subtly, not subtly, mentioned that if anyone smelt like any kind of drug, then he would void their test and give an automatic fail. She was just trying to save his ass once again. Saving him from burning up his whole life.

When she was satisfied with the clean jacket, she held the clothing under the hand dryer, as Ukai repeatedly hit the button to start the air flow. The jacket got moderately dry, and the scent of the smoke was faded enough and replaced with the green apple hand soap. He slid his jacket back on.

The bigger problem, aside from the wet clothing, and her being mad at him yet again, was her rapidly twisting and jerking the door handle.

"It's stuck."

"It's not stuck, you just have a weak grip." Ukai motioned her aside, turning the handle with more force than he guessed was needed.

She folded her arms and began tapping her foot.

"I wasn't the one who got both of us stuck." He raise his hands in the air, claiming innocence.

She started hitting the door, banging and calling for someone to save them. He finally looked at his watch after he traded spots with her calling for help, 30 after the last bell. Their exam had come and gone, and the cleaners for the non-gendered bathroom only came around 7 pm. If no one came within the next fifteen minutes, then they would definitely be stuck for at least four hours.

They sat on the floor, digging through her bag to see if there was anything to unlock the door from the inside. She hadn't carried any bobby pins, no cards, no knives (which she said he shouldn't be carrying at school anyways), and no secret master key to the school.

"Let's play seven minutes in heaven." He shrugged and offered a solution to pass the time.

She smiled and shook her head, "Now I'm starting to think that you're the one who wanted me alone."

"I always want you alone." Muttered, under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

In true studious fashion, she pulled out her notebook and pens and began doing her assigned practice problems. Ukai didn't like sitting across from her, so he scooched around until he was sitting side by side with her. Watching as she carried the two, divided the 14, and added the variables.

He glanced at his watch again, only 5 o'clock. Two more hours to go. He dug through her bag to find anything to pass the time.

Lip gloss, more stationary, notes, oh.. a note.

"What's this?" He waved the pink paper in front of her face, shifting it from face forward and face backward between his pointer and middle finger. She reached to grab it, but he pulled it back to him.

"Who's it from?"

She grimaced, "That third year, the one who stops by my grandma's shop." Her face was fully flushed now, she kept trying to grab the note back, but Ukai shoved it in his front pant pocket.

"No! The same one who totally tripped on the stairs when he had to give a speech at the beginning of the year?" Ukai left out the third year's better qualities, one of the top ten students at Karasuno, played on the baseball team, was captain of said baseball team, had a job lined up with his dad's automobile company right after graduation, had an actual future, stability, guarantees.

He pulled the note back out, she didn't attempt to take it. He read the note. It was genuine. He listed out the reasons he liked, nay, loved her. The same reasons Ukai loved her too.

That blinding smile.

Her big brain (baseball boy said her intellect, but Ukai knew that it could be summed up as her big brain).

Her heart, especially the fact that she was super respectful to the elders in town. The way she held her grandma's arm so they could sit on the porch sipping lavender tea together.

The way she looked in a swimsuit (utterly true, although Ukai wondered under what context this idiot saw her in a swimsuit).

Ukai shoved the note back to her, refusing to read any more than he had to.

"He's nice." She whispers.

"Nicer than me?" He joked.

"Not quite." It was an honest reply.

She never ended up dating the golden boy. But she didn't date Ukai either, so he considered it a break even circumstance.

The principal's office the day after they had gotten found by the custodian was brutal. She even had to take a 'just in case' pregnancy test, and she was mortified. Ukai had to do several hours of community service. The non-gendered bathroom was therefore and forever closed down. But they always fondly recalled the bathroom incident.

“Remember the time, when that one dude from that opposing high school called me Heracles?” Ukai finished wiping off the counter, and turning the sign on the store from open to closed.

She laughs a bit, wiping her hands on her apron. She leaned against the counter as Ukai opened the freezer to get out some ice cream. The crickets outside chirping from the simple temperature drop as day slid into night. They were older now. He said his back hurt more than once a month. She complained that her mom wanted her to get married and have babies as soon as possible.

“And then, I said something along the lines of, ‘He’s more like Hunk-acles rather than Heracles’ I do remember that.” Ukai smiles as he hands her favorite ice cream to her. Opening his own ice cream sandwich as she lets out a content sound from the taste of the refreshing treat. She looks over to him and she bumps his shoulder with her own.

“I had the biggest crush on you when we were in high school. Looking back on it, I’m sure it was obvious.” She scrunched her face up, her nose wrinkling and her cheeks lightly dimpled from her grin. Ukai decides to toy with her a little, just like when they were teenagers.

“And now? Still have a little crush on me?” Ukai throws away the paper wrapper of his frozen delicacy and pulls out a cigarette, lighting it before taking a slow drag from it.

She shrugs, leaning over and wiping away something from the corner of his mouth. The cigarette almost falling out of his mouth from the sudden touch from her. “Maybe I do.”

Ukai smirks, scratching the back of his head before rolling up his long sleeves and folding his arms. “What if I told you I also have a crush on you?” She laughs and she tugs on his arm, adjusting it so that she was holding his hand.

“Then I’d say, let's go on a date.”

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #hq #hq x reader #ukai #ukai keishin #ukai x reader #ukai keishin x reader #getting locked in the bathroom #childhood friends to lovers #fluff #ukai needs to swap to a vape or something #but the cig aesthetic is cool too i guess #lilly's red string of fate

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nunununuy · 2 days ago

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Part 9

Part 8 Part 10

Prince x Fem Reader

Tittle: Changing the Fate of the Third Prince

You sat by the window in your family’s estate, the vast fields of green stretching far into the horizon. The soft golden light of the setting sun bathed the land in a peaceful glow, but inside, your heart felt anything but calm. It had been a few days since you’d returned home, leaving behind the bustling capital and the memories of him.

Rafael.

Even the sound of his name in your thoughts sent a pang of pain through your chest. You told yourself this was for the best—that you couldn’t keep hoping for something you knew would never be yours. He was a prince, destined for greatness, while you were just a marquis’ daughter. In your mind, the image of him with Princess Seraphina haunted you, her laughter and beauty fitting perfectly into his world.

You shook your head, forcing yourself to stop thinking about it. It had been days, and you still couldn’t get him out of your mind. “This is pathetic,” you muttered to yourself, gripping the edge of the windowsill. “He’s not thinking about me. He never was.”

To distract yourself, you threw yourself into anything that could keep your mind occupied. Your family’s estate was vast, and there was no shortage of work to be done.

In the mornings, you helped the house staff with chores, surprising them with your willingness to get your hands dirty. You told yourself that hard work would leave no room for thoughts of Rafael. When midday came, you spent hours in the fields, walking among the blooming flowers, the scents of lavender and wild roses calming your troubled heart.

But no matter how busy you kept yourself, the quiet nights were the hardest. When the world was still, your mind wandered back to him—his rare smiles, the way his sharp eyes softened when they looked at you, the warmth of his presence. Those memories clung to you like a shadow you couldn’t shake.

One evening, as you sat at the small desk in your room, you finally made a decision. You would not let your life revolve around someone who didn’t choose you. You had dreams and ambitions of your own, didn’t you? It was time to pursue them.

The next morning, you rose early, your resolve firm. You spoke to your father, expressing your desire to travel and expand your horizons. “I’ve spent too much time tied to the capital, Father,” you said, trying to sound confident. “I want to visit the southern provinces. Maybe help with the new trade routes. I want to see the world beyond the palace walls.”

Your father looked at you with a mix of surprise and concern. “Are you sure about this? The capital has always been your home.”

You nodded. “I’m sure. It’s time I build something for myself.”

And so, preparations began for your journey. You focused on the excitement of the unknown, convincing yourself that distance was the cure for your aching heart.

But even as you packed your belongings, folding dresses and tucking away keepsakes, a small part of you wondered: would he notice you were gone? Would he miss you?

You shook the thought away. It didn’t matter. This was your chance to move on, to reclaim your life. You were determined to leave Rafael and all the pain behind.

What you didn’t know was that miles away, in the capital, Rafael’s plans to bring you back were already in motion. His knights were ready. He would stop at nothing to have you by his side again. And no matter how far you ran, Rafael would find you. You were his.

---

The continent of Aurelis, where you resided, was vast and diverse, divided into four main regions: Eryndor, the northern region known for its snowy peaks and military might; Zantheria, the fertile heartland rich in trade and culture where the capital resided; Selvaris, the warm, coastal provinces to the south known for their bustling ports and exotic spices; and Draelan, the eastern desert expanse ruled by nomadic tribes. Each region had its own unique charm and resources, creating a delicate balance of power and economy across the land.

You had always lived in Zantheria, surrounded by the endless plains and noble politics of the heartland. However, your family’s business was expanding rapidly. The Marquisate of Linford, known for its luxury goods—fine silks, handcrafted jewelry, and rare spices—was opening new trade routes to Selvaris. The southern provinces held untapped opportunities, with booming markets and lucrative connections to overseas territories.

This was your chance to carve a new path for yourself. While you were officially traveling to oversee the opening of new trade outposts for your family, deep down, you knew it was more than that. It was an escape. An opportunity to leave behind the lingering ache of unspoken love and memories of the capital.

Your journey to Selvaris began just days after you decided to leave. The carriage was packed with essential supplies, led by a small retinue of guards hired by your family for protection. Though you tried to focus on the excitement of the unknown, your thoughts often drifted back to the capital—to the man you had left behind.

---

Meanwhile, back in the capital, Prince Raphael was consumed by a mix of emotions—anger, longing, and determination. The realization that you had left without a word still burned deep within him. The ball, which was supposed to mark the pinnacle of his success and his declaration of love for you, had instead left him hollow.

In the days following your departure, Raphael worked tirelessly. He coordinated with his knights, secured the emperor’s approval for his marriage proposal, and ensured that his mission to retrieve you would succeed. No one—not even you—would deny him what was rightfully his.

He spent hours studying maps of Aurelis, planning the fastest route to your family's estate. Through reports from his informants, he learned that you were heading south to Selvaris. This complicated his plans, as the journey to Selvaris was fraught with danger—bandits, treacherous terrain, and political unrest were common in the southern provinces. Yet, none of this deterred him.

Raphael's mind raced with memories of you: your gentle smile, your unwavering support during his struggles, and the way your presence soothed the storm within him. He clenched his fists, his resolve hardening. You had no right to leave him, to make decisions that excluded him from your life. He would remind you of your place—by his side, always.

---

As you crossed the borders into Selvaris, the scenery transformed. The rolling plains gave way to lush green hills, dotted with olive trees and vineyards. The warm breeze carried the scent of salt from the sea, a stark contrast to the cool, crisp air of Zantheria. The bustling port cities, with their vibrant markets and colorful stalls, brought a sense of excitement you hadn’t felt in weeks.

The new trade outpost you were overseeing was located in the heart of Vallora, a prosperous city that served as a hub for merchants and travelers alike. Your arrival was met with enthusiasm by your family’s representatives, who eagerly showed you the progress they had made.

