#it's pretty hard to come to terms with and now there's three more (as far as i've read similar ones) coming | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

grandlinedreams · 5 months

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Well, since I have fallen for your writing pretty hard (it's a blessing really, because so far only your reader can be read as a he when it comes to the Fallout series fandom), my brain's been spewing ideas at me.

I'd love to see a genuinely jealous Cooper. Awfully and painfully jealous, where he's actually hurting and doubting himself, but is also angry. Not the kind of playful jealousy he felt towards Lucy, no. Something deeper. And angry at the slimy guy who's already stepped over any kind of boundaries when he's laid his eyes on what's his. But they need the information, they can't go forward without it, so the plan is for the reader (you knooow, that version of the reader from that particular fic of yours, where they are crafting ammo) to get close, flirt with him, go real sweet on him. But that guy's too touchy. Too close, too dangerously close. To getting his brains blown out of his skull by Cooper's gun, that is.

I absolutely love your writing ❤️

OUGH YES I EAT THAT SHIT UP EVERY TIME but also thank-you!! I do my absolute best not to gender reader bc it bugs me to do it unless I'm asked to and it's also just a whole lot more inclusive! 🥺❤️

ㅡ

Warnings: jealous!Cooper, some self deprication, mentions of pre-War Cooper, weapons maker/dealer!reader, touch of angst, Canon typical violence, Lucy just watching all of this like ??, skeezy informant dude do be skeezin', boundaries very overstepped (unwanted touch, lewd words), questionable alcohol,cursing, quick and dirty Makeout sesh at the end lmao

The place is a "bar" in the lowest sense of the term. A gutted out building that was undoubtedly a diner of some kind before the war, now with blown out windows but surprisingly, a neon 'open' sign that halfway works in places, spitting sparks that makes Lucy eye it warily. "Is this place...safe?"

You snort. "If you're lookin' for safe, you should've stayed in that tin-can vault of yours." You adjust the sling of your pack, now far lighter than it'd been when you left with Cooper, Lucy, and Dogmeat. "We need information, and the best informant we've got likes to hang around here."

Lucy still doesn't look happy about it, but she reluctantly follows as you step forward. The inside resembles the outside for the most part, the same kind of dismal grey of the wastelands ㅡ but it's busy.

Battered tables teem with scavengers and raiders alike, and you pretend not to notice them ㅡ your attention is on the man doing a piss-poor job of wiping down what's left of a counter. A radio crackles, a singer croons sweetly, but the pitch is made tinny for the way the man casually smacks the top of it when it stutters. A barely there glance up at you, silent prompt that you follow.

"Three drinks," you say without preamble, shoving a handful of caps forward. Your fingers drum, eyes roaming in feigned disinterest ㅡ and then nod when three short glasses are shoved to you. The liquid is of a questionable color, watered down amber ㅡ you sniff it before you take a sip.

"Tastes like shit," you say when Cooper approaches and you hand him his glass, followed by Lucy, "but it gets the job done."

Lucy eyes the glass. "What is it?"

You down the rest of it. "Poor man's excuse for whiskey, I think. Or might be deathclaw piss, who knows."

Cooper snorts when Lucy's nose wrinkles, but she downs it with a grimace that makes you snicker and pat her back.

"Atta girl, vaultie. Atta girl."

The four of you settle at a table, Dogmeat at your feet as you stretch out, catching Lucy's look. "What?"

"What are we here for?"

"Information, vaultie," Cooper cuts in, "we don't have shit to go on as far as following your dear ol' daddy, so we gotta get some."

"And the best bet is getting it from that sneaky bastard," you let your eyes drift so that Lucy follows, "over there."

The man in question has clearly seen better days ㅡ or what he can see through the thick, wild tangle of silver-streaked hair on his head, the matching mess of beard that spills from his chin to his chest. He's sitting with a handful of scavengers, oblivious to the fact he's being watched.

"Him?" Lucy's tone expresses her doubt. "He doesn't look likeㅡ"

You knock your knuckles on the table to quiet her. "The point of being an informant, Lucy," you say in a low mutter, "is to not look like a fuckin' idiot who's listening in on shit they shouldn't."

"So who's gonna go talk to him?"

You sigh, eyeing the two. Cooper is obviously out of the question ㅡ it's the grace of his hat and the fact his back is to most of them that allows him some anonymity, but you have no doubts near everyone knows who he is. Or at the very least, what he is.

And Lucy... well. She's been out here for weeks now, but there's still a naive shinyness to her that says she'll fuck it up immediately, even if she doesn't mean to.

"Me," you say, and Lucy blinks at the same time Cooper tenses, eyes dark as they study your face. There's a protest on the tip of his tongue, one you silence as you continue, "I'm the best bet we have of getting what we need."

Lucy glances between you and Cooper, sensing the rising tension ㅡ and Dogmeat whines and nudges at your leg. Your eyes lock with Cooper's.

"Fine," he rasps. "Do what you have to."

ㅡ

Cooper is pissed. Lucy can tell that, the way his eyes never leave you as you trek back to the counter, another couple of caps for another drink ㅡ not for you, her, or him. But for that informant, the way you gesture with a casual nod in his direction.

He watches as the drink gets sent, the informant looking up, and his gloved hands tighten in his lap at the grin the other man gives you before he waves you over. He hates the casual way you step, relaxed, friendly ㅡ flirtatious, almost.

Cooper is not stupid. Far from it, he knows better than to outright stake claim on you in a way that can be used against him by others ㅡ but you're a chink in the proverbial armor, a weakness he's both grateful for and wishes he didn't have.

It's unspoken though, that you're his ㅡ and the fact he can't stroll over and make a point of it annoys him. Especially with the way the man's hand drifts over your leg, meaty fingers on a thigh Cooper has touched in a more intimate way, spaces reserved for him and him alone ㅡ seeing this fucker paw at you makes his blood boil.

"Looks like they're doing a good job so far," Lucy says, watching a little less intently than Cooper, "do you thinkㅡ"

"Vaultie." Cooper's voice is low and sharp. "Shut the fuck up."

It's not Lucy's fault, not really ㅡ but Cooper's two seconds from putting a bullet in this guy's head, information be damned. In another life, the life he'd had before, he figures he wouldn't be so irritated. He'd been handsome, hadn't really had to do much to make his stance clear ㅡ but now?

Now he knows what he looks like, how he acts ㅡ and the softer lining of your relationship is still new enough that there's that kernel of doubt. That you'd take someone else if given the chance, someone who could give you far more than he can ㅡ because all he can give you is all he knows.

Death and destruction, picking apart things until there's nothing left. All he knows how to do is take and take and take ㅡ and while you've yet to be bothered by it, he knows it's just a matter of time.

He tracks that hand when it slides up your back, teeth clenched because now you look distinctly uncomfortable. It's hidden, but he knows how to look for it, better at reading you than anyone else ㅡ and it's quickly fraying restraint that keeps him from getting up and coming to your rescue.

You flinch at the next touch, barely there recoil ㅡ but it's enough to snap Cooper's threadbare patience as he stands, ignoring Lucy's look of confusion as he strolls over.

His foosteps are slow, feigned casual as he approaches, settling a hand on your shoulder. Again, casual, were it not for the possessive pressure as he drawls, "Sorry for the interruption, but I need to borrow my friend here."

He's hauling you up before you can protest, and he commends himself on choosing this option rather than the one he so desperately wants ㅡ one that would involve splattering the brains of that fucker across the back wall. Even so, he takes too much pleasure in the intentional hand on said gun when the informant opens his mouth to protest.

He hurries you away from the table, ignores Lucy and Dogmeat as he tugs you past the table and outside, around the corner from prying eyes.

"Cooper," you snap, "what the fuckㅡ"

You're silenced by the aggressive press of his mouth on yours, gloved hand still firm around your upper arm as he cages you against the wall. He dominates the kiss, nips at your lip, deepens it with the muffle of a soft moan from you.

His other hand wanders, up your thigh, side, back ㅡ all the places that piece of shit dared to touch you. "I know I said do what you have to," he mutters when he breaks away to nip at your neck, "but I have my limits, sweetheart. 'specially when some fuckface is touchin' what's mine."

You squirm. "Cooperㅡ"

Dark eyes meet yours. "You are mine, aren't you darlin'?" You nod, and he clicks his tongue. "Words, babydoll. I wanna hear you say it."

It takes a second for you to find your voice. "Yours," you say, "I'm yours, Cooper."

He smirks, leaning in to kiss you again. Less aggressive but no less consuming, only letting up to let you breathe as he presses against you. "Good," he rasps, "better rememher that because I don't intend on losin' you, nor do I like the idea of fuckin' sharing."

#ㅡanswered.#ㅡmine.#fallout x reader #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader

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animasolaoriginal · 1 month

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I n f a t u a t e d ♦️SEVEN

CHAPTER ONE◾TWO◾THREE◾FOUR◾FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT◾NINE◾️TEN ELEVEN

He's not a patient man, but he's trying his best, giving her some well-deserved cuddles after testing her limits a little too roughly. But in the end, he can't help himself. She's too perfect, perfect enough to take her once again.

ruthless nightclub owner ❌ innocent young woman with a crush

WARNING: NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Age gap. Size difference. Dubcon elements. Dom/sub dynamic. Aftercare! Fingering. Vaginal sex. Oral sex. (For more tags, check it on AO3!) // WORDS: 5.1k

SIX 🟥 SEVEN 🟥 EIGHT

He may have overdone it a little.

The girl is this pliant thing in his arms as he carries her into the bathroom, covered in spit and cum and tears, limbs too weak to support herself, too far gone to protest anymore, eyes hooded and unfocused.

He hasn't planned to treat her like that. Well, he has wanted to fuck her ass, that's been on his mind since the last time he's been in there, but the throat fucking afterwards happened on a whim. She's looked so fucked out, so defeated and willing, so pretty, he just wanted to see what she was capable of. He may have overdone it. But once he's felt the tight grip of her throat, he's been a goner.

And she'll live. No harm done. He's treated women way worse before. She'll adjust. She has to. She'll understand that eventually.

He carefully sits her down on the vanity and grabs a wash cloth, pours water on it and starts to wipe at her soiled face. It's a strange, intimate thing to clean her like this, he usually expects his whores to clean themselves or stay dirty for all he cares. But she's different. And not a whore, she's something else he cannot name yet. Innocent, pure, even after everything he's done to her. She needs to be clean.

She's barely present when he moves the cloth over her cheek, just sits there, motionless, blinks from time to time, but there's no other movement. Maybe she's in shock. Surprised and disturbed by his treatment. Overwhelmed by what he expects of her. Lost in her own mind. Poor thing.

Once her face is clean, no more traces of spit or cum or tears, he leans down and presses his lips to her cheek, then scoops her up in his arms again and walks to the living room. Her breaths are soft, barely there against his collarbone as he presses her to his chest. He sits down, positions her on his lap, holds her tightly. She winces when her butt is moved over his hard thigh, but keeps quiet right after, letting him settle her against him.

He exhales loudly, moves her hair. It's hard for him to just sit with her, let her come down from whatever is keeping her holed up in her head, let her come to terms with her new environment, her new life, her new role. He's not a patient man, but he knows that she needs it. The memory of asking her if she wanted this is clear in his mind, the innocent excitement in her eyes, how she said yes, having absolutely no idea what to expect, what he's capable of. It's almost as cute as her admission that she's had a crush on him.

Oh the poor, poor thing, letting silly little feelings cloud her better judgment.

For him, however, that has been the last puzzle piece falling into place. It's been an idea in the back of his head, for a while, and it had never worked out. But since she's stepped into his life, this sweet innocent girl, inexperienced, submissive, blinded by a childish infatuation, ready to be molded into something he wants her to be, he's known it'll work this time. She is perfect for this. Perfect to submit to him and him alone. And she'll learn to love it too, he's sure.

Right now she probably hates him, and he can't blame her. He's been a little unpredictable today. Asking her to cockwarm him (which has been quite the challenge for him too, an exercise in restraint, but no matter how he's felt about it, she's done a good job considering it has been her first time to do so), to rewarding her in a way she hasn't expected (having filled all her holes by now, he really can't decide which is his favorite, but luckily he doesn't have to decide, he can have them all, she is all his, to use and fill, use and fill, over and over again...), to testing her limits (and his, she sure has a way of bringing out the most primal urges in him, he's always had a high sex drive, but filling her up multiple times in a row is quite new to him). It's been an eventful morning.

He shifts slightly beneath her, coaxing a little hum out of her. His hand rubs along her back, soothingly, warm and heavy, and he feels her breathing deeper against him. But she's not asleep yet, no matter how worn out she may feel. His other hand finds her chin, gently pushing it up until he can see her hooded eyes, still a little unfocused, but when she meets his gaze, there's something else burning within them. Something like defiance, he can tell, and it brings a smirk to his lips.

He moves his finger over her jaw, carefully massaging it, and to his surprise the tension in her face lifts a little. She even bites her swollen lip. “Feels good, hm?” he whispers, applying light pressure to her strained jaw. “You've been such a good girl, holding my cock for so long,” he adds, looking at her with warm eyes. “Your little mouth felt so nice, you know that?”

His thumb moves along her bottom lip, gently nudges against it, slips higher, and maybe it's an instinct, maybe it's need, but she parts her lips and allows him to push it into her mouth. He's gentle, just presses it lightly onto her tongue, feels the wet warmth and soft texture. She watches him from under her lashes, while he pumps his thumb slowly in and out, still massaging her jaw with his fingers.

“Relax, it's okay.”

She does, closes her lips around his digit, even hollows her cheeks and sucks on it a little as she breathes deeper through her nose. He tilts his head down, nuzzles her cheek, then pulls his thumb out and presses his lips to hers. Leaning back, he smiles at her.

“Show me your little tongue,” he says, a whispered command, and she complies, blushing heavily as she hesitantly sticks her tongue out, pointed at first, then flat, and he smirks, leans in to close his lips around it, sucks on it, licks it softly. She winces slightly, but then her eyes flutter shut, and she lets out a soft mewl, her tongue moving against his, meeting his motions.

The kiss is soft but messy, his hand closes around her jaw, holds her in place, as he tastes the inside of her mouth, meets her tongue, feels her lips. She's squirming on his lap, her small hands moving against his chest, fingers clawing at the fabric of his shirt. She's slowly coming out of her shell. He shifts her on his thigh, makes her straddle him, and she lets him, his hands moving down her back to cup her rear, hold her, move her against him, kiss her deeper.

When they're both breathless, she's clinging to him, arms around his shoulders, forehead resting against his throat, her chest heaving. He rubs his hands along her sides, into the dip of her waist, over the swell of her hip, until they slip under the skirt of her dress and find her warm ass cheeks, fingers dipping between them. She lets out a little whimper, but he kisses the top of her head, shushing her.

“I don't want to hurt you, you know that, right?” he whispers when she leans her cheek on his shoulder and looks up at him, lips a little bit more swollen than before, cheeks flushed, eyes wandering over his face. “But,” he continues, kneading her rear softly, “you make me so goddamn crazy, it's really hard to hold myself back...”

She blinks at him, chewing on her lip. He moves his hands back up until he cups her face, pulling her closer to him, his eyes boring into hers. His fingers dig into her hair, a little hoarse gasp escapes her. Leaning down, he brushes his nose against hers.

“And you said you wanted this,” he says gravelly. “You wanted me to do these things to you... remember?”

She leans against his hands, tries to move back. He lets her, fingers gliding down her neck, resting on her shoulders as he watches her closely. Her lips move, but no sound comes out. Her tongue darts out, wets her lips, she takes a deep breath, her hand closing around her throat. “N-not... like... that,” she manages to croak out, her voice still raw, a breathy, hoarse whisper.

“No?” he replies, raising his eyebrows. “Did you expect me to make love to you under the covers, in the dark? Boring vanilla sex, in and out and done?” He laughs darkly, shakes his head. “Sweetheart, that's not what I do, and I thought you knew that...”

She furrows her eyebrows, a little pout to her full lips. “Aw, baby girl,” he coos, cupping her face. “Look at you. So fucking cute!” He kisses her small nose, smirking as he leans back and sees her averting her eyes, cheeks even redder than before.

“Be honest,” he then starts, and she yelps breathlessly when his hands quickly move down to grab her waist to shift her on his thighs, putting her sideways again, one hand on her lower back, the other heavy on her legs, spanning over both of her thighs as he holds her. “If I'd tell you how much I want to fuck you, right here on this couch, pressed into the cushions, or bent over the side or the back, your cute little cunt on display or your ass in the air, would you not imagine it too? Would you not be completely soaked by the thought alone?”

He watches her closely as he speaks, his hand slowly prying her legs apart, and when he's done, his fingers slip between her thighs, right against the thin fabric of her thong. A smile grows on his lips as he tilts his head.

“Yeah, that's what I thought,” he whispers, nuzzling his nose against her cheek as she turns her head away in embarrassment. “You're wet, baby, wet for all the vile things I wanna do to you...” She grabs his wrist, but he keeps his hand between her legs, pushing her damp panties between her folds, rubbing up and down. “Wet for me...” She squirms against him, quiet whimpers falling from her lips. “Don't fight it, it's okay. I want you to be wet for me, all the time, it tells me you're enjoying this...”

She hides her face in the crook of his neck, mewling quietly. He holds her side, pulling her against him as he nudges her legs further apart and slips his finger under her thong, dipping into her slick. Shushing her, he rocks her gently on his lap before he slips his fingertip into her dripping pussy, humming in approval at how well she takes him.

“Does it still hurt?” he whispers softly.

She mumbles something against his neck.

“Speak up.”

“N-no,” she mutters a little louder. “F-feels... g-good...”

“Yeah?” he says with a smirk, pumping his finger deeper, massaging her squishy flesh. “Feels good, huh?”

She nods against him, her stomach fluttering, thighs twitching slightly. He continues to rub her insides, slowly adds another finger, keeps the slow and steady pace. Her breaths are warm against his skin, rapid little huffs mixed with cute little cooing sounds. He bites his lip, forces himself not to move faster, not to plunge his fingers deeper, not to add another one or another.

Ugh. To have his whole hand in her tight little cunt, feeling every single clench against his fingertips, his knuckles, her entrance clamping around his wrist, pushing deep into her wet warmth, stretching her, hearing her whines and cries, seeing her tears... His cock twitches angrily against his pants. Fuck.

He leans his head back against the couch, stares at the ceiling, keeps fingering her slow and easy, two fingers, not more, in and out, gentle, soft, carefully. What has she done to him?

Her moans are quiet in his ear, barely there, but they make him move his fingers a little faster, a little deeper, her wetness squelching around them. He can feel the plug pressing against her soft walls from the other side, and she must feel it too with how she twitches against him. His own breaths are rougher, his heart pounding in his chest, his blood pumping into his cock. He turns his hand, adjusts the angle, keeps pumping, fingertips rubbing against her clenching muscles, and when she twitches a little more, he smirks, curling his fingers, pressing hard against her g-spot.

Her wail is hoarse, but louder than he's expected. Her hands grab at him, she squirms on his lap, gasping, whimpering, legs kicking, shoulders shaking. He watches her, head arching back, neck exposed, lips parted, mouth opening wider, eyes rolling back. He can feel her cunt clamping down on his fingers. His other hand grips her waist, holds her in place, as he curls his fingers into a claw and pushes in and out fast, always bullying that special spot, his thumb pushing against her clit with every deep plunge.

“Come for me, darling,” he whispers gravelly.

She cries out, struggling against him, hips bucking into his hand, and when she comes, she presses her thighs together hard, squeezing his hand, body curving and convulsing in sheer ecstasy. He stills his fingers, feels her muscles contracting around them, her wetness coating his skin, seeping out of her, she may even have squirted, but she's clamped her legs together before he could have seen it. Pity. He'll have to try to see that again, another time.

She's breathing heavily, collapsing against him, forehead pressed to his collarbone, hands clawed into his shirt, a little bundle of twitching limbs. “Good girl,” he coos, kissing the top of her head. She hums in response, mumbling something else he can't quite understand. “What was that, baby?”

She inhales sharply, moving her head, chin leaning against his clavicle as she looks up at him, red spots blooming on her cheeks. “Thank you,” she croaks hoarsely, a shy smile on her trembling lips.

