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lostreverb · 2 months ago

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not like the movies

(virgin!luke cooper x fem!reader) in where your boyfriend invites you over to his house to watch a movie, but there seems to be a change of plans not long after you arrive content: pure smut (p in v), y/n is also an intern, fluff a bit? definitely not proofread a/n: kinda got obsessed with the way luke looks like he's never felt the touch of a woman (this is a very self serving write) THIS IS A WIP FROM A VERY LONG TIME AGO and i'm not good at smut sorry

in an act of courage, luke had invited you over to his place to watch a movie- which meant he hovered around your desk all day pestering you until you begrudgingly asked him what he wanted.

"come to my house" the words blurted out of his mouth, more blunt than he intended. "tonight, i mean- please"

your features softened as you listened to luke's proposal, finding it absolutely endearing how his nonchalant demeanor did an 180 when he was around you. his hands were stuffed in his pockets (probably to hide the fact they were shaking) and he was looking off into the distance as he spoke to avoid eye contact. he only periodically looked down to make sure you were still listening. which, of course you were.

that's what he loved about you.

you were the only person (other than his two friends) who could stand listening to his endless ramblings about whatever movie had his attention at the moment.

and that night was no different.

luke had picked inception (how he already had the DVD you had no clue, since the movie only came out 3 months prior) and was explaining in great detail how the effects for the café scene were done.

he sat crossed legged on the couch, dark eyes vibrant as he excitedly spoke.

"so basically they took like a shitton of plate shots of all these things just flying in the air-"

you had absolutely no idea what a plate shot was but that didn't matter. you were just happy to see him so passionate. it really surprised you how talkative he could get since he was always so quiet at work. and as he rambled on your eyes got lost in his features, the way his curls lay on his head, the softness of his cheeks and his smile...

"y/n?"

"sorry- what were you saying?"

luke grabs a bit of popcorn before continuing. "i said nolan is like a fucking genius when it comes to special effects. practical is ALWAYS better. none of that CGI crap. speaking of, I went to go see transformers and-"

you cut luke off with a kiss, the popcorn in his hand immediately falling out of his grasp and onto the couch. you tongued him deeply, hands lightly tugging his hair. luke responds with a moan, somehow finding the confidence to guide you into his lap to straddle him. he'd watched enough movies to know where this was going.

but once you had reached down to the bulging crotch of his sweats, his breath hitched, and he slightly pulled away.

"oh.. sorry-" you murmured.

"uh- no it's okay it's just-"

"we can take things slow-"

"no it's- i haven't done this... before..."

oh. oh.

well that made sense. it made perfect sense actually. between the both of you, you had always initiated anything intimate. luke always completely fell apart whenever things got a little pg-13. you thought he was just shy.

he must've noticed your surprised expression, because even in the dark of the living room you could tell he was blushing. you brought your head down to put your lips against his again, caressing his cheek.

"I don't mind" you whispered.

and that's how you both ended up on the couch, half naked. luke didn't have any condoms, but luckily you had a hunch this would go down when he invited you over, so you had some in your bag.

as you lowered yourself onto him, luke let out an embarrassingly loud mewl, your wet cunt cocooning his cock.

this was nothing like the movies.

absolutely nothing like them.

no matter how it was done, no close-up montage of half naked celebrities getting it on could ever compare to the euphoric feeling of you on top of him.

and you hadn't even started moving yet.

wait, you hadn't started moving yet?

luke eyes shot open, lifting his head off the back of the couch. you tilted your head, looking down at him with an intrigued smirk.

"you okay?"

his gaze flickered over your figure once before he gulped and slowly nodded, unable to open his mouth in fear of letting out another embarrassing sound.

despite luke's assurance, you seriously considered simply getting off him and just giving him a blowjob. i mean the poor boy looked delirious, body trembling and all.

but before you could act on your thought, a shock of pleasure coursed through you. luke had begun to roll his hips, his face still wearing a strained expression as he familiarized himself with the feeling of sliding in and out of you.

in response, you matched his slow rhythm then gradually picked up speed, coaxing him to follow. immediately, his jaw fell again, his eyes shut tight.

"ah.. fuck- fuck- shi- oh my god" he heaved and groaned, gripping your hips harder to guide your movements.

with how things were going, he was about to skip to the third act and didn't want to disappoint you by pushing things along too quickly. but god you were making it hard for him to hold back.

reaching a hand to his curly mess of hair, you combed it back and kissed his forehead. "look at me.." you whispered into his ear, the hot air sending a shiver down his spine.

luke opened his eyes and stared up at you riding him. only the flashing light of the tv behind you provided any illumination, the sounds of grunting from the fight scene playing mirroring both of your own moans. the way it brought out your silhouette was almost angelic to him, like a perfect movie still.

he wished he could capture it.

but a frame is short, just like how long he could hold out.

with a couple of deep moans followed by a high-pitched whine, you felt the warmth of luke's release through the condom. your body twitched from the sensation and as you continued to grind your hips to bring him down from his high, you reached yours, your moan a perfect soundbite into his ear. something that's definitely going to echo in his mind forever. you lazily draped your arms around his shoulders trying to catch your breath, when you felt luke shift underneath you.

"oh wait fuck-" luke tapped your shoulder and pointed to the tv, turning up the volume with the remote. "this part is so good- watch watch-"

tags (ask to be added or removed anytime!): @fear-is-truth @juliamaximoff @jazz-berry @violetsghosts @quickreider @tiffysdeath @honeymoon8 @wcnderlnds @lacucarachapisser @xrag-dollx @oceanblvd111 @andiloveher @vi0l3tgard3ns @acrosstheunivcrse

#evan peters #evan peters fandom #luke cooper #the office #luke cooper fanfic #luke cooper x reader #the office fanfic

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livesworthlivingau · 6 months ago

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Lives Worth Living Chapter 13

ISAT Spoilers below!

(The soothing sound of Mirabelle's dramatic reading of one of her books fills your ears. You lie with your head on her lap, eye closed, smiling softly and enjoying the company and sounds. Mirabelle's voice slowly drifts off as she finishes a chapter. You perk up some, opening up your eye to check on her. You're met with a conflicted look plastered across her face.)

"Mira?..."

"Are… Are you sure you're okay Siffrin?…"

"I mean… As much as I can be I guess… You can only be so 'okay' about losing 30 years of your life, right?…"

"… Were… Were you happy? I-I mean I know I said I didn't want spoilers or anything a-and you don't have to tell me anything specific if you don't want because that might mess with the future or the time space whatever it's ca-"

"Mira!" (She jumps a bit as you snap her out of her little freak out spiral. You take her hand in yours, intertwining your fingers before wrapping your other around it as well.)

"I had… One of the best lives anyone could ask for, thanks to all of you… Yeah it's sad that it's kinda gone now but… It's also kinda nice?… To get to experience it all over again, y'know?"

"Siffrin… I can tell something else is bothering you, and I'm honestly more scared about what you're NOT telling us, I mean, how is that not already the big secret?!"

"… Mira, I-I…"

"You promised me Siffrin… It might have been over 30 years ago for you, but it's only been a couple weeks for me. You promised we'd be feelings buddies and we'd talk about this stuff!"

"I know!… I know I promised… But…" (You let out a heavy sigh, letting go of her hand before running yours through your hair, gripping it a bit.)

"It's… It's not just about me this time… It's Loop."

"Loop? What do you mean? D-Did something happen to them?"

"… I-I… Ugh…" (You let out an annoyed groan, sitting up and hugging yourself close.)

"It's… It's not my place to talk about it Mira… As much as I want to, as much as I desperately want to talk and get help about it… It's their secret too, and I can't… I can't make that choice for them."

"… Okay Siffrin… If it's out of respect for keeping their secret, I guess I'll drop it… But if this continues to be an issue I'm going to have to insist about it, okay?"

"… Thanks, Mira… I promise I'll talk about it as soon as I can." (You swear, laying your head onto her shoulder. She follows suit and lays hers against you.)

"Thank you Siffrin, and I'm glad you've told us what you have so far… I'm just worried about you…"

"I know Mira, but I promise, I'm… Well I'm just about as okay as I can be right now, all things considered." (You admit with a slightly nervous chuckle. She responds in kind.)

"I guess that's the best I could ask for at this point... Did you wanna listen to another chapter?"

"Sure! We still gotta get to the part abou-"

"SPOILERS!!!"

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

(You smile softly with your eye closed, sitting on the floor with Mira on the couch above you. Your hair fiddled between her fingers as she was braiding it in places.)

"I've always wanted to do this~!" (Mira practically squeaked out with excitement, so excited to actually get to style your hair for once.)

"Heh, yeah I guess we never used to do this, huh?"

"DO WE DO THIS A LOT IN THE FU-NO WAIT NO SPOILERS!!" (She interrupts her own excited shouting with frantic shouting, making you wince some but chuckle none the less.)

"... So how are you doing Mirabelle?... I know everyone's been worried about me and all but... You all had a lot going on too! I... I feel bad taking up all this emotional space..." (You feel her hands pause for a moment from working through your hair.)

"... I... I guess I haven't really thought about it a lot... that festival was really nice but... It just hasn't actually hit me that it's really over! I keep waiting for it to sink in, for this feeling of accomplishment, for the stress of it all to go away! But it still hasn't! I-I still feel the same as I did, just a little more relieved. I know the King's curse is gone, I know we saved everyone, I know we're 'the saviors'..."

"... But it doesn't feel like you earned it?"

"E-Exactly! I-I... Oh, you said something like that the other day, didn't you?"

"Y-Yeah but... I feel like I screwed everything up at the end there, you all were the ones who actually defeated the king!" (You feel her hands start moving again, going back to braiding your hair.)

"Okay, feelings buddies compromise time! If either of us start to feel like we didn't save the country or deserve the praise, the other has to assure them that they're wrong, deal?"

"... Okay, Deal~."

#lives worth living au #lwlau #isat au #isat fanfic #isat spoilers #isat #in stars and time fanfic #in stars and time spoilers #two hat spoilers #isat two hats

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softmangoes · 9 months ago

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13 moons | ivory wraith x pc

18+ only | for @velvetburnt

i. the first time that the wraith senses you is when you step into the lake, shivering at the cold nipping at your skin. even meters deep in the rubble and the ruin, he can feel the familiar shape of your soul separated from him by rock and water and far too much time. he places a palm against the weathered stone, longing.

ii. when the veil that separates your world from his thins, the night bathed in red, he roams the streets searching for you. in life, the both of you were inseparable. in this undeath, there is a faint line tethering your souls together woven by the hands of fate and weathered by time. just before the dawn sun rises, he finds you sleeping in your bed. his mouth curls into a gentle smile, relieved. he trails a pale finger along your face before he departs.

iii. each visit, he grows stronger, more corporeal. perhaps his longing for you has only emboldened the horrible gifts that have been bestowed upon him. perhaps he has endured far too long without you in his arms. or perhaps he is hungry and he must feed.

iv. when he successfully lures you into his lair, pulling on the tether connecting you to him like a fisher with their line, he cannot help but hold you in awe. "finally," he breathes, voice sonorous as it reverberates throughout the ruined temple. "we are together again."

v. there is fear in your eyes, but fear is a fleeting thing - a temporary inconvenience in the face of so much time. love is eternal, enduring. do you understand, droplet? he would never hurt you, but he is so very hungry. his tentacles kiss your skin, their bruising suckers coaxing moans from your sweet mouth. oh, how he's missed the taste of you. he slips inside you. oh, how he's missed your warmth.

vi. to his surprise, you come for him next. "i know you're here," you say, skin dripping from the dive. your voice echoes throughout the rubble and while he can see you, the veil is too thick for him to manifest. "i know that it wasn't a dream." there is hunger in your eyes, an ache as fathomless as his. ah. so you've been thinking about him, then. the blood moon is soon. he cannot answer you now, but he will then.

vii. you do not struggle. at least, not against him. when you enter his domain, your eyes clear for a moment. "i know you," you say, beholding him. for a moment, he feels self conscious. he has changed so much since your souls last embraced. do you find him monstrous in his undeath, he wonders, with his many limbs and endless tendrils? do you find him horrible, with his teeth and tongue aching for you? will you shy away?

viii. you do not. instead, you wrap your arms around his cold neck and tangle your fingers in his pale hair. his many hands caress you gently while his lips lock with yours. he can taste your desire, your ache, your fear, your confusion and he eats them whole. the waves chew and all will make sense in time.

ix. the tentacle inside you thickens, making the walls echo with your whine as your pleasure crests. in life, he had only ever dreamed of touching you like this. in this undeath, he can listen to the siren song of your need for him forever. the wraith lifts your body high in the air, tentacles wet and writhing around you, so that he can bring his mouth between your thighs. his tongue is long and cold and it does not take much effort to make you shiver.

x. "i will take care of you, droplet." his voice is sweet, echoing like a long-lost song within the confines of your mind. when you kiss him, you taste the coolness of the lake's water lapping at your skin. "we will never part." the specter holds your hips in his large hands and sinks inside you. you gasp at the pressure, the stretch, but his other hands rub tenderly at your nipples and his mouth is so gentle against yours. you let the tide take you.

xi. "i have dreamed of this," he says. so have you, ever since the first night he took you. at first, you were frightened, terrified of your limbs moving on their own accord, but somehow, it all made sense when they brought you to him. somehow, deep down, you knew that you were where you meant to be. you rock against him, his mouth swallowing your moans as he fills you with the need you've been longing for your entire life.

xii. "who are you?" a pair of glowing blue eyes flick to yours. "i am who i have always been," he says, trailing his fingers along your skin. his touch is cool, like the waters of the lake, but not cold. you are both lying together on a bed of dried reeds and his many tentacles. you roll over to straddle his massive form. his gaze roams the expanse of your body and his eyes darken with a hadopelagic hunger. you brace your hand against his torso as you rub against his length. his tentacles wrap around you and his lips part in ecstasy, giving you your answer. "i am yours."

xiii. the night has ended far too soon. in his undeath, time is all he has ever had, but the next moon cannot come quickly enough. he sets you back in your bed and already he misses you. can you feel it, he wonders. can you feel his tendrils wrapping around the edges of your soul to claim you as his in the lifetimes to come? they taste the need within you. they taste the hearts that have softened yours. but alas, dear droplet, he has nothing but time. others may hold your affection, but there is no love as unrelenting, as inevitable, as the tide for its shore.

#degrees of lewdity #degrees of lewdity fic #dol fic #ivory wraith #ivory wraith dol #ivory wraith dol fic #i've been meaning to write a wraith fic for a while and this could not stop haunting me #i would like to gift this to velvet burnt bevause your tags make me laugh :) hope you like this one #fun fact there are 13 moon phases in the culture i grew up in so i wanted to pay homage to that hehe #my writing

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sunarots · 2 months ago

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BETTER THAN REVENGE! ━━━ tooru oikawa & rintarou suna

13. first day ♡

cw. smoking weed & drinking

A heavy silence lingers over the band as you sit in Rin's car, the only sound being the songs through the stereo. Atsumu plays some of your band's unfinished songs, the three of you choosing to speak only when you come up with an idea that he writes into his notes on his phone.

You clear your throat, taking in a long toke of the joint between your fingers. You hold it in for as long as you can before passing it over for Rin to finish. You breathe out, resting your head against the window and looking towards the set.

"Why the fuck did I agree to this?" you ask, looking over to the boys once more with a slight smile. "Seriously, what's wrong with me?"