Throwing yourself into work, you focused on expanding your family’s business. Days were spent meeting local merchants, negotiating deals, and ensuring the outpost ran smoothly. At night, you explored the city, marveling at its vibrant culture and lively streets. Slowly, you began to feel a sense of freedom—a life unshackled by the expectations of the capital.

Yet, no matter how hard you tried to move forward, the thought of Raphael lingered. Was he angry with you? Had he moved on? Did he even care that you had left?

---

Raphael, on the other hand, had never been more determined. Accompanied by a group of elite knights and a carriage bearing his family’s crest, he set out for Selvaris. The journey was long and grueling, but his desire to bring you back drove him forward.

As his entourage approached Vallora, the prince couldn’t help but smirk. The bustling city was alive with activity, yet all he could think about was how he would find you—and how you would finally understand that leaving him had been a mistake.

Soon, Raphael would reclaim what was his. And this time, he wouldn’t let you escape so easily.

___

#oc x reader #x reader #reincarnation #romance #x y/n #x fem reader #x fem!reader #yandere x reader #prince x reader #prince x fem reader #nununuy

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aspiring-writer-hidden-voice · 8 months ago

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Heaven help me… I don’t normally think of Izuku Midoriya in this way but…I was visited by the idea-fairy last night at 2AM…I think this might be a sign I should stop watching “Grimm” and “Supernatural” before bed…

~implied female!reader X Stag!Izuku

Stag!Izuku was so shy as a fawn that the skittish boy could barely hold a conversation with anyone, let alone you.

Stag!Izuku who, as a fawn, used to be bullied a lot by the others until you came along and changed that for him.

Stag!Izuku kept his freckles even when the others had lost theirs as he grew.

Stag!Izuku traded lanky and spindly limbs for a lean, mean, fighting machine even if he was still a bit smaller than the rest.

Stag!Izuku’s antlers took a while to grow from the little nubs but now they were proudly upon display with eight points on each side.

Stag!Izuku’s protective instinct for those he cares about is fierce when it needs to be such as when hungry predators or villains are nearby.

Stag!Izuku will be so sweet in ensuring you always had a flower crown upon your head since you’d made the comment of how his antlers looked like one so he made you this one of flowers.

Stag!Izuku who would give deep trills and whose little tail would wag like crazy from within his clothing as he spots you within a crowd.

Stag!Izuku will sneak little glances at you when you’re talking to another male, those emerald green irises of his carefully examining your body language and ears listening to every word that comes between your lips.

Stag!Izuku who doesn’t hesitate to put himself between you and another male when they don’t get the hint you weren’t interested in them, those mighty antlers lowered threateningly.

Stag!Izuki who gives you a proper “crown” made of his previous year’s antlers that he hoped but secretly knew you would accept without question.

Stag!Izuku who would bite back moans and become a quivering mess when you first touch his antlers, your fingers so careful and gentle yet it wasn’t enough for him as he presses you against a tree or nearby surface.

Stag!Izuku who would waste no time in going down on you with such a ravenous hunger for your sweet taste that he erupts in noises you didn’t think were possible as he takes that first lick between your folds.

Stag!Izuku who would gaze up at you pleadingly as his tongue thrusts into your pulsing entrance as his freckled cheeks steadily grow red.

Stag!Izuku who would unleash a mighty sound when you, so overcome with a climax, that you grab hold of his antlers in a none too gentle of a hold to help grind yourself against his face, causing his gemstone eyes rolling backwards.

Stag!Izuki who rests you down upon a bed of soft moss if you’re outside or in his forests-themed residence as he gently kisses your skin and nuzzles your being with gentle noises as he runs his hands up then down your being.

Stag!Izuku who has been longing for this moment for longer than he cared to admit gently enters you with slow and steady thrusts until he’s settled fully within you, all the while ensuring you were comfortable and relaxed.

Stag!Izuku’s calculated pacing and thrusting motions were always mindful of your expressions but then all of his careful planning is thrown away when you suddenly reach up and grab his antlers to wrestle him to lay upon his back.

Stag!Izuki would nearly howl like the wolves as you use his own antlers to help your hips rise then fall upon his now throbbing and needy cock.

Stag!Izuki who would tear up more the closer he came to climax that he grasps your waist and starts to meet your motions so that he reaches even deeper into you as your hands keep his head craned back.

Stag!Izuku who would climax so loudly and unabashedly that his jaw would pop as it gapes, spilling his white ropes of seed deep within you as you ride out your own climax before coming with your own exclamation.

Stag!Izuku who would instantly curl himself around you protectively as he nuzzles into your hair, shoulder, chest, and neck, murmuring praises or sweet things he knew you would appreciate as his hands gently rub along your spine.

Stag!Izuku, in the morning, would have your favorite breakfast ready along with a bright smile as he nuzzled his nose against yours with soft almost purr-sounds.

Stag!Izuku who would then sneak little glances at you for the rest of the day, smiling to himself when he sees the sneaky little mark he left on your neck that would turn into a grin when you suddenly catch sight of yourself in a reflective surface or when someone asks you about it and those cheeks of yours flush brilliant red.

#bnha #mha #mha x reader #bnha fluff #mha fluff #bnha x reader #mha x you #izuku x y/n #izuku fluff #mha izuku #izuku x reader #bnha izuku #Izuku Midoriya #midoriya izuku #stag!izuku #mha au #bnha au

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justagalwhowrites · 8 months ago

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Lost & Found: Part of For You - A Collection of Requests Benefitting Palestine

When Grogu wanders off, Din finds him in the arms of an enchanting stranger.

Event Terms: Commissioners could choose to donate between $15 and $50 via Ko-Fi for one fic of 1-2k words to be written by April 1, 2024. Payment due after completion of the fic. Donation with a match by the author was paid to PCRF on April 2, 2024 in honor of Pedro Pascal's birthday ❤️ Commissioners had the option to choose to keep a fic private and all fics may not be shared here.

Pairing: Din Djarin x Curvy!Female!Reader

Warnings: Mild depictions of fantasized sex.No use of Y/N, Minors DNI 18+ only.

Length: 2.5k

A/N: This is just very soft and very fluffy and is Din being both awkward as hell and jumping at the chance to play the hero for someone who needs it. Love that for us! Written for the exceedingly wonderful and kind and talented @knopes-waffles! Thank you for participating in this event ❤️

For You Masterlist | Main Masterlist

“What do you mean you don’t know.”

Din was trying very, very hard to keep his temper.

“I mean, I don’t know, Mando,” Peli replied, hands defiantly planted on her hips. “What did you think I meant?”

“I thought I might have been mistaken,” he said. “Because I didn’t think you would let my son out of your sight long enough for him to wander off!”

“It doesn’t take that long….”

“He’s half a meter tall!” He snapped. “How fast could he be!”

“He’s quick!”

He paused and took a deep breath, trying to ignore the rising panic in his blood.

“You really have no idea where he might have gone,” Din said. “No one could have come in here and taken him.”

“No one’s been in here,” she said before she paused, frowning. “Well… there was one customer who was looking for someone to fix his speeder…”

“Do you know where he was going?” Din asked. He tried not to think about some stranger wandering off with Grogu in their arms, taking him away to trade to the Empire or who knows what.

“I think toward the marketplace,” she said. “He mentioned a farm outside of town, where the speeder was. He was going to tow it in…”

Din didn’t wait for her to continue. He set off, forcing himself to move slowly enough that he could scan the ground for any sign of Grogu. But there was no flash of green, no little clawed footprints in the sand - the area too heavily trafficked - not even a trail of things he shouldn’t be trying to get is small hands on left abandoned when something else that was bright or shiny caught his eye.

He kept running and searching, not apologizing for smacking into people or grabbing them roughly to see if what they held in their arms was, in fact, a bag and not his child. He was getting uncomfortably close to a panic - heart pounding, breaths short and shallow, head swimming - when he saw him, Grogu’s small, green body in unfamiliar arms, held close to a plush body.

“Grogu!” Din stalked over to you, all but ripping the child away from you as he looked him over. “Are you OK?”

“Hey!” You grabbed Grogu back and Din’s attention shifted from his son to you, his fists clenched. But instead of reaching to take back the kid or hit you, he froze. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting but it wasn’t… you. You were beautiful, almost shockingly so. There was something just so soft about you. Everything on Tatooine was rough and harsh, a lifetime of sand and twin suns and arid heat wore down people and buildings and ships quickly. But not you. You were like a flower that had somehow fought its way up through the sand, lush and bright and full.

“Do you know this man, little guy?” You considered Grogu carefully, a small frown on your face as you propped the boy on your hip, one of your fingers tightly grasped in his little hand. “Or is he a stranger?”

“Patu!” Grogu said, throwing his tiny arms out for Din, straining and reaching for him.

You laughed a little and looked at Din properly then, a smile on your face.

“Sorry about that,” you said, handing Grogu over. “He just toddled over to my stand a few minutes ago, I wasn’t sure where he came from and I couldn’t understand anything he was saying. I didn’t want someone just taking him…”

Grogu reached for Din’s helmet, cooing and babbling, gesturing to you before looking back to Din, his dark eyes wide.

“Thank you,” Din said eventually. “He can be a handful…”

“I can tell,” you laughed. “He ate a few things off my stand and he was only here a few minutes!”

“Oh,” DIn said quickly, fumbling for the pouch with his credits. “Let me…”

“Oh, no,” you said quickly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that you needed to pay! Really, it’s fine. I’m just happy I was able to help him get back to where he belongs.”

You just stood there, the smile on your face slipping a bit as Din stared at you. Like an idiot. He knew he was staring like an idiot and he couldn’t seem to bring himself to stop.

“Is… is everything OK?” You were frowning a little now. “I promise, I didn’t hurt him or…”

“Mando!” Peli ran up alongside him, panting a little before doubling over, planting her hands on her knees. “Stars, just a second… Some of us aren’t used to running like that…”

“Here,” you said, reaching behind your stand for a canteen and offering it to Peli. Din noticed what you were selling for the first time, fresh fruit piled high in baskets on display. “This might help, the suns are brutal today.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” she said, gulping the water down and standing up straight again before handing the canteen back to you. “Thanks for that. Looks like you’re the one who found our little friend here!”

“Oh, I didn’t know he was yours, Peli!” You said. “When did you get a youngling?”

“He’s not mine, but I keep tellin’ Mando he should just leave the kid with me…”

“And look what happened when I did,” Din cut her off. “Five minutes and you let him wander off…”

“It’s not like he got into trouble!” She waved him off. “He just found the sweetest stand in Mos Eisley because he’s so smart, yes he is! Just the smartest little guy! Appreciate you looking out for him, can’t let this cutie run off with just anyone.”

“It was no trouble,” you replied. “He was a nice way to mix up my day!”

“Patu!” Grogu said, reaching for you. You laughed and Din sighed before passing the child off to you.

“Have any plans later?” Peli asked. “The kid likes you, you should come by. Have to get time in with the little one when you can, Mando never sticks around for very long.”

“Well that’s too bad,” you said, bouncing Grogu on your hip but looking at Din. “Always nice to get pleasant folk here in town. But sure, I’ll come by once I close up. Maybe bring him some snacks for the road, would you like that little one?” Grogu cooed and clapped his little hands. You nuzzled his cheek. “I’ll see you later, buddy. Going to give you back to your daddy now.”