He stares down at her, unable to resist smiling back. His cock twitches. He slowly pulls his fingers free from her clenching cunt, nudging her legs. She opens them reluctantly, blushing harder when she turns her head to look down. His hand is completely drenched, just like his pants, her wetness seeping through the fabric onto his thighs. “You made quite the mess, huh?” he says with a smirk.

An embarrassed whimper escapes her. “M'sorry,” she mumbles, burying her face back against his shoulder as she squirms on his leg.

“It's okay, you know what to do, right?” he replies, holding his wet hand up to inspect it, spreading his fingers, watching the thick strands of her cum connecting them.

His other hand moves up her back until he grips her nape, pulling her back so she looks at him. When she does, he brings his wet fingers to her lips, feeling his stomach tightening even more when she gingerly puts her small hands around his wrist and leans in, tongue extended, before she licks along his fingertip, then slowly sucks his digits into her mouth.

A groan escapes him. She looks up at him as she sucks on his fingers, his jaw clenching at the sight. The face of an angel, full lips strained around his knuckles, an innocent blush on her hollowing cheeks, but there's a fire in her eyes, a temptress, something that might ruin him completely. He breathes loudly through his nose. “You're so fucking beautiful,” he mutters through gritted teeth, a low thrum in the air, mirroring the throbbing of his cock.

Her tongue flicks around his fingers, slips between them, before she leans back and releases them with a wet popping sound, licking her lips before a shy smile grazes them. His hand, coated in her saliva, slips into her hair, grabs her face and pulls her up at the same time as he leans in, capturing her mouth for a searing kiss full of fervor. He's desperate to taste her, still fighting the urge to throw her onto her back or stomach and rail her with abandon.

Instead he plunges his tongue into her mouth, a little surprised just how hungry and passionate she responds to his motions. She wants this. She might fight the sensations, fight him, cry and whine and wail, but she's wet for him. She fucking wants this too. And the restraint is slipping...

One hand on her face, the other on her nape, he tilts her backwards, lips still connected, until she's lying beneath him. She's not even squirming when he adjusts on top of her, braced on his elbows, knee pressing between her legs, hovering over her, breathing harder through his nose. Her hands grip the front of his shirt, pulling him closer.

He's ready to devour her, his kiss nothing short of animalistic, rough, urgent. She mewls into his mouth, meets his tongue, his lips, his whole frame above her with a need that radiates warm and wet against his knee pressing hard into her sex.

“I know you're sore,” he groans against her, hands digging into her hair, hot breaths mingling. “But I gotta fuck you... right now...”

She looks at him, breathing hard, a glint of panic in her big eyes. He doesn't care. Kissing her cheek, he leans back, moves her legs around his waist as he kneels between them. Her dress is pushed up, balled between his fists as he takes deep, steadying breaths, staring down at her small shaking body in front of him, holding back, trying to, but then he just can't.

With gritted teeth and a loud grunt, he rips the dress from bottom to top, she yelps hoarsely, the fabric tears, until it's torn in half, and he wrestles it out from under her and throws it across the room. The sight of her small tits quivering, her chest heaving, nipples already erect, makes him growl.

His hands roam up her torso, so big on her small body, close around those soft mounds, knead them, rub them, while she mewls quietly, a mixture of shock and anticipation on her pretty face. He keeps groping her with one hand, while the other slips lower and pushes her thong aside; not to rip it as well is almost impossible, but somehow he manages it.

His head is fuzzy, throbbing with a desire that makes him almost blind. He opens his belt and his pants, pushes everything down with a shaking hand before he grabs his angrily throbbing erection and puts it straight against her entrance.

Her whimper causes him to look up, her panicked expression squeezes his heart – and his cock. He leans closer, hand moving from her breasts to her face, caressing it gently. “Shh, it'll be okay,” he rasps. “Be a good girl for me, yeah?”

She shivers, inhaling sharply, but when she nods, he smiles at her, kisses her quivering lips and leans back abruptly, his hand slipping down to her dripping cunt, palm rubbing over her folds before he grips his cock and lathers it in her wetness.

The tension in his stomach is painful. Without prolonging it any further, he prods his tip into her slick, nudges it into her inch by hard inch, ignoring her quiet wails. His grunt is loud and low when he slips in fully, savoring the way she grips him so perfectly.

His hands are on her waist, his eyes on her flushed face, contorted in fear and discomfort. He rolls his hips a few times, slow and steady, but his restraint is non-existent at that point. With a groan and a squeak from her, he lies down on top of her, braced on his forearms, body pinning her down, hands finding her face before he showers it with kisses.

“You feel so fucking good, baby,” he growls against her. “So tight and warm...”

She lets out an unsteady breath, almost a little whine, but then her hands snake around his waist and grip the fabric of his shirt. He holds her gaze, wide watering eyes staring up at him, as he starts to move his hips, every slow downwards motion pushing her deeper into the cushions of the couch, and the more he moves, the faster he gets, until he's bouncing them steadily up and down.

Each deep plunge makes her gasp and moan, or so he thinks, her voice is still just that croaking sound in the back of her throat that tumbles over her parted lips. He's clearly overdone it. As much as he likes to fuck her throat, deep and hard, he has to be more careful in the future. Hearing her soft noises is something he doesn't want to miss.

He leans down and puts his mouth to hers, a messy kiss while he pounds into her tight heat, her walls clenching around him, squeezing his cock, wet squelches mixing with the squeak of the couch and her soundless little puffs of air. His own sounds are low groans, almost primal growls, predatory noises building inside him as he keeps ramming his hard cock into her soft pussy.

Her fingers claw at his shirt, fingernails digging deeper, her legs twitch, bouncing against his sides with every thrust, the heels of her feet hammering against his lower back. “Wrap your legs around me,” he grunts into her, giving her a moment of reprieve as he slows his motions. She does, crosses her feet, thighs pressed against his waist, holds onto him tightly, causing him to slip a little deeper. “Good... girl...” he huffs, watching her pupils dilate even further as she looks at him, this tiny thing beneath him, submitting to him so completely.

He leans back on his elbows, shoulders tight as he arches his back to move his pelvis against her, up and down, in and out, slowly picking up the pace again, his eyes on her every little twitch. Her face is flushed, mouth hanging open, eyes hooded and glistening, chest rising and falling fast, hair fanned out around her, exposing that delicious column of her neck – and the mark that's slowly fading on her skin. What has been a deep purple, has turned a brighter red mixed with edges of green and yellow, a slowly disappearing sign of his possession.

He can't have that.

So while he keeps snapping his hips against her, plunging deep and fast, he leans down to press his lips to her neck, kisses it, nibbles on it, sucks the blood to the surface, all along her pulse, rough pants against her skin as he marks her up all over again. He's quickly losing track of how many hickeys he's created, his vision starting to blur as his cock starts throbbing angrily inside her, his balls so tight it's almost painful.

To ease the tension, he moves his mouth to the soft flesh between her neck and her shoulder and sinks his teeth into it, biting down hard enough for her to squirm and cry out, her hands drumming on his back to make him stop. He does, licks up the blood that pools on the little indents of his teeth where he broke her skin. Sucking on it, it fills his mouth, turns him even more animalistic.

His thrusts are rapid now, his hips pistoning against her, cock plunging deep, definitely bruising her already battered cervix. She wails beneath him, hoarse little cries of pain, but her arms and legs are tight around him as she clings to him in an almost desperate fashion, and he can feel her hips trying to meet his fast movements. This spurs him on even more, and he shifts on his elbow, leans a little away, angles his pelvis, eyes on her face as he moves a hand between them, quickly finding her throbbing clit.

She gasps breathlessly, eyes widening, sweat clinging to her skin, hair stuck to her slick forehead. He stares at her, his own rapid breaths coming loud through his nose as he clenches his jaw, holding back as he focuses on her. “Come,” he orders. “Come for me...” he presses out through gritted teeth, rubbing her nub harder, rougher, while increasing the snaps of his hips, skin slapping against skin, her wetness squelching out loudly.

Her lips are quivering, breathless sounds slipping from them, a faint “Ah... ah... ah...” that echoes in his ears, and when he pinches her clit between his fingers, she manages a louder “Ahh!”, an almost scream that can't form in her hurting throat but still forces its way out of her. Her eyes roll back, shoulders pressing into the couch, spine curving into a beautiful arc, chest pushed upwards, hips bucking, legs tensing up, her fingernails like claws digging through his shirt into his back.

And her cunt clamps down on him hard, so hard it's his turn to groan louder. She comes with that delicious contortion of her body, a pliant little thing beneath him, convulsing uncontrollably, completely giving in to the pleasure that rushes through her. It's a sight that burns itself into the back of his mind.

He fucks her through her orgasm, panting heavily, hips slamming, cock being milked by the tight grip of her pussy, but before he can follow her over the edge, he leans back, grabs her waist, pushes himself to his knees, slips from her wet depths almost too easily. She's still caught in her release, slowly slumping back down into the cushions, limbs boneless, eyes closed, mouth open, unaware of him climbing over her until he's crouching over her chest, knees on either side of her shoulders.

“Open your mouth,” he grunts, barely able to speak with how hard his cock is throbbing in his tight fist. Her eyes flutter open, unfocused, quickly widening as she notices his new position. There's a deep furrow between her brows, fear in her glistening eyes, panic in the way her lips quiver. But she complies, slowly opens her mouth, tongue out flat, rapid little breaths through her nose as she stares up at him.

He doesn't wait long, can't wait any longer, as he pushes his hard cock into her mouth, holding it at the base, mindful not to push too deep (a restraint that surprises him despite the fuzzy state of his mind), his other hand closes around her throat, pushing her down as she starts to squirm, her hands clawing helplessly at his arms and knees, anywhere they can reach as he pumps his shaft hard and fast until he finally feels the sweet release.

He comes with a deep groan, head rolling back, his stomach tensing, balls twitching as he shoots his load onto her tongue and into her throat, and with how he holds her down, she can only take it, muffled whimpers ringing in his ears, turning into gurgles and panicked attempts to breathe. She's close to hyperventilating when he eventually pulls back, the last spurts of cum hitting her lips and cheeks, one shoots against her eyebrow and she flinches, squeezes her eyes shut, tears rolling down the sides of her face.

He leans back on his knees, cock slowly deflating in his hand as he moves his other hand from her throat to cover her mouth, holding it shut as he stares down at her. “Swallow,” he groans, panting above her like a wild animal.

Her eyelids flutter, her rapid breaths hitting his fingers, but eventually there's a quiet gulp, and another, her throat moving, jaw tensing, and when she stops, he takes his hand away and puts a finger to her bottom lip, prying her mouth open.

She presents her flat tongue to him, mouth wide and empty. A smile crawls onto his lips. “Good girl,” he whispers, wiping at her lips and her wet cheek. She looks at him then, breathing hard, face flushed, eyes burning with what he thought was defiance earlier. A little darkness behind the fear. He only smiles wider, moves his finger along her face and wipes up the glob of cum on her eyebrow before he holds it to her lips.

She may hate him again, or still, but she nevertheless follows the unspoken order and flicks her tongue around his fingertip, licking up his spend. He feeds her more until her face is more or less clean of him, and she takes every single drop. Then he shifts on her chest, hand flat on her cheek and leans down to give her an almost chaste kiss that seems to surprise her as she freezes before her hands close around his wrist, holding him there.

But he leans back, slips from her weak grip easily and climbs off her, putting his spent cock away while he watches her closely. Some would say she looks pathetic how she lies on the couch, a little beetle caught on its back, arms and legs splayed around her, hair messy, face wet, body covered in sweat and her own release, pussy glistening and still exposed, thong carelessly pushed aside. A used body. But for him it's an image he wants to see again and again.

His work. His marks on her. His claim inside her, swimming in her belly.

It would be an even better image if his cum would slowly drip from her clenching hole, but he can't do that until she's settled on birth control. That's the only restraint he's giving himself.

His eyes move down to the bejeweled base of the plug poking out of her ass. Something warm rushes through him. He sits down beside her, his hand running along her bare leg. She stiffens under his touch, dark eyes following his every move. His finger trails towards her wet cunt, but instead of touching it, he fixes her thong in front of it, rubbing softly over the fabric, gathering her wetness in it.

She flinches when he pokes at the plug – and yelps when he gives her inner thigh a playful slap. “Alright,” he says, inhaling deeply as he stands up, looking down at her. “Let's get cleaned up, hm?” Not waiting for any reply, he gathers her in his arms and carries her towards the bathroom.

Despite having just fed the beast within him, he can feel his cock twitching all over again as he thinks about what to do next to his pretty little plaything.

SIX 🟥 SEVEN 🟥 EIGHT

End notes: Can you even call this fluff in a story like this? Well, it was a little softer anyway, right? We all needed that after those last chapters...

Thanks for reading! Next chapter on Monday!

TAG LIST: @qmsvpx @cyan1decandy @bimbos-are-angels @voiceactivated @reader-1290

AO3 / / / MASTERLIST

CHAPTER / / / ONE◾TWO◾THREE◾FOUR◾FIVE ◾SIX◾SEVEN◾EIGHT◾NINE◾️TEN◾ELEVEN

#ao3 original work #dead dove do not eat #dom/sub #d/s dynamic #praise k!nk #aftercare #older man younger woman #size difference #modern au #joel miller smut #supernatural smut #dean winchester smut #arthur morgan smut #simon ghost riley smut #cod smut #original fiction

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beom9yus · 1 year

Text

back for more - taehyun

: alien!taehyun x afab!reader

: you were relaxing one day, when you hear a sound of a crash coming from your backyard

: oral - reader receiving, penetration, gendered term girl is used and that’s it. pretty tame fic tbh

: 5k words

It has been more than a year since you’ve moved into a rural area. You’d always loved peacefulness and quiet, and you worked hard for your current living situation. You get to work from home and make a lot of money, while not having to interact with people, because of course, you live alone with no neighbors surrounding you. You loved it. You’re surrounded by beautiful plants and scenery, seeing fields filled with flowers in the summertime. Of course, it’s expensive living like this. You have to drive for some time to reach stores, and the satellite WiFi and utility costs are tremendous enough, but luckily with your job, you earn more than enough to live the way you want. You loved going outside, doing whatever you wanted without the fear of anyone watching you, your hobbies sprouting freely from how carefree you’ve become. Resting and doing what you want always comes after work though.

You feel your eyes strained as you close your laptop, finally escaping the electronic light hitting them. You get up and stretch, at last looking outside, and you see the warm sun has started to set. The beautiful rays shining through your windows, hitting your walls and furniture, illuminating your house beautifully. You smile to yourself, realizing your work was done. It was worth it, you have the next three days off because you decided you would finish your work assignment before it was supposed to be completed, wanting to enjoy extra days doing what you want. You just suffered sitting on your computer for eleven on-and-off hours for something that could be done in four days, but it had been completed.

You dance a little to yourself, realizing you could spend the next few days frolicking like a little lamb in the fields if you wanted to, maybe you should go hiking, or just stay in sleeping, or anything else, whatever you wanted. Your little dance was stopped early as you felt your stomach grumble. Hungry..

You head towards your kitchen as you decide on what you wanted to eat. Preparing the dish and finishing it, you throw the plate into the sink. You’ll do that later.

Now, it was time to relax and watch a show on the couch. You decide to put on some random alien documentary, liking crazy theories and conspiracies, it was just interesting to you, because you will never believe them until you yourself come across one and see one in front of you. Which you know will never happen. The documentary was quite interesting though, almost believable, until you start thinking again rationally. You spent some time like this. At this point you were getting a little bored, texting back some of your friends, them asking when you’ll be in the city again. You continue to scroll through your social media apps. Then you stop and look around, thinking you hear a loud whirring sound coming from outside, until suddenly, you hear an alarmingly scary thundering crash come from the back of your house. You see a bright white light shine through your windows for a split second, like a quick flash. The light was harsh and pale compared to the warm and pretty rays from the sun earlier. You think that somehow, maybe, a car found itself onto your secluded area, but it can’t be. Your house was way too hidden and far away from the busy city or any type of civilization for people to know where it is without exact directions. You head towards your windows, trying to see if you could view what exactly just happened, and that’s when you realize it’s way too dark. The sun went down some time ago, and the light from inside your house can’t reach too far out.

You grab your jacket and shoes, along with a bright flashlight. You slide open your doors, cool wind nipping at your cheeks. It’s cold. You decide not to turn on your light until you got closer to whatever it was that infiltrated your space, scared it might be something dangerous. You get closer to where you hear gentle whirring, the only sounds outside coming from your shoes crunching against the grass. Barely able to see, your eyes finally make a dark outline of a weirdly shaped—weirdly shaped something. You have no idea what it is. Finally after it seemed like forever, you get close enough to actually see some of the stars reflecting off of it, and you finally turn your flashlight on.

What. The. Fuck.

You start to breathe quickly through your nose, about to freak out. What the fuck is this? It looks like some weird—spaceship?! You drag the light of your flashlight along the bright metal. You notice the way it looks like nothing you’d ever seen. You see two thick leg-like metal poles sticking out from the smooth underside. You extend your hand out to feel one of them, and not surprisingly, it’s cool to the touch. You continue to look, until you realize, if this is some kind of spaceship, where’s the person? You start to panic again, for some reason feeling scared. Maybe this was one of the downsides of living alone with nobody close. You had no one to call over or help you. You try not to think about it too much, as you continue to walk towards the other side of the spaceship, if you could even call it that. It was like a saucer shape. You feel crazy even just thinking of this as a flying saucer like some conspiracy theory freak, but there was no other way to explain its shape.

You look at the weird capsule in front of you, until you realize it had fallen on its side. You reach what seems like a glass dome, it hadn’t been cracked, but it was now separated from the machinery, barely hanging on. You shine your light on the dome, shining the light slowly towards the inside, following where your eyes moved. The light illuminates some parts inside, seeing weird advanced looking gadgets and screens, unusual looking buttons attached on the steel-looking dashboard. As you move your hand, your flashlight lands on something you wished you almost made up in your head.

You see a man, still sitting on the small seat in the device, eyes and mouth closed, his head on the headrest facing towards your side, and looking…dead. You quickly go towards him, stumbling and almost tripping. You were about to move him a little from the seat, and then you realized there’s heat radiating off from him. A lot of heat, like, intense heat. Worried for this random stranger, you try to think of a way to help him. You were way too weak to carry him into your house, but there had to be a way. You quickly realized you could maybe drag him..? It was not an optimal choice, but right now you couldn’t think of anything else. You quickly grab a sheet you leave outside for when you want to lay down and look at the stars, and you expand it onto the ground. You struggle as you grab the mysterious man from his arms, and slowly drag him onto the thick sheet. You feel your hands hot from where you had grabbed him, almost as if you ran your hands under warm water. You look at the stranger and grab the two corners of the sheet and try to pull him into the house. You would’ve laughed at this scenario, a man passed out on a sheet, and a nimble person like you dragging him into your house as if you were some weird person dragging a body somewhere. You quickly realize that ‘funny’ thought was a little macabre, and instead focus on using all your strength into dragging this guy inside before something else happens to him. About 15 minutes later, the stranger is now on your living room floor, and you’re a sweating mess. You breathe heavily on the couch when you realize you have to also place him on the couch. Closing your eyes tightly, you mentally prepare yourself to try to transfer him onto it. You bend your knees down into a squatting position as you grab his arms and pull them on top of your shoulders. You slowly, very slowly, move up, until you can finally plop him into the couch. That’s enough exercise for the rest of the year, you think to yourself. You position his head and legs correctly, going into the kitchen again, but this time to get a cloth for his forehead.

Once you walk back with a washcloth and a bowl of cold water, your body freezes as you look down at him. He had some kind of antennae on his head. What. What? You shake your head fast, trying to force yourself out this weird dream that you were obviously in. There’s no way this is real life. You also didn’t realize, how he’s a little weird. He had pink hair, which isn’t anything especially weird, but why were these weird things coming out of his head the same color? They weren’t that long, maybe three inches tall, with a small little bulb on the top of them. He had what seemed like shiny, glittering skin on his neck and jaw. You also noticed his clothing. He was wearing this weird shiny and sparkly white turtleneck, with different pretty colored bead looking things going down the cloth. It was really pretty actually. You notice a sharp body necklace on his shoulders that went down under his chest area. It had what seemed like sharp shark teeth shaped metal lining it, along with black medium sized beads traveling across his chest. Maybe the weirdest thing was that he didn’t have any shoes on. You didn’t have the heart to keep looking at his feet, weirded out by them. You tried not to freak out as your imagination runs wild from confusion and slight fear. Not as strange, but also weird of you to think—he’s cute.