Rin laughs, shaking his head and stubbing out the joint in the ashtray on his lap. "Yeah, what were you thinking?"

Shaking your head, you run your hands down your face and look to Atsumu in the back of the car. He keeps his eyes on his phone, selecting a new file. He leans back in his seat, takes in a deep breath of the hotboxed car, and joins you both in laughing. “Clearly, ya weren’t thinking. But what’s new there?”

“Wow, low blow. I’m so fragile and you’re insulting me?” You place a hand on your chest in faux offence.

“Acting like you don’t tell us to kill ourselves daily,” Rin points out, flashing you a wide smile. “You ready to go in? I need my car to air out before we drive home later. You know, so I don’t get arrested.”

Rolling your eyes at him, you turn to look at the building. You take in slow, deep breaths, and crack the window open before exiting the car. You slam the door shut, waiting for the others to exit the car.

Rin stops at your side, watching as you lean further back into the car door. He rests a hand on your shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. “Hey.” You look up at him reluctantly. “You can do this. Let’s go.” He drops his hand from your shoulder, carefully intertwining his fingers with yours and tugging you forward.

You press your lips into a firm line and nod your head, having to fight the smile wanting to show itself at the action. You fall into step alongside him, letting out a heavy sigh. Using your free hand, you reach into the pocket of your jeans to pull out your vape, Rin laughing at you.

“You can’t go two minutes without that,” he says, shaking his head in disappointment. “If you’re gonna smoke, do it right with a packet of Seven Stars.”

Atsumu bursts into a fit of laughter, making you choke on the smoke. “You sound like a fucking advert I get when I’m halfway through a youtube video.” He takes the vape from your hand, ignoring your arguments and takes a hit before handing it back over.

You scoff, sharing a look with the amused Rin before taking a final hit and stuffing it in your pocket. “Why am I in a band with you guys again?”

“Because you love us,” Rin says, pulling open the door and giving you a small smile.

You sigh, “Debatable,” and follow Atsumu through the doors.

There’s a long corridor marked with signs and directions, doors with peoples’ names written on them and others with NO ACCESS in big red letters stuck on. Some workers with lanyards like your own walk past, flashing smiles and fleeting greetings before hurrying off to finish their tasks. At the end of the corridor is a glowing sign reading FILMING IN PROGRESS above a small, black door.

You stop Rin from opening the door, pulling him back so you can have another minute to prepare yourself. You turn to face Atsumu, reaching a hand out to him. “I know you have a flask. You always do. Where is it?”

Atsumu goes to protest, but accepts that he won’t win. He looks around himself before reaching inside his jacket pocket, handing it over to you. “Not all of it. I have the rest of the bottle in my car, but I don’t want to have to- Are ya fucking kidding me? Why don’t ya listen to me?”

You smile at him sheepishly as you hand it back over, empty. “I’m sorry. I needed it a lot more than you, though.” You straighten your posture and look between them, eyes lingering on Rin. “Let’s do this.”

The door swings open in front of you, narrowly missing hitting Atsumu square in the face. Your free hand flies up to cover your mouth to try and stop yourself from laughing at the man who barely managed to keep his balance.

“I’m so sorry! Are you- oh…”

Your shoulders tense, smile fading from your face as you face Emiko. Her black hair is loosely curled for the show, dressed in a pair of blue mom jeans and a tight white top. She smiles up at you through a barely made-up face, and yet all you can focus on is her pure beauty.

“Y/n! Go onto set, I’m taking a quick bathroom break and then we’ll be starting up. It’s so nice to meet you guys!” Emiko squeezes between you and Atsumu with a wide smile and a wave.

You sigh, tugging at Rin’s hand and leading them onto the set. The crew are all talking, and even though you can’t pick out what anyone’s saying, you can hear his voice. It carries through the room, louder than everyone else’s, and somehow still as gentle as ever. He laughs at something, the sound echoing inside of you and drowning out everything else in the room.

You grip tighter onto Rin’s hand as you come into view of everyone there, and the first to notice you is none other than Satan himself. He straightens himself up, keeps waving his hand as though he were speaking, and yet no words were coming out. He clears his throat, gestures for the crew member to look at the group of you, and stays with his eyes on you.

You swallow hard, struggling to tear your gaze away from his. You release your hold of Rin’s hand, instead wrapping both of your arms around his to keep him close to you. Ripping your stare away from him, you turn to face Rin and Atsumu. “I am going to have a lot of fun writing great songs about cheatykawa.”

masterlist. previous | next

summary. as a world-famous singer, everyone knows everything about all of your relationships. namely, your renowned on-again/off-again relationship with one tooru oikawa. it’s hard not to when every song you write is about him. but no one truly knows all of the gory details of all your dirty breakups, except from the two of you. and after announcing in a drunken red-carpet interview that you never want to see his face again, everyone starts desperately searching for the truth behind your twisted relationship. and just when you think you can escape these rumours, in comes a job opportunity your band can’t turn down.

taglist (open!). @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @iaminyourfloors @rrosiitas @v3nusplanetofluv @draculauracullen @lollbecca @honeytwo @wakashudou @tojirin @makki0s @alexithemiyatic @aboutkiyoomi @hermaeusmorax @theepitomeofswag @qyoongi @esunarint @frootloopscos @kimigiri09 @sweetlyvibe @hhoneyhan

#BETTER THAN REVENGE!#haikyuu smau #hq smau #oikawa tooru #oikawa tooru smau #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa tooru x you #oikawa tooru x y/n #oikawa tooru x f!reader #oikawa tooru x female reader #suna rintarou #suna rintarou smau #suna rintarou x reader #suna rintarou x you #suna rintarou x y/n #suna rintarou x f!reader #suna rintarou x female reader

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zeebee3 · 4 months ago

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Dramione Month day 13: forced proximity

Draco/Hermione

Rated M

Touch-starved Draco, crying, dry humping

(Link to AO3 here)

———

“We only have to play it once.”

It wasn’t the comfort that her tone made it sound.

Draco scoffed dryly. “The song is four and a half minutes long.”

Standing across the Slytherin table, Granger folded her arms over her chest. He’d hoped she was only here, accosting him at dinner, to inform him of her success after having complained to Trelawney about the assignment. To instead be faced with having to go through with it…

He didn’t want to give it air, but, well, they both knew what they had to do. Trelawney had been very clear with her assignment in her newly minted Mental and Emotional Well-Being class. Being obligated to attend the class was its own issue, but being partnered with Granger was less than ideal. They’d repaired some of the animosity between them but were nowhere close to being comfortable enacting the assignment – not that he’d have felt remotely comfortable doing it with anyone else, either.

But his own sensitivities were beside the point. For her to not have rightfully and adamantly protested against being paired with him…

He was skeptical, and his question was imbued with it. “You’re seriously okay with having to hug me for four and a half minutes?”

Her arms tightened but her chin lifted a stubborn half inch. “We don’t have a choice. Professor Trelawney—”

“I know, I know.”

He rubbed his brow, needing a moment to acclimate to the concept that for the next almost-five-minutes, he’d be hugging Hermione Granger. And not only hugging but holding, the position so intimate he’d blushed at the in-class demonstration performed by two simulacra transfigured from a cobweb.

Trelawney had been blathering on about aligning heart chakras and deep breathing and the power of physical touch as a way to unlock the light of humanity in one another, but all Draco had seen was: hug.

He’d have to hold her on his lap. For the duration of a song. Salazar.

He sighed, lowering his hand. “Fine. When?”

When her eyes dropped to his empty dinner plate, his stomach lurched. Godsdamned Gryffindors and their inability to not charge right ahead. Though, if he was being self-reflective – something he usually endeavored not to be – it was clear he could use a bit of gumption to unstick himself from the lethargy he’d found himself caught up in.

“We could go outside?” she suggested. “It’s a lovely evening. And then we…well, we’d have privacy without being…”

The meaning was plain; he raised a quelling hand, not needing nor wanting her to explain all the other private places she’d rather not be alone with him.

“Outside is fine. The meadow, just beyond the Greenhouses?”

“Yes.” She took a step back, preparing to leave. “Good.”

He rose and followed her out. The warmth of summer lingered in the air and behind the Greenhouses, the grounds opened up into an endless sea of grasses and late summer wildflowers. It was horribly beautiful but mercifully empty.

“So, I’ll just…” From her pocket, she withdrew the small orb that Trelawney had handed to each pair. A single tap of her wand set it hovering a few feet from the ground. “And now you…”

With a resigned inhale, he sank to the meadow. “Trelawney won’t know if we just…sat and listened to it?” He sent an uncharacteristically hopeful look up at her. “Side by side?”

“No. I’m not risking having to do this twice. Come on, let's just do it.”

She clicked her fingers and dutifully, he stretched his legs out straight in front of him, bracing himself with hands behind as she awkwardly lowered down until she was perched on his thighs, face to face. It was immediately clear she was holding the majority of her weight off him, and so he sighed again.

“You won’t break me, Granger. Get comfortable so we can get this over with.”

“Fine.” She settled on him fully, her weight grounding him to the earth in a way he found oddly comforting. “Now…put your arms…”

Before she could finish the instruction, he sat forward, arms coming up to loosely wrap around her ribs, matching the directions of the cobwebs in only the most technical sense. Her arms curled around his shoulders, close enough that her elbows dug into him just slightly.

“Is this right?” she asked, half to herself, then drew back only enough to glance down between them, wiggling slightly to center herself over his lap and making a soft sound of approval when their sternums were properly aligned. “There. That feels better.”

“Sure.” Anything to get the music going, so that it would be over.

Granger, perhaps sensing his tension, pressed her lips together into a firm line and reached for her wand, tapping the orb again. It began to emit a soft green light, and then the tones of several string instruments rose up in a long, drawn-out overture.

He inhaled deeply and fixed his gaze to the distance over her shoulder, letting the swells and ebbs of the music wash over him. It was a beautiful song, mournful and yearning, and as the low, grounding notes of a cello supported the ever-soaring rise of the violins, he felt his sinuses prick with emotion.

Fuck.

He swallowed roughly, resisting a more tell-tale sniff, and self-consciously adjusted his hold on her. Her hands slid along her forearms, close enough that he could feel the fingers of her right hand against his right shoulder. Her curls brushed his face in cadence with the way the breeze was flirting with the wildflowers. Her knees hugged his hips, body warm and all around him.

His palms were sweating, heart pounding, as the raw, untended-to emotions within him rose and rose and rose.

When the music hit a plateau, all the instruments idling together in a place of balanced harmony, she exhaled slowly, contentedly, and relaxed into his hold. He couldn’t help himself. A sound escaped him, a broken, muffled half sob, and his entire body flared with mortification.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, clearing his throat.

“It’s alright,” she whispered. “I feel a little emotional, too.”

Her arms tightened around him, a tiny gesture of the truth in her words, and he couldn’t stem the quiver in his lip. It had been so long since he’d felt safe in someone's arms.

“I don’t know why I’m–” He broke off, embarrassed by the warble in his voice. He cleared his throat roughly, and then again. “We can stop – we should stop.”

“Not yet.” Her voice was soft. “The song isn’t finished. Just hold me, and I’ll hold you, alright?”

The tension in his body was beginning to ache, his jaw and chest and throat all tight with restraint, so when she slid one hand down his back in a soft, soothing touch, he didn’t have the strength left to control himself. He buried his face into the crook of her neck and let out a shuddery, tearful breath.

The soft murmurs of her understanding melted into the music, until all he could hear were string instruments harmonizing with the early evening crickets, and all he could feel was the soul-deep anguish of the second chance he’d been given by all the living beings around him. He didn’t deserve it, not in any measure, but here he was, being given it bountifully.

There was nothing he could do that would make her more disgusted by him than what he’d already done, and so he took the invitation offered and anointed her with tears.

It was only after he collected himself that he realized she was trembling in his arms, wracked with soft, quiet sobs. It was reflex to haul her closer, hugging her to his body until there was no space between them at all. She gripped him back.

The music faded, and in the absence of it, everything else sharpened.

The heat of his skin where her temple was pressed to his neck, warm exhales gusting down his damp shirt. The scent of her hair; the texture of it against his lips. He’d never held someone for so long; long enough to have begun to forget where his body ended and hers began. The material of her jumper was coarse as he worried at it with his fingertips, feeling the faint ridges of her ribs underneath as her breathing leveled out.

For a moment they were quiet, and then she drew back just enough to tilt her face up to his. Her eyes were glossy, red-rimmed and framed with tear-darkened lashes. It felt like a liminal state, to be so close to warmth and amber; he was momentarily suspended in her gaze.

“Draco,” she whispered, voice thin and precarious. “Would you kiss me?”

Whether the question was meant to assess his newfound ethos or if she simply needed the reassurance that breaking down didn't mean being broken hardly mattered, not when the answer to both was the same.

He swallowed, and nodded, and when she licked her lips, he leaned in to do the same.

Her lips tasted like salt water but inside, she was sweet. A soft sound escaped him when his tongue found hers, curiosity and pleasure and awareness all rolled into one. She returned it, darting her tongue against his, tilting her head to welcome him further in. His hands slid until his forearms were banded around her back and in response, her arms cinched around his shoulders, knees tightening around his hips.

To be kissed after being held was a luxury he’d never known, and when her fingers hesitantly rose to card through his hair, he nearly wept again. But with their hips pressed snugly and her tongue sliding deliciously against his, the intimacy of the moment shifted to a different variety.

“Sorry,” he mumbled into her mouth, when her hips canted against his and discovered how fervently he was responding. “Ignore it.”

She pinned his bottom lip between her teeth instead, and rolled her hips forward with intention.

“Actually, if it’s alright–” She sucked on his lip, then kissed him again. “–if you wouldn’t mind–it’s been so long–”

He kissed her hard, dropping a hand to her arse. “Fuck. Anything.”

“Then—like this…just like this.”

She spread her knees, hips tilting downward, and he shot a hand between them to align his cock for her, tugging it up along his zip, knuckles brushing against her in the process. Even through the crumpled fabric of her skirt, he could feel a new sort of heat and dampness.

He wanted to rotate his wrist, to rub his fingers between her legs and watch as her face filled with an agony so different from before. But she’d said just like this and so he slid his hand to her thigh instead, helping her roll her hips over him again and again and again.

She panted into his mouth and he had to brace with a hand behind himself, thighs tensed with the restrained desire to thrust up against her. The music was still echoing in his head, complemented by the sounds of nature performing its twilight routine, tucking away and waking up in perfect symbiosis. It was an insubstantial distraction.

It shouldn’t have felt so easy to find balance with her, not after all the ways he’d tried to tip the scales, but in that moment, he didn’t overthink it. And so when his head fell back, heavy on his nape at her next perfect grind over him, he groaned and gave in.

“Oh.” Her knees slid further on the grass at the urgent upward roll of his hips. “Oh gods, do that again.”

He did, fingers curling into the grass and her jumper, the heels of his dragonhide boots digging into the earth as he bent his knees enough to rock his hips up under her, grinding against her. Her lips slid to his jaw and then his neck, the damp heat of her gasping breaths against his tear-streaked skin making him shiver, goosebumps prickling across his body.

“Yes,” she breathed. “Like that. Like that.”