You passed the child to Din and gave him another smile before saying your quick goodbyes to Peli. Din kept looking Grogu over, like he was expecting to find something wrong with him, as he and Peli made their way back to her hanger. He had to resist the urge to look back at you.

“You’re sure she’s OK to be around the kid?” He asked, finally satisfied that his son was, in fact, safe and whole in his arms.

“Her?” Peli looked at him like he was insane. “Of course she is, you think I’d let someone around the kid who wasn’t safe? Besides, meant it when I said it’s the sweetest stand in Mos Eisley. It’s not just because of the fruit, if I didn’t know she was from here I’d say she was some naive off-worlder with how sweet she is. Probably how she wound up in the situation she’s in.”

Din frowned.

“What situation.”

“She’s stuck working for the Hutts,” Peli said. “When her father died a few years back - sweet guy, just like her. He built the greenhouses she grows all that fruit in - she didn’t have the money to pay for protection. Next thing she knew, they trashed one of her greenhouses and the moisture vaporator. She still hasn’t been able to fix it all, just about every credit she makes goes to the Hutts so they don’t take anything else.” Peli sighed and shook her head. “Tried to warn her…”

Din ground his teeth, looking back over his shoulder toward your stand. How could anyone prey on someone like you? Someone so soft and sweet and beautiful and…

He shook himself mentally. He was not going to stand there and think about you, even though you’d sent a shockwave through him, sparking a kind of want he hadn’t felt in years. It would be so easy to picture it, gently pulling the linen from your body, running his hands - bare, not gloved - over every inch of your plush curves, sinking into the soft, welcoming warmth of you.

“Has anyone tried to help,” Din asked. “With the Hutts?”

“I mean, maybe not her specifically, but,” Peli shrugged. “Not like people pay up because they want to, Mando. People have pushed back. It never goes well. Short of taking down the whole operation? No help for it. But that’s life, eh?”

Din nodded once, holding Grogu a little closer.

You came by a few hours later, a small basket of fruit propped on your hip and a smile on your face even though your eyes looked distracted.

“Here you go,” you broadened your smile as you handed the basket to the Mandalorian. “I thought he might like some more. These were what he was eating most of earlier. What’s his name, anyway?”

“Thank you,” Din said. “And his name is Grogu…”

“Stupid name!” Peli called from another room.

“No it’s not!” You called back before looking at the child. “It’s a good, strong name. Perfect for you, hm?”

“Patu,” Grogu said, his tone serious. You smiled.

“Thought so,” you said.

You stayed for dinner - a barely passable soup that you were kind enough to pretend to enjoy - and played sabacc with Din and Peli. Grogu climbed into your lap and you splayed the cards out in front of him, his little hand reaching out to touch them.

“See, this is a good hand,” you said, leaning in to whisper into his large ear. He kid stretched forward and smacked his hand on one of the cards. “Good pick, that’s a high value card, a whole 10 points…”

“You’re making it easy to beat you,” Peli said, smirking across the table.

“Can’t lose when you’ve already won,” you replied. “And which one of us has the youngling in their lap? That would be me.”

“You’re just new,” Peli waved you off. “He’ll be back to me eventually.”

“We’ll see about that,” you kissed his little head. “I’ll just keep plying him with fruit, keep him on my good side.”

“Patu!”

“Exactly,” you said, and Din was so distracted picturing you aboard the Razor Crest with his son on your lap that he forgot it was his turn.

As the evening wound down and you got ready to leave, Din had almost convinced himself that he could let you go. It was the only logical choice, after all. You barely knew each other. Just because you were beautiful and gentle and looked like you might be the softest thing he’d ever touch didn’t mean that you belonged anywhere near him. The opposite, in fact. The life he led would be no good for you, it was useless even day dreaming about what couldn’t be.

You said your goodbyes to him, Peli and Grogu and Din had the unfamiliar ache of longing in his chest as he watched you go, staring at the doorway you’d left through for a few seconds too long.

“Aw kriff,” Peli groaned. “She left her shawl and I’m wasn’t planning to go to the market tomorrow…”

“Here,” Din said before he could think better of it, taking the linen wrap from Peli’s grasp. “I’ll catch her. Watch the kid for a minute. And actually watch him this time.”

“Yeah yeah,” she waved him off before turning her attention to Grogu. “Is your dad just a big shiny menace? Huh? Yeah, I bet he is…”

He thought he was going to have to track you to catch up with you but, instead, he found you standing in the middle of Peli’s hanger, staring up at the night sky. Stars sparkled over your head, the light reflecting in your eyes, and Din could see the streaks of ships leaving the atmosphere as they shot into the galaxy. You had that distracted look on your face, one worn by people with problems that took time - and muscle - to solve.

“You forgot this,” Din said, holding the shawl out and making you jump.

You laughed a little.

“Thanks,” you said. “I’m not sure where my mind has been lately.”

You looked back up at the stars, wrapping yourself in the shawl, and sighed in a sad, longing way.

“What are they like?” You asked, still looking up. “The stars. From up there, I mean.”

“Far away,” Din said.

You laughed again.

“Don’t I know it. Part of why I’ve never made it off-world…”

Din frowned.

“You’ve never left Tatooine?”

You glanced at him, a sad smile on your face before looking back to the stars.

“Never had the chance,” you said. “But I hope I will, some day. But… doubt I ever will.”

You looked at him for a moment, your eyes finding his below the vizor.

“Well, it was good to meet you,” you said. “Take care of that youngling of yours, he’s too sweet to let anything happen to him…”

You started to leave but he stopped you, his hand shooting out and catching you at your elbow, the contact with you like an electric jolt running through his body. You gasped at it, looking to where he was touching you before looking toward his face again.

“Mando…” Your voice was quiet, breathy.

“Do you really want to leave?” He asked before he could stop himself.

“Yes,” you whispered. “I want to see some of the galaxy, I want to do something I love, I want a life, a life I can’t have here.”

He could feel it then, a chance at the life he’d pictured, one that had you there with him and his son.

“Come with me,” he said.

“What?” You laughed a little. “Mando, we just met…”

“I can get you out of here,” he said, ignoring you. “Make sure the Hutts never bother you again.”

Your eyebrows knitted together.

“Did Peli…”

“Does it matter?” He asked. “I’m offering you a chance to see the stars.”

“With you?” You asked, your eyes finding his below the visor and he had the thought, again, of undressing you, of touching you, of feeling you in a way he’d never allowed himself to feel anyone else.

“Yes,” he said.

“And Grogu?”

“Yes. We can leave tonight, now, if you want it.”

You looked up at the stars again, the soft sparkle of their far away light shining on your skin.

You looked back at him.

“I want it,” you said quietly. “I want all of it.”

Din smiled below the helmet.

“Then let’s go.”

#fanfic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x female reader #the mandalorian x you

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nats-revival · 11 months ago

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Love story au: you and Abby have a sort of forbidden secret romance 💛 takes place during medieval time.

𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙨𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙨 | 𝙖. 𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙤𝙣

pairing: abby anderson x afab!reader

tags: (sorta modernized!) shakespearean english, no smut, abbys father is mentioned, reader lowkey living that rapunzel lifestyle but like not rlly. 😭🙏, abby has a bow and arrow, im still terrible at tagging, so i probably missed some stuff??

a/n: honestly, i rlly only chose this song for this fic bc i was watching berlin while writing this and lowk.. i figured that it was fitting! honestly this prompt was super fun to do!!! i absolutely loved doing this, and i promise i will finish out my requests soon. 😭🙏 there’s still two more i have to start. uploads might be slow next week since i have some tests at school but ill def still try to be active here. ^^

You weren’t supposed to see each other, it was forbidden. Ever since your families began to quarrel, they had kept you held up in your room for seemingly no reason at all. Your father often fought with Abby’s, and they’d go extreme lengths to show their superiority, whether it be trading and buying the most expensive things they could, draping their daughters and significant other in the finest silks, or flat out going toe-to-toe with each other. Of course, you had already been seeing her secretly beforehand, and she showed you things you weren’t ever gonna be allowed to see. Fighting tournaments, erotic literature, the finest alcoholic beverages her kingdom had to offer, and how it felt to rebel. You loved doing these things with her.

These days, you’d been confined to the stone walls of your room, cold floors, and whatever other luxuries your father decided to drape you in. You were only allowed outside for a few minutes, or whatever your father allowed. It happened to be 45 minutes today. During this time you and Abby meet up secretly. Today, you found yourself running through the thick forest behind your castle. You were out of breath and your mouth went dry, but there she was. Her long braid would’ve been noticeable from any distance. You catch your breath and you stand up straight. “Abby.” You say with a smile. She turns to you with a smile, holding her bow and arrow. “Wherefore doth thee at each moment come running to see me? What is the reason behind thy eag'rness to seeth me?” The curiosity in her tone was playful. “I couldn’t possibly miss out on seeing thee. I'm willing to wend to most wondrous lengths just to beest with thee, coequal if 't be true t means running a million miles. You know that I can't be outside f'r long these days, so I want to make it count.” You admit as your smile grows. Abby chuckles. “Nobodys ever did like me so much to running to me ev'ryday. Concluded, be it, follow me. I want to showeth thee something, and I think you’d plaited it.”

Abby takes your hand and she leads you deeper into the forest. The flora of the forest was to die for this season. The beautiful greens, the flowers, the dew drops sliding off tree leaves, it was a sight that was just impossible to want to not see. But it was only something the two of you knew about. After some time, she stops by some trees. Attached to them were some targets. “I suppose thee haven’t forgotten that day we spent a few fortnights ago? Did thee say.. thee did want to see how valorous mine aim was, no?” Abby asked with a smile. You nod enthusiastically. “Oh, of course I’d want to see how well thee uses yond bow and arrow. You speak so highly of thy aim, I’m sure it’s better than any sirs in the entire kingdom.” Abby always found your enthusiasm cute. Her body felt warm and fuzzy, as stupid and cliche it sounds, but she always felt that way around you. She loved how alive you made her feel. She readies her bow and arrow, and you watch her. You observe her pulling the string back and being mindful of how much she does. She inhales and loses the arrow in the middle of her exhale. Dead center of the target! She turns to you with a smile as your face lights up equally as bright.