Really cute. Furrowing your brow, you ask yourself, is this some kind of prank? You look around, waiting for some guy to pop out with a camera or something, yelling at you that you’ve been pranked. That doesn’t happen though. You have to sit with the reality that you dragged in some random person with antennas on their pink haired head and cute face in your house, that is now laying down on your couch.

You lower yourself onto your knees, the back soles of your feet on your butt, placing the bowl on the center table and making sure the cloth soaks up the cold water. As you ring out the cloth, you look back at him, brain registering quickly that two eyes were looking back at you already. You screamed and quickly got up, almost slipping because you knocked over the bowl in the process.

You calm down the best you can as you finally look back at the person staring at you. He looks confused as you look back at him.

“Hi, um, I don’t know what happened or what or who you are or like, why you’re here but I found you passed out inside your…vehicle?..outside. Are you, are you okay?” You see the way his antennae twitch slightly as you finish talking. It seems like he’s thinking about his response as he places his finger on his chin and looks down at his thighs. He quickly looks up at you again, answering you. “I’m fine. Thank you. I’ll be leaving now.” He starts to get up as you go towards him and lightly push him down by his shoulders. “Where are you going? That thing outside is kind of really trashed and it’s” you look up at the clock, “it’s 11pm right now in the middle of nowhere, what are you going to do?” You wait for his response as he does the same gesture as before. “Trashed..?” He looks really confused, his mouth into a scowl. You nervously back up, suddenly nervous again. “Yeah, it’s like, messed up. All dented and broken and stuff.” You shift your hands around awkwardly, not knowing what to do.

“Oh. I’ll fix it.”

He starts to get up this time and you don’t stop him, instead following him with your flashlight. You feel the cold hit you once again as you waddle behind him into the darkness. You see the way he walks, so confidently and swiftly. He doesn’t say anything as he hears you walking behind him. He doesn’t really care.

You guys have reached the spaceship and he turns to you. “Can I use that?” He was pointing at your flashlight and you handed it over to him. He quickly moves around the ship, examining the body. He grabs a gadget from the inside that looks like some form of advanced, clear tablet, and starts to use it. You were panicking a lot at this point. Is this dude an alien? Some kind of extraterrestrial? They exist? You almost feel drained as your brain works hard to try to understand what was happening. You feel yourself stare at nothing, still not wrapping your mind around the current events.

That’s when you see two feet that weren’t yours in front of you. You look up and see him looking down at you already. “I’m going to have to stay here for a while.” You make an offended look as you stare back at him in shock. “What? Why here? Isn’t there someplace you can go? I don’t even know you that well by the way-or actually I don’t know you at all! I don’t even know what you are. There’s no way you’re staying here.” He looks unaffected by your words as he just opens his mouth to talk.

“My earth name is Taehyun, I’m what you humans call an ‘extraterrestrial.’ If I go anywhere else, there would be safety regulations exploited and your planet would be in danger. If anyone else finds me out and the information gets into the wrong hands and people realize we exist, bad things will happen. For this world, of course,” he looks around at the scenery as if he could actually see anything in the darkness, and finally looks back at you, “not mine. So if you want to be safe, along with everyone else, you’ll continue helping me.”

You think about it, your head spinning. What is going on? He has to be telling the truth, how else would any of this make sense? You decide to trust him, and nod your head. “Okay. How long?” He finally makes a facial expression that wasn’t confusion, as he does a small smile, “about 5 months. I need to recuperate, as my ship runs on my body power, but because of the crash, I’m extremely weak right now and what I use to heal up, along with devices that could contact help are broken.” Your eyes open wide at hearing five months. There’s no way this is happening. There goes your next three days off.

It’s happening. Today marks the last month left of Taehyun staying with you. You’ve noticed how he actually has grown stronger slowly over time, as well as his skin seemingly glowing, his big brown eyes becoming somehow shinier, and his hair prettier. You close your laptop as you always do, and head to the living room. There you see Taehyun, watching the same documentary you were watching the night he appeared. “There’s no way they think they’re right. They have everything wrong. It’s really funny actually,” he says, smiling cutely and looking at you. He has gotten so much cuter too. He started warming up to you after a month and a half, and since then you’ve always seen his pretty smile and gorgeous boba eyes looking at you with actual care.

You had to teach him a lot of things, how to basically be human. You giggle as you ask him, “what did they get wrong?” He looks at you before thinking for a second. “Well, they think we’re some kind of super smart humanoids or something. We’re not. Our technology scans the most advanced forms of society and species in each planet, and we can transform into whatever it is. It’s easier that way to go unnoticed and to fit in.” You nod your head, “yeah that makes sense. So…what do you really look like?” He makes a thinking face, puckering his lips as he thinks. “I dunno. It’d be hard to describe honestly. I don’t think your little brain could handle it either.” You laugh as you shove him a little, “shut up!” He giggles, his eyes scrunching up as his sharp teeth show up when he smiles. You start to question yourself as your heart skips a beat looking at him. What’s wrong with you, have you really fallen for an alien?

“Are you okay?” It seems Taehyun picked up your change in mood. You quickly lift up your spirits as you let out a “yep!”

You look at the tv and then at him again, “Isn’t it crazy how it’s almost been five months since you crashed here? Time went by fast. I remember how stern and cold you were when you appeared.” He lets out a tiny screech, “noooooo! Don’t remind me. A lot has changed you know! Thanks to you I’ve experienced a lot of things I’ve never experienced in outer space. They might be really tame, but I really understand the experience and love for them.” You smile as you ask him, “hey, since you said you guys change form, how come you still have alien characteristics? Like your antennas and skin.” He playfully scowls as he answers you, “I’ve answered this question already for you a million times! It’s because my space ship broke down mid-flight so the transformation couldn’t be fully completed. I would’ve looked no different than an actual human, you would’ve never guessed.”

“Yeah I know, I just like hearing about you guys.”

He gives you a serious ‘really’ face as you giggle. “Hey, since it’s almost time you leave, what’s something else you want to do on Earth before you go?” He looks at you, suddenly looking embarrassed. “Uh…well that’s private” you scoff. “What? What do you mean it’s private you weirdo, tell me nowwwww.” You get closer to him as you start to shake him by his shoulders. He gives up quite easily, “wanna gaisbsosbdsexhsidbxhuman.” “Dude. I heard none of that. I won’t know what you want if you don’t tell me clearly. Speak up! And clearly!”

He sighs, defeated. “I want to experience sex with a human.” He scratches the back of his head nervously as you just look at him, “Friends that I have always tell me about their visits and from the sound of it…they’re always talking about how it feels really good or whatever. I just want to know what it’s like too. You know it’s different for us in our material bodies.”

“Oh.”

You say nothing else as you continue to focus on the tv screen. Well this got a little awkward…suddenly, an idea appeared in your head.

“What if…what if I helped you?” You try your best to look away from him, staring at the wall, not wanting to see his reaction. You just hear a quiet hum come from Taehyun, something you notice he does now when he thinks about something difficult.

“Ok.”

You almost get whiplash from turning your head towards him, surprised. “Huh? Ok? Really?” He gives you a confused smirk, “why are you confused, you’re the one who asked me. And yeah, ok. It’s not like you’ll remember anyways.” Suddenly he looks a little sad. “What does that mean?” He shakes his head, “nothing. Well, are you going to come over here or not?”

You slowly get closer to him again, nervous. “You don’t have to do this just because I wanted to experience it, you know.” You look down to his lips and into his eyes again, “yeah I know. I wanna.” He smiles as he places a hand on your cheek, kissing you. He was cool to the touch, unlike how you first found him. You slowly kiss him back, feeling nervous. You like the way his pretty lips feel against your own, soft and fleshy. He nips at your bottom lip as you feel his hand travel under your shirt, cool skin against yours making you gasp a bit. You feel him smirk against you as he takes the opportunity to explore your mouth with his tongue. Fighting back, you guys continue to make out.

You suddenly feel your lips tingle, and you separate yourself from him, placing your fingers on your lips. “Are your lips feeling a little weird?” He asks you, a little breathless from your activity. You tell him yes as starts explaining to you, “when we feel…sexually aroused” he coughs, “um, our spit turns into this kind of aphrodisiac, it kind of affects your skin like a little irritant, but it makes you feel really good after it finally settles in.” “You have built in aphrodisiac inducing spit? You’re literally so freaky,” you giggle.

He smiles against you as he kisses you again, tugging at your shirt to take it off. You take it off, only your bra showing. Taehyun takes the initiative to remove it from your body, leaving your breasts free. You felt your nipples harden at the cool air coming from Taehyun’s hands as they’re groping your fleshy area. He leans down and sucks one of your hard nipples into his mouth, and you feel the same tingling sensation that you felt on your lips onto your right breast.

You move your head back, eyes now watching the ceiling as you play with the back of Taehyun’s pink hair. Feeling good, you bite your lips from letting out whimpering noises. You feel and hear yourself almost panting, body freezing for a split second as you feel a surge of hotness run through your body quickly. Suddenly feeling needy, too needy, you squeeze your thighs together, wetness feeling way too apparent right now. “Feeling needy y/n?” Taehyun looks up at you. You swear you almost cum right then and there at the sight of his pretty boba eyes glimmering as they look up at you, left nipple now in his mouth. He suddenly feels a lot warmer now, no longer cool. You shake your head yes, too scared to talk. He runs his thumb over the nipple he had in his mouth before he switched, and starts slowly rubbing it. “You have to use your words my cute girl, I won’t know what you want unless you tell me clearly. You told me that, remember?” He’s evil. Sighing shakily, you respond, “Taehyun, I need you to fuck me. Please, feeling so hot and bothered. I need you in me.” You felt yourself start to blush deeper at your own words. He just smiles as he says, “after this.”

He gets down from the couch, his knees now on the hard ground and he faces your hips towards his head. Slowly removing your pants, you look down at him, your eyes half lidded. He talks as he’s still removing your underwear now, licking his lips at the sight, “I’ve never done this before so let me experiment a little as I get a hang of it okay?” You swing your arm across your eyes, feeling embarrassed at being the only one naked, along with your current position. “I’d let you do anything to me, just touch me please.” He slowly spreads your legs open, seeing your arousal separate from your thighs. He takes in a sharp breath, wanting nothing else than to make you feel good with his mouth. He looks up at you and sees you covering your face with your arm. “Remove your arm y/n, I can’t see what’ll make you feel good if you’re covering it. Wanna see your face.” You clench around nothing, his words hitting your core. You slowly remove your arm and look down at him.

He smiles, “thanks.” He places his hands on your thighs, squishing and pressing down on them. You squirm at the feeling. He slowly moves his right hand onto where your cunt is, stopping right before touching it. With his thumb, he slowly slides it over your flaps, this small movement making you go crazy, wanting more. You involuntarily raise your hips, chasing his touch. He places his other hand on your pelvis, his hand bringing you down to the couch pinned, as if you were a piece of paper. He really did get stronger.

He takes his thumb and index now, spreading open your cunt. You take in a quick breath as you feel the tip of his fingers lightly touch your clit. He brings them down to your slit, and presses the tip of his index into it. He does this maybe three or four times, watching your face as he does so. He finally removes it and takes his finger in his mouth, tasting you. You watch as his eyes widen as he looks up at you, he fixes himself in front of your cunt again, mouth slightly open. “I need to taste more of you,” he says as he finally lowers his mouth onto you. He first starts kitten licking your flaps, and it feels nice, but this isn’t what you want. “Taehyun..need more.”

He nods his head, his tongue finally entering past your folds, licking your soft skin. He drags his tongue down to your slit, letting it enter in and out of you, and you feel the tip of his nose press against your clit. Seeing how you start breathing raggedly, he finally decides to travel upwards, mouth finally encasing your clit. You let out a loud moan as he flicks his tongue slightly over it, then lapping it up. You felt your cunt start feeling tingly, and everything started feeling ten times better.

He starts eating you out like a hunger crazed man, loving your reactions. You make eye contact with him, loving the way he looks, his eyes looking so cute and innocent, as if he wasn’t eating you out. The pleasure was so much at this point, you feel your eyes and head roll back as your mouth opens, moaning and calling out Taehyun’s name. Finally, feeling the tip of one his fingers enter your slit again, you came. You came down hard, shaking and pulling on Taehyun’s rosy hair as he continued lapping you up. You swear you were screaming at this point, feeling too good. Your high is finally coming down, yet you still feel Taehyun’s mouth on you. “Fuck, too much Tae.” His mouth finally lets go of your cunt.

You watch as he raises his head from in between your thighs, his face a mess, “did I make you feel good?” You almost laugh, as if this wasn’t the hardest you’ve come from being eaten out, “yeah, so good. It felt like you were already an expert.” He smiles brightly, his face glistening because he had your arousal everywhere. You shakily move forward to kiss him, tasting yourself through the kiss. Still feeling like you were missing something, you press your forehead against his, “let’s go to my room.” He nods as you grab his hand and drag him into your room.

As soon as you enter your room, he stands in front of your bed and you push him down. “Taehyun, take off your clothes, please.” He quickly starts removing a white graphic T-shirt you had gotten him, along with some black pants. You bite your lips as you see his shining skin on his neck, looking like glitter. You want to run your tongue over it. He’s only left in his underwear, his bulge apparent as you start to straddle him, kissing him again. You couldn’t get enough of it. You move your head down, finally reaching his neck. It was smooth, and you decided to suck on it, wanting to see your marks later. Your hands travel up behind his head, before they reach one of his antennas.

Curious, you start slightly touching it, feeling the soft rubber like skin against your two fingers. You feel Taehyun twitch and start whimpering. You touch it a little harder and you hear him mewl, “ah, fuck, th-that feels good, they’re s-so sensitive.” You smirk as you let go of it, finally having enough. You lift him up from the bed and take his place. “Fuck me Taehyun.”

“Fuck, okay.”

He crazily takes off his underwear, making you laugh the way he almost falls. He gets on the bed and he’s finally on top of you, face to face as he kisses your cheeks. He looks over your face, his eyes scanning it, trying to figure out what you’re thinking, and you look down.

Finally seeing his length, you almost choke on your spit. “Wh-th-that’s not going to fit in me.” He looks down, confused. “Is it too small?” You look at him as if he was stupid, “you’re huge!” He laughs, “is that bad?” You think for a moment, “well, it depends I guess..” Suddenly thinking of having his big dick filling you up has you clenching. You couldn’t wait anymore. “Put it in me, please.” “Okay.” He grabs his dick, putting the fat head between your puffy folds, while circling and sliding it around your vulva. It feels really good to you. You lift your hips up, and he gets the message. “Are you ready my cute girl?” You nod your head yes and he presses his tip against your slit, slowly entering you.

At this point you’re so wet it’s actually a little easy for him to completely enter you. You still feel the pain, but it fades away quickly as you start feeling heightened pleasure. He feels so good in you, feels so full. You’re whining a lot at this point, feeling his entire dick against your walls, every movement making you moan. You look up at Taehyun and he’s not doing any better. He has eyes furrowed in concentration, and he’s letting out quiet whimpers, trying hard not to rut into you. You whisper against his ear “move. Please.” He groans out your name, as you feel his hard abs press against your tummy as he starts to pull out a little.

He starts moving at a brutal pace, pink bangs swinging back and forth. You feel like you’re just a rag doll, the way he’s pounding into your cunt while your body acts as if it’s rubber, you’re feeling too good to have the strength to move along with him. He now sits up on his knees, turning your body over. “You feel so good y/n, never thought it’d be this good. Don’t ever want to stop.” You groan and moan at his words, tears spilling out from your eyes as he finds a new position in you that hits everything just right. Your hands grip your bed sheets tightly, stained with tears now. Taehyun hisses behind you as he feels you deliciously contract against his dick, making him feel even more good. He moves one of his hands from his hips and onto your tummy, pressing down on it as he sees the way it bulges a little when he thrusts into you. You feel your knees about to give out as you bury your head into your bed, feeling pleasure in a way you haven’t before. “My friends were right, this feels so good, I’ll never be the same after this. I’ll need to have you constantly.” He gives you an especially hard thrust, and you feel yourself coming on his dick.

You shake even more this time, feeling you and your brain become jelly, drool leaving your mouth. Taehyun becomes a whimpering and moaning mess, letting out loud and constant “y/n,” and “ah fuck,” as he feels your walls hug him so tight he can barely move. You fall on your bed, not able to keep yourself up anymore. Taehyun notices and flips you around once more, grabbing your back as he easily lifts you up, making your arms wrap around his neck. He continues thrusting into you and you feel his movements become sloppy. You let out a quiet “Taehyun…” and he snaps. You feel the way his cum pumps out of his length and into you, his intensely warm seed filling you up, and you love how it feels. You come again, although not as hard as the other times. Taehyun’s still messily thrusting into you, repeating your name.

He slowly puts you down on the bed, and takes out his dick and plops down next to you. With half lidded, tired eyes, you see that his cum wasn’t anything like normal cum. It kind of looked like, clear, golden honey? Curiosity beating you, you crawl over to where Taehyun was, panting heavily, as you clean him up with your tongue. He doesn’t even try to move you away, just groaning and hissing at the feeling. You tasted his cum in your mouth, and it tasted like honey. You’ll never view honey the same. He looks at you, “we need to do this for the next month.” You giggle as you get up to clean yourself off, but meanwhile you’re going to have to teach him about aftercare, you also start feeling a little sad he has to leave eventually, but that’ll come another time. “Yeah, but you still have things to learn, alien boy.”

The month had passed since then, and he was healthy enough to leave. You were both outside, and within the first touch he gave the ship, it seemed to magically have fixed itself. He finally turns to you, taking out a small vial. “You know I’m supposed to give you this, to make you forget.” You gasp, tears that were already filling your eyes spilling, “I don’t want it. I don’t want to forget you.” He smiles, “don’t worry, I’ve thought about it, I’m not giving it to you.” He kisses you, savoring it as the last kiss he’ll give you for some time. You hold in your sobs as he enters the ship. He sadly smiles at you, “don’t worry y/n. I love you. I’ll come back for more.” With those last words, he was quickly gone, leaving you staring at the night sky full of stars.

thinking about taehyun zooming away on a flying saucer has me giggling ngl…

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hitlikehammers · 5 months

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time for that age old question: is love enough to beat back the apocalypse?

Because Steve's right there to protect everybody like the self-sacrificing asshole he is help Eddie make the music he's not strong enough for yet help them all put Vecna in the ground for good this time, right?(!??!)

or: what's the song for your walkman, baby? does it even matter?

I Could Be Your Nurse (or something)

Or: Five Times Eddie Has To Ask For Help, Plus One Time He Doesn’t Need It Anymore (but asks anyway) ✨ for @penny00dreadful 💜

<<< three: sleep 🌗

🎧 🎹 four: play 🎶 🛡️

To tell the whole truth of it: it comes too quickly—Vecna’s last stand. Of course it does.

But probably, if he’s being fair: they’d never have been really ready. Not for this, and so maybe it’s best that they’re not fully healed, not at full strength when it all comes to a head, not least because that means Vecna and his petal-toothed brigade aren’t at full strength either. And that choice, for their side, is sloppy; the Party stands on the right-side-up against the attack because they have to. Vecna makes his move because—or else, Eddie’s fairly sure—because the sadistic ballsac is losing his fucking mind.

Which is terrifying, sure, but fuck if it doesn’t help their cause.