If it had been long for her, then it had been eons for him. And with the way she was grabbing at him, holding tight, her fingers agony in his hair, the pain-pleasure of it making his eyes roll shut–

“I’m going to—” He panted, helpless to stop it. “Oh…fuck, I’m going to—Granger, I’m–”

She whimpered into his mouth, stealing the rest of his warning and destroying any remaining chance he had of holding off. Heat flared in his lower abdomen, radiating along his inner thighs and up. His jaw stuttered then went lax as the pleasure crested. A broken sound muffled behind his lips and then, when it became too much, into the crook of her neck. Jumper fisted tightly. Pleasure. Relief.

He was only distantly aware of her own shuddering, the high little whimpers barely escaping the tightness of her throat, and then the pleasure faded, and in the absence of it, everything else sharpened.

The weight of her body over his, overwhelming in the comfort of it. Her exhales, gusting over his damp lips, wet from her kisses and tongue and his tears. The scent of her arousal; of his own. The reality that they’d just gotten off together. Outside. In plain sight, the sun just barely flirting with the horizon. After having hardly exchanged a word.

Panic was rising up, the uncertainty of what would come next his familiar foe, but before it had a chance to retighten the knot in his chest, she leaned back.

He winced as she put fresh pressure on his sensitive, spent cock but the next second she was settling on his thighs, knees tucking in around his hips and cheek resting against his shoulder.

He felt the swish of her wand at his side and then the overture was swirling in the air around them, the rising lilt of violin grounded by the low drag of the cello.

In his chest, his heart seized.

She exhaled slowly, contentedly, relaxing into his hold, and he couldn’t stop himself.

“Granger–”

“Shh.” She nuzzled against him, curls tickling his nose. “Just hold me, and I’ll hold you. Alright?”

He huffed a little laugh, but did as she said. They could sort it all out when the song ended.

Or perhaps they’d just let it play again.

#dramione month #hp fic #dramione #draco malfoy #draco x hermione #hp fanfiction #hermione granger

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daichiduskdrop · 1 year ago

Text

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚⋆·˚ ༘ *𝙎𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡 ⋆·˚ ༘ *ੈ✩‧₊˚

Chapter 14

Pairing: BTS Ot7 X fem! reader

Genre: A/B/O AU, Fluff, Angst, Strangers to lovers,

Warnings: mentions of bad eating habits

Words: 3814

A/M: Sorry for the poster, I'm not a graphic designer by no means ;-; lots of love

Taglist: @thelilbutifulthings @ilovemoneymorethenmen @singukieee @cherrysainttt @felicityroth @mageprincess7 @lucis-noctiana @danielle143 @osakis-gf @girl-nahh @vintageoldfashion @neverthefirstchoice @juju-227592 @silentreadersthings @i-have-no-life-charlie @everyonehatesshani @iamkookiesforyou @dragons-flare @fangirl125reader @roseidol

⋆·˚ ༘ *ੈ✩‧₊˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ✩‧₊˚⋆·˚ ༘ *

The traffic was surprisingly good, allowing the group to get to the packhouse early, with the journey only taking about 15 minutes.

Parking the car, Taehyung turned the engine off, making all of them scatter out of the car again. While helping you step down to the ground, Yoongi was careful to hold your hand securely, with the other one holding your bag.

The snow crunched under your boots as you all entered the home. Jin put in the code, allowing the doors to open with a loud beeping melody.

All of you went on to remove your shoes, Jin was quick to help you untie your shoelaces so you wouldn't have to bend at all.

Slipping your shoes off for you, the alpha took them and placed them underneath the heater once again, placing old newspaper underneath them so the dirty water wouldn't get on the ground.

„Come on, baby, let's go eat something.” The youngest said, already pulling at your hand. Complying with no issue, the two other alphas soon followed.

Washing your hands under warm water, Jin and Yoongi were quick to start cooking, with you and Taehyung taking a seat at the dining table close to them.

You were hesitant to sit, knowing it would be much better of you to go and help them, and so when you stood up, watching over the two men already harmoniously working together,

When Yoongi noticed you walking over, he was quick to turn you back around, gently nudging you back in the other man's direction.

„Stay with Taehyung-ah for a bit, kitten. We will take care of everything; you just rest for a little.” He said, pulling out the chair for you again, then he waited for you to sit before he pushed it to the table again.

„But-” You tried to get in, only to be interrupted just as quickly.

„Cub no. Listen to alphas; we know what's best.” The tone he used left no chance for you to talk again, and so you just gently sighed, defeatedly.

Quick to pick your mood back up, Taehyung jumped into action, his arms wrapping around your waist softly before he gently pulled you to himself, having you sit over his lap with your side against his chest.

As you allowed yourself to rest against him, the scent he carried clouded all around, calming you down. Smiling at you largely, he rubbed his palms over your sides, being mindful not to be too rough.

„Will you show me what you did today, babycheeks?” The long hair he had fell over his forehead, cascading down like a waterfall. Rubbing your cheeks softly, the alpha didn't hold back from squeezing them for much longer.

Just now you remembered him asking about taking photos of your work throughout the day. Feeling disappointed with yourself, you avoided his eyes.

Quick to notice that something wasn't right, his hands pulled you closer to his front, his chin nudging your face gently, scenting you just a bit.

„Hm? What is it, baby? Did you forget to take photos?” Taehyung asked, his voice deep as usual. Noticing the smallest nod, he could only coo at you, not being able to hold back with how soft you looked.

„Awh.. babycheeks, it's okay. I wouldn't get angry at you, ever, and not for something so silly. It's alright, sweetheart. Come here...” Cradling you to himself, he gently swayed from side to side, your face resting against his neck and peeking over his shoulder.

Yoongi has just finished cutting the beef and seasoning the small pieces in a pan before he starts to fry them. The other alpha is meanwhile preparing the noodles, opening up the packages, and boiling them.

Holding you close by your temple, the youngest alpha felt his heart break a little at the thought of you being so soft and shy when you were not doing what he expected you to do. Especially since it was such a silly thing as taking a photo or two.

„I can show you photos I took earlier on, though. You whispered near his ear, making him turn to you right away, beaming.

„Sure, I would love to see!” He said, excited that he would finally get to see your work. He saw some stuff in your apartment, but he didn't want you to be angry at him for snooping around while you were asleep, so he dropped it quickly.

Nodding to yourself, you went to climb off his lap, but he quickly shushed you gently, holding you to his chest with one arm while the other reached for your backpack, laying next to the chairs.

Placing it on the table, you unzipped it, the alpha's palms placed on the side of your waist, his thumbs rubbing gently over your clothed skin. Taking out the old model laptop lent from the school, you let it boot up, the system taking long to get ready.

Opening it, the email tab was still open, and so with the new one in your inbox, you clicked on it right away, only to be left in disappointment since it was only the poster materials you had to put together.

„What's that?” Taehyung asked, placing his chin on your shoulder and watching the screen with you.

„It's for the poster I have to make... We were assigned to curate an exhibition at school, and these are the flyers and posters informations for it. I have to get it done until tomorrow morning.”

You said, your voice obviously a bit upset. You understood that you didn't do much until now regarding the project, but it wasn't because you didn't want to; it was your classmates that were just always unhappy with your work.

„Hm... That sounds like a lot. Do you want to do it on this laptop? Yoongi will for sure lend you his studio computer with no problem; it will be much easier there since you don't have a mouse and stuff...”

He gently tried to sway your decision, knowing that you would go through a lot less trouble if you would just use his packmates stuff or anyone else's at that point.

Whatever that notebook was, it was too beat up by now, had a full-on missing key on its keyboard, and just looked rough with how the screen would freeze even with how little you have been using it so far with him by your side.

„You think so? I don't know... I'm sure Yoongi-oppa has a lot of stuff to do right now anyway..." Even when your voice was quiet and the sizzling oil was quite loud, all three men heard you well.

Turning to you right away at your words, Yoongi took a step back from the pan, wiping his hands clean before walking to you with a quick pace and a gentle, gummy smile on his face. Cooing at you, he spoke softly.

„Oppa kitty?” Bending to match your height, he carresed your cheek sweetly; your gaze now on the ground, you suddenly overcame shyness.

„I mean, you all are older than me, so I thought...” You mumbled, hiding your hands behind your sweater. All three of them had smiles much larger than ever seen before, and without further hesitance, you felt the alpha pull you into his embrace.

„Aigoo.. of course you can call us that; we don't mind sweet kitten. When is your birthday, kitty?” the man said, gazing at you with soft eyes.

„July 1st, 2000.” You said this, holding his fingers gently, his thumb caressing your knuckles.

You heard his chest rumble loudly at your words. It was one of the traditional standards to have the alphas older than the weaker second genders in their pack.

„Let's eat now, before it gets cold. You can work on it later, small cub.” Jin said, already finishing up with the stir-frying of the ramen noodles, with a few small side dishes of rice and kimchi prepared too.

With Taehyung helping with the bowls, you went to take your own, but instead you were once again gently nudged to your spot, a ceramic bowl, and a pair of clean chopsticks handed to you.

„What would you like to drink, kitten? Do you want your peach juice again?” The alpha asked, already about to pull open the fridge.

„Maybe.. maybe I could have the strawberry syrup instead?” you asked, looking up at him questionably. He smiled softly at you, nodding before he poured you a glass of that instead.

„It is very yummy; just make sure you don't drink too much of it, alright? It's very sweet; you could get a tummy ache.” He murmured, growing slightly worried with no necessary reason to be. Placing the tall glass before you, you thanked him gently.

Serving you a full bowl of noodles, Jin made sure you were the first one to be able to eat, sprinkling on the greens and with the Jjapaguri glistening in the light, the food looked delicious.

And so you all dug in, the men watching over your reaction to the first bite. When Yoongi and Jin prepared it, they made sure to not use all of the powder; even when it wasn't that spicy to them, they knew that Taehyung and especially you could have trouble handling it well.

Chewing on your meal, you enjoyed it, but since you weren't that big of a fan of meat, you left a lot of it in the bowl, not finishing it. Drinking, you went to put your bowl back, Yoongi and Tae still eating while Jin had already finished.

Quick to pull you back by your hand, the alpha sitting next to you furrowed his eyebrows slightly. „What about the meat kitty? You need the protein; come on, baby, eat a little more. Is it not tasty?” He asked, looking over you, his chopsticks placed down for a bit.

„No, no, it's good, thank you. I'm just not a big fan of meat in general." You murmured, rubbing at your arm, slumped in your seat. The meal was truly delicious.

Only humming in reply, the alpha didn't take too long before he started to feed you the small pieces himself, allowing you to chew well in-between bites. Whenever you went to whine with another bite coming your way, he just shushed you gently.

„It's important to eat well, peaches.” Jin said from the counter, going over it with a wet towel to clean it well. After you had eaten most of the leftovers, you pushed the bowl away, really full.

Nodding at that, the alpha next to you finished his own meal in a few minutes before he picked up both of your bowls, cleaning them for you.

„Good job, my kitty. I'm proud of you for trying. Let's go to the studio now, yea?” Taking a hold of your palm, the older alpha led you to his studio that was downstairs, entering the code carefully before he opened the door, holding it for you.

It was much darker than Hobi's studio you were in earlier, and the first thing you noticed was the big, black and white carpet with the large letters KEEP OFF on it. The same type of armchair the other alpha had was also in front of the big desk, which held a bit more equipment this time around.

With around three big speakers on each side, one big monitor, and a flat TV screen like the other rapper had, the desk was littered with wires, devices, and things you just didn't understand well.

Taking a seat, the alpha was quick to pull you on his lap too, adjusting you so you were facing the same way. Patting your lower back slightly, he went to turn on the computer, the screen booting much quicker than yours did.

„Oh- I forgot my laptop-” You mumbled, making Yoongi turn to you only to ruffle your hair.

„It's all good, kitten. Alpha will take care of everything; don't you worry your cute little head about anything, my baby.”

He didn't seem even mildly annoyed; how come he wasn't? You were prolonging his time; he had to help you like this. How was he not upset?

Plucking you back on the seat after he stood up, he pushed the chair back to the desk, gently scenting you with his wrist glands while sneakily running his fingers through your hair.

„Wait for only a small bit, kitty; Alpha will be right back.” Shuffling out of the room. He wore a pair of loose-fitting jeans today and a simple white t-shirt with a loose, silk-like black shirt over it, left open.

Closing the doors softly after himself, the man walked over to the kitchen again, Jin and Taehyung watching the TV by now, some sort of cooking show on. He knew the eldest had been obsessed with western cooking competitions lately and could only assume that Taehyung was left to watch it with him.

The others were still at the company, and after he received a few messages from Jungkook about you, he also told him about them staying until about 19 in the evening.

They still had to record a part of their song, and Namjoon had to stay in to talk with a few of their managers about some new changes in their pack life, mostly regarding you.

It was supposed to be more of the usual Namjoon-only meeting, but after they talked about it in the morning at the company, most of them wanted to stay and be present.

Sure, he was the pack alpha, but in the end, all of them were alphas. They wanted to be up-to-date regarding, hopefully, their omega.

Picking up your backpack once again, he took it with himself, noticing the small Stich charm you had on the zipper pull. Were you a fan of that cartoon? You must be.

Christmas was only around the corner, since it was the 12th of December at the moment. All the alphas already had many gifts in mind they would want to spoil you with in the future, and Christmas was a great excuse to do so.

Smiling to himself, he unlocked the studio again, entering it with you still sitting in his chair, not touching anything. You were afraid you might break stuff, and you didn't want that to happen.

Placing the bag on his desk, he picked you up, taking a seat first before he pulled you to his chest once again, having you close as ever.

Taking the old laptop out, he pulled up the screen, and even if it was still turned on, it just didn't seem to work too well; the screen was black, and it took a few seconds before it switched on suddenly.

Frowning at that, he watched as you opened the email again with a file attached to it.

„I need that for the poster...” You said it quietly, turning a little to look at the man. His longer hair was tucked behind his ears as he watched your notebook.

„Yea, no problem, kitty. I can just send it to myself.” The alpha said, already noticing that anything like airdrop just wouldn't work on that thing you had. Making a new email, he quickly typed in his address, sending a copy to the computer on the desk.

Putting the laptop away again, the man pushed the chair a little closer, already opening up the attachment. This was much faster than yours, that's for sure.

With the word document opened, there were only a few things present: a few hex codes for colours your group agreed on, the font name, and a few pieces of information about when and where the exhibition would take place.

Noticing the many blank spots without words, Yoongi once again frowned a little.

„What about this? Featured artists? Why is it blank, kitty?” Running his fingers through your hair, the silver bracelets he wore jiggled a little.

„Yea, that's just... We still have to finish it tomorrow morning, I guess. We are having some issues... with a few of the students that are supposed to have their works exhibited."

You murmured, fingers hidden away. You heard him hum a little; a light dissatisfaction was noticeable. There wasn't much you could do about it now anyway, though.

„Alright. Here is a Photoshop you can use. I will help you if you need anything, sweetheart.” Yoongi said, helping you pull out the keyboard drawer underneath the desk. Nodding, you whispered a gentle thank you.

Switching between the two opened files, you made quick work, roughly finishing the idea you had before you would have to show it to your group tomorrow.

With the alpha gently running his hands over your back and through your hair, he was quick to help whenever you ran into any troubles.

You weren't used to working with Adobe; it has always been too expensive for you to afford, but after a few minutes, you adjusted well, only running into a few issues with different keyboard shortcuts you weren't used to.

You didn't perfect it yet, only spending about thirty minutes at maximum working on it, but you got the rough idea done, allowing you to sigh out and rest your back against Yoongi again.