She was amazing! God, you’ve seen men competing for the other princesses hands in marriage (thanks to Abby), but you wanted her to do this for you when your time came. “That wast most wondrous! Oh my gosh, thee should it again. I want to see you do it again!” You say as you give her a face of pleading. She lets out a small chuckle before she turns to another target. This time, she decides to be flashy. She readies an arrow yet again, closing her eyes before she lets it loose. She opens her eyes to find that it had just nearly hit beneath the target. She shrugs her shoulders with a small smile. “Well, art thee did impress, princess?” She asks as she goes to collect her arrows. You turn to her with a small smile. “Of course I’m impressed. Thee nev'r faileth to impresseth me, Abigail.” “That’s the second timeth you’ve hath called me that. I still rememb'r the first liketh it’s yest'rday.” Abby’s cheeks were dusted in a pink blush as she remembered that day you’d asked her out. All loopy from your drinking, your drunken rambling had resulted in you asking her out. “I rememb'r that day fondly. It was the day I hath asked thee out.” You reply in a soft tone almost as if you were falling in love with her all over again. But you couldn’t help it. This woman was timeless, and she never failed to take your breath away no matter what she did. Whether it be simple housework, gardening, or using that bow and arrow. Every aspect of Abby was attractive. Once all her arrows had been collected, she walks back over to you. She grabs your hands, her thumb gently grazing your knuckles as she looks in your eyes. Your gaze meets hers. She smiles, you look away with a giggle. She turns you back to face her. “I loveth thee. For many nights, I’ve hadst these dreams. Those dreams beshrew mine own mind. All of those were about thee. Well, us. Running hence. Being joyous. Not having to encave our love.” Her voice was soft. Her tone was sincere.

Her gaze softened. One hand comes to softly hold your face. You melt. You couldn’t stop the words from spilling out of your mouth now. “I want to be with thee. I’m not restful of hiding. I want to run in the lush gardens, waketh to a sleep chamber that isn’t bitter cold, and stay out with thee for howev'r long mine own heart desires.” You smile at her and she smiles back. Slowly, her eyes become half lidded and she moves closer to you. “Run away with me, princess.” She whispered before she softly pressed her lips to yours. She pulled away for a moment to see if you were okay with it, but when you pulled her right back in, it solidified that you were more than okay with this. Her arms wrap around your waist, and yours find solace around her neck. This moment felt surreal. Being surrounded by forest, her hands on your body, the humming sound of cicadas and whatever else was in the forest, and the sounds of her soft, quiet moans filled your ears and burned in your memory. While you’re kissing her, you remember its way past the time you should’ve returned. You pull away. “Goodness, it’s getting late. We shall meet. Here, before sundown. I expect to see thee waiting for me here.” You say sweetly but in a rushed manner. She crosses her arms, then closing her eyes as she gives you a confirming nod before she bids you farewell. “I’ll see you soon, princess.” She says as she watches you walk off, then turning to head towards her own castle. This was the start of living freely, not confined by the restraints of parents.

#wlfabby #adria answers anons #tlou #the last of us #the last of us part two #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x fem!reader #abby x reader #reader insert #afab reader #tlou x reader #tlou2 #the last of us x reader

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moldycantaloupe · 6 months ago

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Mushy May Day 22

Long Drives

Pairing; Swiss/Dew

notes; this was definitely inspired by miasmaghoul's fic (Explicit!) in terms of, "Dew and Swiss go run errands for the church," aka this is just slice of life. thanks as always to @forlorn-crows for putting together the prompts list!

The best part of going on tour in Swiss’ opinion was the traveling itself. Yes, playing in the band alongside his pack and Papa was amazing and getting to feed off of the crowd’s energy every night, but the sights they got to see. The new summons never stepped foot off of the Abbey grounds until tour began, and oh, Aether often reminisced how the multi had stars in his eyes when he saw the meadows and city just past the church. He got to explore all different kinds of cultures and cities, be introduced to all kinds of characters and personalities. He didn’t know there could be a shop for everything.

It was only fair that once tour was over, he immediately grew antsy with cabin fever. The Abbey was great, but he needed out. One faithful complaining session later with Mountain, and he learned that Papa had a Cadillac he could possibly learn to use.

It took a lot of begging and a ton of half assed promises, but eventually he got approval from both Copia and Sister to learn to drive, under the promise of running errands for her, Copia, and the band ghouls. He eagerly accepted.

Months later, and it was the best trade off he could’ve possibly made. Once a week he would get up early in jittery anticipation to be back in the city. They kept a small book in the kitchen of needs and wants that was collected over the course of a week. After getting ready he would grab the book, alongside a travel cup of coffee Mountain made for him every week, the Church’s card, and the extra set of keys Copia gave him, then he was off.

Windows down and sunglasses on as he went down the road heading into the city. He’d sip on his coffee while his music struggled to play in the old speakers (Rain suggested putting in a big boom box in the back. He’d have to remember to ask about it). He was relatively calm in terms of ghoulness, but when it’s him and the Cadillac, he was in a meditative peace.

This morning was no different. He woke up jittery, got ready and dressed, and headed towards the kitchen. There sat the book, keys and card, Coffee, and… Dewdrop.

Swiss tilted his head but grinned. He always left before anyone was really awake, save for Mountain, and that definitely applied to the fire ghoul. But there he stood, dressed in his leather battle jacket, skinny jeans and combat boots, hair loose and free. He stood by the counter, fidgeting with his phone and looked up when Swiss entered.

“Morning.” Swiss nodded towards him. “Where you off to?”

“Well, uh,” Dew pocketed his phone and cleared his throat, his eyes casted down. Nervous. “Aeth said it’d be good for me to… go out. Said you might like the company.”

Swiss didn’t pause in grabbing his items, stashing the card away in his wallet before putting it in his back pocket.

“You want to run errands with me?” He didn’t sound condescending, just genuine curiosity.

Dew nodded. “If that’s okay.”

Swiss grabbed the keys and his coffee before he began walking towards the front door, his smile having only grown. “Grab the book and let's roll.”

It was a thirty minute drive into the city; why they decided to build the Abbey so far away from civilization, he’d never know. Swiss and Dew drove in silence, the fire ghoul’s leg periodically bouncing while his eyes surveyed the scenery. It was beautiful, especially for spring. Rows of green only broken up by livestock and flower fields. Swiss offered his coffee to Dew every time he took a sip, and everytime he accepted the offer. Nothing was said between them for the thirty minutes, just them, the wind, and the shitty sound of beautiful music.

Running around the city was a different scene. Dew opted to stay in the car for the shorter tasks; picking up and dropping off dry cleaning, depositing checks, picking up orders for Sister and Copia from a bougie grocery store. When they hit the grocery stores and mall, Dew joined him.

Swiss let him take hold of the grocery cart for the first five minutes before taking it back when the fire ghoul kept purposely hitting his shins. Dew claimed innocence everytime, but the cheeky smile said it all. They went through Swiss’ route in under fifteen minutes before checking out.

It was near noon when all errands were finished for the week and the two plopped back into the car. Swiss started up the car and glanced over at Dew, who sported a small smile as he stared out into the parking lot.

“How about we grab a bite before heading back?” Swiss offered as he grabbed hold of the stick shift. “There’s a place I think you’ll enjoy. Sister’s treat.”

He eyed Dew as he backed out of the parking lot, who chuckled.

“Yeah, food sounds great.” Dew nodded.

“Alright!” Swiss turned back towards the front and began driving out towards the road.

#lou writes #nameless ghouls #the band ghost #dewdrop ghoul #swiss ghoul #swiss x dewdrop #swissdew

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little-reader · 10 months ago

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"The Son of A Monster." Valentines Special. MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS

Masterlist

Carl Grimes / Male Reader.

I breathe in the air. It's fresh as the apples, and brisk as the wind blows by. “Daddy.” Huffed a small child, standing next to his twin. Identical. The boy stomped his foot and crossed his arms, cute and angry, while his brother stood quietly with flowers in his hand.

“What,” I said, with the same whining as I picked flowers in a field, near home. The morning was fresh, and yet to fully rise when we had begun to pick. I planned this all the night before, perfectly to where it did not interfere with schedules. A day off from riding to Alexandria to get kids to school, and farming hadn’t started till noon.

“Don’t wanna do this! It's boring.” The boy, Isahe, said, stomping his foot once again. I raised an eyebrow, looking at the flowers he had in hand before bending down.

“Now, now. You know the rules, you only use that voice when…?” I waited for the answer, looking at the angry boy.

He rolled his eyes slightly. “When I see someone or something that can put me in danger.” He repeated. Something I had taught regularly, and classes taught. Growing up in a world like this is absolute hell. I smile at Isahe, ruffling his hair and kissing his forehead.

“You know why we're doin’ this. Pa will be sad he didn’t get any flowers from one of his favorite boys.” I pinch his cheek, his expression changes as he considers this. “I don’t think he’d want flowers from just Daddy and Rome,” I stated, pushing his hair out of his face. He hummed and pushed my arm away as Rome showed me the flowers he had picked.

I wave the carriage off as the two twins smile and they leave off the road. Two gunmen with them, trusted men of course. I sighed as I unlocked the wall and secured it behind me. A house stood tall, with a porch with garden supplies. A garden with a wired fence stood at the side and toys were scattered around. I unlocked the front door, carrying a basket with food and flowers, and walked inside, making sure to lock the door behind me. The home was quiet as I set down the basket. I uncovered the living room windows and opened the curtains, allowing natural light to pass through.

I left into the kitchen before grabbing a knife, cutting board, bowls, and a pan. Days like these weren’t really celebrated. Not that this day mattered to most starving and scared people. But how I was living now? I wanted it to last, and have the kids with a childhood and imagination that goes on for miles. I collected books, comics, and children's books for the small library in a spare room. The house was two-story, with a thick stone wall surrounding it. The wall had plenty to keep us safe. Cameras, trip wires, traps, anything to keep something bad out. Anything to keep them safe. The garden was big enough to preserve food for winter, and still eat in the summer and spring. The fence kept rabbits, mice, or anything that could fly out.

We had a shed in the back of the house that looked like an old gardening shed but could be turned into a weapon shed in a matter of seconds. The doors in the house had been made to keep things in or out if locked. I didn’t want anything bad to happen, and if anything went wrong, I had a plan to make sure it wouldn’t

I sighed, closing my eyes after cutting the food and placing it into bowls. I grabbed an extra bowl and grabbed some eggs from the refrigerator. Trade was a good thing in handy.

I could smell the egg drafting around the house as I started making an omelet, which turned out good. The green pepper, tomato, and onion made the food blow with taste as I placed it on a plate and poured fresh lemonade. The food and drinks were placed on a board and I slowly carried it to the top of the stairs and opened a door with the push of my foot. I sat down on the board on a nightstand and took off my shoes and jeans before pushing back the duvet and, carefully, making myself comfortable.

I look at the sleeping man beside me. His hair covered his face and his back turned to me. I lean down and kiss his bare shoulder before pushing his hair away. His eyepatch lay on the nightstand, leaving his scar to show as I kiss behind his ear and wrap my arms around him.

I hear him groan as He pushes his head to the side and deeper into his pillow. “Hey,” I said, rubbing his bare chest as I rested my forehead on his shoulder. I heard him hum as He stretched his legs and arms. ‘Kids are gone, Aaron picked them up.” I whispered, kissing his back. He hummed again and whined as he stretched his back and turned. I took my forehead off of his shoulder, feeling him turning in my arms.

“What time is it?” He asked, now looking at me. I could see the tiredness in his eyes.

“Doesn’t matter. We don’t gotta go until late noon.” I said, pushing my hand through his hair. It needed another trim, but it was fine. “Hairs getting long again. Gonna keep it like old times, or cut it again?” I said, playing with a strand. He shrugs, his eye shutting again as he licked his lips. “Hungry?” I whisper and he nods slightly. I smile and lift myself up. “Good, 'cause’ I brought you some food to eat,” I said as he stretched again and sat up on his elbows.