It’s actually over pretty quick, even compared to Spring Break which, while it felt like a lifetime for how much it changed Eddie’s own, it’s only been those handful of days—but it’s kinda like the grand finale at a fireworks show: everything all at once then, done. In the everything’s though: he might not like it, but Eddie’s not so foolish as to believe he’s not still too tender, still too deep in healing the finer points of being gnawed alive to be anything but a burden in the thick of it. He refuses to be sidelined, though, and he thinks it says a lot for the long-term health of this glorious impossible thing he’s…building? Yeah, he, umm, he, Eddie Munson, is building a real goddamn thing where he doesn’t even just let someone into his heart and treasures them there, no, he’s building a thing where he gives his heart and gets on new and soft and trembling in kind and they both get to work at the treasuring of something more precious than just their own vulnerable insides, but yeah, yeah:

Eddie thinks it bodes really fucking well for the hopes he has that lean hard toward forever, already, in Eddie’s chest at least when Steve looks his way as they’re planning the teams and he locks eyes with Eddie and Eddie doesn’t even get his mouth open to breathe, to plead don’t cut me out, don’t send me to Wayne to be ‘safe’ or ‘out of harm’s way’ or whatever, don’t leave me so fucking far from you my heart hurts just because it’s beating in the middle space unmoored and shaking around all bruised up with it for not knowing and I know I can’t do what everyone else can but it’ll be bad enough not being next to you please don’t push me far enough that I won’t know the moment you’re safe, just—

Steve meets his eyes, and Eddie’s breath catches before his heart trips, and then Steve speaks up—and he doesn’t, not all that often when the nerdiest among them are shoring up the battle plans—but he watches Eddie without blinking when he pipes up:

“Eddie’s on medical and audio, with Erica and Jon.”

And maybe it’s his tone—this almost wholly novel thing in Steve that’s steely and unquestionable but no one pushes, they nod and get back to work, totally seamless and, and…yeah. That’s all Eddie wanted. Best he could hope for. Just outside the gate they go through. Close enough to hold a hand on the way down, and reach for purchase on the journey back.

Steve swallows hard, and nods at Eddie before he looks away and starts gearing up, twirls his fucking nailbat so it catches the sunlight even thought the metal’s mostly rusted, now and just…Eddie hadn’t needed to say a word. And Steve wanted to send him to safety, the way his throat had bobbed made it real clear there was something heavy he’s held back but: he’d said what he said. He’d laid the line in Eddie’s favor. Eddie wants to hold him, wants to pull him close and feel him breathe, and—

Yeah. Eddie kinda feels like the way it goes is a really good sign for their future as a couple. A couple. Them. Together.

With an always on the other side of all of this that could be kinda fucking magnificent, maybe. Given the chance.

Point being: Eddie gets himself set up with at least a full ambulance’s supplies for first aid, definitely not acquired legally, and a stereo set up he really wishes someone had been kind enough to outfit him with in not-the-apocalypse, holy shit is it gorgeous, but since the strength in his hands is still a work-in-progress, he’s gotta be ready to crank up the noise as a distraction from arm’s-length. It’s actually driving him fucking crazy—or, was; it was, pre-active return to the regularly scheduled world ending—the whole not being able to make music, to translate the noise in his head into sounds on the strings but even that, even that’s been tolerable, survivable because of Steve—who he loves, he gets to love Steve Harrington holy fuck—but Steve’s not just there to be everything and more than the air Eddie goddamn breathes, to become the music just by existing, nope, he one ups that shit: he asked Eddie if it’d be enough to learn the chords he needs. So Eddie could match the words with the notes right, so Steve could be a—

“—kinda piss-poor substitute but,” Steve had shrugged for it with a crooked grin; “but even a bad translator gets a message across, and you’d know when it’s wrong so we can figure out how to fix it and—“

And Eddie’d grabbed Steve’s chin and yanked his mouth close to fucking consume that man like a soul goddamn starved.

“I’d be a shit teacher,” Eddie had mouthed against Steve’s lips after they were sucked well-swollen; “if I still can’t lift the fucking neck for more than a minute,” but Steve had heard none of it, just shot right back:

“You don’t think we’ve beat steeper odds than that?”

And in the face of that raised brow, those red lips parted, that pulse in that neck still a little bit visible like a tease: the fuck was Eddie supposed to do but dive back in and love on the man who’d somehow agreed to be his, and to claim Eddie of all people in turn?

Which is a whole other reason why everything’s gonna be fine: Steve’s gonna make music with him. Steve’s gonna be Eddie’s muse and the vessel for what he inspires. It’s gonna be like Greek fucking poetry, except it’s gonna be them.

So Eddie’s all stocked up, s’got everyone’s floaty-bone-breaky songs queued up on blast for immediate deployment as necessary, and Steve’s the last to go through—he always is, in Eddie’s experience, waits for everyone to be safely accounted for before he spares a thought for himself and it might kill Eddie one day but not fucking today, because it’s gonna be fine—

“Eddie.”

It feels a little like history repeating itself, the way Steve huddles him in a little. Henderson’s through, with Lucas and Hopper and the weird stray Russian, but it’s not like history repeating, because Eddie’s got different words to see him off with; so fucking different.

“Last time I didn’t have,” and Steve reaches, cups Eddie’s cheek, drags down to press on his chest as his voice strains hard: “and it almost killed me,” and Steve usually pinches between his eyes to keep his feelings in check but instead of using his free hand to hold back the tears he reaches for Eddie’s and laces their fingers as his voice cracks and he chokes out:

“Please,” and it’s for everything. For all the almosts from last time; for all the possibilities rife this time. For all the hopes Eddie thinks they share beyond how this shakes out.

“Exceptionally underqualified field med,” Eddie breathes, and squeezes Steve’s hand so, so hard like a promise, because it is; “exceptionally overqualified DJ,” and Steve chuckles, wet but real and it’s enough, because:

“I got it, Stevie,” Eddie bends his forehead to Steve’s to say better than with words that he’s not in this to be a hero, he’ll be right here the whole time, but that doesn’t mean he…that doesn’t mean he can help but to ask this time:

“Just,” and the breath in him punches out unexpectedly as he damn-near begs:

“Only bring me back the little things, yeah? That I know how to fix?”

And they both hear what’s said underneath it:

Don’t turn around and die down there, and kill me in kind..

And—if anyone’s keeping track—they turn out not to need it but: the way the kiss is a wholeass wartime farewell, man.

And then: Eddie waits, and fucks with the speakers for less than an hour before the earth shakes, and his heart drops, but then he hears it.

The fucking whooping of those shitheads echoing through the cracks.

And then he sees it, runs, grabs the first hand that’s clinging to the rope this time and pulls with strength he doesn’t have, is probably more a hindrance than a help but he steadies them each back on the ground and hugs them so tight, kisses more than one of them on the head or the cheek as he doesn’t pretend not to be sobbing through the laughter because they did it, they fucking did it, somehow it’s over and he loves these people and he’s so fucking happy they’re alive and safe and here and—

And the person he loves more, loves most, brings up the rear, a little bloodied, a little scratched up, dingy with the fucking air down there but smiling and Eddie…

Eddie falls into him so fucking hard they both hit the ground and just, just grab onto one another. Just hold and breathe and catch lips every few seconds like an afterthought because they feel each other’s heartbeat where their chests are pressed tight and it’s, they’re…

Steve’s got four broken fingers across both hands. None in a row. He’s basically giving a Vulcan salute by default for how they’re taped.

Eddie loves him so goddamn much it hurts.

And Eddie’d obviously known—once things start to settle in the days that’ve followed—that teaching Steve guitar with those Spock-y hands was on the back burner, but he does ask Steve to sit, and to rest, and to help hum back the tunes in Eddie’s head while Eddie jots lyrics with a hand that’s still shaky but steadying out more every day, and it’s kind of perfect, and Steve adds some things into the melodies either on purpose or by accident but they’re better for it every time and—

Muse and vessel, man. The light of Eddie’s whole goddamn life.

With fucking Vulcan hands still, though, so: excuse Eddie for being…bewildered when his boyfriend—boyfriend, that’s his boyfriend—but his taped-up-healing-Vulcan-handed boyfriend is propping the front door open and lugging in a long, not-recovery-friendly thing that looks close to dropping on his toes and—

“The fuck are you doing?” Eddie asks with a little more panic in his voice than he’d hoped for as he rushes as best he can to where Steve’s kicking the door shut behind him, fluttering his hands around uselessly as Steve maneuvers past him, leans across for a peck at the corner of Eddie’s mouth and calls—“It’s fine, it weighs, like, nothing”—over his shoulder as he settles the, the thing down on the coffee table in the living room they’ve started actually using for, y’know.

Living.

Eddie follows him in, though, because of course, he’s half-a-dog on that man’s heels, whole-caught-in-the-gravity-of-his-everything: but Eddie follows as Steve tosses himself backward with something in his hand, rolls and rucks up his fucking absurd Hawking Middle tee across the sweet curve of his hips, the way the soft give of skin tempts Eddie to run his tongue over the trail of almost-curls, like baby-curls where they lead under the waist of his jeans: Eddie would happily volunteer to survive on the taste of that musky-delicate space until the end of goddamn time—

But then Steve’s huffing a breathless ha from behind a chair where he’d been stretched to reach and a light catches Eddie’s eye from his periphery where he’d been staring unblinking just at Steve: the big long black thing on the coffee table. It takes a genuine concerted effort not to keep at the Steve-staring—not an uncommon state of Eddie’s existence, in all fairness—and check what’s glowing on the table: something turned on. Was plugged in, right, that’s what had Steve rolling on the floor without Eddie on top of or being deliciously pinned down by him.

The something being the big long black thing that Eddie takes in for the whole of it, now: a keyboard.

“Jon picked it up for me second-hand from the place next to Fox Photo when he drove down for his camera, and Rob vouched that it’s a good brand and like, really good condition,” Steve’s raised up on his knees, now with his hands braces on his thighs as Eddie studies the keys, fingers the ends of a every few of the naturals.

“Rob helped with those, too, so I’d know the right, like, chords,” and yeah: they’re stupa of masking tape stuck to the keys with letters in blue, black, and red pen, alternating so they don’t get mixed up, some with and arrow, Eddie assumes, to indicate a sharp.

“I only remember like half of one song from when my parents thought it would look good to have me take piano lessons,” Steve huffs in whole-ass judgment; “my mom wanted the endorsement of the guy who was stepping down from city council, and his wife taught private lessons, so, y’know,” Steve rolls his eyes; “super convenient leading up to the election.”

“What song?”

Steve blinks, tips his head in askance for what Eddie recognizes very clearly as something closer to a croak than a question, his throat all tight. He tries to cough, to clear it.

“What song do you remember?”

Steve snorts at that, leans back on his palms, and fuck is he beautiful.

“Clair de Lune,” Steve grins crooked; “the one song I was allowed to pick, instead of just being assigned.”

“Why’d you pick it?” Not that Eddie doesn’t like it or anything. It’s more that…he knew Steve could more than just drum fingers on keys, if only just, and that a baby grand used to sit in the corner where there’s a stereo cabinet now, but.

But: see, there’s like a whole half of his heart that’s dedicated to collecting new knowledge about everything Steve: his favorite food when he was 12 versus the now. How his favorite color became his favorite color. The story behind all the polos. The nitty-gritties about why he’s in a big-ass house alone for approximately 360 days a year, and how long it’s been that way. Eddie’s whole heart is basically Steve’s but every day that half overflows a little, and Eddie’s only keeping it relegated to parts filled with Steve-lore so he can feel the collection break containment every other day, this grand and joyous bursting under his ribs as everything spills over again, and again, and again until it’s all just Steve, and his heart has to burst or stretch, or both.

Eddie thinks both will be amazing.

And right now, in the interest of building toward that amazing-both: he wants to know why Debussy.

Steve chuckles to himself—better music than any dead French guy by a country mile—and eyes Eddie almost slyly.

“Do you remember Claire Reynolds?”

Vaguely. Like, very vaguely. He remembers…uneven pigtails. Very actual-cult-like vibes about her family as a vague impression and now that he’s bringing it to mind he feels a new wave of indignation: those Children-of-the-Corn motherfuckers were just fine but Eddie liked a board game and he was probably a murderer.

“When we were in like, first grade,” Steve’s continuing on; “she asked me every, single, day, to come over and see her sheep.” Steve looks up at Eddie and bites his lower lip, lets his gaze dance and lets Eddie fall into it for a few dazed seconds before he spells it out.

“She had these crazy eyes about it, it was kinda unsettling,” Steve nudges, but Eddie’s doesn’t get it until:

“And it’s not like I do now, because obviously I don’t, but I definitely didn’t speak a lick of French when I was eight.”

It takes Eddie a hot second before he snorts hard enough to hurt:

Claire, da Loon.

“I was eight,” Steve protests Eddie’s laughter halfheartedly even as he joins in, reaches to slap at Eddie’s upper arm which honestly: just makes him laugh harder.

“Anyway,” Steve fights through the last of the chuckling as it peters out between them, drags himself to sitting next to the coffee table and taps his hand to the top of the keyboard.

“I know it’s not the same as learning guitar to help, and I can probably only get the top and bottom notes with these,” he lifts his Vulcan-fingers his a shrug; “but I was hoping that’d be better than nothing?”

And, like, how Eddie was talking about his heart having to swell, for all the things he gets to tuck inside of it that come with loving Steve Harrington?

He might crack a rib, just now, because—

“This is for me?”

Steve purses his lips, lifts a brow:

“Well, technically it’s for me,” steve singles his fingers, which looks absurd with the splints; “but yeah. To help you get the songs out. I mean, once these are free again, you can help me with the guitar like we talked about, until you’re—“

And Eddie cannot be blamed, see: he cannot be fucking blamed for tackling Steve to the floor and kissing him hard enough to bruise because…

“You got hurt,” Eddie half-breathes between kisses; “you got hurt and I was so afraid I was gonna lose you,” and Eddie reaches for those taped fingers and kisses them, too: so gentle and Steve’s expression softens so quick:

“I was scared, too,” he whispers between them, cups Eddie’s face with his unloaded hand; “you were as safe as I could make you within the fucking city limits but I was still so goddamn scared.”

Cue more rib-cracking for the heart-swelling, because Jesus fucking Christ.

“And you,” Eddie exhales, slow and shaky; “you’re hurt, but you went and got,” he nods to the keyboard;

“I know it’s not ideal,” Steve’s quick to, to what, apologize? For being insane and perfect and—

“Shut up,” Eddie says, voice low and watery and he’s still kissing at Steve’s fingers, holding his wrist delicate but also like a lifeline.

“You’re hurt,” Eddie maybe kinda moans it because he hates it, as much as he’s so fucking grateful that’s it’s just this, no worse than this; “and you still—”

“I promised, didn’t I?”

And that…that’s one thing Eddie’s learned beyond reproach; that even to his detriment, Steve keeps his goddamn promises.

And he’d promised to help Eddie get his words out, to place the lyrics to the notes and help unclutter his brain so he didn’t lose his mind.

Holy fucking hell.

“Steve,” Eddie starts, shakes his head, needs to find the right words. “You’re alive,” the most important thing. “You are healing,” another most important thing, for Eddie to oversee and make sure of, even as Steve keeps an eye on the last lingering threads of the long haul on Eddie’s road to recovery in kind, his beloved mother hen.

“This is,” and he runs his fingers too light to draw sounds across the keys, hopes he sounds as awed and grateful as he feels; “but you, you’ve gotta test, you have to,” and Eddie shakes his head and lifts his eyes to just fucking ask it:

“Why?”

And Steve: Steve just studies his face for a few seconds, reads what he needs before he smiles kinda exasperated, mostly fond and answers so simply, while also breaking a few more of Eddie’s ribs when he just says:

“Because I love you.”

And Eddie’s heart’s not so overfull yet of all of Steve, it’s not fair that it just bursts right then and there, Eddie propelled into Steve’s arms to kiss him deep this time, like he’s searching out Steve’s soul to taste and maybe he is, save that he needs his heart to not have exploded for feeling if he’s going to keep the memory of it safe in his chest for always, he needs to patch his heart back up first but he’s too distracted, too drowned in the way love actually fucking feels, fucking shifts his cells around and makes a new version of him, lets his heart grow bigger except it went and blasted apart with the unprecedented immensity of loving and—

And then Eddie’s got Steve’s taped up hands on both his cheeks, and he remembers that night, in the shower, where Steve ripped the seams from his shirt so taking it off wouldn’t hurt him; notices how Steve is wearing that same fucking shirt in this very moment, all in one piece, like it never split apart in the first place.

Master seamstress, tried and tested and true; truer than anything.

So Eddie just dives back in and kisses with everything in him, thinks maybe when Steve tastes the pieces of Eddie’s blowout heart under his tongue while Eddie goes diving for the sweet lick of Steve’s soul:

Eddie thinks Steve’s mouth might know how to stitch up torn things, too. Especially the kinds that are ripped at their seams wholly for the sake of loving that fucking hard.

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @nerdyglassescheeseychick @swimmingbirdrunningrock @goodolefashionedloverboi @sanctumdemunson

divider credits here & here

👾 title credit here

💫 ao3 link here

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alwayshappyhoursomewhere · 6 months

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2024.03.10 FSTV | Shoma Uno interview before Worlds 2024 (x) Did a translation for this because it was a pretty in-depth interview and a good window into Shoma's mindset going into Worlds

[The interviewer asks Shoma about the possibility of getting another World title] Shoma: I know that in terms of ability I'm no longer at the top, since there's Malinin. I don't really have the feeling that I'm going to win three championships in a row. To be honest, my mindset and feeling has changed, in that I feel I'm no longer in the position of defending my title, but rather that I'm in the challenger position. When it comes to me as a skater, there are parts that are not very athlete-like, but I have also the fighting spirit and the determination that I've had from long ago. I have very clear boundaries, and I have a strong determination not to compromise on what I think is essential, and a sense of what I cannot give up on. I really understand what you are saying [t/n: I think he is referencing the interviewer's question]. I think the reason why I have come this far is because there are parts I have to give up on and parts that I absolutely don't want to give up. I don't know what everyone's expectations for me are, but well, anything is ok. For example, regardless of whether people expect results or the quality of the content, I am truly grateful to the people in my life, the people who have allowed me to skate until now and who have motivated me. I want to live each day to the fullest for the sake of those who have shown me kindness. When it comes to competition results, there are bad times and there are good times. Of course, it's a world where we are told that results are everything, but that's just the public opinion, and none of the people around me who put me first think that results are everything. Of course, if the results are good, everyone will be happy. I wonder what is best... is the most important thing to be evaluated by others ? Or is it that you yourself are satisfied? But then I also think about the fact that in the current situation, I can feel satisfied with myself because I am being evaluated by others. I have been thinking about it, and my first priority is to satisfy myself, and then I want to cherish the people who are closest to me and who support me. After clearing that up in my mind, what are the results that Stephane, who is the person closest to me in skating, wishes for? I was wondering if I had reached better results, better scores, better performance and content, and a better process of getting there. So when it comes to skating, that's what I want to prioritize the most right now. Judging and results are really sensitive and difficult aspects, and it's hard to evaluate whether expressivity is good or bad [t/n: probably he means in terms of actual competition scores]. I was thinking about it a lot, and the more I thought about it the more I got confused, so I decided to just 'cherish what is important to me'. That's how I feel now.

#figure skating #shoma uno #stephane lambiel #worlds 2024 #this has been sitting in my drafts for a week #but since worlds begins tomorrow...#in a way there is nothing new but this feels like a good summary of this season's arc since the end of worlds last year #and of course: together with stephane

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fluffyf0x · 3 months

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In which your bf, Oikawa cheats on you....

So you don't slip the chance to get back on him..with his own best friend.

Big Red flag Oikawa, Mostly Red Flag reader, Semi-red flag Iwaizumi(?). Cheating trope( TRUST ME A LITTLE )

Warning: I'm not encouraging cheating, this is all for the sake of the story.

God he was an asshole. You knew that very very well. And you we're very very stupid. You knew for a fact that Oikawa was a horrible choice. You let your heart decide. And now you're suffering for it.

Iwaizumi was someone who tried his best to stick by his best friend's side. He knew he was an asshole a lot of times, but this? This was way over the line.

"God I hate him!" You felt like everything you knew was falling apart. Iwaizumi stood awkwardly by the corner of the apartment as you trashed around Oikawa's stuff. Haphazardly dumping his clothes and items into one trash bag. He belonged there anyway, it seemed fitting wasn't it?

Iwaizumi wasn't sure how else to comfort you. So he simply stood by there, patting your back whenever you dropped to the floor and cried. Letting you know he was there, he was listening. You took a deep breath, trying to keep your composure, it was almost embarrassing how you acted around Iwaizumi. Especially knowing he was your stupid boyfriend's best friend.

Soon the door to your apartment was unlocked, revealing a disheveled OIkawa. You wiped your tears with your sleeve so roughly Iwaizumi was worried for a second you might rub off your eyes.