Chuckling softly at you, he saved the file, gently rubbing your hair. „It looks very nice, sweet kitty. You did such a good job. Alpha is very proud. I'll send it to your email, okay?” Nodding, you let your face rest close to the crook of his neck, breathing in the rainy scent he wore.

Sending a copy of the file to you, you could hear just the faintest sound of voices. Realising that it wasn't Taehyung or the eldest, you turned your face towards the black doors right away.

Chuckling at how fast you moved, the alpha gently patted your tights, urging you to go look yourself.

„Go on, sweet kitty. I have to finish up some stuff here anyway." After sliding off of his lap, you took hurried steps towards the room entrance.

Opening the door, you shut it behind yourself, taking a few steps towards the living room. Already, you could smell their presence. You missed them in a way, and so you were excited to see them.

The first to notice you was Jungkook, jumping up from sitting on the couch and rushing towards you, scooping you up and holding you to his chest.

„My babybun!” The alpha laughed loudly, twirling you around a little. Giggling a bit yourself, your arms looped around his neck, your face soon tucked into his neck, his own cheek rubbing over your head virgously.

At the loud proclaim of the nickname the man has made for you, the others turned, the other three alphas soon coming closer to greet you themselves.

The first to come was Hobi. Excitedly laughing, he rubbed his palms over your face and collarbones, looking over your figure and noting your scent.

„Sunshine, ah.. I'm so glad to see you again! Alpha missed you so much, bub.” Twirling your hair around his finger softly, he tucked the lock behind your left ear. You only smiled shyly. „I missed you too, Hobi oppa.”

The alpha gasped loudly before he pulled you into his embrace once again, almost crushing you with how strongly he took you in.

Cradling you to himself, his chin went over your head a few times, ensuring that his own scent would stick to you. Cooing at you, he spoke.

„Aigoo.. baby, you will make my heart burst like this, you sweetest little thing.” He mumbled to your hair, petting your back. Pulling away after a few seconds, he let his packmates also have their greetings.

„Baby princess, my sweetheart, how was your day? Come here, let Alpha hold you for a little bit.”

Bending slightly to look over your shy, warmed-up face, Jimin cooed loudly before he pulled you to himself, arms wrapped around your waist.

Tucking your face into his neck scent gland, you felt calming waves come crashing on you. You felt content having all of the packmates with you now.

Pulling away a little, he bent his neck to be face-to-face with you, gently bopping your nose while giggling, the alpha's eyes creasing.

„We bought you something, princess!” He smiled, your eyes widening a little. A gift? What for?

Walking over, the pack alpha also wanted to have his greetings, pulling you from his younger packmate, he hugged you himself.

„Alpha is very happy to be with you now, sweet cub.” Was the only thing he murmured for a while; too busy getting his scent soaked well into your skin.

Satisfied after a few seconds, he didn't move away from you, instead picking you up and helping you wrap your legs around his waist. With one arm supporting you, he let his other palm rest over your head, gently having you rest against his collarbone.

Taking a seat on the couch, Jin and Taehyung were already watching the TV, and so after the other two alphas also came closer, you all huddled close together.

Jimin walked over, holding something behind his back. He stood before you and his pack alpha, not able to contain his smile.

You looked over, curious eyes open widely, and the other men gently chuckled at your excitement.

Namjoon's palms softly rubbed at your sides and hair; he just felt the need to make sure you were really okay after a day without them being close.

Pulling a giant paper bag from behind his back, you didn't even recognise the name; the dark grey cover with a few golden accents made even the huge bag look expensive.

Placing it softly on your lap, Jimin took a seat next to Jungkook on your right side. You noticed Hobi taking a video in the background, giggling to himself.

Gently opening it, you noticed the many things it contained, with air-sealed bags covering all of them. Your mouth fell a little agape, pulling out the first, big package. On the label, it read:

Experience the epitome of luxury with our cashmere blanket line. Immerse yourself in the unparalleled softness and warmth of this high-quality masterpiece. Indulge in the finest cashmere fibres, meticulously crafted to create a blanket that exudes opulence and sophistication. Elevate your moments of relaxation with this luxurious, oversized cashmere blanket from HIMALAYA.

Dry-clean only

85% Mongolian Cashmere + 15% Egyptian Cotton

290 X 255cm

It was cashmere? What? You never even felt that fabric in your life, but you knew this must have been tremendously expensive. And it wasn't even the only thing in the bag!

Looking up at the Alpha holding you on his lap, your eyes were twice as big in shock. The cream-coloured blanket was still air-sealed, making sure not to carry any scents.

He only chuckled at you, the pack alpha's dimples showing. Bopping his nose softly, he smiled.

„Alphas will always take the best care of their 'mega pup. Forever.”

⋆·˚ ༘ *ੈ✩‧₊˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ✩‧₊˚⋆·˚ ༘ *

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thisblogisaboutabook · 1 year ago

Text

The Fated Truth

Azriel x Reader

Truth-Teller’s origin story. A multi-pov oneshot.

A/N: this story came to me after listening to the songs seven, vigilante shit, it’s nice to have a friend, and my tears ricochet by taylor swift.

warnings: attempted sa, language, suggestive language, parental abuse, violence, main character death

The Angel

-Ladies always rise above -

Remove the dagger from his heart.

-Ladies know what people want-

Wipe the blood from the corner of your kohl lined eyes.

-Someone sweet-

Spit on the bastard.

-Someone kind-

Swipe at the next overgrown male.

-Someone fun-

Hit your mark, swing around, drive your dagger into the brute on your six.

“Well, shit.” you think to yourself as a group of ten overgrown bats rush toward you. Siphons glowing.

The irony isn’t lost on you that yet another thing they withheld from you would contribute in damning their very existence. A female with siphons was considered absurd and absolutely out of the question, it wasn’t your place - yet this incontrolable blast of raw killing power begged to differ.

One moment those pricks were running toward you and the next, they were ashes in the wind.

Looking at the dead females around you, pure rage boils within. Your insides could be cooked at this point for all you know. Not a single feeling but uncontrollable rage.

A gasp breaks the silence. One of the females is still alive. Running to her, her eyes filled with panic, breaths rapid and shallow. You lean down and whisper to her before unsheathing your dagger and holding it up. Her eyes widen in terror but not at you - behind you. You turn to look.

“Azri-“

The blast of power hit before you could finish saying it - your mate’s name - your final breath.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Journal

Nine year old Y/N

“I made a new friend! His name is Azriel. He’s like me! He’s two years older than me and can’t fly but he still has his wings. I wish I still had mine, we could learn to fly together. Azriel has burn scars too but his are on his hands instead of his back like mine.

He’s really quiet but it’s okay, I talk and he listens! He has shadow powers though. I don’t think I’m supposed to say this but they’re really cute! One of them followed me home from my chores today.

I have to go now. Dad is yelling. I think he’s mad again.”

11 year old Y/N

“Father hit me again last night. I got upset and my power hiccuped. I asked him for a siphon and he locked me in the cellar for asking. I have bruises that hurt really badly but I’m okay.

Azriel saw me this morning. I tried to hide the bruises but he notices everything. I cried and he listened to me. Sometimes I think he’s the only person who sees me.”

13 year old Y/N

“One of father’s friends came over two nights ago - they were drinking. I had to refill their mugs of ale and the friend grabbed me inappropriately. Father laughed. When he left the room his friend pulled me into his lap and his hand drifted below my waist. I was scared and my power flickered, throwing me backward and flipping the chair over with him in it.

The blast broke his arm and nose. I don’t feel bad.

I tried telling father what happened but he didn’t listen. He locked me in the cellar from that night until this morning.

One of Azriel’s shadows found me and picked the lock. Father either forgot he locked me away or didn’t care because he never came to check on me or give me food. I found a canteen of water on one of the shelves though.

Azriel retrieved me as soon as his shadow notified him. He took me back to Rhysand’s Mother’s cabin and she fed me. Azriel stayed by my side as I took a bath - there were even bubbles. I’ve never had a bath with bubbles before. Azriel saw my scars peaking over my towel after I climbed out of the bath and instinctively clenched his hands. I took them in my hands and kissed them. Our scars prove our strength. He tells me mine are beautiful but his are too. All of him is.

He’s my best friend.”

15 Year Old Y/N

“I spent the day with Azriel yesterday. Sometimes we sneak away and train. He teaches me self-defense maneuvers and even some Illyrian fighting techniques. My powers have been growing a lot lately too. I am still not allowed siphons though. It’s getting harder to contain but training with Azriel serves as an outlet.

I got into a fight with father again two nights ago. He threw a knife at me. I avoided it but if it hit me, it would have landed in my chest. He called me an “ungrateful whore just like my mother.” I was told that mother died in childbirth but sometimes I wonder if it’s not true.

When he locked me in the cellar this time, I let out a blast of power. It ripped a shelf off the wall and down with it came a dusty box I’d never seen before. I opened it to find a beautiful obsidian-hilted knife and a note that said:

For my beautiful babe. May the light of truth always find you, even in the darkest places. I will always love you. -Mother.

I can’t believe it was there all of this time. It broke my heart to know that she had been locked away in the cellar too. The only thing she was able to give me. She loved me. Those words meant so much. Someday I will be reunited with her in the realm beyond and she’ll share her truth with me.

Oh I almost forgot!! Azriel snuck into my room this evening and I showed him the knife. He held me while I cried tears of joy and sadness over this gift from my mother.

He’s going to train me in wielding it.”

16 Year old Y/N

Father was away on a training exercise last night so I went to a party at Rhysand’s cabin. It was fun but Morrigan was there. She’s so beautiful and I think Azriel likes her. He looks at her like she’s the brightest star in the sky.

He’s my best friend and I have loved him for a long time but sometimes, I feel an ache in my chest. Maybe I love him as more than a friend? I left the party early and trained with my hunting knife alone at our usual spot. He didn’t come looking for me.

This morning he stopped by and we practiced together. He seemed sad for a bit but I didn’t press. He tends to prefer more physical methods of expressing his feelings. He was still sullen afterward so I brought him back to my house for tea. We laid in bed together for hours. I know it’s frowned upon but it’s never gone past holding each other. He needs touch as much as I need his listening ear.

I think I’m going to ask him to spend the night.

17 year old Y/N

Yesterday was my 17th birthday. Father didn’t pay any mind to it as always. He says it’s “a reminder of what I did to my mother.” He drank himself into oblivion which left me free to leave the house. He probably never realized I left.

Sometimes I want to tell him that I know his secret - that there was more to her death than my birth but I know better. The following blow up would be catastrophic. At this point, my power has been growing so much that I think… I think I’m more of a danger to him than he is to me.

But… something big happened. Azriel took me flying. We looked at the stars and he flew me far north to see the Aurora. It was almost as beautiful as him. I may or may not have cried tears of joy.

Az playfully kissed my tears away but then something happened - what started as friendly kisses sparked a flame within me and I… I noticed a shift in his scent too. We locked eyes and he kissed my lips. Hard, fervently, like maybe he sees me as something more. We landed in a clearing under the Aurora and kissed for hours.

I love him. I love him wholeheartedly.

18 year old Y/N

Something happened last night! Az and I have spent a lot of nights together recently. Any time father is away, he comes over and we lay in bed kissing and talking for hours until his shadows inevitably lull me to sleep. But last night, I kissed his jaw and down his neck - he grabbed my wrist and growled!! Not a scary growl but a… possessive growl. He told me that if we started this, he wouldn’t be able to hold back.

So…. I kept kissing him. Lower. And Lower. And, well… the rumors about wingspan are true.

We had each other over and over all night, until Cassian and Rhys came knocking on my door looking for him.

18 Year old Y/N part two:

Father has hardly been around. He’s been visiting other camps. I’m thankful for the break from him and especially thankful for the time I’ve spent with Azriel. We’ve spent countless hours entangled with each other over the past few months. My power has been stirring a lot, it’s still growing. Training hasn’t been enough so this physical outlet between Azriel and I has been a lifeline. I can’t get enough of him. He told me he loved me - and I knew this time it was different. He truly loves me and not just as his friend. He knows that I love him too.

But things have also been trying… Morrigan has visited a few times recently and he’s still so enamored by her. Honestly, I get it. But it still hurts. Sometimes I want to say something about it but I don’t want to cause problems. There’s a rumor that she slept with Cassian a couple of years ago and things have been different between Azriel and Morrigan ever since. He broods more than ever when she’s around.

Maybe I need to fuck him senseless, until all he can think about is me.

Just kidding, but seriously.

19 Year Old Y/N

“I have a secret.

A really big, life altering secret.

Azriel is my mate. I don’t know if he knows but last night - things were really passionate, when we came together, that golden thread people talk about, it just… SNAPPED for me.

Things have been really bad with father lately and there have been more wing clippings happening. My heart hurts for the girls. I used to feel sad because I never had a chance to touch the skies (until Azriel learned to fly and carried me into them) - but to have been able to fly for so many years and lose the ability. I couldn’t imagine. Those males deserve to suffer.

Father made a comment recently saying that he gave me a ‘gift’ by cutting off and burning my wings as a child. It made me furious - my power slipped. It destroyed most of our living room furniture and half our kitchen table. I could scent the fear in him when it happened. I think if he wasn’t such a coward - he would have killed me. I have hardly seen him since.”

20 Year old Y/N

“Azriel is taking me to a formal party at another camp! I can’t wait. Rhysand’s mother even made me a dress for it. It’s the most beautiful clothing I’ve ever owned. She also added a hidden sheath for my knife.

I just finished getting ready - I feel like a shooting star. I’ve never felt so… so powerful and gorgeous. My eyes are lined with kohl and my hair is braided with silvery strands woven in.

Tonight is the night I’m telling Azriel. I’m nervous, so, so nervous, but he deserves to know that we’re mates.

Morrigan will be at the party too. I really hope I’m not making a mistake by telling him tonight. I know he still cares for her so I will wait until after the party and it’s just the two of us in the sky before telling him. Maybe he’ll take me to look at the Aurora again.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The Survivor

The infamous Shadowsinger made his way to her - approaching slowly, trembling, two palms up in the air as if to placate her.

He knelt down to the female who cried out in a blood curdling scream of pain and fear.

“P-pl-please don’t!! Don’t hurt me!”

“I’m here. You are safe.” The Shadowsinger choked out.

She didn’t understand. Why would he kill that female? She was only trying to help.

“Y-yo-you ki-killed h-her.” She cried out right before everything went black.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Shadowsinger

Devastation. Pure devastation threatened to rip Azriel to shreds. What the hell happened in a matter of hours?

He’d barely seen Y/N at the dance. She’d arrived to the party with all eyes on her. She held her head high, wearing her scars proudly. He couldn’t help but admire how she let them shine tonight. He’d walked in with his hand on her back his scarred skin to her scarred skin. It wasn’t a flaw at all, but a lovely match. They were beautiful together.

Tonight was the night he would ask her to move in with him. He was now making a small salary - enough to buy a little cabin for the two of them. It was time for her to get the hell away from her horrid father. He planned to take her to view the aurora that she loved so much - and present her with a special gift - her very own siphons. She was the strongest Illyrian female he knew - really she was stronger than any Illyrian he knew aside from maybe him, Rhys, and Cassian. She’d struggled with her power and the misogynistic Illyrian bastards in Windhaven refused to allow her or any female such a privilege.