“What... why?” He asks, rubbing his eyes, and starting to wake up. I smile and look at him.

“The kid picked you some flowers, though he didn’t want to,” I say, I hear him laugh as I place the board on his lap. “Happy Valentine's Day.”

#carl grimes #carl grimes x male reader #negan #the walking dead #twd #twd x reader #twd x you #male reader #carl grimes x reader #negans son

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vivianleighwishesshewasme · 1 month ago

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A proper date Part 2

Tommy takes Grace out on a proper date as promised. It's anything but proper.

_______________________________________________ True to his Word, he picked her up for a date the next night with chocolates and flowers. He’d decided to take her out to a restaurant in the Italian district. They were nicer than anything he’d found in Birmingham.

She was surprised but not unpleasantly so. It wouldn’t have been a date if they’d gone to the Garrison where she worked.

“Lady Comara and guest.” He said to the host. He looked down at her to see if she’d caught their inside joke. He couldn’t stop smiling when she pulled away from him with surprise in her eye’s. Oh, she’d caught it.

He tucked her arm under his tighter drawing her closer as they walked through a throng of hungry people to keep her from getting lost or to prevent her from hitting him. He couldn’t stop grinning. He knew she was still a little upset with him about the race track. Especially since she kept side eyeing him even though they were now seated.

“Why did you pick that name? I thought this was my apology dinner for you being jealous the other day?” She reprimanded him with a smile. He smiled at her back and shrugged. She knew why, it was now his little joke with her since she’d forgiven him.

“What name?” He asked innocently. He was grateful the waiter had brought them wine. He’d ordered a bottle ahead of time. He knew she wasn’t done with him though. He enjoyed working her up, she rose to the occasion every time.

“You know what name.” She scolded him as she watched the people swirl around the floor. He wasn’t surprised when she asked another question.

“Lady Sarah? Why Sarah.” She asked him earnestly sipping her beverage watching him as he sat back and swirled the red liquid around. He wasn’t a wine person, but he was trying to impress her. This had been Polly's idea of a proper date.

“Perhaps I’d heard the name before Grace.” He said nonchalantly. Her eyebrow arched. Something was definitely rising. He was excited to see how far she'd let him push it.

“Sarah, why the name Sarah? Was she an old girlfriend perhaps?” He almost spat out his wine, choking on it instead. He sputtered when he realized she was serious. She was jealous now. Anger flashed in her eyes.

Sarah had just been a posh sounding name. If she weren't a Grace, she’d have been a Sarah he figured. She was glaring at him as she sipped her eyes, never leaving his face awaiting an answer.

“Now who's jealous grace?” He goaded never taking his eyes off her beautiful flushed face. Her green eye’s sparkled and glinted at him. She was pissed.

“I'm not jealous, at least not enough to beat up every girl named Sarah in Birmingham.” She countered lowering her gaze. She hadn’t denied it. That interested him greatly. He leaned forward, closing the distance between them on the table.

“I don't beat every man that looks your way Grace, there'd be nobody left in the Garrison. How would we make money then?” They both laughed, breaking the tension.

“Grace, will you dance with me?” His husky voice floated over the music and wine piercing her date. She blushed and nodded standing when he did gently taking his warm hand over hers.

“Since you asked properly.” She added softly as he pressed their bodies together and melted into the throng of couples on the floor.

_______________________________________________

It didn’t take long for him to be irritated with the dancing. It wasn’t even that he wanted to leave at the moment. He enjoyed dancing with her. It was the fact that partners were traded. Grace had been taken out of his arms.

After the second or third time, he was losing count and he grabbed her and started walking toward the door.

“I left my coat.” Grace panicked as she reached the exit. Her money was in her coat.

“Grabbed it from the chair when I stole you back from your dance partner, let's go lady Sarah.” He said as he tossed her coat, sounded her shoulders and ushered her out to his vehicle. His face was tight and irritated. She had to admit she found his jealousy enduring. He certainly touched her more and firmly might she add when he was upset.

He sat her in the vehicle and started down the road not looking at her. He could pretend he was watching the road but she knew better.

“Stop calling me Lady Sarah, Thomas.” She said a bit more harshly than intended. It made her think of Kimber, and how Tommy had told him she had the clap. Fake name or not, it wasn’t flattering.

“What name would you prefer, Grace?” We can be anyone we want to be.” He added offhandedly as he got closer to her street.

“I like us the way we are. Why can’t we just be Tommy and Grace?” She said moving closer to him to talk. Her hand brushed his thigh.

“I like us as Tommy and Grace.” She said it again, tightening his chest. His hand tightened on the steering wheel as she smiled up at him.

“Hmmm.” was all he could reply to her. She rolled her eyes. Why wouldn’t he answer her?

They rumbled up to her doorstep. He killed the engine and looked at her. She had worn a blue dress, the color of his eyes and a matching hat and gloves. She looked beautiful. It complimented her eyes and brought out the white halo like highlights in her hair. She looked like an angel.

“We’ll, in spite of how it ended. I do appreciate that you kept your word and gave me a proper date.” She squeezed his hand and went to get out. He pulled her back gently and took her face into his hands making her look at him. He searched her, for what she couldn’t tell. They were close enough for their lips to touch barley an inch between them.

His breath ghosted over her slightly parted mouth like a kiss from a warm summer breeze.

“We both know now that this isn't a proper date, Grace.” His voice was deep, warm and sensual. She inhaled smelling his cologne, aftershave and the smoke that always clung to his own unique scent. She loved the way he smelled. It drove a feral need in her to kiss him and pull him to her every time they were this close.

“Oh why do we know that?” she asked breathlessly. Hanging on his every word and movement.

“Because after what you said tonight, about liking us as Tommy and Grace, we both know what's going to happen now.” He bent his head down to whisper into her ear. She couldn’t help herself though. She had to know.

“What is that exactly, tom?” She breathed out barely a whisper herself. She could hear their heartbeats thundering in their chest building on the tension and heat between them.

“You're going to invite me and I'm not going home till morning. You and I are a sealed deal now Grace. Tommy and Grace, eh.” He leaned down and captured her in a rough passionate kiss which she eagerly dished back.

“Grace, we should go inside. This isn’t proper out under the streetlamp.” He said almost panting.

She leaned in again with a wicked smile matching his own.

“ Mr. Shelby, I thought you said this wasn’t a proper date.” His deep laugh rumbled through her as he pulled her out of the car and into her flat.

__________________________________________________________

It didn’t take them long, even as clumsily tangled together as they were, to make it upstairs and into her room.

The dress she’d worn was simple but elegant. Made it easier for him to undo. He kept her in her slip mindful of the chilled air.

She made quick work unbuttoning his shirt and stripping him of his belt. He gave her an appreciative growl when she raked her nail gently through his scalp and brought his mouth down to hers for a searing kiss.

“Tommy and Grace.” It was like a love song echoing in his head.

He slipped the straps down her shoulders kissing every inch of her as he sat down on her bed to admire her. She pulled down his trousers and tossed them on a chair. She sat down straddling him as he undid her lacy bralette and discarded it on the floor nearby.

He kissed and sucked at her breasts as she bent down to whisper her adoration for his tongue into his black tresses. She was practically riding him. He gripped her hips more harshly then he intended to quickly apologize. He needed to slow her down. Be inside her. He didn’t care who was on top, he trusted her. He just needed to feel every inch of her as she came, crashing into him.

“Grace, stand up a minute, yeah.” He was surprised at how deep and rough his voice sounded in the quiet little room. She was stripping him of all control. She did as he asked, he raked his gaze over her. She was stark naked, pale and beautiful in the moonlight flickering through her window. She looked like a goddess to him. Pale and glimmering. Only for him to worship.

She lay down on her back and fanned her hair around her face. He groaned and lay down gently on her. He couldn’t be gentle anymore. He slid down till his face was perfectly lined up with her sex. Her legs instantly arched as his warm hot tongue moved around her. She arched again to meet his pace and wrapped her fingers around any part of his head she could grasp at. He gently added each finger until he felt she was stretched. He wasn’t surprised when her orgasm hit as his fingers curled inside of her. She crashed around him muttering his name and soft profanities….something about his tongue and God.

He chuckled into her as he pulled back. He’d been surprised when she sat up and rolled her tongue around in his mouth. He latched onto her and wrapped his arms around her tightly. She welcomed him in with such passion he wasn't sure who started the pace but it was almost frantic as if they were melding into one body. She met him with every thrust sparing on an orgasms crashing them into one another in pleasure binding them.

Tommy and Grace. They were one.

#peaky blinders fanfic #thomasshelby #grace burgess #grace shelby #jealousy #date night

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areyoudoingthis · 1 year ago

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Rated E. 7,724 words. This isn't at all what Stede saw in his own fantasies - there's no beard, no sword, no avenging swashbuckling pirate standing in the mirror in front of him. There's just Stede, swaddled in fine fabrics like he was most of his life, but not the same at all. This is Stede touched by Ed, draped in Ed's love manifest in the clothes he picked for him to wear because they reminded him of a time in his life when the memory of Stede helped him breathe underwater. This is how Ed seems him. This is the image of Stede Ed saw when he needed him most. He feels his eyes well with tears at the realization. - Ed gets Stede to open up through the magical power of new clothes.

They're mostly done with their list of purchases for the day when they walk by the tailor shop. Ed's eyes bore through the windows as his legs stop moving, and Stede's heart pitter patters at the thought of going clothes shopping with him, of sharing something that always brought him solace in his lonely years with someone who fancies a fine fabric as much as he does.

He smiles encouragingly at Ed and nods towards the store, and Ed doesn't need any further invitation; next thing he knows Stede's being dragged excitedly by the hand across the threshold.

He lets himself be pulled, gazes adoringly at Ed as he watches him drink in all the colors and patterns that are theirs for the taking. He will never forget that this was the first thing they bonded over, the way Ed's eyes shone when Stede showed him all the treasures he kept tucked safely away in the auxiliary wardrobe for the first time. The awe in his expression as he took in the rows of autumn vibes and summer linens much like he's doing right now, his excited giggles as they traded clothes.

He loses track of Ed as they browse, picks up an emerald green cashmere robe with silver accents that he simply has to get for him, gets lost in the daydream of holding Ed in his arms while he's wearing it and forgets where he is and what he's doing for an indefinite number of minutes.

He goes looking for Ed when he comes back from his fantasy, and finds him standing uncharacteristically still next to a rack of colorful suits. He's pulled out one in particular, satin in a gorgeous shade of orange with intricate patterns of leaves and flowers on the front and the sleeves. He has impeccable taste, Stede's always known this about him.

Ed seems mesmerized by the fabric, rubs it between the pads of his fingers and stares at it with something like reverence. Stede smiles, always happy to get Ed anything that makes him light up like this.

"Do you like it, darling? Should we get it?"

"It's..." he turns to Stede, all wide eyes and intense longing. His voice is small and awed when he replies. "It's the same color as your scales in my vision."