Turning to face Oikawa, who's face seemed to distort into a mixture of surprise and fear. He seemed to have noticed that you knew what he's been doing. Iwaizumi stood up and stayed in front of you, a look of disappointment and anger plastered on his face.

"Shithead as always huh?" Iwaizumi said. Oikawa stood there, not sure as to what to say. You stood up, walking towards him, face to face with you. You couldn't read his expression now. Was he scared? annoyed? Shocked? or maybe all of them mixed together in a turbulence of emotions.

The three of you stood there in deafening silence. You wanted to scream at him, shout at him, hit him. But you couldn't even move your body. Standing there stupidly while tears fell from your eyes.

"I'm sorry" Oikawa was the first to break the silence. His apology was small like a whisper, barely audible. His eyes tried to look somewhere else, unable to maintain eye contact with you.

Didn't he want this? He has been trying so hard to find an excuse to break up with you. Gosh even going as far as cheating. It wasn't a method he liked but he was pushed to the corner and-

He really was an asshole huh?

Oikawa Tooru had already come to terms with that fact.

However, seeing you like this. Hair was messed up and your tears ran from your eyes to your cheeks. Your flushed red face and eyes filled with both anger and sadness. He felt a pang in his chest. Go ahead, call him an asshole one more time.

But you looked so pretty when you cried.

"I'm sorry..." he repeated. "I'm sorry" He repeated it again. Nevermind what he just did. He was stupid. This was stupid, nonetheless embarrassing even.

"I'm sorry" He repeated it one more time. Slowly kneeling in front of you. This was utterly contradicting. Why was he doing this? Did you actually have him wrapped around your finger? Seeing you cry like this made him utterly helpless. Take him to hell but he felt so guilty, so frustrated at the fact that he did this. But why? he wanted this. Didn't he?

why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why

Stupid.

"I hate you" You whispered.

"I know"

"I wish I never dated you in the first place" That sentence hurt like shit, but you were right. A straight attack on him. He could feel his chest tightening. His eyes were stinging, tears threatening to fall.

You hated him, for this. You really did. It was like he stabbed you fifteen times over, and yet you were still alive to feel the pain seeping through your body. What kind of tragedy was this? You loved him, trusted him, gave him your everything. From your first experiences to your everyday life.

End it. Your whole body was screaming for you to just end it here, stop letting the torture of this damned relationship. Let it go to ashes. Once and for all.

But seeing him kneeling to you right now, you can't just let him get away with this so easily...can you?

Don't end it.

You felt a faint smile ghost your lips. You crouched down, before hugging Oikawa. Right. You don't have to end it here

-------------------------------------------

"Are you crazy y/n?" Iwaizumi slammed the table. "Why would you take him back?" He shouted. He doesn't mean to actually shout or scream at you, but he was really a bit too frustrated about this whole ordeal.

You simply kept mixing your coffee, a blank expression on your face. You watched Iwaizumi pace around like a madman. You felt a little bit of pity watching him like this. He had been the one to witness all of you and Oikawa's ups and downs. But this?

This was a different definition of crazy

"He cheated on you y/n. Are you seriously just taking him back like a blind woman?" Iwaizumi ran his fingers through his head. He scoffed, clearly he was too affected by this. How could he not? His best friend's stupidity was easily forgiven right in front of him.

You simply smiled, admittedly, he was someone who was nonetheless attractive. The way his biceps would flex whenever his arms moved a certain way. The way his flushed face would make him click his tongue and look away. The way you knew he had the biggest and shittiest crush on you ever since you met.

How you knew how he thought he could treat you so much better than Oikawa could.

You sighed. "We have a party next week right? With the other players from Seijoh?"

Iwaizumi huffed, rolling his eyes. You just blatantly ignored him. Albeit, he was irritated by that, but he still nodded his head.

"yeah, its next friday, I'm expecting Makki and the others to get wasted, again. So I might not drink." Iawaizumi placed his hands inside his pockets. He went back to his seat. Staring off somewhere unknown.

-----------------

Oikawa was trying to keep himself sober. He had to drive home, with you, obviously. You were downing several glasses of alcohol. Makki and Matsu were a little bit overwhelmed at how much you were drinking. Iwaizumi simply sighed, knowing the current situation.

You wanted to do this drunk, or at least tipsy. But curse your high alcohol tolerance. You were still completely sober.

Makki laughed awkwardly. Him and Matsu were on one side of the table, while Oikawa, you and Iwaizumi sat on the other side respectively. You smiled bitterly.

"I can't get drunk, it's annoying" You said. Oikawa avoided his eyes. He was sure the reason why you were doing this was because of him. It was almost a miracle how you forgave him. How you were still with him even after that.

How much effort and time had he spent on you the past two weeks, trying to be the best boyfriend to exist? Even fully knowing he was the exact opposite. It was the least he could do, especially with everything he had done.

Oikawa gulped down another glass of beer. Too engrossed in his thoughts. His head was spiraling into madness. There was such an awkward tension in their table. He was the root of all of it.

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard Matsu gasp. He looked up, following Matsu's vision. He turned beside him to see you, so blatantly kissing Iwaizumi, right beside him.

His best friend was melting into the kiss, not even bothering to pull away, despite the crowd, despite everyone in the table knowing you and Oikawa were dating, despite Oikawa himself being there.

Your arms wrapped around Iwaizumi's neck, pulling him closer. The man responded by holding your waist. IIwaizumi's eyes flickered from you to Oikawa. His eyes lingered for a second, making eye contact with him. Mocking him.

Oikawa felt his head spinning. Being reduced to this by a woman. He even felt pitiful for himself. He deserved this, really. He was sure. It was all the karma flowing back to him. Stabbing him with a knife straight to his heart and not letting him die. Letting him feel all the pain.

The Oikawa Tooru was now a loser. Wasn't he?

He stood up and quickly left. Not bothering to even say his goodbyes. Matsu stood up and tried to follow him. Before being stopped by a hand. It was you. Smiling lazily as Iwaizumi was avoiding all eye contact.

"It's a how-to break your asshole of a boyfriend to pieces 101" You said. Smiling like a madman. You could feel the alcohol taking effect now. Almost losing all sanity. Oh well...

At least you can feel a little bit more at ease.

Guys this was so toxic I can't-

#haikyuu #angst #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#oikawa toru x reader #oikawa toruu #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi x reader #tooru oikawa #hajime iwaizumi #renfox

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bippot · 10 months

Note

Pretty please write a Mike Schmidt for me, my sweet dear friend that has made it very clear to me that she's back in her Josh Hutcherson phase? I know that you want to! I'll love you more than I already do ☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️

I love the Josh Hutcherson renaissance! I've been seeing more Future Man love and content out there and that's great! It's one of my favourite shows. And there something about the FNAF movie that just has crack in it or something cause I've watched it 3 times in the past week.

Summary: Mike and Abby move into a new apartment with a new neighbour, but Mike's old mundane responsibilities still persist. That's okay, his neighbour and her dog are prepared to entertain Abby for as long as he needs.

Additional Tags: Moving, Babysitting, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Caretaking, Minor Spoilers, Mike Schmidt Needs a Hug (Five Nights at Freddy's)

Full Masterlist - here

The Schmidt siblings returned to their home after the events at pizzeria and Mike immediately knew that they had to move. The sight of his aunt's dead body on the floor was something that would stick in his brain for a hot minute, and truthfully, he'd seen far too many corpses in the span of 24 hrs than he ever thought was possible.

Vanessa's stabbing and Aunt Jane's murder was reported to the police by the Schmidt's as being done by the same killer - because it kinda was, but also not, but it was thanks to his murderous influence so yeah - although the killer in question hadn't been found when the cops did a sweep of the pizzeria.

So, Mike found a small apartment not that far from Abby's school and they began the process of settling in there. He assumed they'd live in their childhood home until Abby was grown up and wanted to go away to college or get a place of her own, but that wasn't the case.

This new home was smaller and cheaper than the old Schmidt residence, plus it didn't come with a lifetime of memories attached to it. It was an improvement, Mike had to keep reminding himself of that fact as he hauled what few belongings he had left into the back of his car.

All the stuff that wouldn't fit had been sold off and Mike was sad to see a lot of his parents stuff go but it helped him acquire some well needed pocket cash for gas or whatever school supplies Abby needed. Whatever was left was transferred into room 34 of the Greystone apartments.

It was a long process, mostly because Abby was at school and the only other person who'd Mike would ask to help was still recovering. That meant that he had to lift every single box up three flights of stairs since the elevator was currently broken. Or, at least that was what he thought.

After making three trips, door 32 opened and a sweet voice asked, "Would you like some help?" Mike nearly dropped the two boxes he'd stacked precariously in his arms as he spun around to put a face to the voice.

Just his luck! His neighbour was a total babe. To anyone else that would've been excellent news, but to Mike, this ensured that he'd be nervous as hell when entering and exiting his own apartment because his mind would have to be alert in case she wanted to talk to him and get a response that was more than incoherent mumbling.

Look, he wasn't a socially awkward guy. Socially avoidant was the term he preferred. He could hold a conversation with a person, with a woman. With a woman he found attractive on the other hand? Well, he hadn't done that in a while. He was more than a little rusty.

Thankfully, this neighbour didn't seem to notice how weirdly out of his depth he felt. Instead, she nodded towards the boxes he'd been piling outside his front door. "Need a hand with those?" she inquired, voice smooth and melodious like an angel.

He swallowed hard, feeling stupid, but somehow answered anyway, "If you don't mind, yeah, please." It came out sounding like he was choking on his words which, given that he had formed coherent sentences in her presence, was the best he was going to get for now.

"Do you have a U-haul truck full?"

"I, uh, folded the seats down of my Accord and shoved, yeah, shoved e-everything in the back."

"Oh. Smart." She closed her door and gestured for them to start walking towards the exit, and he was happy to oblige. "I'm Y/N, by the way."

"Mike."

Mike wanted to say something, to strike up some really interesting conversation that would have her hanging onto each word he said with rapt attention - but his words died before he could utter them. There were just... no words, no topic of choice, nothing. His tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth. If he tried to speak, he might choke and die.

That would be bad. Really bad.

Y/N didn't seem to mind. She could talk for the both of them, it seemed. Honestly, he wasn't sure what she was saying. He wasn't focused on that. No, he was focused on everything else about her, every movement, every breath, the way her hair fell in her eyes, the way her lips curled into a half smile whenever she made a joke and how it curled even farther up when she laughed. He couldn't stop staring.

Sometimes, he felt like he was a bit of a weirdo. It was a conscious effort of his to notice as much as he possibly could about someone he's meeting for the first time and doesn't understand yet, but there were times - far too many times - when he zeroed in on details that didn't need that much scrutiny. Like, why did she have a very faint scar on the inside of her right bicep? Or pen on her left wrist? Or why was she looking at him like she had asked a question and was waiting for him to respond?

Oh. Because she had asked a question and was waiting for him to respond.

That'll do it.

"Sorry, I totally spaced out. What, umm... what did you say?"

"I asked which car was yours."

It was obvious. It was the Honda they were standing in front of that was filled with cardboard boxes.

"Yeah, this is it. Here we are. This is my car."

"You don't say."

Before Mike could stop himself, he rolled his eyes. It was a good natured, amused roll, but a roll nonetheless. He smiled to himself as he opened the boot and began taking out all the boxes he deemed worthy of carrying to his apartment on this trip.

Together, they got everything from the car into his apartment without too much fuss. It took a while so there had been a few awkward silences, but Mike was slowly progressing in his effort to talk to her without tripping over his feet and ending up flat on his ass. He managed to get his words out without making a complete idiot of himself. It was slow progress, but progress nonetheless.

By the time his belongings were safely in his apartment, it was time to pick Abby up from school.

"To say, to say thank you, would you - you can say no, obviously, - Abby and I are going to order pizza for dinner as a celebration of this place. And because we don't have any groceries yet. If you'd like to, yeah, I'm sure she wouldn't mind if you wanted to join us?" he blurted out in one large breath as they stood in their opposite doorways, half in half out of their living rooms.

"I'd love to, but I'm busy...doing things. Doing stuff."

"Oh. Yeah, of course. Maybe, yeah, maybe another time, then?"

"Uh... Sure, sounds good."

They both looked awkward, and neither of them moved for a beat too long until Mike realised that if he didn't leave soon, he was going to be late for pick up. He gave her one final shy wave before rushing to the stairwell.

Abby wasn't told about the nice, pretty girl from next door that he'd been an idiot in front of so when they'd returned from grocery shopping the very next day and Mike was talking to some lady in the newly fixed elevator, she was a little confused. Because she knew her brother. Her brother didn't get people he'd never spoken to before to smile at him like that.

"Hi Mike," Y/N greeted softly as they approached, giving the dachshund at her feet a gentle tug so he'd give the siblings more space to stand. "I'm guessing you went grocery shopping."

Correct. The hand that wasn't holding Abby's had three heavy grocery bags in it.

"Y/N, hey!" Her brother grinned in a way Abby had never seen before. His cheeks flushed slightly and he cleared his throat, his grin turning shy. "This is Abby. This is my sister Abby."

Something akin to relief flashed across Y/N's face. "Nice to meet you, Abby. Mike mentioned you yesterday, but he didn't tell me how cool your shoes are." She crouched down to pretend to get a better look. "Cupcakes are cool."

Abby giggled at the compliment and pushed her nose into Mike's side. She wrapped her fingers around the edge of her brother's bicep and at the fabric there so he'd lean down for her to whisper in his ear. "She asks, can she pet your dog please? Pretty please?" he repeated. "Why she couldn't ask you, I don't know."

"Tater here would love to be petted."

On cue, Tater barked excitedly and wagged his tail at the prospect of being fussed over. Abby cooed loudly and reached out her hand to pet his head. As soon as her fingertips touched his fur, he leaned into her touch and licked her hand enthusiastically. Abby shrieked in delight at the attention, her small hands flailing wildly for a second before reaching out to stroke Tater's ears. Mike could see the joy in the kid's bright eyes and it sent warmth pooling in his chest.

With Abby occupied, Y/N felt the need to clarify, "I was under the impression yesterday that Abby was your girlfriend."

"Ew, gross."

"That's why I was weird about the pizza. I didn't want to third wheel, you know? Sorry I jumped to a completely wrong conclusion."

At that, the corners of Mike's lips twisted upwards. His shoulders relaxed a fraction as he breathed a quiet sigh. Thank God he didn't weird her out with his odd behaviour.

"No, no, I get it. I'm a guy and I mentioned a girl. It...it makes, well, it makes sense to jump to conclusions, actually." A spark of boldness appeared all of a sudden and forced him to inquire, "Would you have stayed if I had made it very clear that Abby is ten years old and my sister?"

"I would've." Y/N replied instantly. Not missing a beat, she added, "I love free pizza," with a smirk.

Ding. They reached their floor and went their separate ways for now. Abby had to be told quite a few times to stop stroking Tater and come inside, but she was reluctant to. That dog had charmed her to the core, it seemed. Eventually, Abby reluctantly complied and followed her older brother into their apartment.

No more than ten minutes later, Y/N heard someone knocking on her door and opened it to find little Abby on the other side all by herself. "Hey Abby, you okay?" Y/N asked with a warm smile.

"Can I play with Tater some more please?" The little girl put on the most cutesy, pleading smile she could muster and batted her eyelashes in order to make it all the more convincing.

"Did you ask your brother?"

"He's in the shower."

So that's a no. Y/N pursed her lips as she thought of a response. Obviously, Mike would freak out if the child in his care was at a stranger's place without his permission. She had no idea about Abby's temperament either. Would she scream and shout if she wasn't given what she wanted? Would she beg? Or would she just be content and go back to whatever she had been doing in her own home?

"Let me just get a lead." Y/N disappeared from view for a minute and Abby was fully prepared for disappointment so she opened the door to her apartment, just listening for the sound of Y/N's door locking. Yet, she was soon reappearing with the weiner dog on a leash.

The pair sat in their opened doorways and fussed over Tater with enthusiasm only children possessed, ignoring the occasional looks from their neighbours who had to step over the situation to get to their homes. The corridor was filled with girly giggles and the occasional happy yap from the puppy as it happily accepted each scratch and pat Abby gave him.

Mike came out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist and was fully expecting to walk into his room to get changed directly afterwards. That didn't happen straight away. He noticed the opened door before the chatter and rushed to check that his sister was safe and still in the confines of their new home.

Maybe she was talking to those dead kids again. That was not something he needed right now.

"Abby?" he called out tentatively, but upon hearing no response other than more giggles, Mike stepped closer to the door and was rather confused as to why his sister was sitting in the doorway.

Y/N's eyes widened the moment sexy, dripping wet Mike appeared in view. She gulped nervously and took in his attire for a split second, trying her best not to stare too openly at his body. It was a struggle at best and she had to take a deep breath.

"Look Mike, Tater can do tricks!" Abby cheered happily when she noticed her brother coming closer. "Tater, play dead."

The dog did exactly as the girl said and rolled onto its back, exposing his belly in a way that was just asking for rubs. And Abby was overjoyed to give them to him. Mike couldn't help chuckling at the sight of his sister, who he was pretty sure had instigated all of this, laughing like crazy as she scratched Tater behind the ear, his tongue hanging out of his mouth while he let out pleased barks.

"You're such a good boy," she praised, patting his head gently and causing the dog to roll over again. "Can we get a dog?"

"Well, uh-" He paused, "Can we have this conversation when I have clothes on?" The girl frowned but nodded her head nonetheless. "Great. I will do that then. I'll get some, uh huh, I will stop being so naked now. I promise."

Subtly, Y/N hid her laugh behind her hand as she watched the scene before her unfold. It was adorable watching him struggle to find words.

Sitting together and playing around with Tater in their doorways became a daily occurrence for the girls. Abby would get home from school and count down the minutes till Y/N came back from work, only to turn to look at her brother expectantly. "Can I?" she'd ask every time, and he'd say yes every time. It became a routine between them, one that gave Mike free time to look for a new job.

And eventually, he did find one. It wasn't exactly ideal. The hours were long and overlapped with after school time, but it was in the day, and it ensured that they'd get 20% off their groceries. The supermarket in town was looking for shelf stockers. The pay wasn't spectacular, but it was liveable. There wasn't much customer interaction. His main focus was to refill the shelves and that was it, nothing beyond that.

No animatronics. No ghost kids. No serial murderers - as far as he knew. And definitely no Balloon Boy.

Originally, he wasn't going to take the job. But, he happened to mention it to Y/N one day and she immediately tried to squash his worries. "I can pick Abby up from school on my way home from work and she can hang out here until your shift is over. No biggie," she reasoned, placing her hand reassuringly against his bicep and flashing a smile at him. Mike was hesitant, at first.

On the other hand, Abby was not. She loved being in Y/N's apartment. It looked nicer than their apartment because Y/N had decorations and nicknacks to look at, and a sofa that was far more comfortable than the old, busted one they had, and Tater was there with all his toys and treats. And Y/N had cable too so that meant they could watch Malcolm in the Middle when it was on.

Abby was planning to grab onto this opportunity with both hands as soon as it presented itself.

Y/N arrived at Abby's school and was greeted by the child running towards her excitedly. Her backpack thumped along on her back loudly and her curls jumped as she bounced up and down, clearly very excited to spend her evening with Y/N (primarily Y/N's dog, but hey).

"Hi Y/N!"

"Hi Abs, you ready to go?"

She nodded frantically, a huge grin forming on her cheeks as she handed Y/N a piece of paper. "I drew this for you!" she informed proudly, pointing to a cute little drawing of a very familiar looking puppy curled up in his doggy bed.

Looking at the drawing, Y/N's eyes softened. "Wow! Thank you! It's really, really really good," she praised with genuine happiness as she ruffled the top of Abby's head. "Do you think Tater will like it? Shall we show him?"

That question was all it took to convince the girl to be well behaved and not complain about traffic they had to sit through to get home. She just bobbed her head along to the radio softly, tapping her feet along to the beat on the ground. By the end of the journey, she even began humming to the tunes, making sure to keep her voice quiet enough that she thought Y/N wouldn't be able to hear her singing. Y/N could.

"I missed you!" Abby squealed as soon as she saw the dog lying on his side asleep by the living room couch. She quickly hopped on the floor next to him and started stroking his soft fur. "Tater, wake up so we can play," she whispered, petting him under his chin and hoping he might at least stir awake. After a few more seconds, he finally stirred awake, his little tail swinging from side to side the moment he realised who was stroking him.