He’d worked out a plan with Rhys, who convinced the smith that crafted the siphons that he was going to try his hand at wearing siphons one more time - claiming he had a new method of siphoning his power through them that would prevent shattering. While they both knew it was bullshit and the siphons would never work for Rhys - they would then gift them to Y/N without raising suspicion.

Mor was at the dance tonight. He had gone over to visit with her and shared his plans for tonight with her. She squealed and leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek and a huge hug, requesting a celebratory dance. They’d gone out on the dance floor for a couple of songs and when he pulled away to steal a dance with Y/N she was gone.

He’d searched the party through when a couple of males burst through the door - yelling of a female going crazy and murdering local villagers.

Az immediately vacated the party to take down the assailant - sending another partygoer to alert Rhys and Cassian who were currently bedding a set of twins in one of the suites.

He was taken back when he landed at the site of the attack. The carnage was brutal with blood coating the snowy ground, littered in dead males and females. His heart nearly stopped when he realized, at the center of it all, there she was. Y/N holding her hunting knife over a severely injured female.

Stunned by the sight, Azriel prepared to send a wave of power out and knock the knife from her hand. Right as the power readied itself for Azriel to fire, she turned and looked at him. Her eyes met his and snap. His body jolted - a golden thread between him and the blood splattered beauty before him - the surge caused his arm to jerk and a much more powerful blast emitted from his siphons. He missed his target. For the first time in his life, he missed it. Instead of the knife, the deadly blast of power hit her.

His mate. His best friend. His equal. His eternity - ripped away in a second.

Everything after that was a blur. His only memories of those moments played on a constant reel in his head flashing images of the injured girl screaming “you killed her!!!!”, collapsing on top of Y/N’s lifeless body, screaming to the mother or any other deity that may listen - begging for her chest to rise and fall again, and then four strong hands pulling him off of her before everything went black and his brothers voice calmed his mind.

~~~~~~~~~~

Days later Azriel woke up from whatever sedation Rhys had put him in. When he woke, Cassian was by his side. It was all of a minute before the memory came flooding back.

Azriel thrashed only to find he’d been restrained.

“Brother..” Cassian said firmly.

“Brother!” he yelled

Azriel’s wrists and ankles were on fire as he thrashed. He had to get to her, had to.

Finally Azriel cried out “Y/N!!! Y/N!!!!”

“My mate! Where is she!? WHERE IS SHE!?” he screamed and cried, thrashing against the restraints with all of his might.

Everything went dark again.

“Az…..” Rhys spoke softly into his mind

Azriel didn’t have the strength to scream or yell in this space of sedation. He could only whisper “where is she?”

Silence filled the void of his mind before Rhys spoke. “She’s gone, Az.”

Devastation flooded through him, filling him completely, making that one sided bond reverberate every ounce of emotion back to him.

Rhys waited patiently, sending soothing waves of darkness into his mind. Knowing Azriel well enough to wait until he was ready to send a thought back.

“Why, Rhys? Why did she do it?”

Again, that damned silence as Rhys paused.

“If I show you now, I’ll have to keep you under for longer, Az. You’re a danger to yourself right now and this… it’s heavy, brother.”

“Do it” he gritted.

Azriel’s mind became entranced in a vision. Before him a massacre. He was seeing through the eyes of a frightened female, eyes bleary from sobbing.

A large group of males had corralled several females into a circle, some as young as five or six. The males all carried sharp objects ranging from sickles and scythes to swords and axes.

A male stepped forward - Y/N’s father - who spoke:

“Females of Illyria have not served us well in many years. They forget that their purpose is to care for us, maintain our homes, and cater to our physical needs. Instead, they insult us by wasting time and energy on training - as if our protection is not enough? Young females smuggle herbs into our camps that delay their bleed so they can fly where they please, whoring around with whomever they please. These behaviors reflect negatively on all of Illyria, leaving us to appear weak to enemies.”

And then the bloodshed began. The males ran at the females, corralling them in closer and closer. Butchering wings and brutalizing any female who dared fight back. The screaming, gods awful screaming, pierced the air.

Male screams suddenly burst out - a blast of power knocking ten of them on their asses.

And there she was, in her resplendent glory.

“Hello boys.” She smirked.

Y/N’s father stepped forward. “My traitorous daughter, and dressed like a slut too. Shall we show them what happens to women who don’t obey.”

“Oh yes, ladies, my father took my wings when I was four. He burnt the stumps too. See these scars?” She turned around briefly with a wave to her back. “Someone I love helped me realize how beautiful they are, a stark reminder of what I can overcome.”

She paused, looking to the females as she addressed her father:

“So yes, father, perhaps this is the fate of disobedient females - but allow me the honor of showing YOU the fate of males who think they can steal a females power.”

-They say looks can kill and I might try-

Her piercing eyes again met her father as she threw a hand out, sending another blast of power - a death blow - turning him to ash in the wind.

Before any of the males could react, she sent another larger blast, creating an opening near the most vulnerable of the females.

“RUN! Those of you who can fight - you may stay. Those of you who are unable - there is no shame in leaving now! Seek shelter!”

The females nodded toward a teenage girl, signaling her to gather the youngest females and ran off with them. Any males that tried stopping them were turned to ash.

“Ladies, show them who we are!” Y/N cried.

-The ladies simply had enough-

They were outnumbered, so terribly outnumbered. Some females had died before Y/N arrived - bleeding out from the butchering of their wings but the few remaining females fought bravely. Because of their lack of training, the males easily overtook many of them but Y/N led them bravely, valiantly, taking them out as best as she could.

As the female numbers lessened Y/N cried out for the females to evacuate, to seek healers. The remainder of the females fled aside from two females (one of which this visions point of view was from) who appeared to have more training than the others.

Y/N looked to them giving a knowing look seemingly saying “give them hell.” They adjusted their stances into that of the most fearsome warriors, and took on the remaining males as more and more fled in.

Y/N’s power was like nothing they’d ever seen. She took down male after male.

Before she could react, two males approached from behind taking out the other female and knocking out the vision of the female whose mind Rhys had gleaned into.

As the female blacked out, the vision faded away. Silence once again filled the air for several minutes before Azriel said:

“But.. she was holding a knife over the female. I don’t understand.”

Rhys answered in a heartbreakingly soft tone

“I can show you, brother. But this will be hard to see. Are you sure?”

Azriel replied firmly, “show me.”

Rhys hesitated before continuing. But then the vision resumed as the female regained consciousness:

Her eyes were so blurry. She was hurting terribly but managed a gasp. Around her, all of the males were dead and the bodies of their fallen sisters painted the snow red. Emotion flooded through her, she couldn’t move. As her vision cleared further, she saw her. The female who fought so bravely for them.

Y/N saw her and ran over. The blood caking her braid causing panic. The trauma of this night was too much - the blood so triggering. Y/N sensed the fear and whispered “I am here. You are safe now. Look at my eyes, not around you, not at the blood on me, just my eyes.” The female tried but couldn’t look away from the blood in her hair. “I’m going to bring my knife out and cut the braid. Do not be afraid.” Y/N once again unsheathed her knife, lifting it, when loud wings flapped in. The injured female couldn’t get words out, her only signal to Y/N, a wide eyed look of panic.

Y/N turned around - breathed out “Azri-“ just as that fatal blow of power hit her.

“STOP!” Azriel cried out in his mind. It was too much.

Azriel’s body began convulsing as a mixture of rage, heartbreak, and panic flew through him. “I KILLED HER. I KILLED HER. MY MATE. MY MATE. MY MATE.”

Rhys had no choice but to send out another wave of sedation to his brother.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next several weeks were spent in and out of sedation. Rhysand had found that Y/N’s father had been planning the attack for months, perhaps even longer. The camp was chosen for the first attack because of the party - a distraction to lessen the chances of interference from outsiders.

He planned to carry out more attacks throughout Illyria in coming months. Had it not been for Y/N, more would have happened. Her heroic actions prevented so many more losses than just the ones that were saved that night.

Azriel stayed bedridden for months - only leaving when Cassian and Rhys nagged him enough that it wasn’t worth the energy to refuse them. One day Rhys brought in a box, inside the box, Y/N’s knife and a journal. “She would have wanted you to have this.”

Azriel’s chest broke at the sight. Her mothers knife, the knife they’d spent hundreds of hours training with. He almost refused it but it felt like a piece of her. A reminder of her goodness, of the mate he lost.

That night he laid it under his pillow - an odd comfort as he read through the journal. The journal unveiling that she knew they were mates. His heart cracked further knowing that the reason she’d stepped out that night was likely to get some air after she saw him with Morrigan. “Stupid.” His inner thoughts cried out to him. How could he have been so blind?

He lay awake for half the night as he read through her journal - he sobbed for hours until his shadows finally lulled him to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

Truth-Teller

“Azriel” a soft voice whispered.

“Azriel” the lovely voice whispered again.

He was dreaming.

He tried to whisper her name but couldn’t speak.

“I don’t have much time, I need you to listen.”

He again attempted to speak but no sound came. He nodded his head.

A flash of light illuminated his mind and there she was. Somehow even more beautiful than she’d been - if that were possible. Her form illuminated with an incandescent glow, face full of light - a light that only came from insurmountable joy and happiness. And behind her, behind her were stunning golden feathered wings. An angel, his angel, stood before him… with six glowing siphons.

“Azriel, please do not cry for me. I am at peace. This was always my destiny. The lovely truth of my life was that all of the pain led me to you, I found a love, a friendship, that so few experience. Every step led me to where I am now and this afterlife is beautiful. The truth of life is that fate is inevitable.”

She waved a hand and out stepped more winged females. The females who died in the attack.

“What happened was not an accident, it was fate. You could not have changed the outcome. When you sent your power out toward me and the bond snapped, my power shot through the bond into you, reflecting back to me. You only sent out a small blast, the fatal blow came from my refracted power.”

Azriel’s eyes widened at the revelation. His heart still completely shattered but the guilt slightly lessened.

“When you sealed my fate it trapped a piece of my soul in the knife. I am forever bound to Truth-Teller. When you carry truth-teller you carry a piece of my power, of me, with you. Though, I will be with you regardless, as a part of me will always rest…” she held a delicate hand to her heart, “right here.”

His mind raced. Truth-Teller. What she’d named her knife after the truth of her mother was unveiled with it.

“I must go now, Azriel.” She waved an arm again to her fellow angels. “I am the keeper of the Mother’s gate and this is my legion. This was always my destiny - this and to love you. I will keep the bastards out and someday, someday far from now, I will hold the gate open for you.

Until then, may the truth set you free my love.”

A beautiful woman resembling Y/N stepped forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Her mother. The angels all nodded to Azriel in confirmation.

“My precious mate, I will love you for eternity.” Y/N whispered as she shot toward the sky - right into the most vibrant aurora he’d ever seen.

~~~~~~~~~~

Truth-Teller

500 Years Later

Azriel still thought of her every damn day, Truth-Teller never leaving his side. His North Star, the angel guiding him through life. He never told his brothers - didn’t know how to explain how that broken mating bond glowed inside him whenever his intuition failed. She’d guided him in her own way all of these years.

Leading up to the war with Hybern the tug became stronger and stronger. A warning of the strife to come.

For the first time since the night Rhys brought him her journal and Truth-Teller, she reappeared to him.

“Azriel.” Her melodic voice whispered, a sweet song serenading his soul.

“Azriel, I don’t have much time.” that honeyed voice whispered.

In the same fashion as last time, he couldn’t speak. Managing only to nod.

“I have carefully pulled the strings of fate as much as I am capable. A war is coming with a fate that I am unable to divulge. The Mother has allowed me to share just this:

“The fawn who sees carries the truth. When the time comes, you will know.”

Azriel furrowed his brows with confusion.

Y/N smiled softly, outshining any star in the sky, more captivating than the spirits of Starfall. “The truth will set you free. Do not fear loving again.”

He fought and fought, trying to speak, thrashing against the walls of his mind he was able to mutter three words to her.

“I love you.”

She placed a hand on her heart.

“I know, my love.”

Spreading those magnificent wings, she shot from his mind, the void filling with the echoes of her song.

“Until eternity reunites our souls.”

198 notes · View notes

nightlyrequiem · 25 days ago

Text

Be Still My Heart

Chapter 13- Shotgun

Masterlist AO3 Next Previous

New Chapter Every Saturday

You're the best in the meth industry but a new product suddenly pops up. You and your boss, Valeria, must figure out who is making it so you can take back the market. All the while tension is building between the two of you.

A/N: Whole lot of dialogue but it's building the relationship between reader and Val. I hope. Also, sidenote, it feels weird assigning personality traits to reader or dropping little bits of lore because they're supposed to be a blank character but then if I don't they end up being a blank character in a bad way. I know it definitely drives me crazy when i'm reading a fic and the Reader does the complete opposite of what I'd do

Tags/Warnings: Illegal Substances, Boss Employee Relationship, Angst, Some Hurt/Comfort, Violence, Manipulation, Suggestive Themes, Smut (But Only in CH20.), Dual POV

Valeria sits next to you as you quietly talk to yourself, new notebook propped open in your lap. You've grown quieter since destroying the lab. Your shame and embarrassment perspiring off of you like sweat. She sneaks a glance at you, studying your profile. Valeria's gaze subconsciously drifts lower, following the slope of your neck and chest. The image of you wet and naked runs through her mind again and she looks away. She hadn't counted on you re-injuring yourself, but she thought it would make you more dependent. She was disgruntled to discover that it did not have that affect at all.

The sudden ringing of Valeria's phone startles you and you shoot it a judgmental look before returning to your quiet muttering. She leans forward and sighs, grabbing the phone and answering the call. With little regard for you she begins to speak.

"Yeah?"

"We got something." It's one of the disposables she had sent to Pajaro Azul. Valeria's attention is firmly grabbed and she straightens. "We found a dealer and got some answers, he got it from this guy in El Paso."

"El Paso?" Valeria murmurs. Raising an interested brow. "That's on the other side of the border." In the corner of her eye she sees your hand still as you begin listening in.

"Yeah." He says, voice mildly distorted through the phone. "He says he doesn't know his name though, he got it from someone else who works for the guy directly."

Annoyance makes its way through Valeria. All this digging for information just to get scraps of it. The only name she managed to get her hands on was El Paso. Valeria resents the headache she's going to have in trying to get her people across the border without rousing suspicion. Then she's going to have to track down the source of the meth while avoiding the DEA. Yellow meth, however, is distinctive. A colorful breadcrumb that will eventually lead her to her mystery man.

"Okay." Valeria nods. Eyes darting around her office in thought. "Come home." She tells them, hanging up.

"What's in El Paso?" You ask, looking at her keenly. She scoffs at you.

"Thought you were listening in." Valeria replies, leaning back and spreading her arms over the back of the couch. "Eavesdropping is rude, by the way."

You uncurl your legs and let them drop over the edge of the couch, feet disturbing the dusty rug below. "I was listening to you." You correct. "And it's not eavesdropping if we're in the same room."

Valeria furrows her brows. "It doesn't matter if we're in the same room, it's eavesdropping if you're not a part of the conversation."

"Sorry." You say. "What's in El Paso?"

Valeria debates on telling you. Recently she's been treating you like you're a part of her inner circle. Which in a way you are but she needs to ask herself if your input is really needed.

"They found a lead for that yellow meth." She says. Deciding to include you anyway.

"Finally." You remark. "So what now?"

"Wait for them to return and then decide from there." Valeria replies.

"You already have a plan in mind though."