Stede swallows around the sudden knot in his throat, struggles to draw air into his lungs, but Ed isn't done knocking the breath out of him yet.

"I wanna see you in it."

There's no way Stede can say no to that, even if he was inclined to turn down a well-made, beautiful coat like this one, which he hasn't been once in his fifty years on this earth.

He wonders briefly if it may need to be tailored, but judging from the avid way Ed's still glancing between him and the fabric pooled in his hands, he worries that something may happen if he decides to try the suit on in public. He doesn't fully know what, but he decides wisely not to risk it and just pay for everything and make sure he can bring it back later if it needs any adjustments. The saleswoman is gracious and reassuring, and Stede makes a note of the store in his mental list of "Stede's favorite places in the world he absolutely must revisit later."

He's ready to pay for the robe, coat and matching breeches when he remembers that all he has at home are worn shirts and an assortment of leather and rough cloth trousers.

"Will you choose a shirt and waistcoat for me, darling?" he ventures, and is rewarded with Ed's eyes going big and hungry again.

"Me?"

"You picked the suit, you know the color scheme you're working with."

Ed nods determinedly, squares his shoulders and heads back towards the racks of clothes muttering quietly to himself, like he's got a big mission to fulfill. Stede feels so impossibly in love every minute of his life these days that it's a wonder he gets anything done at all.

He turns back towards the woman behind the counter and inquires about a new pair of shoes (he can't possibly wear something this delicate with boots) and, heart hammering in his chest for some unknown reason, stockings.

He's purchased stockings dozens of times in the past, but his mind seems to have attached some special significance to the idea of stockings-and-Ed, and wearing something for Ed just because he asked. He breathes deeply and tries not to turn red, doesn't want to make the poor woman uncomfortable.

He chooses white to go with the suit (one can rarely ever go wrong with white, unless one is perhaps Lucius at the Republic of Pirates), and can't help but get the lavender pair she shows him, too, imagines the way the color will look against Ed's skin and loses the fight with the blush spreading warmly on his face. He has time to ask her to wrap those separately, please, they're a gift, before Ed comes back with the items he picked. He shows Stede a flowing white shirt with lace cuffs that he immediately falls in love with, and a golden yellow waistcoat with delicate pearl buttons that's almost as lovely as him. Stede thinks he'll gladly let Ed pick all his clothes from now on.

They pay for everything with the money Ed always seems to have on him in infinite amounts (Stede often has to remind himself that one of them is still rich, and that living in a house that keeps threatening to fall apart on them was a choice they made), and they start on the trip back home with all their new treasures in hand, along with the groceries they got earlier.

It isn't until later that day that the suit is brought up again, when the food has been put away and dinner's come and gone and they're on their second cup of tea of the evening, and Ed asks him, timid and hopeful, to try it on. Stede heads towards their room with his heart in complete disarray, wondering if he'll ever get used to the way Ed can set his whole body and mind alight with a few simple words.

Ed has unpacked every piece and laid them neatly out on the bed for him, and Stede feels himself choke up a little at the caring gesture.

His fingers tremble slightly as he ties the laces of his new shirt, and he wonders if this is how brides usually feel as they get ready on their wedding day - at least brides who are getting married by their own choice. He certainly felt nothing close to this pleasantly agitated and anticipatory when he was about to be married. That suit was given away to charity as soon as Stede considered it polite to do so; he hopes someone got some comfort out of it.

He holds the lace that decorates the sleeves between his fingers and gets lost in the sense-memory. His fingers welcome the touch back like an old friend.

The waistcoat goes on next, and Stede admires the color and the way it fits around his chest and waist. Ed could make a living out of dressing people if he wanted to, his eye is unerring; he may not even need to get the suit adjusted at all. He leaves the buttons undone for now and turns back to the slowly diminishing pile of garments on the bed.

He sighs ecstatically as he slides the stockings up his legs. He missed this most of all, the soft, decadent whisper of silk against his skin. Boots and leather are fun, definitely practical and useful for fighting and working on the house, but it's so nice to be able to indulge like this again. His body's readily and easily adjusting to being covered in finery once more.

The thought of Ed waiting expectantly on the other side of the door to see him in these makes a thrill run down Stede's spine that has nothing and everything to do with the stockings and the shiny laces he's tying them up with.

He pulls the breeches on top once he's done, and goes about the slow task of doing up every button on every piece with slightly impatient hands. He's never gotten dressed this elaborately in the past knowing that he'd be getting undressed a short while later, and this part feels a little like a waste of time and effort. He grins to himself, feels his whole body bubble with an exhilaration he's never experienced while putting on clothes before. These days the excitement is usually reserved for taking them off, and Ed tends to be the one impatiently taking care of that. He wonders how many new firsts he'll keep discovering every day of his life with him, wishes hopefully that they never run out.

When he's finally done securing the last buttons down the side of his new breeches, he slips his feet into the shoes and stands up straight, tugs on the coat a little to adjust it. It's got that stiff new outfit feeling, but Stede doesn't mind, because as soon as he focuses on the mirror in front of him the breath gets knocked out of him for the third time today.

He looks absolutely radiant. The satin glimmers where it catches the light, and the mix of orange and gold, delicate pearls nestled in embroidery and soft touches of lace and silk all combine to make him look otherworldly to his own eyes.

And, he thinks, this isn't just any old fancy suit, something he's donning like armor first thing in the morning for the umpteenth time. This is what Ed chose especially for him to wear, because it holds a particular significance to him, because it reminds him of a time in his life when the memory of Stede helped him breathe underwater.

This is how Ed seems him. This is the image of Stede Ed saw when he needed him most. He feels his eyes well with tears at the realization.

This isn't at all what Stede saw in his own fantasies - there's no beard, no sword, no avenging swashbuckling pirate standing in the mirror in front of him. There's just Stede, swaddled in fine fabrics like he was most of his life, but not the same at all. This is Stede touched by Ed, draped in Ed's love manifest in the clothes he picked for Stede because he wanted the pleasure of seeing him in them.

He feels slightly unstable with everything going through his head and his heart all of a sudden, and for once in his life he knows exactly where to turn.

"Ed, can you come in?" his voice wobbles a little as he calls out.

Ed confirms his suspicions that he was waiting on the other side of the door by opening it immediately and stepping into the room with him.

He zeroes in on the tears running down Stede's cheeks instantly, with the same care and devotion he always shows him. He's got Stede's face cradled in his solid hands within seconds, thumbs wiping away the saltiness and lips whispering soothing words on instinct.

"What's wrong, babe?" he asks once Stede's been profusely comforted. "Don't you like it? You don't have to keep it on if you don't."

"I love it, Edward," Stede confesses quietly. "I love it so much." His voice grows even smaller. "Too much."

Ed's eyes and nose scrunch almost comically in confusion.

"How can you like it too much? That's not a thing, Stede. Ya like it, ya wear it. That's how clothes work."

And he makes it sound so impossibly simple. But it's never been simple, has it? Not in Stede's experience. Wearing pretty things because he likes them has never been as straightforward for him as Ed assumes. He doesn't know how to explain that, though, doesn't know where to find the words to encompass his father and his peers and his own wife and the contempt Stede's enjoyment of fine, delicate things was met with his whole life.

He starts crying in earnest instead, and Ed stands unwavering with Stede's face held gently in his hands, kisses his tears dry and presses their foreheads together, pours his adoration into the silent, intimate space between their mouths as he lets him figure out how to say what he needs to say.

Stede tries to breathe through his tears, tries to make his mind and his tongue cooperate with the arduous task of summing up a lifetime of disdain in a few sentences. And then a memory comes to him, of another time when fine things were worn and one of them also ended the night upset, and he thinks maybe he knows how to help Ed understand.

"Do you remember the french party boat?"

"Yeah, I remember," Ed grits out, clearly still has the same negative associations with it that Stede does. And Stede is sorry for what he's going to bring up next, but he hopes Ed will forgive him once he gets where Stede is going with it, why he's digging up the unpleasantness to poke at it.

"Remember how they made you feel when you used the wrong spoon?"

Ed grumbles his assent.

"I always picked the right spoon, Ed," he sobs, trembles against him, unable to stop the grief from ripping out of him. He keeps talking as his voice breaks. "I was taught which spoon was the right spoon and I picked it every time after. And I always felt just like you did that night. Every day. For almost fifty years."

Ed's hands leave his face to wrap around his shoulders and pull him close. Stede feels safe pressed here against his chest, feels shielded from the harshness of the world like he's never felt in his life. Inside the circle of his arms is the only place no one's ever been able to harm him, the wall no pointed barbs can pierce, a refuge where no dark thoughts can thrive.

"Stede, you made those fuckers set themselves on fire," Ed reminds him.

"Because they hurt you," he says, raising his face from his shoulder to stare earnestly into his eyes.

Stede thought it was obvious this whole time. There's nothing he wouldn't do to make Ed feel safe, to punish those who insult and hurt him.

Ed's eyes light up with understanding, and then flood with compassion.

"There was never anyone to set them on fire for you, was there?" he whispers softly into the quiet room.

Stede nods through his tears, burrows closer into his arms. Ed holds him tight, tireless in his love, presses his lips tenderly into his curls, rubs his hands up and down his back and makes warmth bloom in his body. Stede is always surprised to be handled this gently, hasn't managed to get used to it yet.

"You've got me now," Ed promises. "I'll set anyone on fire for ya, love." He says it like a prayer, like a vow, and Stede smiles shakily and keeps crying into his shoulder, keeps drawing comfort from his steadfast presence and the way he offers himself up for Stede to take whatever he needs.

Ed lets him weep in his arms until he calms down, until the reassurance of his presence eases the hurt of his absence for all the years that came before now a little. And then Stede remembers he had more to say before he broke down.

"I look beautiful in this. I feel beautiful, Ed."

Ed nuzzles his cheek affectionately.

"You sure do, babe. Happy you agree."

"It feels different, kind of. From when I used to dress like this, before." He pauses. "I like it when you dress me."

"You like it when I undress you, too."

Stede chuckles a little wetly.

"That's not what I mean, you menace. I like that you picked this for me, that you showed me how you like me." He takes a breath. "I like that it's how I like me, too," he adds.

Ed beams at him from underneath impossibly long eyelashes.

"You do?"

"Yeah."

"Can I pick more fancy stuff for you?"

There's that boundless excitement that he loves again. Stede knows if he lets him he'll soon find himself with even more clothes than he had when he moved into the Revenge, and then they'll need to build a whole secret wardrobe into their house, too. He'll start drawing the plans in the morning.

"Please do," he asks.

Ed smiles, pleased, and says, "I liked that store."

"Oh, I noticed, darling," he teases. "I like it, too. We'll have to go back soon."

Ed hums in agreement and kisses him enthusiastically, and soon he's making Stede's head spin until he forgets that he was crying and why. He pulls him greedily into his body, runs his hands reverentially down the soft fabric of Stede's new jacket.

"You can keep this bit on," he murmurs, and Stede whimpers into his mouth and feels his knees go a little weak at the ravenous tone and the clear intent behind the words.

Ed slides his hands under the coat and wraps his arms around Stede, guides him backwards towards the bed as he steals his breath with his lips.