Tater attacked Abby with wet, sloppy dog kisses, causing her to giggle uncontrollably at every lick. Y/N stood beside the couch and laughed at the scene before her. The little girl was a picture of pure joy as Tater licked and slobbered all over her face, causing her to fall backwards onto the carpeted floor and cry out in delight.

If anyone deserved to be spoiled rotten, it was Abby. In fact, both of the remaining Schmidts deserved to be fussed over and Y/N was prepared to do just that to them for as long as they allowed her to.

Mike arrived home from his shift at the grocery store tired and sore. Most of his day had been spent lifting boxes from the storage room out onto the floor with only a single person helping him. And it hadn't helped that his coworker was an older lady - she was kind to him but there was no way she was carrying half of this shit - so he literally did all of the heavy lifting. His back ached badly, which didn't help his mood in the slightest.

However, as he entered Y/N's apartment - they no longer knocked and just walked in these days - and was faced the sight of Abby grating cheese at the kitchen counter as Y/N warned, "Careful of your fingies, don't wanna accidentally cut yourself. Take it slow, honey."

A sweet smile stretched across his lips as he closed the door behind him and made his way towards the two women. Neither of them seemed to notice, clearly too engrossed in preparing their dinner to see as he silently leant against the kitchen door frame and watched them carefully.

At some point, Y/N had braided Abby's hair and obviously Abby wanted to return the favour but wasn't all that good at it as the end of Y/N's locks were all bushy and tangled, the ends curling up into knots and sticking out from underneath the bobble. He chuckled to himself quietly, thus gaining the attention of the both of them instantly.

"How long have you been there, creeper?" Abby asked, giving her brother a dirty glare and earning her a chuckle from him once more.

"Long enough," he replied and shrugged his shoulders. "What are we cooking?"

"Y/N's teaching me how to make Cowboy Pie."

His eyebrow raised in amusement. "Is that so?" he hummed and crossed his arms over his chest. "Why do you never want to help when I cook, huh?"

"You don't cook. You just heat stuff up."

"Oh yeah? I see how it is," he snickered, but was quick to ask, "Well, you two need any help?" and turned his gaze to Y/N, who simply shook her head.

"Go relax. We've got this," she said dismissively, waving him away with the wooden spoon still in her hand. "Don't we, Abs?" She poked the nodding girl in the cheek affectionately. "See? Everything is alright. Go sit with Tater."

She gave him a gentle push with her hip, prompting him to move into the living room without another word. He sat on the couch and placed his bag by his feet, letting out a huge sigh as his ass hit the soft cushion. He rested his elbows on his knees, placed his chin on his palms and leaned forward so he could see into the kitchen.

Watching the duo cook together was mesmerising. A warm feeling filled his chest and spread throughout his entire body - like fire but not uncomfortable, more comforting, like home. Y/N had such a loving smile on her face while Abby looked content and beamed whenever she was allowed to stir the pot or throw in the ingredients. They were like peas in a pod, Y/N taking care of everything and doing all the things that included knives while Abby tried to follow instructions.

He was completely lost in the scene in front of him until something small and furry pressed itself against his leg. He glanced down and smiled upon seeing the dachshund's black nose pressing up against the side of his pant legs. The dog wagged his tail and then looked up at him, staring with his wide brown eyes, almost pleading for attention. Mike couldn't say no to Tater so he bent down to scratch gently behind his floppy ears.

"Hiya, boy," he murmured happily. "Us guys have got to stick together, right? Can't let the girls boss us around now, can we?" Tater barked and wagged his whole body as if to agree with him.

That meal had to be the best he'd ever had, or at least remembered having. It was mainly potato, sausage, beans and cheese, but somehow, they'd managed to make it taste extra good. Tater was given a sausage or two, so he was beyond happy and fell asleep directly after dinner.

Abby was in a similar state. She'd cleaned her plate then asked for more, which was fine because there was leftovers for her to get through. Her belly was full and she was exhausted, so that meant she could probably sleep through the night. She even fell asleep against Mike's shoulder half way through the episode of Family Feud.

Honestly, Mike was close to dozing off too but kept himself awake long enough to pick his sister up and carry her to her bed. "She's out like a light, how did you do that?" he asked Y/N curiously, his arms wrapped around Abby so she didn't fall out of his grip and slump to the corridor floor.

"It was all Tater," she joked, gesturing towards the passed out puppy lying on his back between the gap between the two couch cushions. "Same time tomorrow?"

"Yeah, yeah please."

"Goodnight Mike," Y/N smiled, moving in to peck his cheek before disappearing behind her door.

Once she was gone, Mike released a large exhale through his nose, his eyes now wide open and fixed on the crooked 32 number plate on the wood. He wiggled one hand free and straightened it up, then brought his fingertip to where her lips had just been on his skin and smiled faintly.

"Goodnight Y/N."

Every day was similar to that one - obviously there were slight variations where Abby didn't eat as much, or Tater decided to be yappy that day, or Y/N didn't feel like cooking and ordered something in, or Mike was grumpier - but they were all better than before. Their lives weren't exactly perfect, but this was close enough, really.

For now.

"My boss offered me some more hours, just in time for the holidays - and it's a big upgrade in pay -"

"That sounds great, Mike. What's the 'but'?" Y/N frowned as she placed some freshly cooked lasagna on a plate and placed it in front of Mike.

"It's night shifts and a weekend or two." He shoved a fork full into his mouth, chewing it slowly before swallowing and continuing, "You've done so much already and asking you to look after Abby for the entire night... it's too much, you shouldn't have to-"

"Mike-"

"I'll pay you. I promise. Abby told me she wants that Robotic Puppy thing for her present and that's $40 and I said I get that for her to make up for the fact I won't let her get a real dog. Factor in groceries. And bills. And..." he began mumbling to himself, working out all the math in his head. He'd never been all that good at maths.

There was a beat of silence before Y/N let out a small chuckle. "Mike," she sighed again, placing her hand gently on top of his, "It's okay. Really, it is. This isn't a big deal at all. I love spending time with Abby and she loves sleepovers."

Recently, there had been a development in Abby's social life; one that involved more hanging out with her friend outside of school. The new friend had been a late addition to the class and was rather shy, so when she spent her time reading right next to where Abby was drawing, they began their quiet friendship.

"And the weekends?"

"Well, I get Sundays off and Saturdays she can come to work with me. There's always a bunch of kids her age in the library on Saturdays. Yeah, it's all the nerd kids," Y/N explained with a laugh whilst pouring two glasses of wine and handing one to Mike. "Relax, Mikey."

With a final deep breath, he nodded his head, his expression changing as he took a sip of wine. "Okay," he breathed and smiled softly. "Thank you. For today. And last week too. And all the times before that."

"Yeah, no problem," she shrugged casually and sipped from her glass as well, trying her hardest to keep the flush off her face.

Working nights again was not something Mike thought he'd ever do again, yet this time, the scenery was far less alive. No, instead it was just dark and cold. And this time, he actually had job responsibilities and couldn't fall asleep at a desk. He had to lift and sort and clean and sweep and tidy and organise and price check and restock. It was boring, mind numbing and absolutely exhausting and he just wanted to go home to sleep and forget about it all.

What was waiting for him when he got home was something else. Something different, something better.

After putting Abby to bed, Y/N had fallen asleep on the living room sofa, a blanket draped around her and a book about to slip from her fingers. Mike knelt beside the couch and grabbed the book and placed it on the coffee table before giving in to the temptation to brush her hair behind her ear, letting his fingertips linger on her cheek.

"Mike?" Y/N murmured, her eyelids fluttering slightly as her eyes met his own, causing him to bolt away and stand up straight.

"Oh! Sorry," he stuttered, clearing his throat. and scratching at his cheek with a little too much force. "Um, sorry. Didn't mean to wake you."

Y/N yawned and stretched, leaning on her elbow and resting her head on her hands as she regarded him. "How was work? Anything interesting happen?" she asked quietly, her voice still sounding sleepy. She ran a hand through her messy hair, messing it up even more and looking adorably groggy, and he had to admit it was kinda hot.

"Not really. The same as usual just at night, I guess."

A hum left her throat and she closed her eyes briefly. When they opened again, they were glimmering with sleepy tears, making them sparkle beautifully. His heart swelled with so much emotion, he couldn't help but stare at them and sigh.

"Abby is -" She yawned again. "Abby's is in my bed. You can leave her there if you want," she murmured, her voice fading to barely a whisper. "You tired? You look it."

"Yeah."

Thanks to the darkness of the room and the bagginess of his clothes, he had the same general shape of a teddy bear - all soft and curly with big brown eyes. That paired with Y/N sleepy kind of not fully woken up state meant that she whispered, "Come here," and held her arms open invitingly. He hesitated for a moment, before finally deciding that he couldn't turn this opportunity down. He crawled onto the sofa and lay down next to her, putting as much distance in between their bodies as he could, which wasn't a lot.

It would've felt awkward to anyone else, but for the two of them it was natural; comfortable and intimate. Y/N snuggled up next to Mike until her head rested comfortably on his chest and he put an arm around her, pulling her as close as possible.

"Y/N?"

"Hmmm...?" she hummed sleepily, her hands coming up under her chin on his chest, looking up at him through her lashes. He looked at her, mesmerised by the gentle glow of the light emanating from the tv screen behind him, before gazing down at her lips, feeling a blush creep up on his neck. He licked his lips nervously and swallowed thickly before he could think twice about what he was going to say next.

"I like you," he admitted bluntly without any preamble, and his eyes widened slightly as soon as the words were uttered. They flew past the tip of his tongue, begging to leave him, and the truth was out there now. In the open and therefore there was no backing out. "Jesus, that made me sound like a middle schooler."

Y/N blinked several times, processing what he said, before smiling warmly and reaching up and stroking his cheek gently. Mike's eyes fluttered shut at her touch, and he leaned into her hand with a contented sigh. "I like you too," she whispered, her smile growing wider and her thumb brushing along his cheek bone tenderly.

"So, um, should we maybe..." he started awkwardly, unsure where he wanted things to go from there.

"In the morning?"

"Good idea."

They fell asleep almost immediately after saying goodnight, holding each other tightly as they slept in a dreamless slumber. A slumber that was cut short when Abby woke them up with a very loud gasp, waking the both of them up. They rubbed at their eyes with the heels of their palms and looked over at Abby who stared at them with wide eyes.

Cheeks flushing red under his sister's scrutiny, Mike burrowed his face in Y/N's shoulder, who just chuckled and curled her hand into his curly hair.

"What's the time, Abs?"

"7:23" came the reply as she pointed at the digital clock on the wall above the TV.

Mike let out a groan of annoyance and pushed his nose further into Y/N. It seemed that once he got some affection, he didn't want to let go. She didn't seem to mind though and laughed softly, shifting a bit to accommodate him.

Or was it to accommodate Abby?

Because Y/N offered, "Well, it's Sunday and there's enough space for three so wanna join, honey?" and Abby was jumping at the chance, clambering on the couch until the girl was lying entirely on top of her brother like a weighted blanket that got slightly heavier as Tater joined in too and curled up between his knees. He grunted at the unexpected cuddle pile but got used to it quickly.

"What do you want for breakfast when we get up?" Y/N asked Abby, stroking her hair away from her face as the child yawned.

"Pop Tarts?"

"I second that," Mike mumbled.

"Pop Tarts it is then," Y/N agreed with a small nod

Somehow, life had got even better.

#mike schmidt #mike schimdt x reader #five nights at freddy's

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vodika-vibes · 10 months

Note

Can you write a cute piece with Jaster where he comes back from a long mission and finds the reader and Jango asleep together in his bed waiting for him? Maybe turns a little smutty at the end?

The Mand'alor's Aliit

Summary: Jaster's been gone for weeks, and now that he's back, some hard truths have come to light.

Pairing: Jaster Mereel x F!Reader

Word Count: 1714

Warnings: Reader was physically assaulted, Jaster's temper

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: I know you said you wanted a little smutty, and I'm sorry that this didn't turn out that way. I had a story that needed to be written, and smut just didn't make sense with what I had. Please feel free to send another request that I'll do better on next time.

When you agreed to go on a date with Jaster, it was well before he was elected Mand’alor. Sure, you’ve always known that your ambitious man wanted more for his people, but the title Mand’alor wasn’t something that he specifically vied for.

And then he was elected, and things became a lot more complicated.

The Mandalorians didn’t like you. They didn’t like you when you were just some upstart who managed to catch the attention of Jaster, and they definitely didn’t like that Jaster went to you for advice when he became Mand’alor.

However, no one pushed anything because you’re not Jaster’s Riduur. So far as they’re aware, the relationship is pretty shallow.

So when Jaster comes home with a recently orphaned 8 year old, announcing that he adopted young Jango, and then when you quietly adopted Jango as well, people suddenly started paying attention.

And that’s when the missions started. Long term missions, taking Jaster away from you, and Jango, for weeks at a time. Maybe they thought that sending him away would drive a wedge between the pair of you, but they couldn’t be more wrong if they tried.

“I miss buir,” Jango mumbles miserably as he buries himself against your side, “And I hate the other Mandalorians.” He adds, sounding even more miserable when he sees you wince in pain when you move to embrace him.

“I know you do, kiddo. I miss him too.” You smooth your hand through his curly hair. Today had been especially bad in terms of everything. Normally the people who stood opposed to you wouldn’t dare lay a hand on you.

But they had been drinking, and they forgot themselves, and yeah, you won that fight, even though it was four on one, but you still have a cracked rib and pretty severe bruising to show for it.

Worse than that is the fact that Jango witnessed the whole thing. Which means he’s about three times as clingy as he would normally be. And you tolerate it because he’s your kid and you love him. You love him enough to allow him to crawl into your bed, and cling to you while you soothe him to sleep.

You’re not really surprised when you drift off to sleep as well.

It’s several hours later when you stir awake at the sensation of Jango getting pulled away from you. And while normally your reaction would be to shoot first and ask questions never, a warm hand on your shoulder and Jaster’s voice in your ear, encouraged you to not shoot him.

You watch, half asleep, as Jaster carries Jango out of the room. And then you sit up, and you carefully stretch. Sleeping the way you were did nothing to help the pain in your side…you should have known better.

The door slides open again, and Jaster steps into the room, “Cyare,” His voice is low, exhausted, but he sounds thrilled to see you, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

The lights are still off, but there’s enough light for you to watch him remove his armor. And you smile as you cross your legs, “Welcome back,” You say first, “You’re lucky I didn’t shoot you when I felt you pulling Jango away.” You add easily.

His fingers pause on the seal of his thigh plates and he groans low in his throat, “That’s probably the hottest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

You laugh softly, “I think you’re overtired if you think my threatening to shoot you is hot.”

Jaster laughs, and resumes removing his armor. He sets the whole set to the side to be dealt with later, and then he peels his bodysuit off and tosses it into the laundry. And only then does he climb into bed.

He lays on his pillow for a moment, and you watch him relax into the soft mattress with a fond smile on your face.

And then he rolls over and crashes his lips against yours. “Missed you,” He rumbles against your lips, “Hate those long missions.”

“Missed you more,” You reply as you kiss him quickly.

Jaster pins both of your wrists over your head with one hand, and he releases a quiet laugh, “I don’t think that’s possible, cyare.” He kisses you deeply, and then moves his lips to your neck, “Missed you like a missing limb.” He slides his hand under your sleep shirt, and drags his hand up your side.

His fingers trail over your ribs, and a sharp hiss escapes you without your permission.

And Jaster freezes. He carefully presses his hand over the painful spot on your side, and then he releases your wrists and reaches over to turn on the lamp.

You squint at the sudden light, and Jaster’s fingers are very gentle as he slides your shirt up and over your head. His gaze is sharp as he takes in the red bruises covering a large portion of your body. He brushes his fingers over the swollen and split knuckles on both of your hands. And then he presses his hand flat over your cracked rib.

“Is it broken?” His voice is very, very even. And you know that he’s furious.

“Cracked.” You reply as you settle back on your pillow.

“So yes.”

“We both know that a crack and a break are totally different.” You point out with a sigh, as you trail a single finger over his arm.

“What happened, cyare?” Jaster asks, his gaze falling to your forearms, “These look like self-defense bruises.”

You sigh, “You’re not wrong.”

His eyes go cold, “Someone attacked you.” It’s not a question.

“You know as well as I do that there are some factions within the Haat who don’t approve of me…or Jango.”

Somehow, his eyes go colder, “I didn’t see any marks on Jango.”

You scoff, “I know I can’t hold my own against you, Jas, but if they even considered touching Jango, we’d be having a very different conversation. Very likely from the safety of my ship, in orbit.”

It’s the truth. If you thought, for a moment, that Jango was in danger on Mandalore, you’d take him and leave. And you both know it.

“Who hurt you?”

“They’re in the hospital.” You reply.

“Cyare-”

“Jaster.” He stops and regards you thoughtfully, “They’re in the hospital. You can’t do anything about it now.”

He inhales deeply, “Has anyone done this before?”

“I can handle a few pointed barbs, Jaster.”

His jaw clenches, “Why do they hate you so much?” He hisses, fury writ in every line of his body.

“Because I’m an outsider, and was barely good enough when you were just a son of Clan Mereel.” You reach up and lightly caress his cheek, “They thought I was your whore, and then we adopted a child together, and proved that I’m more than that.”

“They call you that? To your face?”

“Not when you’re around.” You sigh and tug him down so you’re able to kiss him, “Breathe, love.”

“They hate you that much?” Jaster asks.

“‘Fraid so.” Your smile is wry, “They want you to marry some proper Mando, raise an army of little mando children, and I’m not an acceptable choice.”

“That’s…that’s the dumbest kriffing-” He takes a deep breath, and then he cups your face, “You’re my choice. Always have been, from the first time I saw you-”

“I threw a rock at you and called you dumb.”

“You did, and fell in love at that very moment.” Jaster replies with a fond smile, “You are mine,” He murmurs, “And I am yours.”

You smile up at him, “I’m not about to let some small minded people scare me away from you, love.”

“Good,” Jaster kisses you solidly, and then pulls back, “Say the Riduurok with me.”

“What?”

“Right here. Right now. I have everything we might need for it.” His gaze is intense, “Become my wife, I’ll spend the rest of eternity making sure you’re happy, and no one will ever hurt you again.”

You stare at him, and then you smile, “Alright.”

He grins at you, and carefully climbs off of you.

“Should I put on some clothes?” You joke as you carefully sit up.

“Don’t worry about it.”

************

The following morning, while you’re fast asleep in your bed, coated in a thin layer of bacta to help you heal, with Jango cuddling against you watching cartoons, Jaster calls a meeting with the heads of the various clans.

He’s calm, very calm, dangerously calm. And apparently the men and women in the room can feel it, as they settle in their seats utterly silent.

“It has come to my attention,” Jaster starts slowly, not raising his voice, not having to raise his voice to be heard, “That there is a number among you who feels that my cyare is not good enough for Mandalore.”

Some of the people sitting around the table shift uncomfortably, and Jaster pins each of them with a dark, threatening, stare.

“It has also come to my attention that the verbal abuse turned physical yesterday.” At that there’s a hint of barely controlled rage in his voice, and more than one person flinched back. “Needless to say, not happy is understating how I’m feeling at the moment.”

He pauses, and no one says anything, so Jaster nods once, “So here are the cold, hard, facts. My cyare is now my Riduur. Any attack on her will be seen as an attack on me and my clan, and I will react accordingly.” He pulls his helmet back on, “Make sure that this information is passed out accordingly.”

There are general murmurs of assent, though one brave woman stands, “Mand’alor, I have to say that I think that the woman you chose as your riduur is not good for the future of Mandalore-” She starts only to trail off when Jaster unholsters his blaster and starts examining it thoughtfully.

“Your objection has been noted, and ignored.” Jaster says mildly, “Does anyone else have any complaints?”

The room is totally silent, and Jaster nods. And then he turns and leaves the room. He has a riduur to spend time with, and an ad he hasn’t seen in weeks. And at the moment, his aliit is the only thing that matters.