Valeria reaches for a packet of cigarettes. "That I do, yes." Your face twitches in displeasure as she lights one. She inhales the warmth and lets it drift down her throat into her lungs. Gray clouds billow through her nose. She takes it from her mouth and holds it laxly between middle and forefinger. She impulsively lifts it towards you in offering.

You shake your head.

"Pass."

"You need to lighten up." Valeria mutters. "What do you have against smokers?"

"Nothing." You blink. "I just don't like the way it clings to things."

"Like lungs?"

"And furniture, and walls, and clothes." You reply.

"You ever actually try one?" Valeria murmurs, kicking her feet up onto the coffee table. "The effects are worth the smell."

"I've been tempted, but addiction runs in the family."

Valeria hums.

"No harm in trying once, yeah?" She says softly, trying to get you to concede. She really wants to see you smoke a cigarette. It would be amusing to watch you cough and splutter.

"I think there is, actually, that's how addiction starts." You say disapprovingly.

"No, addiction starts in the brain."

"It starts with the substance that triggers the dopamine receptors, which can-"

Valeria removes her feet from the coffee table and moves closer to you. "You aren't the least bit tempted to try one now?" You frown at her. Valeria wets her lips. "You know what I think?"

"I don't, and I'm not sure I'm interested in knowing."

"I think you need to lighten up and pick up a few vices." Valeria says anyway.

You make a disinterested noise. Valeria shifts closer again, knee bumping yours.

"Lean in." Valeria mutters, gesturing for you to move closer. You frown but hesitantly lean forward. Eyes darting from her eyes to the side. She gently grabs your jaw, just holding it still. "Open your mouth."

"What?" You furrow your brows.

"Open."

"Don't spit in my mouth, Valeria."

Valeria blinks. "That's not what I'm doing, just open your mouth."

Reluctantly, you cease your protesting and open your mouth. Valeria raises her cigarette to her lips and sucks in a mouthful of smoke. Holding it. She leans even closer, eyes locked with yours. Your lips just a hairs-width apart as she blows the smoke into your mouth.

You inhale and turn your head to the side as you begin to cough.

"What do you think?" Valeria asks quietly, hand still resting under your jaw.

"I think this won't be one of my vices." You reply, voice hoarse. Valeria smirks and lets go of you.

"Well at least you got to try it, now you can mark it off your bucket list."

"That wasn't on my bucket list." You retort.

Valeria raises her cig to her lips again.

Valeria turns away, feeling agitated. She blows out the smoke and watches as it dissipates into the air. That close to you she felt the nerves in her lips tingling from the proximity, preparing for the sensation of touch.

You clear your throat. "So, about your plan for El Paso..."

Valeria sighs. "I'm thinking of sending some people up there, find out who's making it and get rid of them."

"Can I go?"

"Why?" Valeria frowns. Not fond of the idea.

"Because I want to go to El Paso."

Valeria's frown deepens. "I need you here to cook."

"We don't have anywhere for me to cook, and I doubt we'll have a new lab built in the next few weeks." you counter.

"You won't be useful in El Paso." She says bluntly.

You stare at her for a few seconds before putting your hand on her knee and blinking at her weirdly.

"I can be very useful in El Paso." You whisper.

"What are you doing?" Valeria asks. Looking down at your hand again. You hesitate before pulling back.

You shake your head like she's an idiot. "Nothing." You sigh.

"My plans aren't full formed yet." Valeria tells you, stubbing out her smoke in a nearby ashtray. "I can't really decide anything until the group is back." Valeria can tell that you don't agree with that sentiment, but you don't argue. Her fingers tap along her thigh as she regards you intently. "It's late, we should head home."

#valeria garza #cod mw2 #valeria garza x reader #modern warefare ii #valeria garza x fem!reader #valeria garza cod #cod mwii #cod x reader #valeria garza x you #cod

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janeyseymour · 7 months ago

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La Cosa Nostra- pt 23

(co-written with @schemmentis): Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8. Part 9. Part 10. Part 11. Part 12. Part 13. Part 14. Part 15. Part 16. Part 17. Part 18. Part 19. Part 20. Part 21. Part 22.

Summary: Life goes on, but that doesn't stop you from missing home.

WC: 2065

That night, you and your wife end up having a stay in date night once your papers are all in order. You’re laying on the couch, cuddled up together when the girls come in. Lena is behind them. Your girls come up and hug you both, planting kisses on your cheeks. Your girls’ friend comes up next and also hugs you- she’s always such a treat to have around.

“Hi hun,” you say softly as you sit up just slightly. “You’re spending the night?”

Lena looks hesitant. “May I? My... my parents are still fighting over everything with the divorce, and I really don’t want to ruin a good night.”

“That’s just fine, sweetheart,” Melissa pipes up, somewhat groggily. She was asleep in your lap up until the front door opened. “You know we always have room for you.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Vinci,” Lena smiles softly.

“How many times do I have to tell you that when we’re not at school, you can call me Raphaela?”

“You know where we are if you need us, honey,” you tell her, although you’re well aware she knows. There have been a handful of times in the last few months where Lena has come down the steps for a glass of water, only to find you and your wife still laying on the couch. Almost every time, the two of you end up comforting her over whatever is going on in her head at that moment keeping her with the waking world.

You watch the three girls disappear up stairs. Once they’re out of sight, your wife is settling back into your lap once more. You sigh as you return to your prior more comfortable position and wrap your arms around her again. You really weren’t ready to bring yourself to get up from the couch, anyway.

“When we had the twins you didn’t tell me we were also signing up for any number of other girls running around.” You murmur as you press your lips to Melissa’s temple.

She scoffs. “I don’t think either of us were thinkin’ that far ahead. At least they chose good ones to hang around with.”

“We’re not counting Carla, right?”

“God, no.” Melissa swiftly answers through a laugh. “She’s as spoiled-ly entitled as her Ma is. Noses permanently in the air.”

There’s a long lull between you. Just the sound of the television playing one of your wife’s shows. You never know what’s going on in them. Other than a lot of fighting that sees her cheering for who she likes the same way she does at sports games. You smile as you remember the first outing you’d taken as a family once you’d moved. It had killed Melissa to wear anything not Philadelphia but she had. At home, she still cheers on your real home team though she’s grown to tolerate New York teams too, albeit reluctantly so.

Tonight, she isn’t paying attention to the show either. You’re both in your own bubble, wrapped up together on your couch. After a long silence where you’re beginning to stop fighting your eyes that are trying to close, her voice meets your ears softly. “Amore?”

“Hm?” You hum your acknowledgement of the call for you, a hand tiredly raising to brush through red locks.

Her arms tighten around you as she heaves a sigh. It doesn’t sound like she’s annoyed but neither does it sound like the one you know she makes in contentment. “I know it will sound silly but… I’m feeling homesick.”

You shake your head slightly. “Not silly at all, my love. Not silly at all.” You quietly assure, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“I have you and our beautiful girls here. Even if they sass me a little too much and get on my nerves a little more the older they get.” Melissa whispers, as if the girls are listening. They could be. They did like to eavesdrop from the stairs from time to time. Though with Lena here and your house quiet and content, you doubt it. Those eavesdropping urges usually happened whenever there were big things or changes going on. When you and your wife were arguing or close to Christmas or birthdays.

“You’re all here and safe and I’m so thankful.” Your wife continues in her hushed tone. “But I miss home. I miss Sunday dinners with our parents letting the girls get away with more than they should. Them buying them too many gifts for Christmas and their birthday. I miss arguing with Kristen Marie. I miss cookin’, makin’ the menus and teachin’ chefs how to make it the right way. I miss our church and Pastor Thomas’ sermons.”

You reach to lightly rub Melissa’s back as she lists things you miss just as much. It hits you in random moments. Some Sundays when you go into Church you expect to see Barbara and Gerald. Some nights when you come home and hear the gaggle of your children’s friends you expect to also see your in-laws and all your little nieces and nephews. You suppose they wouldn’t be so little anymore.

“I miss Barb.” You wrap one arm tighter around Melissa when she chokes out a sob. She presses her face to your neck, holding you tight. “I miss my Ma.” She manages to add between stuttering breaths. “I miss home, Amore.”

“I do, too.” You admit quietly, holding your wife tightly as your cheek brushes her own affectionately. The hand rubbing her back shifts back upward to sift through her red locks. This isn’t the first time you’ve had this conversation. Though it is the first time it’s been your wife to break. You both knew you were doing what you had to do to keep your daughters safe and growing up normally.

You didn’t regret your decision to leave your home because it meant your little preteens were here, experiencing a normal life with gossip and petty drama and friends and everything that you and Melissa didn’t have growing up. You didn’t regret it. Still, knowing it was the right thing to do, the right choice, didn’t mend the gaping hole you couldn’t help but acknowledge in the safety of it being just you and Melissa. You did your best not to think about how everyone you left behind felt, what they’ve had to deal with in the years you’ve been away. You already can hardly hold your own grief over it all. You couldn’t juggle it with those thoughts.

You blink awake a few hours later. Melissa is still clinging to you, the television still playing. You hadn’t meant to sleep on your couch. Then again, you never did. Yet it happened fairly often in your new home. “Baby,” you murmur, your voice nearly hoarse as you try to gently wake Melissa.

You jump at a figure suddenly leaning over the couch. “Fuck sake!” You curse when you realize it's Cat.

“Sorry, Mam. I thought I heard you.” She whispers. Somehow, Melissa hasn’t woken up yet. She must have been holding in your small conversation from earlier for longer than you suspected. More emotionally drained than you realized.

“What on earth are you doin’ up?” You grumble to your eldest, carefully sitting up without letting go of your wife. You glance back to Cat at her silence to see her briefly studying Melissa before her eyes flick back to you.

“Is Mommy okay?” She asks instead of answering your question.

“Mommy is fine, sweetheart.” You assure quietly. “If she were awake she might cry hearing you call her that.” You admit, giving a small look to your oldest. You know and understand why her and her sister don’t want to call her that in front of friends but your eldest really had been more snotty toward Melissa ever since. Especially if she used the term of endearment. “But she’s fine.”

“Mam…” Cat starts. Once again she looks between both you and Melissa. “Can I tell you somethin’?” She finally whispers.

You raise an eyebrow. Gently, you settle Melissa back to the couch, ensuring the decorative pillows you keep on the couch are both cradling her head and the throw blanket is tucked over her. You had intended on getting you both to bed. It can wait a little while.

You rise from your couch, waving your eldest back into the kitchen. “What is it?” You prompt as you start making hot cocoa. A family tradition on nights like this. When something needed to be talked about. A mug of warm comfort. You make a little extra in the case Rosie or Lena wake up and come down or Melissa wakes up from the couch.

It isn’t until you're sitting at the kitchen island, looking at Cat over your mug as you sip that she sighs. Her hands twist around the mug, fingers playing with the handle mindlessly. “Promise you won’t get mad?” She asks, peeking up at you from her hands and mug.

You raise an eyebrow once again. “That depends on what you’re about to tell me, Catherine.”

She rolls her eyes at her full name being used. “It’s not that bad…” She mutters.

You wait, silent, as you look at your eldest. You don’t run through what it could be in her mind at all. You know better, especially with your oldest twin, than to try. They inherited saying things you’d never even guess from Melissa.

“Fuck it.” Cat sighs. You don’t even get to reprimand her swearing before she’s speaking again. “Lena told me, and made me and Rosie promise not to tell but it’s not right and you and Mommy wouldn’t want us to lie about it.”

“What did Lena tell you?”

“Her dad hit her mom the other day when they were fighting.” Cat finally says quietly. “She said he would have hit her too but her mom stopped him….”

“I’ll break that man’s fucking legs myself.” Melissa’s voice suddenly sounds.

You turn to see your wife sitting up on the couch, looking over the back of it to you and your eldest. She stands from the couch, moving to join you in the kitchen. You’ve made plenty yet she purposefully takes your mug to take a sip from.

You roll your eyes and fight the smile on your lips as you grab the mug that would have been hers before she stole yours.

“Mommy, you can’t!” Cat pleads as she sets her own mug down. “Lena made us promise, she’ll be so mad if she finds out I told you.”

“Honey, she can be mad. What’s happening in her house is not okay. It’s abuse,” your wife tells your daughter. “Has he ever hit her Ma before?”

Cat averts her eyes.

“Good lord,” Melissa whispers as she sips the warm, chocolate drink. “I should’ve known… her mother is always so skittish, and Lena has been here more than she’s been at her own house lately.”

“Mommy, please,” your eldest begs. “Please don’t tell.”

“Has he ever laid hands on Lena before?” you ask quietly, trying to get a better confirmation from Cat beside the obvious want not to say it. “Is that what the bruise on her arm was from- not falling off a bike like she said?”

Cat just nods silently.

“Mommy, Lena’s crying,” Rosie makes her way down the steps, rubbing at her eyes tiredly. Your younger twin falls into your lap, clearly exhausted.

With a heavy sigh, Melissa makes her way up the steps. It’s a few minutes later that the pair comes down the steps, and you gesture for Rosie to stand in order to make more hot chocolate.

“I have to report this,” your wife says softly, demure. “I’m a mandated reporter.”

“Mrs. Vinci,” Lena sniffles. “Please. No. I don’t- I don’t want to be taken from my family.”

“I’ll make sure you stay with your mother,” Melissa promises. She glances at you, and you nod. “But what’s happening with your father… I can’t watch that happen. To you, or your mother.” She wraps her arms gently around Lena, pressing a soft kiss to the fragile girl.

You keep arms around both of your little girls, propped on either of your knees and tucking their chins into your neck. You crane just slightly to kiss their own heads, thanking God that they’re okay and that they’re here with you.

TAGS: @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo

#abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti fanfiction

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kentobb · 1 month ago

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hiromi higuruma x female secretary (AU).

chapter 12 > chapter 14

warning: suggestive content

chapter 13

You sit stiffly in Higuruma’s office, your hands clenched in your lap. Across the desk, both Higuruma and Nanami exchange a serious glance before beginning to speak. The weight of the atmosphere is suffocating.

“Toji Fushiguro isn’t just some suspect who fled the scene of an accident,” Nanami starts, his tone calm but precise. “He’s dangerous in ways that most people can’t comprehend.”

“He’s a mercenary, a hitman,” Higuruma adds, his sharp eyes never leaving yours. “Someone who thrives in chaos and eliminates obstacles without hesitation. We thought he’d disappeared from the radar after a series of high-profile cases, but now he’s back—and this time, it’s personal.”

Nanami nods, picking up where Higuruma left off. “Years ago, he lost his wife in a violent incident. The case was messy, controversial, and public. Higuruma and I were involved in the trial. Higuruma defended the accused, and I worked in prosecution. The verdict…” Nanami pauses, glancing at Higuruma.

“The verdict wasn’t what he wanted,” Higuruma says bluntly, his jaw tightening. “I got the sentence reduced for the accused. Toji saw it as betrayal—by the justice system, by us. And now, it seems he’s made it his mission to dismantle everyone involved in that case.”

Nanami gestures to the stack of files on the desk. “He’s been studying us. Watching. His movements aren’t random—he’s targeted not just this firm, but my law firm and Gojo’s as well. We’re all connected through that case. And now… you’re part of it too.”

Your breath catches, and you shake your head slightly. “Why me?” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

Higuruma leans forward, his gaze softer now but no less intense. “Because you’re close to me. He’s targeting those who can be used against us—friends, colleagues, family. He doesn’t care who gets hurt as long as it furthers his agenda.”