He stops when the backs of Stede's legs meet the bed, pushes him down gently until he's got him sitting on the edge, and then shorts out his brain by sinking to his knees in front of him.

"Ed," he moans, fingers tangling in his hair without Stede ever making a conscious decision to make them do it. Then he has a brief moment of lucidity and says, "Pillow, darling. We don't want your knee to be sore in the morning," as he passes him one from the pile on their bed.

Ed places it obediently under his left knee, gives a pleased little sigh and bends down to remove Stede's shoes. He drops hungry kisses along the way, touches his burning lips to his knee, his calf, his ankle, sets Stede's skin ablaze as he goes.

"I love your fuckin' fancy lacy shoes," he says, holding his leg delicately to slip the shoe off his foot.

Stede laughs. Only Ed could manage to sound ferociously enthusiastic about shoes.

"They're not the most convenient footwear," he points out.

"Who fuckin' cares about that, Stede. Your legs look fuckin' great in heels."

Stede feels the blush climb all the way from his toes to his ears. He's feeling perilously close to overwhelmed and all Ed's done is kiss him and compliment his shoes.

Ed sets both of his bare feet down on the ground and rests his hands on Stede's knees as he comes back up, uses the leverage to pull his legs apart and settles easily between them, like he's belonged there his whole life. Stede's chest rises and falls rapidly as he watches him - he's all perfect curls and lovely brown skin, pupils blown wide in hungry eyes, and Stede loves him so much he's afraid his heart might burst.

His mind has inexplicably decided to make him experience everything tonight with an intensity that's making him feel as if this somehow the first time they're doing this all over again. Perhaps it's how their first time would have gone if no one had ever told them who to be or how to live - the two of them undressing each other unhurriedly layer by layer, long before there were any scars hiding under them, before anyone left and any hearts were broken. But he knows they wouldn't be the people that they are if none of that had happened, and that's without a doubt the most heartbreaking possibility of all. He loves this man just as he is, loves who he's learning to become around him. Losing this is unthinkable.

Ed draws him back from his bittersweet musings by slowly undoing the buttons of his waistcoat and pushing it aside so he can bury his face against Stede's stomach. Stede combs his fingers through his silver-threaded hair, thinks idly that he should brush it and plait it for him one of these days. It's as if his hands have remembered all the soft things they used to do and are eager to get back to them.

Ed kisses his body over the shirt, slides his lips down to mouth at his cock through the front of his breeches. He moans when he finds him hard and wanting, and Stede moans with him, blood humming electric with every touch Ed lavishes on him. Ed's fingers work deftly on the buttons while his mouth is busy, and he tries to push the breeches down his hips once he's got them open, but the fabric has no give and they stay stubbornly where they are.

"Pants have to come off, babe," he says, tugging on them. "They're too fuckin' tight." Stede giggles and leans back on his elbows to let him pull them off. He belatedly recalls the tiny buttons down the sides of the legs as Ed's about to slide them down his calves.

"Ed-" but there's a small rain of metal tinkling musically on the floor before he's finished getting two words out.

"Shit," Ed says, forlorn. He looks utterly dismayed about a few pieces of metal and fabric, and his face is so expressive that Stede can't help but laugh and lean forward to kiss the sour look off his lips.

"They're just buttons, darling," he consoles. "At least you didn't tear the ones on the waistcoat, those are my favorites." Ed smiles as Stede presses their mouths back together, and Stede will consider the buttons a fair sacrifice for everything he's gotten out of tonight.

Ed forgets the urgency of his task and keeps kissing him instead, hands still bunching up the fabric around his ankles. He looks so pretty on his knees between Stede's legs, cheeks flushed and mouth red and bitten. Stede would gladly stay here kissing him forever.

They need to come up for air eventually, though, and the pants finally come off without further incident. Stede loses Ed to some transcendent experience the second he notices the stockings he's wearing and the laces holding them up, judging by the glazed look in his eyes. He's instantly pressing forward to rub his cheek against them, and Stede can feel the tingly drag of his beard through the thin fabric, feels his cock jump at the sensation.

"Stede, holy fuck. I'm gonna live between your legs if you keep wearin' these."

Stede's heart beats a wild rhythm at the words. He's definitely tempted by the promise, will wear them again on purpose now that he knows the power silk stockings wield on Ed. He remembers the package he hid away as soon as they got home, wonders if he's gonna be as excited about wearing them himself as he's about seeing them on Stede. His mouth waters at the picture of Ed in nothing but lavender silk, cock standing proud and tattoos stark against the light shade of the fabric. His breath hitches and he groans out loud.

Ed's still lost in silk and Stede's legs, keeps running his palms and his face against them in deliberate movements that make Stede tremble. He wonders briefly how they stayed away from each other for weeks while he wore tight breeches and silk stockings day in and day out, sighs wistfully at the memory of those early days and is brought crashing back to the present by Ed's mouth sucking wetly at the skin of his leg through the silk. His back arches and he rests his weight more heavily on his arms, head falling between his shoulders and breathy moans spilling hungrily from his lips. And then Ed bites his thigh right where lace meets skin, and Stede's hips shoot off the bed, a bolt of electricity coursing all the way up from Ed's teeth to his cock.

"Like that, do ya?"

He nods vigorously, and Ed smirks and gets right back to it, pinches the tender skin between his teeth and lips and makes Stede see stars.

There's something so fucking intoxicating about Ed worshiping his body like this when he's back in his favorite clothes. He's felt desired and admired every time they've made love, couldn't feel anything but with the way Ed touches him and begs for him and cries out his name. But everything feels heightened today, as if being back in silk and embroidered satin has awakened Stede's senses to unprecedented degrees.

"Ed," he sighs longingly, runs his fingers through his hair with all the devastating affection he feels.

Ed caresses his hands up and down his calves as his mouth sucks bruises into his thighs, and Stede congratulates himself on the stroke of genius that told him to invite Ed into the store earlier and led to this particular moment in time. He thinks it may have been the smartest thing he did since he left Bridgetown and settled down here to renovate an inn with the love of his life.

"This is making a mess," Ed tuts, pulling Stede's cock away from where it's smearing precome on his white shirt. Stede pants as his hand closes around him, whines when Ed presses his thumb against the slit and then sucks the digit into his mouth to taste it. It comes out with a loud pop, and Stede can't take his eyes away from Ed's mouth.

"What are we gonna do about it, babe?"

Stede feels like a deer caught by a hunter, eyes wide and heart racing madly against his ribs. His entire mind has gone up in flames, his body is Ed's for the taking however he wants.

"Stede, you okay?" he hears Ed ask, and realizes he went somewhere else made of pure sensation for a while. He has no idea what's happening to him tonight, and his mind feels too placid and liquid to try and find out. He'd rather just let Ed decide how best to make him feel good.

"Yeah," he whispers, and he bends down to kiss him again, thinks he can detect the barest aftertaste of salt on his tongue. Ed kisses back easily, and the way he gives Stede anything he asks for makes him say the next words without hesitation.

"You know how you like to let me take over sometimes?"

Ed nods.

"Can you do that tonight? For me?"

Ed moans and positively devours him, wraps his hands around Stede's jaw and holds him still while he kisses him and kisses him until they're both gasping and clinging to each other.

"Yes," he answers fervently. "Yeah, I can do that, love."

Stede smiles adoringly at him and relaxes further on the bed, groans when the wet heat of Ed's mouth envelops his cock and tightens his fingers reflexively in his hair. They're both here and somewhere else at the same time as Ed's tongue licks a slow stripe up his length, dips into the slit for a few seconds and disappears only to come back and do it over again. Stede cries out his name, feels the easy heat of earlier burn brighter and cascade through him, scorching him.

Ed takes the sound as the encouragement it is, sucks the head of Stede's dick eagerly between his lips, his tiny moans muffled but still audible over their heavy breathing. Wherever they are, it's together, and that's all he cares about.

Flames skitter over Stede's skin as Ed's lips slide up and down his shaft, and his hips shift in tiny movements to press into his mouth. The drag of soft fabric against his skin adds to the intoxicating luxury of it all, and Stede is drowning in molten fire.

He struggles to keep his eyes open, mind soaking in the thrill of Ed's mouth being in control of everything he feels. He shivers when he takes him deep, feels his cock hit the back of his throat and moans Ed's name reverently. Stede feels drunk on him as Ed sucks him off at a lazy rhythm, keeps taking him in as deep as he can, swallows around him and hums contentedly every time Stede's cock hits the back of his throat.

He knows how much Ed loves doing this, has watched him fall apart from nothing but Stede's cock in his mouth, and he takes pleasure in his obvious enjoyment of the act. Ed's fingers curl around his thighs as he bobs his head with abandon, pull on the lace and the silk and shoot tiny pinpricks of pressure and pain down Stede's spine that zap him like lightning.

He can feel the pleasure build and build in his hips and sweep incandescently through his whole body, the delicious rush of Ed's mouth and clever tongue drawing it out of him in increments. He bunches the lace cuffs in his fingers, enjoys the soft-rough drag of the material over his skin and the way Ed whimpers around him at the sight.

Ed's hands leave his thighs to dig into his ass and pull him closer, until his legs are resting on his shoulders. Stede spins out of control at the new position, the way his stockinged legs are on display against Ed's skin as he continues to suck him indulgently. He feels decadent and desirable, skin on fire and lungs burning on every exhalation of Ed's name. He holds onto him almost desperately with the fingers buried in his hair.

Ed's hands hold him safely in place as his nails push into his skin, the sharp sting dizzying and grounding at once, and something settles within Stede, makes him feel impossibly bright, awash with the glow of the devotion Ed is doting on him. He loses himself to the liquid fire flowing joyously inside him and sinks into blissful, velvet heat and wetness, floats happily in it for as long as he can. Ed keeps him on the edge expertly, uses his tongue and his throat to push Stede right where he wants him and draws him back just as he's about to tip over. Stede is mindless with it, made of love and pure sensation for minutes, hours, ages.

His orgasm is the cresting of a wave when it hits, breaks over him blazingly as he pulses and pulses inside Ed's mouth. His world turns hazy around the edges, body going utterly pliant and relaxed as a warm ocean of pleasure flows through him. It feels endless and golden, and he's never enjoyed giving himself over to anything this much before.

Ed sucks him greedily through it, slips off Stede's cock to swallow and breathes heavily against his thigh while Stede recovers. He gets up slowly, leaning on Stede for support as he regains the feeling in his legs.

He stands over him for a few seconds before he starts pulling off his own clothes, and only then does Stede notice that he hasn't taken a single stitch off so far. He thinks through the lingering fog of his orgasm that he should insist on fucking him in his new robe sometime soon, seeing as how clothed sex is something they both apparently enjoy. The list of things to try with him that Stede's been writing in his mind grows exponentially every hour, and he celebrates the realization that he'll never run out of things he wants to do with Ed.

He's not wearing any leather today, so undressing goes quickly, and as soon as he's done he descends on Stede hungrily, licks the taste of him back into his mouth. Stede moans and lets him rearrange him on the bed until he's kneeling between his legs again.