#star wars #star wars legends #jaster mereel x reader #jaster x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #answered asks

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otaku553 · 1 year

Note

Hello! I saw your recent art of sabo, and in the tags you mentioned the big 3 of Shounen. I know it’s One piece and Naruto, but what’s the third? How come you like the character? Lovely artwork, it’s candy for the soul!! Thank you •u•

Ah thank you!!! The big three of shonen (for I guess the previous generation?) are Naruto, One Piece, and Bleach. Naruto and Bleach have already ended but it seems like One Piece is still going quite strong, despite the new generation of shonen anime (including Hero Aca, Demon Slayer, and the third spot is still debated! Probably JJK is my guess though that falls into its own sub genre of shonen dark fantasy I suppose)

Here are my favs! I’ll put the reasons why I like them in the read more because it’s quite long :)

Despite watching Naruto first I could never actually finish it because it was so long so I kind of just osmosed the later parts of shippuden through fanfics and other such media ^^; I think it’s pretty difficult to pick a definitive fav for Naruto because I feel like it tends to fumble a bit of its character writing? I think if I had to pick one maybe young Kakashi but still kind of eh. Maybe I just didn’t watch far enough to get attached

As for Bleach, I picked it up years ago around middle school and then dropped it after the first hundred episodes or so because filler got boring for younger me but then I picked it up again in high school and managed to at least get past aizen! And then I dropped it there because I wasn’t interested in any continuation after what seemed like an already pretty strong ending.

Toshiro is my favorite because he falls into all niches of character tropes that I enjoy including but not limited to: child genius who acts responsible but is still somewhat immature, cold personality along with ice powers but fierce loyalty to close relationships. I especially enjoy child genius characters for the contradictory dichotomy of what is expected of them in terms of maturity and knowledge and the amount of pressure these kinds of characters face and how they handle it! That said, I enjoy him more for the tropes that he falls into and my personal interpretation of him rather than canon writing for him. I think that though canon is an alright base, he doesn’t get much time to shine (character-wise instead of combat-wise).

And Sabo. Oh my goodness I am brainrotting so hard over Sabo right now. The ASL siblings in general have a vice grip on my heart and really are not letting go. There is so much tragedy in the way that they are written, that works because there are three of them. Ace and Luffy spend so much effort trying to save the only brother they have left in the world not realizing that if they go they’ll be the first to go actually because Sabo is still alive, and Sabo could have done so much and changed so much if only he had regained his memories sooner. Why didn’t he remember sooner? I can only assume it’s because he didn’t want to remember, because he grew out his hair to cover a scar he wasn’t proud of, because he was running away from his origins when he lost his memories and maybe that stuck with him. I don’t even remember when Sabo was introduced as a character because I don’t think he was mentioned during Marineford? But he’s such a compelling character because he does so much to save the world and yet is unable to save his own brother! And he’s written to fit with Ace and Luffy incredibly well, being the voice of reason where they can’t be.

#ask #one piece #sabo #toshiro hitsugaya #bleach #sabo’s round bug eyes are so silly to me #I’m not going to ever be able to draw him like that but. it’s really funny to me when people give him the narrow ikemen eyes #he’s such a dork…. a doting older brother……… amnesiac…… what a little meowmeow truly #I think I enjoy Toshiro because gifted kid burnout makes me relate a lot to the pressure and I wish I could handle maturity as well as him #Sabo on the other hand is just. hghgehhfhfh no concrete personal reason he’s just cool #i think anyone who goes into battle wearing a top hat and tailcoat and cravat is awesome #but then he goes and brings out the PIPE and it’s such an endearing little callback to how he grew up among trash heaps and asfnaenfaenf #I didn’t think he was that interesting at first because it felt a bit cliche for him to be a runaway noble #but then they hit him with the amnesia and hit him with the need to help others escape from evils that he can’t even really remember #and then they hit him with fucking……. returning his memories too little too late and his breakdown at being overwhelmed with not only the #memories of his brothers but also the knowledge that one of his brothers has died while he forgot them and was off doing something else and.#ashnasfnaenfeafhhaefh

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chaoticbardlady99 · 10 months

Text

Lethal Woman- Chapter 6 (GN! AFAB! Reader x Astarion) 18+ MDNI

Author note- work has kicked my ass left right and center. I also deleted my draft of this chapter like three separate times until I finally wrote something I loved.

CW- mentions of still birth, mentions of miscarriage, smut, fluff (I think? Any emotional intimacy is fluff to me 💀), mentions of torture, mentions of rape/sexual assault, mentions of physical and emotional abuse, violence. (I think that may be all? Also this all looks not awesome, but I promise it’s a lot more awesome than you think and not Uber grotesque.)

It’s been mostly edited and I definitely have chapter 7 basically done so I’m anticipating being happy with my draft by Sunday. Happy reading! Thank you for everyone who likes my little self indulgent angst fic!!!!

Also- please remember I take creative liberties. A good chunk of the Nightmasks are dead canonically (RIP my guys) but for the purpose of this story, they are alive. Oh and the names are hard so forgive me for the lack of consistent spelling lmao

Chapter 7

“Ugly, wretched little thing.”

Dahlia’s term of endearment sticks to your brain like- well- an illithid parasite. You are sitting with Karlach and Shadowheart, each of you on your fourth glass of whatever alcohol you could find as the Tieflings jovially celebrate around you. You want to feel the same warmth and happiness everyone else does, but you are too busy trying to ignore the fact that Alfira and Astarion have been talking since the beginning of the party- Alfira immediately walking up to him with her stupid, beautiful face. And her stupid kind heart and pretty voice.

You liked her enough to be her friend, but now? You are struggling not to haul her off by her horns and kick her into the river in the stinking Owlbear den.

Get yourself together Rowan, it was never going to happen anyway.

“Soldier, you might want to stop burning a hole through the Bard with your eyes- Astarion can’t tolerate fire remember?,” Karlach jests and you give her a sour look.

You hadn’t really talked to Astarion since earlier in the day when he had come to your aid when Priestess Gut had a firm grip on your mind, then he fought by your side while you freed Halsin. You had split up after that, him going to help Shadowheart and Karlach and you off to support Wyll and Gale’s group. The fight against Dror Ragozlin and his crew of misfits was easy and Lae’zel evidently enjoyed getting to fight next to you for once. You wanted to enjoy the moment with your companions, your victory just in your grasp, but you had been somewhat distracted during the battle because Minthara’s thoughts had been so Gods damn loud.

You appeared to be the only one experiencing this problem- you assumed that she is specifically targeting you for a reason, but you couldn’t figure out why until she showed you a different image than the fight in front of her.

It was you, standing over a drow female in Menzoberranzan. The alley way is dark with her blood dripping into the cobblestone. You could feel Minthara’s rage- you had killed her lover.

You remember that contract now- It was one of the few you had received where it was required that the target be mutilated and you hated every second of it. Minthara was one of the few people who had ever managed to almost catch you, but you had evaded her successfully. The picture changed, she showed you a flash from Shadowheart’s perspective- it’s you and Astarion, talking in hushed voices and close to each other by the fire. The scene is far more intimate than you realized and certainly incriminating. Her voice boomed in your head.

You killed my lover. Now I’m going to kill yours.

A scream pierced the air as Karlach cried out for Shadowheart. You watched in horror as Shadowheart hit the stone wall hard and dropped flat on her face- unmoving. Karlach was at her side within seconds, trying to get her to wake up. Then Karlach pitched forward after a spell hit her. Karlach was screaming in terror at the top of her lungs and rolling around in pain. You stared at the scene for what felt like hours- rigid and mortified- until Minthara caught your attention again.

Minthara showed Astarion- fighting for his life against her as her blade nicked him and cut him superficially. Thankfully he is a lot faster than her, but your feet were moving before your brain had time to process your actions. Your rage is all consuming- every part of your body feels like it’s on fire.

Between the use of Ghost Step and Spider Crawl, you made quick work of sneaking into the battlefield. You waited for an opening- Minthara and Astarion were neck and neck, blow for blow before Minthara managed to break one of his daggers and slam the hilt of her longsword atop of his head.

Astarion stumbled backwards and fell over on his side. You tried to suppress your own nausea as you watched him struggle to get up as Minthara began menacingly moving towards him. The bloodlust in her thoughts- you could taste it on your tongue. Vengeance is in her reach, but you are not the same you when Tessa died. You will be damned if this bitch of a woman was going to torture two of your closest friends and kill the one person who has made your barely beating, locked away heart a little less heavy to carry.

You cast Evard’s Black Tentacles and manipulated them so that one vine grabbed Minthara’s right hand and ripped it away from the left- her long sword fell to the ground. You picked it up as she screamed profanities at you.

You manipulated another to wrap around her throat and it pulled her down on her knees- she faced the bridge with horror on her face as you stalked towards her with your vampiric stare. You watched as she confronted her own mortality with angry tears- her tadpole hurled profanities at you in Elvish, Drow elvish, and Common. You just smiled at her, sweetly, slowly, like you had perfected for years now.

Minthara’s tears were running down her face and she fought against the tentacles as they squeezed tighter around her throat and wrists.

The next words you had spoken in Elvish- “Say hi to your lover for me”- before you cut her head clean off her shoulders with her own weapon.

You hadn’t looked at Astarion after you had killed Minthara- you were actually too afraid to see the way he may look at you. Would he be repulsed by you? Afraid? You didn’t want to know.

So now, instead, you are stuck watching him flirt with the feminine, beautiful tiefling that you want to go and feed to the resurrected harpies (they aren’t resurrected- yet). You know it isn’t her fault- you just never stood a chance.

“Roo, really, he is barely focusing on her,” Shadowheart says with a roll of her eyes, “he keeps looking over here at you anyway.”

“Oh I’m sure he is after I brutally murdered someone in front of him,” you cross your arms, your tone laced in venom, “yeah that’s a real attractive quality to have- I am capable of brutal MURDER.”

Shadowheart goes to protest, but Karlach beats her to it.

“I don’t know Soldier, he looked pretty dazzled to me.”

You bust up laughing, choking on some of your wine.

“Dazzled, you say?”

“Razzle DAZZLED!” Karlach offers big explosive hands with her statement, “and I mean- he’s into blood so it’s not like you beheading something is all that damning. Maybe he’s really into it.”.

You choke on your wine again, this time it comes out of your nose. You are both dying laughing now, evidently the alcohol had gotten to your heads. It wasn’t because you were making fun of him- it was just the whole idea itself was so ridiculous and the fact that you can nonchalantly talk about beheading a person as an endearing prospect with these two individuals is so bizarre. Shadowheart was laughing despite herself.

Eventually the three of you make your way to the firepit and join Halsin and Gale while they smoke something out of Halsin’s pipe. You ask to try it and it burns your throat as you cough harshly. Halsin laughs hardily and says you’ve passed initiation. Shit, you don’t even remember walking over to the campfire anymore.

Another hour or so passes, Astarion is out of sight and the high has worn off. You feel pleased to see Alfira standing and talking to her friend dejectedly. Maybe he rejected her? You might be a terrible person, but you feel like you already knew that.

You feel overwhelmed all of a sudden by the proximity and warmth of everyone around the fire. You wait for the right moment to remove yourself from the situation- desperately needing a moment of peace and quiet.

If anyone notices you get up, they don’t say anything. You quickly steal another bottle of wine from beside Gale and Halsin and sneak off into the woods.

You crack open the bottle and slowly sip on it as you meander through the woods, finding the secret path to the beach that you have come to adore so much. You had been eyeballing one specific cliff edge ever since you and Astarion had found this place. It wasn’t a massive cliff, but the pool at the bottom of it is deep enough for you to jump into the water without injury. It was something your father used to do with you when you were a child. There was a river that ran outside of your little town and as you moved further into the woods, you could find a waterfall with a deep pool at the bottom. He would teach you flips and different jumps. He had deemed you the world’s finest diver right before he died- cheering you on from the ground below.

You feel warm and melancholy from the memory. Gods you miss your parents.

You drop the bottle of wine and strip down to your underwear and make your way towards the top of the waterfall.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Astarion had finally managed to get Alfira to leave him alone. She is an adorable little creature, but she is not the one on his radar right now. Adorable does not compare to the vision you are- nor the protection you provide.

Astarion had spent the last painstaking hour and a half watching you laugh with quite literally every person in camp who has a crush on you- Shadowheart, Lae’zel, Gale, and even Halsin is fucking smitten now. Gods could you just stop being yourself for five minutes? Astarion needs (and silently wants) your attention to only be on him. It is absolutely crucial to his survival. Speaking of which, where the hells were you?

You were no longer by the fire where he had last seen you before he snuck into Gale’s tent to steal one of the nicer bottles of wine he hoards away from everyone. Astarion had planned on using your shared connection to ask you to meet him at your spot, but now you are nowhere to be found.

Astarion fights the urge to scream out of frustration as he treks through the woods towards the spot on the beach hoping by some miracle that you may already be there.

Astarion stops as your scent hits his nose. He walks around the corner of the rock that you both use as a landmark and freezes when he notices your clothes are sprawled across the ground and a bottle of wine is a third of the way empty. He tries to ignore the ache that is starting to consume his chest. Did you bring someone else here? Shadowheart maybe? You were sitting rather close to her earlier…

Did his three days of stubbornness really just allow you to fall into someone else’s arms?

Astarion’s sinking feeling gets worse when something flashes out of the corner of his eye.

He sneaks around the corner- reminding himself that he is merely just making sure Shadowheart isn’t being… Shadowheart?

Imagine his shock when Astarion doesn’t see Shadowheart at all. Instead, he witnesses you complete a perfect aerial twist before graciously diving into the waves below. He feels completely frozen until you break the water and laugh wildly. Astarion thinks his own heart might start beating from his chest being filled with the sound.

You jump out of the water and race back up to the top of the rock using Spider Crawl- something you had promised to teach him when you found out Cazador had never actually made him privy to the entirety of his capabilities as a spawn.

Astarion grins as he watches you once again go flying into the air, doing a backflip before straightening out, disappearing once again into the water below.

You break the surface and get back onto the shore. You pretend to bow and wave saying “thank you” and “I’ll be here all week.” It’s silly and he’s enjoying every minute of watching you just be yourself.

Astarion knows you aren’t a serious person, not really, but you pretending to bow for an imaginary crowd of adoring fans in a (not) private moment? It feels authentic to your silliness- not just when you and Karlach are joking together.

You are funny, kind, and entirely too cunning- despite what he said three days ago. Your prowess in combat is second to none and you speak a couple different languages- infernal being one of them when he noticed you and Karlach speaking it back and forth like it was also your native tongue.

Elvish is the other one and he only knew that from overhearing what you said to Minthara while he was too busy experiencing shell shock from how quickly you had gotten over to him. Oh and the hit to the head didn’t help either.

Astarion’s thoughts are interrupted when you make eye contact with him and freeze.

You look down at your semi-exposed figure and then up at him.

Astarion flashes you a flirtatious grin and sweeps his eyes up and down your body as you look at him. You are a work of art and the blush that creeps up your neck is an added bonus.

The scars on your body are numerous and varying in degrees of severity. It doesn’t make you any less attractive to him or revolts him by any means; It makes you more real if anything.

“Well hello there, beautiful,” Astarion says melodically as you walk over, “I was hoping I might run into you here.”

“Oh is that so?” you say and put your hands on your hips, teasing him “and to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Astarion smiles widely at you. He holds up the bottle of wine.

“I was hoping I may be able to drink with my most favorite companion at camp,” he looks at you with a sly grin, “but I didn’t think I’d be getting a show. You are delightfully talented in multiple faucets, Darling.”

You smile shyly at him while adorably scrunching your nose.

As you bend down to grab your shirt, you look at your bottle and scratch the back of your head awkwardly.

“I might need to apologize considering I already started without you.”

Not telling me to piss off so that’s an optimistic start.

“Hm,” Astarion hums, cracking open his bottle and taking a drink, “I’ll allow it this once. I suppose I do owe you for my… words the other day.”

“I’ll forgive you,” you say with a mischievous grin, “but for a price.”

“Oh?” Astarion purrs, “and what is your price, my dear.”

“I demand at least half of your spoils in loot.” you say with flourish and over exaggeration- you aren’t even remotely serious.

“No, no, no, “he emphasizes, his finger waving around in the air, “Never. Going. To. Happen.”

“Ugh fine, I guess I’ll just have to accept that you saved my life earlier.”

“I still think you are ahead on that front, but who’s counting really?”

“Definitely not me,” you say and cough a number under your breath.

Astarion playfully glares at you and you giggle in response.

You close the gap between the two of you and gently grab his hand, pulling him to sit down next to you at the edge of the water. Astarion pushes down the giddy feeling that arises- hoping you didn’t notice he flinched when you first went to grab his hand.

You look at Astarion and then your clasped hands- you definitely noticed.

You begin to pull away and he feels his body protest, grabbing your hand back and interlocking them again. Astarion drinks out of his wine, refusing to look at you- this is entirely too intimate. Entirely too much like the lovers he used to hate and envy in Baldur’s Gate, but he can’t bring himself to let go or stop the slight smile that creeps on his lips.

You drink out of your bottle of wine and put your feet in the water. Astarion glances at you and notes the growing grin. He feels a twinge of guilt when he thinks about his plan and how fragile your heart probably is. Astarion pushes it away. Astarion needs his plan to work and so far, it’s working.

The space between the two of you is silent- nothing but the ocean waves roaring in his ears. It’s not uncomfortable, but Astarion doesn’t necessarily know where to start. He wants to begin the process of seducing you, but he’s also unsure of how well that would play out- considering what he’s seen thus far in your memories.

“My dad taught me how to cliff dive,” you say in a melancholic voice, interrupting his thoughts “we would go all the time over the Summer when we lived outside of Daggerford.”

“I was wondering how you had managed to pull off such an impressive feat.”

You guffaw at him and then pout with a glint of humor in your eye. He rolls his eyes at you.

“Fine Darling,” he muses, “I suppose you are rather impressive in all facets.”

Your face is practically burning with his compliment. Astarion has decided he will leave out the bait and let you take it. If you give him any signal or specifically say “I want to have sex” then Astarion will pleasure you and you will see how useful he can be in return for all of your gifts- your blood, your protection.

Your company.

Whatever feelings Astarion felt over the last three days- he never wants to feel again. You have been the one and only person to be kind to him, protect him in 200 years. You treat him with respect and like a friend- not the monster he absolutely is and that you should hate him for being. It had been a very lonely three days without your company-besides, no one else is nearly as fun to converse with. Astarion hears the whisper of a previous conversation in the back of his mind.

“So what does boar taste like?”

“I don’t really have much of a reference, but better than rats and flies,” he scowled.

“Gods, how filthy was that palace?” you murmured under your breath.

Your comment had caught him off guard and he couldn’t help but bark out laughing. You had felt horrible for it- you thought he wouldn’t be able to hear you. In your defense, you had spoken very quietly. Astarion assured you that he found your observation quite peculiar and hilarious.

Astarion likes that you point out the small things and allow him to decide how much of the larger things he wants to tell you. You never push him and Astarion isn’t used to it, but he knows he never wants it to go away- to be treated any other way ever again.

“What else did your father teach you?” Astarion asks softly.

You smile, “My father followed Ilmater. He was a ranger. He dedicated his life to helping others.”

A daughter of Ilmater worshippers turned into a half-dead creature who is forced to kill by an evil vampire, Astarion thinks, I guess even the Gods have a sense of humor.

“What happened to him?”

The pause is pregnant and loud. Astarion notices the single tear that manages to escape your eyes. You clear your throat.

“He’s dead,” you whisper, “a group of Ravagers destroyed our village. They didn’t like that it was a mix of humans and Drows escaping from Lolth- and they especially hated us ‘filthy half breeds’. Made the women and the children watch as they beheaded their fathers and husbands.”

Astarion doesn’t know what to say to something that horrific. He just merely looks at you- waiting for you to continue speaking.

“He just kept telling my mom and I how much he loved us. How he’d always be protecting us,” you manage to choke out, “I can’t even tell you how many times I have prayed to Ilmater for help- only to be reminded how alone I am and that, despite being the God of Compassion, Ilmater doesn’t care.”

Astarion knows that feeling all too intimately, but he wants to hear more.

“How old were you? What happened to you and your mother?”

You are looking at him wearily now, so he gives your hand a squeeze.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to Darling.”

“I want to, I’ve just never talked about it before.”

“Well then,” he states in a flattered tone, “I’m honored to potentially be the first and only keeper of your deep, dark secrets.”