Nanami speaks again, his voice steady but tinged with urgency. “You need to understand, this isn’t about scaring you—it’s about keeping you safe. Toji is calculating. He’s waiting for an opportunity, and we can’t give him one.”

You sit back in your chair, trying to process everything. Your mind reels with questions, fears, and confusion. “I… I don’t know what to do,” you admit, your voice trembling.

Higuruma notices the fear in your eyes and frowns, worry flickering across his face. Nanami, sitting closer to you, reaches out and places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You’re not alone in this,” he says gently.

Higuruma’s eyes narrow slightly at the gesture, jealousy flaring in the pit of his stomach, though he remains silent.

“I just… I need some fresh air,” you murmur, standing abruptly. The walls of the office feel like they’re closing in on you.

“No,” Higuruma says firmly, rising to his feet. His voice is calm but resolute. “You can’t go anywhere alone. Not outside, not to the café, not even to grab a meal. If you need fresh air, fine—but you’re not going alone.”

You look at him, startled by his intensity. “I just want to breathe, Higuruma,” you say, your voice wavering.

“And you can,” he replies, his gaze unwavering. “But not without someone by your side. Toji doesn’t need much to make his move, and I’m not risking your safety for a moment of air.”

Nanami steps in, his voice softer but equally firm. “He’s right. Listen to him. This is about your safety, nothing else.”

You glance at Nanami, then back at Higuruma, and reluctantly nod, though the fear and disbelief linger in your expression.

Higuruma watches you closely, his hands curling into fists at his sides as he battles his own emotions. The protectiveness he feels is almost overwhelming, and seeing Nanami comfort you only stirs that familiar jealousy.

But he pushes it aside. For now, keeping you safe is the only thing that matters.

The car glides smoothly down the dimly lit streets, the city’s lights painting streaks of gold on the sleek black interior. Higuruma keeps one hand on the wheel, his other resting lightly against his thigh. His gaze occasionally flickers toward you, seated quietly in the passenger seat.

You haven’t said a word since you got into the car. He notices how your arms are crossed tightly over your chest, how your fingers toy anxiously with the hem of your coat. It was supposed to be a beautiful date night, but your mind is clearly somewhere else.

Higuruma exhales softly, his brow furrowing in concern. He knows you’re nervous, maybe even terrified, but he doesn’t know how to pull you out of the dark cloud hanging over you.

Without a word, he reaches over and gently takes your hand, his thumb brushing against your knuckles. The simple gesture is grounding, a tether pulling you back to the moment.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he begins, his voice low and calm, like a steady current. “But I can tell what you’re thinking. And I get it. This… situation—it’s terrifying. It’s a lot.”

You stare at his hand holding yours, your lips parting as you finally let out a shaky breath. “I am scared,” you admit, your voice trembling. “This person—this man, this hitman—he’s going to kill everyone. How can I not be scared?”

Higuruma glances at you briefly before returning his focus to the road. His grip on your hand tightens slightly, not out of pressure, but reassurance. “I know it feels overwhelming. I know it’s hard to think about anything else. But you don’t have to carry all of this fear alone.”

His words settle over you like a warm blanket, but the weight in your chest doesn’t completely lift. “How can you be so calm?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. “How can you sit there and act like everything’s going to be okay?”

“Because it has to be,” he replies without hesitation. “Because I won’t let it be anything else. I’ll protect you, protect everyone—whatever it takes.”

Your eyes meet his, and you can see the unwavering resolve in them. His confidence, his strength—it’s like a lifeline.

“Do you trust me?” he asks, his tone softening but never losing its firmness.

You nod, your voice cracking as you answer, “Yes, I trust you.”

“Then I need you to blindly trust me,” he says, squeezing your hand gently. “When I say it’s going to be okay, I need you to believe it. Can you do that for me?”

A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips, hesitant but genuine. “I can,” you whisper.

The tension in your body begins to ease as he grips your hand just a little tighter, his thumb tracing calming patterns against your skin.

“Good,” he says, a faint smile playing on his lips as he focuses back on the road. “Because I meant it when I said I’ll protect you.”

As you step into the restaurant, you immediately notice the quiet elegance. The lights are dimmed to a soft golden hue, casting a warm glow over the polished floors and intricately set tables. Fresh flowers and candles adorn the centerpiece of each table, their flickering flames reflecting in the crystal glassware. The space is utterly empty, save for the discreet guards stationed at subtle points, blending into the shadows for security.

Higuruma watches your reaction closely as he gently places his hand on the small of your back, guiding you toward a table near the floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a breathtaking view of the city skyline.

“You reserved the whole restaurant?” you ask softly, still taking it all in.

He nods, pulling out a chair for you. “I wanted tonight to be just us. No distractions. No interruptions.”

You sit down, touched by the gesture, and as you take in the romantic ambiance, you can’t help but smile.

The waitress approaches with a professional yet warm demeanor. “Good evening. May I start you off with something to drink?”

Higuruma doesn’t hesitate. “A whiskey for me.”

You glance at the drink menu and, feeling playful, decide to try something new. “I’ll have the Blossom Kiss,” you say, a sweet and fruity cocktail with hints of lychee, raspberry, and a touch of rosewater.

The waitress nods and leaves you two alone.

Higuruma reaches across the table, gently taking your hand in his. His touch is firm yet tender, and his eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat. “You look beautiful tonight,” he says, his voice low and sincere.

Your cheeks flush as you smile, this time without hesitation. “Thank you. You’re not looking too bad yourself.”

He chuckles, a rare sound that’s both soft and genuine, and his thumb lightly brushes over your knuckles.

The waitress returns with your drinks, placing them down gracefully before leaving you both in the comfortable intimacy of the moment.

Higuruma raises his glass slightly. “To…new beginnings?”

You clink your glass against his. “To new beginnings.”

The drinks are smooth and flavorful, but it’s the conversation that becomes the true highlight of the evening.

“So,” he begins, leaning back slightly in his chair. “Tell me more about yourself. I know you work too much, you’re brilliant at your job, and you’ve got a killer instinct for details. But what about outside of the office?”

You take a sip of your drink, pondering how to answer. “Well, I don’t have much family. My mom passed away a few months ago…” You pause, and he squeezes your hand gently, silently encouraging you to continue. “She was my everything. My dad…he was never in the picture, so it’s always just been her and me.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he says, his voice laced with genuine sympathy.

“Thank you,” you reply softly. “No siblings either. But I have a best friend, Utahime. She’s like a sister to me, honestly. She’s been my rock through everything.”

He nods, filing the name away in his memory. “Utahime. I’d like to meet her someday.”

You laugh lightly. “She’d probably interrogate you the whole time. She’s very protective.”

“Good,” he says with a small smile. “Someone should be.”

You tilt your head, studying him. “What about you? Any family?”

His expression flickers briefly before settling into something neutral. “My father and I have been on our own as long as I can remember. No siblings, but I do have friends that are like my brothers. My mom…passed a long time ago.”

Your gaze softens. “I guess we have more in common than I thought.”

He chuckles quietly. “Seems that way. What about school?”

You take a sip of your drink, the fruity sweetness calming your nerves. “I actually studied to be a paralegal. But…I couldn’t finish. Things got tight financially, and I had to drop out. I started taking odd jobs here and there, eventually landed an admin role, and…well, here I am.”

Higuruma’s expression turns thoughtful. “You’d make an incredible paralegal. I can tell you have a sharp mind, and you clearly care about the work.”

“Maybe,” you say wistfully. “But life doesn’t always go as planned.”

“No, it doesn’t,” he agrees, his voice carrying a weight of personal experience. “But that doesn’t mean it’s too late.”

You smile, appreciating the sentiment. “What about you? Did you always want to be a lawyer?”

He smirks faintly, leaning forward. “Not always. At first, I wanted to be a teacher. But…life didn’t go as planned. My dad wanted me to handle the firm.”

The food arrives, and the atmosphere feels even more intimate with the delicious spread before you. The soft clinking of cutlery and the quiet hum of the restaurant create a perfect background as you both continue to enjoy the evening.

You pick at your food absentmindedly for a moment before looking up at Higuruma, catching his gaze. There’s a softness in his expression, a kind of warmth that makes the entire room feel like it’s just the two of you.

Higuruma notices you looking and smiles, his voice tender. “What is it?” he asks, setting his fork down and leaning slightly forward.

You smile, feeling a little shy under his attention. “I was just thinking… This is nice. I mean, everything’s been so crazy lately, but this moment… it feels different. Like we can just… breathe.”

Higuruma’s eyes soften, and he chuckles. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it. You deserve this. You deserve to have some peace.”

His words make your heart flutter, and you find yourself blushing a little. “Thanks. I really needed it,” you admit, your voice quieter. “And it’s been nice, being with you.”

Higuruma’s smile widens slightly, but there’s an underlying tenderness in his expression as he takes another sip of his drink. “I’m glad. I can’t tell you how much it means to me to hear that.”

The tension between you two shifts again, but this time, it’s less about the world outside and more about the connection growing between you. You both share little glances, shy smiles, and soft laughter as you continue eating, the evening becoming more relaxed with each passing moment.

“You know,” Higuruma says, his voice lowering as he glances over at you, “I’ve been thinking about something… I’m glad we’re doing this. This, right here. It feels like… like we could have a real chance. After everything that’s happened, it’s nice to just enjoy being with someone who’s not involved in all the chaos.”

You pause for a moment, letting his words settle. There’s a warmth in your chest, something comforting and undeniable. “I feel the same,” you say quietly. “I’m not used to things being this calm, but with you… it’s different. I feel safe.”

Higuruma’s gaze deepens as he reaches across the table to gently touch your hand. His fingers brush yours, and the contact makes your heart skip a beat. He gives you a soft, almost uncertain smile, as though asking if it’s okay to say the next thing.

“I want you to know,” he begins, voice low and sincere, “I’ve never really believed in this sort of thing before. The whole idea of finding someone who makes everything else feel like it doesn’t matter. But when I’m with you, I feel like I’m seeing things differently.”

You look at him, your breath catching in your throat. There’s something so raw, so genuine in his eyes that you can’t look away. His hand tightens just slightly around yours as he adds, “I know we’ve been through a lot, and things are still… complicated. But I want you to know that I’m here. For you. For us.”

The sincerity in his voice sends a wave of warmth through you, and you can’t help but smile softly, feeling the same way. “I don’t want to be caught up in the chaos either,” you whisper, “But I don’t want to be alone in it either.”

There’s a beat of silence as you both share a meaningful look, the weight of everything passing between you in that unspoken understanding.

As you continue your meal, the conversation flows more easily now. You talk about little things—things you like, small dreams you have, your favorite songs, the food you’ve always wanted to try, things that make you laugh. The mood is light, your worries momentarily pushed aside, replaced by the warmth of connection.

The night feels like a moment suspended in time, just for the two of you, as you share this simple yet meaningful experience together. As you finish your meal, Higuruma reaches over to take your hand once more, his thumb gently brushing over the back of your hand. His voice, softer now, breaks the comfortable silence.

“Thank you for being here. For trusting me,” he says, his eyes holding yours with that same quiet intensity. “I know things aren’t perfect, and we don’t know what comes next… but I want to keep this—this, with you—for as long as I can.”

Your heart swells at his words, and you find yourself leaning in slightly. “I want that too,” you say, your voice just above a whisper, but full of sincerity. “I want us to be okay.”

And as the night continues, you both hold on to that fleeting sense of peace, savoring every moment as you share more than just dinner—you share trust, vulnerability, and a connection that feels like it could be something truly special.

The night air is cool as Higuruma opens the car door for you, offering his hand with a soft, reassuring smile. You slip into the car, feeling the gentle hum of the engine as he joins you, the warmth of his presence filling the space between you. The car ride is quiet but comfortable, both of you lost in the moment, sharing occasional glances that speak more than words could.

As he pulls into the driveway of his apartment building, he turns to you with a soft smile.

"Would you like to stay at my place tonight?" he asks gently, his voice low, almost as if he's testing the waters.

You nod, but there's a slight hesitation. "I would love that... but I need to grab a change of clothes," you admit.

Higuruma looks at you thoughtfully before offering an alternative. "You can wear something of mine. I'll bring you some clothes in the morning-help you get ready for work," he says with a quiet chuckle. The thought of him picking out clothes for you, making sure you're comfortable, brings a smile to your face.

You giggle softly, a warmth blossoming in your chest. "That sounds perfect," you say, the moment feeling simple yet intimate.

As the two of you walk to the entrance of his apartment, Higuruma takes your hand, his touch both protective and tender. He opens the door to his apartment, and just before you can step in, he sweeps you up into his arms effortlessly. You laugh in surprise, feeling light in his hold as he carries you across the threshold.

The guards stationed around the building glance at each other, wide-eyed, but they quickly step aside to give Higuruma his privacy, as if this gesture is a familiar one to them. The quiet murmurs between them don't go unnoticed, but all you can focus on is the feeling of Higuruma holding you so close, his strong arms around you. It feels like you're in a bubble of your own-a world of your own.

Once inside, he shuts the door behind him, his movements deliberate as he carries you to his bedroom. His gaze is soft, yet there's a hunger in his eyes, a silent yearning that pulls at you. He places you gently on the bed, his hands lingering on your sides as he looks down at you.

The room feels intimate, and every touch between you both seems to deepen the connection that has been building ever since that first moment you met. He leans down, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that starts tender, almost reverent. But as the kiss deepens, his hands wander to your sides, gently caressing the soft curve of your body.

His touch is careful but filled with longing.

You feel your heart race as his kisses become more fervent, more desperate, as if he's afraid of losing this connection, afraid of waking up from this dream. You respond in kind, your hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer. There's a sense of passion, but it's grounded in something more— trust, care, and a depth that neither of you has dared to speak out loud yet.

His hands travel along your body, tracing each line as if committing it to memory, his lips trailing down to your neck as he murmurs your name softly, almost reverently. The bed beneath you feels soft, the weight of his body comforting as he hovers above you, lost in the moment. There's a tenderness in his movements, a quiet promise that, no matter what happens, he's here, with you, in this moment.

You feel safe with him, more than you've ever felt before. His kiss, the way he touches you, it's not just about desire—it's about connection, about being seen and held in a way that makes everything else fade into the background.

The world outside his apartment no longer matters. It's just the two of you, in this space, in this moment, where everything feels right.

#jjk #jjk angst #jjk fluff #jjk smut #angst #fluff #smut #higuruma hiromi #hiromi higuruma #female reader #higuruma fluff #higuruma angst #higuruma smut #nanami fluff

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pagesfromthevoid · 2 years ago

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Your Kiss, My Cheek | d.d.

Din Djarin x princess!reader, Grogu x princess!reader (familial)

A Cowboy Like Me drabble

In which Grogu reflects on life with his princess and his dad

Word Count: ~770

Warnings: Nada

Author’s Note: You guys have one (1) more drabble after this before I drop part 13 and it’s glory. Enjoy the little semblance of information that you need for context

Series Masterlist | Talk to Me!

On Sorgan, Grogu sat with Wynta and the other children while listening to Omera tell a story. He wasn’t sure how much longer his father would be gone, or where his princess was. Grogu knew she was taken by someone, and he understood that his dad needed to save her. Grogu missed her; dad was fantastic –caring, protective –and he loved him. But she was soft, and understanding. She let him explore and read to him. She held him when he was scared, kissed his cheeks and promised to keep him safe. Grogu liked his princess almost as much as he liked his dad.