"Told ya I wanna live between your legs from now on," Ed groans, and the way his voice is rough from having Stede's cock down his throat makes Stede's head spin with searing want even though he came a few minutes ago.

Ed crawls leisurely back over his body, wraps Stede's legs around his waist and sinks back into his mouth. Stede tries to keep up while he swims in the heady combination of Ed's damp skin on his, the smell of sex in the room and the taste of himself still on Ed's tongue.

"I'm gonna fuck your thighs, just like this," Ed whispers suggestively into the shell of his ear before biting down on it.

Stede swallows and struggles to pull air into his lungs, clutches his shoulders while Ed's hips roll sinuously against him, his hard cock dragging against Stede's spent one and making him whimper on the edge of oversensitivity.

"Please promise me you'll wear these to bed every night," Ed asks greedily as he strokes a hand over the stockings still covering Stede's legs. A breathless giggle bursts from Stede's lungs at the request.

"You want me to sleep in silk stockings every night."

"You look fuckin' sexy in them, babe, 'course I do."

Stede glows, pleased at the compliment. Ed smooths his hands slowly against the shimmering satin of Stede's jacket, sits up to take him in.

"Fuck, Stede. Look at you." Stede blinks dazedly up at him, a question in his eyes he doesn't dare to ask with his lips. "You should see the way you look right now," Ed answers anyway. "You're the fuckin' prettiest shade of red I've ever seen, all golden and sparkly in the clothes I picked for you." Stede blushes intensely.

"Is it what you imagined?" The hunger he sees reflected in Ed's face makes him feel brave enough to ask.

Ed bends down to press their foreheads together, speaks the answer fondly against his lips.

"Merperson you was lovely, but havin' real you splayed out like this for me in the clothes I picked for you is so much fuckin' better, love." Stede's whole being lights up and overflows with love for this wonderful man, who somehow guessed exactly what Stede needed and insisted on giving it to him, who allowed him to fall apart in his arms, kept him safe while he did and then put him tenderly back together.

Ed licks his way back into his mouth, kisses the breath out of him as he rocks his body lazily against Stede's. Stede welcomes him eagerly, slides his legs over his naked skin and feels Ed shiver on top of him.

Ed sits up abruptly and pulls him up with him by the lapels of his jacket.

"Let's get you more comfortable, love," he says, and Stede can't deny that it's hot under all these layers.

The jacket is pushed delicately over his shoulders and down his arms, and Ed stands to fold it and place it on the chair in the corner of their room before he keeps undressing him. Stede's heart swells at the gesture, at the care he shows for his precious things and for him both.

He feels a pang of regret as Ed removes the waistcoat - it really is his favorite piece. He's already planning how he can start wearing it with his other clothes, coming up with exciting combinations of colors and textures. Ed must see something on his face, because he places it on the bed next to him, smiles and says, "You really like this, don't ya?"

Stede nods.

"Hmm. I could put it back on, fuck you in nothing but your silk socks and your shiny new waistcoat."

Stede feels his cock twitch in interest at the suggestion, thinks maybe if they'd been doing this a few decades earlier Ed's tone would have been enough to get him hard again, with the way his words shoot fire through his whole body. He stares at him with wide eyes, lips parting soundlessly, and Ed just grins and pulls the shirt over his head to drop it somewhere around their feet.

He puts the waistcoat back on him just as he promised once he has divested Stede of the rest of his clothes, and sits back on his heels to admire his work. He must truly like what he sees, because his eyes go dark with hunger.

"Want you right now," he growls, and surges into Stede to push their mouths back together, bites his lips until Stede's ready to beg for it.

"You can have me," he gasps wantonly in between kisses.

Ed is reluctant to pull away from him despite the urgency of his words, keeps nibbling Stede's lips between his teeth like he can't help himself, and Stede understands the feeling perfectly, wants nothing more than to hold him forever, be touching him constantly. He runs his hands over his back, revels in the broadness and hard muscle they meet, the solidity of Ed's body above him.

Ed does move eventually, grabs the vial of oil from the shelf above the bed and spreads some over Stede's thighs. He fists a hand around his cock to slick himself up once he's done preparing him and his eyes fall shut, lips parting on a moan of Stede's name as if he's picturing sinking into the warmth of his body already. Stede couldn't look away if he wanted to - Ed in the throes of passion is the loveliest thing he's ever witnessed, lovelier than any silk or lace or pearl buttons in the whole world.

When Ed comes back to him he presses their whole bodies flush together, foreheads to feet, settles heavily on top of him. He sucks wet kisses into Stede's neck, grinds his hips into him and the slide is so much better now. Stede shudders and sighs into the safety of his mouth; he feels held and precious. Ed sinks his cock between Stede's legs, starts thrusting slowly until he finds a rhythm he likes.

"You're so fuckin' beautiful, Stede. Want you so fuckin' much all the time. Sometimes it feels like I'm gonna die if I'm not touchin' you."

Hearing his sentiment from earlier echoed back at him makes Stede feel glad that the intensity is mutual, that they can simply touch and kiss and fuck whenever they want to and don't have to deny themselves ever again.

"Me too, Ed. Always."

He presses his legs together as tight as he can, holds on to Ed's arms as he fucks into him, the glide of his impossibly warm cock between the sensitive skin of his thighs and the way it drags against his balls on every other thrust making him feel delirious and ragged. His nails dig into Ed's biceps as Ed pants above him, pace becoming faster and more erratic with every minute.

Stede feels his urgency as if it was his own, the waves of pleasure radiating off of Ed crashing into him and making his blood thrum with desire. He's never felt this intensely aroused after having already spent himself before. Ed's holding himself up on his elbows and snapping his hips feverishly above him, cock dragging deliciously against the meat of Stede's thighs.

"So fuckin' close, Stede. Fuck. Want you so hggn much. You're so fuckin' tight and soft."

Stede is breathless at the praise, all the needy corners inside him that have gone neglected for decades filling with the brightness of Ed's desire for him. The drive to make Ed come is equally intense, to feel the proof of his love and his pleasure on his body.

"Come on, darling, show me how good I make you feel."

A guttural moan tears from Ed's chest, a frantic litany of his name falling from his lips, and Stede feels him come warm and welcome between his legs, moans right along with him as Ed's orgasm ripples through them both.

Ed collapses boneless on top of Stede once he's done working himself through it, as if his limbs have given up on the task of holding him up, and Stede receives him gladly, relishes the sweat on his skin and Ed's hot breaths against his neck.

"Fuck," Ed says eventually, when he's regained the ability to speak. "That was..."

"Yeah," Stede agrees fervently.

"We need to go clothes shoppin' more often."

Stede laughs, sated and exhausted.

"We definitely will. But we're not even done trying on everything we got this time. I haven't seen you in your new robe yet. And I have a surprise for you, too."

Ed unpeels his face from Stede's shoulder to look at him eagerly.

"I may need to stay on this bed for a few days before I can move again, though," he jokes. Ed snorts against his skin.

"Talk about you, mate. I did all the work tonight."

"And you did such a great job that my legs have turned to jelly," Stede replies honestly, and he can feel the tiny huff of pride and amusement Ed lets out even though his face is still buried against Stede's neck.

"Well, I'm gonna have to get up sooner or later," he grouses, put upon. "Unless you want me to clean you up with your shirt."

"Don't you dare, Edward. My boyfriend got that for me," Stede chides fondly.

"Mm, sounds like a nice guy, this boyfriend of yours."

Stede looks at him with endless affection in his eyes.

"He's the best boyfriend. And the best man. I don't know how I got so lucky."

Ed starts to raise himself on his arms and drops a loving kiss on his mouth.

"Right back atcha, babe." He stays against Stede's lips for a few more seconds. "'M really gonna have to go get somethin' to clean you up with, don't wanna ruin all that pretty silk with spunk."

Stede makes a grossed out face at him, and Ed's laughter lingers behind even when he leaves the room.

He returns with a damp cloth and runs it over Stede's thighs and stomach gently, cleans off every last drop of oil and spend, still worshiping his body with every touch. Stede lies on the sheets and allows himself to be taken care of, basks in the tiredness of his muscles and the happy sparks still coursing through him and the love Ed shows him always.

"Up," Ed says, grabbing his hand and pulling once he's tossed the rag aside. He removes the waistcoat when Stede complies, folds it and sets it and the shirt down with the jacket on the chair, picks the breeches up off the floor and does the same. His own pants and shirt follow.

"Those are stayin' on tonight," he says, nodding towards Stede's legs. Stede stretches out contentedly, doesn't even dream of arguing, not after the reaction the stockings got.

"Dickfuck!" Ed yelps.

"What?"

"Stepped on a button," he complains, rubbing his foot resentfully and bending down to retrieve the offending bit of metal.

Stede laughs.

"I'll hunt them down in the morning and put them somewhere far away from your feet, darling, don't worry."

Ed steps carefully on his way back towards the bed once he's done folding their clothes, keeps an eye on the floor for more unexpected attacks. When he's made it back safely he grabs Stede in his arms and shifts him around to lay them down side by side on their bed. Arms go around waists and legs tangle together instantly, as if staying away from each other for a second longer was impossible.

A question pops into Stede's mind when they've been lying quietly together for a few minutes enjoying their post coital bliss, and he has to ask.

"Ed?"

"Hmm?"

"Would it be okay if... if I didn't want to dress like this every day again?" He bites his lower lip, oddly nervous about this. "I just... like my other clothes, too."

He thinks of the colorful cummerbund he added to his black pants, made with a bit of salvaged fabric, and the blue shirt he was wearing when Ed first told him that he loved him, the one he later tore the laces off of with his teeth. Or the red shirt with the lovely black ruffles that survived the purging of his red suit, the one Ed complimented him on when they kissed under the moonlight. He loves collecting clothes, and he grows attached to most of them for some reason or other (most of them seem to be Ed related these days).

As fun and enjoyable as it is to have nice suits again, he doesn't want to go back to dressing in no less than three layers at all times. Sometimes it's nice to have less stuff on, to be able to move more freely, feel the sea breeze and the sun on his bare skin, watch the way Ed ogles his chest in every low cut shirt he puts on. There are so many more pleasures in life than Stede once dreamed of.

Ed smiles and kisses him playfully on the nose.

"Babe, ya could wear the rice sack the crew made me put on every day and I'd still want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Stede grimaces in horror, thinks that may be too much to ask even of someone as generous as Ed, and definitely too much to ask of him. A lack of color and variety he can live with, but sack cloth is a step too far.

Ed laughs at his alarmed expression and hides his face in the crook of his neck, keeps shaking with laughter against him.

"Seriously, Stede," he says once he's calmed down. "You can wear whatever you want. 'Slong as it's what you want, I'll love it. I love you."

Love thrums golden through Stede's veins at the acceptance, at the praise and adoration he's been showered with all night. It pools warm in his heart and lulls him pleasantly to sleep in Ed's arms.

"Love you, too," he whispers right before sleep claims him.

#blackbonnet #gentlebeard #ofmd #ofmd fic #our flag means death #my fic #i'm setting myself free at last #this fic wouldn't stop growing guys i think i created sth that came alive

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