You laugh breathily while you roll your eyes at him. The smile on your face is replaced by an unreadable expression. You take a deep breath before you turn your gaze back to the ocean.

“I was 5. They sold us to a mine outside of Westgate. It was run by a group of fanatics that I can’t even remember the name of anymore,” you shake your head in disgust, “all I knew was that they were terrible people. They threatened us children to get our mothers to do anything they wanted. One of them raped my mother and ‘blessed’ her with a child.”

Astarion squeezes your hand as he feels you tense. You look at him with your teary, angry eyes and the intensity of your emotions- your grief- are written into every crack and crevice of your face. Astarion notes that you look uncomfortable, but he gives you a soft smile, encouraging you to continue. You take a big swig of your wine- he shortly follows.

“I don’t know what happened, but the baby… didn’t make it and mom developed a blood illness. It was the week before she had planned on breaking us out. I didn’t know she was dying- she told me she was going to be okay. I should have known- She gave me everything for the escape and had explained the plan to me so many times in that week she was dying that I can still recite it to this day.”

You chuckle to yourself before pulling your knees up to your chest.

“I asked them if I could have a funeral for her. They took me outside and made me watch while the pigs ate her. They told me that’s the only funeral a Drow deserves.”

“What a bunch of racist assholes,” he states.

“Oh, they were only the biggest.”

“You escaped a prison by yourself then or?”

“I did. I was 9 years old and probably one of the only people who has ever escaped that mine. I haven’t seen anyone from my village since. I went back to Daggerford one time and it was still decimated- no one ever came back to rebuild it.”

You both sit in the heavy silence. Your thumb begins to absentmindedly rub circles along his thumb- the gesture is simple, but it’s probably the softest touch he’s felt in the last 200 years that was not filled with the anticipation of sex.

“I’ve only ever had one failed escape,” you sigh harshly, “I was going to run away with Tessa because I didn’t want to go through the ceremony to be a Deathbringer, but Dahlia didn’t care what I wanted. She was too busy trying to win Obarhk’s favor.”

“How did you end up with Dahlia then? If you didn’t want to be a Deathbringer?”

You scoff and he sees the resentment behind your eyes.

“I was 13 and had been living on the streets for a while by then. I had my little tent and I had managed to convince one of the local inns to let me clean the rooms,” you scrunched up your nose, “it was gross, but decent work and they fed me once a day; let me use the baths. Sometimes they even gave me extra food and if it was cold out, they’d let me stay in a room if there was one available. I didn’t have to steal food anymore which was nice. I was actually very happy. I was saving my money so I could travel to the Underdark and hire a sword to go with me- to my grandparents- like my mom had told me to do.

“Then one day, a few of the other local boys, also urchins, had watched as I was given a decent amount of gold and a burlap sack of food. They followed me to my tent. I had offered to share and to give them some gold to help, but they didn’t want just some of it- they wanted all of it and all of me too. I thought I was going to die- the fight was brutal and they were so much bigger than I was, but I wasn’t as easy to take down as they had thought.

“Right as they had slammed my head into the pavement, right when I thought it was over- an Ilmater Priestess had appeared out of no where. She had killed them all. She came up to me, was kind to me, promised she would protect me, give me a home, teach me how to be stronger than anything else in the dark while she helps me travel to the Underdark. I was thrilled. I thought Ilmater had finally heard all my prayers. Then she took me outside of the city- I thought we were maybe going to a temple. I was so naive and stupid.”

Your voice breaks and you struggle to compose yourself- taking a shaking breath.

“She changed- the kind Ilmater priestess I had just been following to safety ended up being the Queen of Venom and a Sharran priestess nonetheless,” you spit out with disgust, “Dahlia stripped me of my clothes- she beat me, cut into my skin, threw me around. Dahlia kept telling me how ugly, wretched, small, and weak I was for hours- how she would be the only person to ever love me from now on. Then she chained me down to the floor, unmoving for I don’t even know how long in the dark. I just know when she finally came back, I was on the brink of death. She starved me and refused to give me water until I stopped asking her to leave. I stopped, but then I learnt how much worse it could be. I also began to accept that I would probably never be free again.”

“Are you free now?”

“Barely. A bit over a year ago I was assigned to the Faceless himself.”

“What changed?”

“I won the Deathbringer Tournament and Lady Thistle Thalaver, the fucking consort of all people, said that she wanted me to be assigned as her personal Deathbringer. Thistle made the point that we are close in age and it would make her happy to have someone she can talk to and protect her. News flash- I was more horrified by that than Dahlia. How the fuck does someone who is a literal husk of a person become the prize comfort pet of the Consort that is the reason you were even kidnapped to begin with,” you say, throwing your hands up in frustration, “Dahlia hated her. She was envious of her already and boy, when Thistle asked for me? I thought Dahlia might kill me and Thistle right there if Obarhk hadn’t stepped in.”

“She sounds like a sore loser.”

“ Oh she is, this grudge has lasted a little over a century or three supposedly. I can’t ever seem to get the exact date right, but Dahlia had allowed Obarhk to change her and became one of his Nightmasters because she had hoped to be his Queen and consort,” you shake your head, “it was childish- supposedly. Obarhk was going to go through with it initially, but then Thistle’s father had extensive debts to the guild and offered his only daughter as payment.”

“What a shitty father.”

“Oh the shittiest,” you agree pointedly.

“If she wanted you to help her gain his favor, why did she hide you away?”

“There are rules within the Guild for how recruits are to be treated. Obarhk plays with his cards very close to his chest and he has an absurd amount of political pull. He doesn’t want word getting out that the Nightmasks beat their assassin’s and thieves, but not their Deathbringers- it’s bad for recruitment. Guess they used to do that and damn near went extinct, not everyone is into becoming half-vampire” you shrug, “Dahlia had ‘presented’ me to gain Obarhk’s favor- not his consort’s. She lied and said I sought her out days ago, begging to get a chance to become a Deathbringer. When I was asked if it was true, I said yes, the alternative was whatever hell awaited me later. At least if I didn’t survive the ceremony, I would be laid to rest.

“Except Thistle won. Obarhk may not be particularly loving towards Thistle, but he won’t deny her what she wants if it’s reasonable. I was still under Dahlia, but now if I disappeared for days on end or came back beaten, it was noticed. A year ago, Lucia and Ghost found me bleeding out in a street with Dahlia over me- it was the first time she had done serious harm to me since the ceremony and the first time she was caught,” he watches you smile despite yourself, “Thistle wanted her to be tortured for what she had done- for creating the infamous ‘Hollow Deathbringer’ as I was called when I first started, but Obarhk doesn’t interfere with religious affairs and Dahlia claimed it was for her Sharran worship. So the solution was that I would report directly to him, Phultan, Lucia, and Lady Thalaver only. If Dahlia attempts to hurt me again, I am allowed to end her life and if I attempt to attack Dahlia, she is allowed to end my life. She isn’t allowed to send her assassin’s after me either or there will be consequences. That’s the same day I found out Dahlia had been lying to me- she is Obarhk’s spawn, not a Master Vampire. She never would have been able to get away with half of her threats if I had known, but I’m sure that’s partly why she isolated me from the Guild until I was old enough and skilled enough to compete.

“We’ve been in a very strange stalemate over the last year. Unable to find each other, but I don’t even know if I could kill her anyway. At least, not by myself.”

It was a lot to take in at one time. Your entire world is so heavily influenced by vampiric beings- no wonder you were so nonchalant about him being a spawn and him feeding from you.

Astarion will admit though, he isn’t necessarily thrilled to find out another sociopathic vampire might be hunting them- specifically you.

“Darling, if Dahlia ever darkens your door step ever again,” he leans toward you and speaks his next words with conviction, “I’ll rip her throat out myself.”

You smile at him and squeeze his hand.

“ Thank you Star, but you don’t need to do that. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t listen to hypocrites- Miss ‘I’m going to put Cazador’s head on a pike and we can parade it around the city’”

You gasp, “how dare you! I felt like that would be a fun leisure activity.”

“Oh believe me, it will be very fun,” he says with a malicious grin,” but someone needs to keep you humble, my dear.”

“Oh okay,” you roll your eyes, “because I’m the one who needs humbling here. Thank you for your service kind sir, I will never be able to repay you.”

He can tell that you are done with the previous conversation- he’ll have to thank you for sharing later and ask follow up questions. Astarion has a plan to execute.

“Well of course,” he lifts your clasped hands and kisses the back of yours, “ I live to be a hero for the common folk.”

“You’re lucky you’re a beautiful bastard.”

“Why thank you, my Dear. I am rather beautiful, aren’t I?”

You turn, facing him now and you move closer- giving him a light shove. One of your eyebrows is lifted in amusement- a lopsided grin on your face. This is most definitely the moment he has been waiting for.

He leans in, your faces near inches apart and he savors how your heart begins to race.

“I must admit, I was lying to you before,” he muses, “I maybe would like to do a little more than just drink wine with you tonight.”

“Y-you do?”

Astarion smiles at the way your breath hitches.

“Well of course, I believe you may be one of the most bewitching individuals I have ever had the pleasure of meeting,” he says while gently brushing your hair behind your ears, “but only if that would be okay with you.”

You look at him- there is lust in your eyes and you worry your bottom lip with your teeth. One of your canines graze your lip and a bit of your blood begins to paint your lips- Astarion fights the urge to smash his lips to yours. You search his face for deception.

“I want to. Very badly,” you pause, “but I need to be open with you. I’ve only ever been with one man before and it wasn’t my choice. That was over 10 years ago. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to go completely through with it or give you some wildly fun time… it would probably be vanilla at best even if I can get through it…”

You trail off and look at the ground, gently pushing his hand away from your face. Astarion frowns.

“If you want someone who you can actually have fun with, it might be better to go find Alfira again,” you whisper woefully, “I would absolutely understand. No harm, no foul.”

Astarion’s heart breaks for you. He gently guides your eyes back to his. You look sad and dejected -like you are ready for him to get up and walk away. You are expecting him to confirm what Dahlia has always told you- that you are an ugly, wretched, little thing. Unloveable at best and absolutely unforgivably intolerable at your worst. Astarion has slept with plenty of virgins before- he knows how to say all the right honeyed words to get them to bed, but this is entirely different. This is you and your first, consensual time with a man if you choose. If you don’t, then he won’t press the matter, but leave his door wide open. Astarion is not Cazador or Dahlia- he is not going to force you.

“I don’t care about any of that Darling,” Astarion assures you quietly, “I want you, not Alfira. We only have to go as far as you are comfortable with- if you want to.”

Your eyes are wide and searching for any hint of insincerity.

“We could even try multiple times if needed,” he says jokingly, but he knows that you can tell he’s serious.

You beam at him and your posture straightens up- a new found confidence in your eyes.

“Okay,” you finally say, “I trust you. I want to try.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You would be lying if you weren’t feeling slightly anxious. The last person you had been with was Tessa and she’d been in the ground a little over 8 years now. The two of you had made a lot of groundwork in your last year together before she died. You had attempted to be with others before, but it never felt right so you could never go through with it.

This feels right. You just aren’t sure what your reaction will be, but you want him and Astarion wants you. You trust that he won’t hurt you.

Astarion pulls you up off of the sandy floor and gives you a smile, “I promise you, you do not want to try this in sand. I happen to know a very nice spot, but we are going to have to make a brief stop first.”

You smile enthusiastically and allow him to take your hand in his as he leads you back to camp.

The walk is a blur, you barely notice that Astarion had grabbed a blanket, taken you quite far from camp, and without warning, Astarion pulls you in for a breathtaking kiss.

You have to fight the urge to collapse completely into him, your arms snaking around his neck as you kiss him back. The kiss is slow, melodic and soft. Astarion’s strong arms hold you close to his chest as he picks you up before laying you down on the blanket.

You help him discard your clothes and your wet under garments. Astarion quickly discards his shirt and pants before he returns to kissing you sweetly, softly. You let your hands glide up his torso to his shoulders and let your hands fan out as you try to memorize every inch of his body. He groans with approval at the touch and when you go to touch his back- you find if you go a little too far over where there is raised skin, he tenses up.

You stop and look up at him- he doesn’t seem like he is all there.

“Star, are you okay? Are you sure you want this?”

Whatever trance he is in, he seems to snap out of and he kisses you sweetly before placing his forehead against yours.

“I assure you that I want this, that area is just… it has some sensitive spots.”

“Okay,” you whisper, “I’ll be mindful of that and try to avoid them. Is it mostly in the middle of your back?”

Astarion stares down at you and for a moment, you think he might start crying. Astarion’s face looks so raw and appreciative in that moment- as if you are the first and only person to ever take the time to listen. Maybe you are. Maybe this is just as much of a fear of his as it is for you.

“It is,” he says huskily,” I- thank you.”

You beam up at him and gently cup the left side of his face with your hand. He leans into the touch and you stroke his cheek bone with his thumb.

“Of course Astarion, I want you to feel safe too.”

Astarion kisses you with a neediness that wasn’t there before. The kisses are still soft and innocent, but a bit more urgent as his hands begin to slowly roam your body. Everywhere he touches leaves you feeling like you are on fire and you find that you never want it to stop. You are intoxicated and so wrapped up in his cologne, his lips- everything. Him.

Astarion’s lips leave yours and you breathlessly look at him. He smiles down at you and slowly moves his hands up to your breasts.

“May I?”

You shyly nod in approval. Astarion slowly begins to pinch and tease your sensitive buds with his fingers- you arch your back and cover your mouth as you whimper needily at the touch. It’s embarrassing how touch starved you are. Astarion pulls your hand away from your mouth and he stares at you through hooded eyes.

“None of that, my Dear,” he commands, “I want to hear every little sound you make.”

You blush and then are quickly squirming underneath him again as he gently takes one of your nipples between his mouth, sucking, licking, and teasing it while he rolls the other between his thumb and forefinger.

You are a complete mosning mess underneath him by the time Astarion’s fingers move from your breast to your throbbing clit- earning a loud, despairing whimper from you. You need so much more- you can feel your own slick coating the inside of your thighs, weeping in anticipation.

“My, you are a very needy lover,” he chastises you as he slides a finger in,” Gods you are so wet for me already. If I had known you wanted me this badly, I would have said something a long time ago.”

“Astarion-“ you gasp as he enters another digit inside you, causing you to arch your back keening as he teases your G-spot. His other finger continues to play with your now very swollen clit and with every moan you make, he praises you. The praise alone is enough to send you over the edge.

“You are being such a good girl for me,” as he enters another finger inside.

His mouth hovers over your clit, “I’m absolutely certain the Gods sent you to ruin me.”

“You taste like the heavens,” after his tongue has been flicking inside of you in tandem with his fingers.

You come undone underneath him- your hands have made purchase in his hair, and struggle to be as gentle as possible. He groans as you gently tug him up to your mouth, kissing him, tasting yourself on his swollen lips.

“Do you want to continue Darling?” Astarion whispers as he kisses up your neck, along your jaw, and slowly nips at your earlobe.

You need him inside you and you want him to be as close to you as possible. It’s like a Dam had broken open inside you and you never want it to stop flooding.

“Fuck- Astarion,” you pant, “please continue.”

Astarion kicks of his undergarments and dips his fingers between your folds and coats his cock with your orgasm. You are speechless as you watch him slowly stroke himself, looking at you.

Astarion puts himself in between your legs and you feel him tease your entrance.

“Before I start,” he says, “you need to tell me if it’s too much and if we need to stop. You will not offend me nor hurt my feelings. We can try again another time if you want.”

“The same goes to you.”

There was that look again. Astarion grabs your bottom lip between his teeth, the neediness has certainly grown since the last statement.

You feel him begin to guide himself inside you, slowly moving until he’s bottoming out- curse words and your name leaving his lips like a prayer. You feel the tears prick your eyes at the pinching and pressure as you adjust to his size. He slowly rocks himself in and out, barely making any movement, but enough to stimulate you more.

“Are you okay?” He says with alarm, wiping your tears.

“Yes- I promise,” you say between panting whimpers, you press your ankles into his lower back to keep him there. It’s beginning to feel better and you open up through the tadpole to show him you mean it. The thoughts were probably far hornier than you meant to show him and he smirks at you.

“Cheeky pup.”

Astarion begins to make his thrusts longer as your moans became louder and more euphoric sounding. You kiss him with fervor as he pumps in and out of you, keeping a slow pace.

“You can speed up now,” you whisper between kisses, “you feel really fucking good inside of me Star.”

Astarion moans against your mouth, the kiss becoming sloppy as he teases your bottom lip between his, pulling slightly. You feel his hips begin to snap slightly harder against yours and you cry out as he begins to hit that perfect spot faster and slightly harder.

“You are so beautiful,” he says while grazing the sensitive skin on your neck, “and you feel so fucking good around my cock.

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to stand any of our other companions looking at you sideways ever again.”

“Then give them a reason not to.”

That seemed to be enough for Astarion as he immediately goes to work leaving hickeys along your neck, your shoulders. You will have to ask him how he’s able to do it so gently.

Astarion’s thrusts inside you are getting sloppier and you have your hands dug in the earth as he slightly lifts you off the ground to get more leverage. You moan his name in between curse words and whimpers as another powerful orgasm rips through your body. You feel him stutter as you tighten around him and finish inside of you. Astarion’s pace moves to a slow rhythm before coming to a halt.

Vampire and half-vampire perks- the whole kid thing? Basically not even remotely possible.

Astarion lays gently on top of you, kissing your neck lazily.

“How was that, Darling?” Astarion asks as he looks into your eyes with concern and worry.

You gently grab his face with your hands and leave a chaste kiss on his lips.

“It was absolutely perfect,” you say, your brain foggy and swimming in the throes of bliss and your deep fondness of the man above you, “you are absolutely perfect.”

************************************

You had fallen asleep quite some time ago in Astarion’s arms. The concept of what happens after sex (normally) was quite foreign to him. Usually he was dragging people to their death after sex, but now he gets to sit and enjoy you- have you all to himself. After it had all been said and done, you had curled into one another, practically nose to nose and just talked. You caught up with each other about what the other missed over the last three days, picked the next ideal type of book to read, and how disasterous the Crèche is likely going to be considering Shadowheart is insisting on going. Lae’zel is positively miffed about it. You laugh and he asks about Minthara. You tell him about the vision she showed you, but he could tell you were holding something back. You don’t push him- he won’t push you.

You tell him about your mother- a former Lolth sorceress who didn’t align with the Spider Queen’s ideals. She was shunned by her parents when she denounced Lolth and she moved to the surface- meeting your dad. Your mother was practical and pragmatic- calculating and protective. Your father, on the other hand, was like a warm breeze on a perfect sunny day.

Astarion tells you about what little he remembers of his life as a Magistrate and his parents. You both ponder what they could possibly be doing in the world right then- pretending there is a possibility that you could find them together when this was all over- even just so he can know.

Astarion’s head is swimming with confusion. It was all very different than when Astarion had gone out hunting for Cazador.

You and him had spent at least a two and a half weeks getting to know each other extensively, spent quality time together over mutual hobbies, and you’ve even seemed to meld together as a fighting duo. You are friends- Astarion expected it to be maybe slightly different, more enjoyable than usual.

Astarion was quickly proven wrong.

This was eons different. Despite the feelings of it being tainted to some degree due to his past, it had been jaw dropping, sweet, simple, and, dare he even say it, intimate. Astarion finds that he actually craves more of you this way, but he also still wants you the way you had each other before. The shame and self-loathing are choking him. There is no way you’ll see him as something other than sex now.

Right?

Astarion honestly isn’t sure and that terrifies him. You were so kind to him tonight while you were in his arms. You respected his boundaries; you avoided that part of his body even though he didn’t tell you not to; you wanted him to feel safe with you too. You took the time to talk to him and play with his hair while he spoke about his parents, becoming a bit emotional.

Vanilla is hardly the word to describe what just happened between the two of you- it was wonderful and frightening. Astarion questions if it’s selfish to want more, to abandon his plan all together.

Astarion stares down at your sleeping face as your limbs are tangled with his. He wants to stay, but he wants to run away from you too. Except Astarion needs your protection- that’s what this was all for, wasn’t it?

That’s what compels him to leave soft kisses on your forehead and to hold you a little tighter- it’s why tears fall from Astarion’s cheeks onto the blanket beneath you when he thinks about the day you’ll end up letting him go.

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