But his princess was gone, and so was his dad.

He just didn’t know where they went. But he knew that his dad wouldn’t leave him alone unless there was no choice.

His dad was good like that.

While Wynta whispered something to him –something about his princess and how she caught a frog the other day – Grogu was thinking about what was going to happen to her and his dad. He had left in such a hurry, and it had been nearly a week since his dad had left. Grogu wondered what was happening.

“Mando’s back!”

Omera looked up from the children, then to Grogu. He had turned to the voice of one of the cart drivers, who was running into the camp. Omera stood and scooped him up, and Grogu felt relief as he saw their ship break through the trees. It was a fast rescue mission, then. Dad and his princess would be home and while the three of them would have to leave again most likely, he was fine with that –because at least they were together.

Several of the villagers, along with him and Omera, hurried through the forest to greet him. But when they arrived, and the hatch to the ship lowered, only his dad came into view. Grogu wondered if she was just in the bunk, resting or recovering, but when his dad took him from Omera’s arms –Grogu knew there was something wrong.

“Where is she, Mando?” Omera asked, looking up at him with a deep frown.

“She’s safe,” he confirmed, looking down at Grogu now. He knew when his dad was upset, or angry. Could feel it, even when he couldn’t see his face. “I have to take the child back with me.”

Grogu looked up at his dad now, blinking up at him in confusion.

“Is that safe?”

“There’s no other choice,” his dad countered, looking back at Omera now. “Calisto intends to use her to bring Grogu to Gideon. I can’t let that happen.” Grogu reached up to touch his dad’s chest plate, trying to get his attention. But he just shook his head. “It’s going to be fine, kid. Don’t worry. We’ll keep you safe and get her back.”

Grogu tilted his head to the side, frowning some as his dad loaded him up onto the ship.

Within the hour, the two were trekking back through space, off to save their princess. His dad had been quiet the entire time and Grogu tried to get his attention, using the Force to pull his toy from the shifter. But his father snatched it back, looking down at him and shaking his head. Grogu grumbled in response, trying again.

“Kid,” dad said, turning to face him. “I need you to stop. I need you to just…just please stop.”

Grogu stared at his dad, eyes wide with surprise. He had heard his dad sound so many ways; feel so many things. Angry, terrifying, defeated, vengeful. But this…this was new. This was fear. And he had never heard his father sound so scared before.

Whoever had his princess was scaring him. And Grogu didn’t like that.

After a moment of staring at each other, his dad pulled him into his lap and sighed. Grogu looked up at him, then back out the window.

“I’m going to marry her when we save her,” his dad explained, leaning back in his seat. Grogu hummed, tilting his head once more. “I asked her to. We’re gonna be a clan of three soon.”

Grogu had interacted with lots of people that his father cared about. Peli and her droids that ran around and let him chase them. Cara and Karga, both who made sure that dad was taking care of him whenever they visited. Of course, there was Omera and her people who Grogu loved. But his dad didn’t love any of them like he loved his princess.

Their princess.

His mom.

———

Taglist (CLOSED): @r4iner @sgt-morgan @mingeniee @darling1darling @teriolan-blog @venusfalling @double—take @sunshine96 @demisexuallover @mxtokko @ellesvoid @waddafaknik @c-ms1ut @kokoirne @sl-ut @munsons-queen @intense-sneezing @geekrenaissance @dancealongthelightofday @tizylish @ruleroftides @aheadfullofsteverogers

#din djarin x reader #din djarin #din djarin imagine #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian #mando x reader

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ashomodeus · 1 month ago

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Hello fellow people. When I say work has been HELL. I've been working 12-13 hour days for the last month. I will get back to writing soon. I would like to disclose that just because the obey me current games are coming to an end doesn't mean I will stop writing. I will keep writing even if I'm the only fan left. I started playing Obey me a few months after the game was released. Obey me brought my fiancée and I closer when we would GO OUT OF STATE to look for Mc sheep plushies. I will always love this game. My request will be answered soon. I just need an extra few days to just put my brain back into things. I'm not going anywhere. Here's something I posted a while ago but deleted because I didn't think it was good enough.

I would like to thank Beyonce for everything.

Levi x Gn!Mc

MC loved hanging out with Levi today they were playing a new game it was kind of a VR fighting game. Levi wanted to play it because it looked dumb, but MC was willing to play anything with him.

They played for about 2-3 hours beating each other’s score. MC fell back into Levi’s bathtub.

“I’m out I can’t do this anymore” MC rested their head back. Levi laughed and looked at MC. MC was out of breath and covered in sweat. Levi felt a certain way he couldn’t put his finger on.

“What?” MC said out of breath.

“No-othing” Levi looked away hiding his blush. He needed to calm down before he loses it.

“No what don’t be a coward” MC laughed.

“I’m not a coward-“ Levi frowned. Levi noticed that MC was working him up on purpose. Levi furrowed his brows and walked over to MC.

“What” MC questioned.

“You look like this- and I have always wanted to make you look like this, it’s not a fair a stupid game did it first” Levi was obviously jealous of this fact but he couldn’t have that.

“You know what i’ll just make you look better than this” Levi smirked.

“I-“ MC was interrupted by a kiss. MC was excited a jealous Levi is always the best Levi.

Levi forcefully picked up MC and taking them to the bed. He began to Undress himself then undress MC. MC kissed Levi eagerly. This led him to push MC closer to him. MC let out a soft this helped Levi shove his tongue in their mouth.

MC was already breathless after Levi pulled away, but Levi wanted to show them that he can make them look like that too. Levi moved down and placed kisses all over MC’s body. Making sure to leave marks where people will see it. Levi positioned himself on top of MC placing his hard cock In between their inner thighs.

Levi started teasing MC’s hole placing his tip in and out. MC was moaning Levi’s name just wanting more grinding their hips just to go the slightest bit deeper. Levi pushed himself fully in giving MC time to adjust.

“Levi... come on” MC said wanting Levi to just fuck them. Levi began pushing himself in and out of MC while leaving hickies on their neck.

Moans filled the room as MC was being stuffed by Levi’s throbbing cock.

Levi pulled out of MC and sat on the edge of the bed. MC followed and Levi sat them on his lap. He inserted himself once more and pounded into them.

Levi turned MC’s head so he could kiss them while fucking them. MC suddenly broke the kiss.

“Ah fuck- Levi right there” Levi started to fuck them at a steadier place trying to hit that spot every time. Suddenly he could feel MC tighten around him as their climax arrived.

Levi continues to fuck them bringing them over the edge. MC moaned continuously.

“Go on your knees” Levi grunted. Mc listened happily. MC opened their mouth waiting for Levi’s cum. It didn’t take that long for Levi to cum just the look of MC waiting for his warm load to cover their face brought Levi over the edge.

MC caught some in their mouth and cleaned up Levi’s dick with their mouth. He looked down at MC covered in his cum. He smiled.

“Told you I’ll make you look better” He smiled to himself.

#obey me #obey me lord diavolo #obey me one master to rule them all #obey me one shot #obey me swd #obey me lucifer #obey me shall we date #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me headcanons #obey me smut #obey me levi x mc #obey me leviathan

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rottingcherub-txt · 11 days ago

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❝ to dirt we shall return ❞

🫀・・・contents: mentions of religion (specifically Christianity), blasphemey, mentions of sexual assault, domestic violence, abuse, gore and blood, graphic depictions of murder, predatory behavior towards minor, religious guilt

dedicated to my dear friend, happy birthday Lucio!

I am dirty.

I know it like you know it. Like He knows it. I was born dirty, born from sin, born from the soiled womb of a woman who knew no better. She held me as I was born, bloody and wailing to be returned to my purity from my fallen Heaven. Ma did not want me born as I did not want to be born. She looked up on me with sorrow. I was a dirty child born into a filthy world and I hadn't even known it. God looked down upon me because I was a devil-spawn. From forceful penetration to screaming birth, my coming was not foretold.

She was made to marry her rapist by her parents to avoid me being born out of wedlock and to save her from public ridicule. I was dirty because Pa had dirtied her. I was dirty because of his seed. I was dirty because who was I if not my father's daughter?

My parents took me to church because it was the right thing to do for a child like me. Ma would stroke my head as I sat curled in her lap, pressed against her bosom, my small fist curled into the floral pattern of her dress. Pa would sit beside us with his arm around the back of her chair.

It was a small place, off the side of a lonely road lined with tall, gold, dead grass. It was all but a tent, filled with chairs and people and a podium where Pastor Elijah would speak with conviction of the outside world, filled with smut and muck.

“You are dirty,” he’d say, looking at me, my small frame sitting in the lap of my mother who bounced me on her thigh. He’d stare into me, my soul, like he could see my sin. The sin of existing. “But you can be clean with the salvation of God.” I wanted to be clean. I wanted to be pure. I wanted to wash my soul and make it new. What had I done to be born so wrong?

So I made myself everything I thought I ought to be. I made myself chaste, pure, innocent. I masqueraded as everything I know I am not. I grew into my body, into my sin. At the cusp of my adolescence, I had already begun developing rapidly. By the age of 13, I had the body of a woman. “The body of a harlot,” Pa would say. My first blood came soon after.

Ma sat me down by the time I was 16. “I need you to know, Edith. Men will look at you a certain way because of the way you look now. But you remember now, you ain't nothing but a child. No matter what people say about you, you are good and you ain't no whore.” She looked at me with furrowed brows and glossy eyes. Her nether lip trembled.

But I had already known of her warning. I could see it in the eyes of those who longed to dirty themselves in me. I had known it in the “you should smile more, sweetheart” or the way men would look upon my young body as if I were a woman they’d like to court. I knew it well at my age. Such an uncomfortable age. My body longed for the adulthood that barely grazed my fingertips, though, my mind would forever miss the sweet innocence of my youth.

I walked along the side of the road to get back home from school. Ears of corn as far as the eye could see planted over flat farmlands was my only company along this lonely road. I would talk to the corn. So many ears, how could they not listen? I spoke of my dirtiness, playing with a long strand of grass I had plucked from the ground. It was dead like me. Dry and hollow, the life sucked out of it. It was walked all over and crushed beneath the feet of those who cared not to even acknowledge it.

I was pretty in my white dress. One of my sleeves falling down my shoulder, I hadn't bothered to fix it up. With my frilly, lace socks and my flats, I walked the 5 miles it took to get back home so I could prepare dinner with Ma. My sweet lips hummed the hymns Ma would sing to me before bed when I was a young child.

There was a squeal of old breaks behind me. I turned to look over my shoulder and saw an old, red truck inching closer before pulling up beside me.

“Edith, that you?”

It was an older man, around Pa’s age, maybe older, around mid-50s. I recognized him as a frequent face in our little church, a casual friend of Pa’s, but I didn't know him personally. I never spoke to him but he seemed to know me well enough to know my name. I nodded slowly, not knowing any better. I was sweet and trusting. Too much so.

“What’cha doing walking down here?” He called over his idle engine, looking at my skant shoulder glistening under the sun that barely peeked over the horizon. The sky, the Lord’s canvas, painted in delicately detailed strokes of lip-smacking tangerine and giggling rose.

My lips parted to speak. “I’m just trying to get home, sir.”

The man didn't hesitate. “Ya want a ride home? Looks like we're going in the same direction.” He looked out down the road when the sun was quickly retreating beyond the horizon. “An’ it’ll be dark soon. Wouldn't want a pretty girl like you walking alone at night, now would we?” He offered a smile that was meant to be charming. His teeth were slightly crooked, even more slightly yellowed. His hair was graying along the sides of his head and he was gripping the steering wheel tight.

I thought only of how my feet hurt from walking so much and how much more I'd have to go. Ma would love it if I managed to get home early because some kind stranger from church helped me. She'd invite him in for dinner, thank him profusely with the additional promise to pray for him tonight.

So I agreed and walked around the back of his truck to get inside the passenger seat. Plastered all over his truck’s bumper, stickers with Bible quotes, others urging people to find salvation, all talking of the greatness of the Lord. I felt safe as I always had in the sweet comfort of religion. It stroked my cheeks like Ma would when I cried and told me that even being born dirty, born a child of forced impregnation out of wedlock, I could still be clean one day. I could still earn my way into Heaven.

The man’s truck smelled of cigarettes and booze. Bottles of beer littled the passenger side floor and half-smoked cigarettes were snuffed out in the cupholder he had made into a makeshift ashtray. The doors clicked locked and I fell silent in my place. I kept my hands on my bag in my lap. My eyes on my feet sitting on top of brown beer bottles.

The man shifted the truck into drive and pulled off down the line road with a rusty squeal. There was an old automatic switchblade on the dash beneath a rosary hanging from the rearview mirror. The rosary swung back, swaying with every jolt of the truck, old and rusty. The silver cross glinted gold beneath the dusky sunlight, just narrowly missing the knife as it danced.

“Ya know, I watched ya grow up, Edith? In the church and whatnot. You might not remember me, but I was there when you were baptized.”

I swallowed, tucking some of my curls behind my ear. My lips pursed softly. I was baptized as a baby. Of course, I hadn’t remembered it but if I had, I’m sure I would have still felt unclean even being washed in the blood of Christ. I would have felt like I had soiled the water just by being in it, made it impure, made it nothing more than a devilish pit of sin.

I was sin. My body was sin. My Pa made sure I knew as soon as I began developing breasts that I would grow up to be nothing more than some “hussy" like Ma. It was her fault he took her like that, made her unclean. “She should’ve covered up more,” he’d laugh with a beer in hand.

He chuckled. “I was almost ya godfather.” He drove with one hand on the wheel and the other hanging off the center console between us. It twitched a bit, inching closer and closer to my side. “Man, you done grown up to be one pretty girl, haven’t ya?” His voice was a bit lower than it had been before. I glanced to my side and found that he was already looking at me. Dark. His eyes were dark and full of an emotion I had learned far too young as lust. He lusted for me, for my body; that looked maybe too soft, too welcoming to those of impure mind.

I could see my house up ahead, standing atop a hill between tall, swaying grass and powerlines. But the man, Pa’s friend, would pull off to the side of the road before we could get there. I looked at him, almost fearful as he reached across the center console and placed his large, calloused hand upon the exposed flesh of my thigh.

“Sir–”

He stroked my thigh and looked at me with a smile. “Oh, ya don’t have to play coy with me, darlin’.” With his free hand, he rubbed the center of his jeans. Discomfort flooded through me. I turned to open the door but it was locked. I was scared. Had I soiled the mind of a good Christian man with my body?

‘No. This is not my fault.’ I thought as his fingers began to tug on my dress and pull it up my scant thigh. I looked into his eyes and saw the devil between the desire swimming in his dark eyes and the tender smile attempting to assure me that this was okay. I was nothing more than a doll to him, to anyone. A fragile thing that could be positioned however they'd like. I was pretty. I was stupid. I was desperate to be something I knew I never would be. My damnation was destined from the start.

My eye twitched. I didn't think about it. For the first time in my few years of life, I didn't think about anything. My fingers lunged for the switchblade on the dash. I grasped the black handle and let the blade pop out. It shone under the last remaining days of sun. And without hesitation, I stabbed him in the tender flesh of his throat. I twisted the blade in the wound before pulling it out.

The pressure of his arteries came bursting out all at once. Blood sprayed across me in a perfect crescent, like the sweet arch of Lolita's back as she lay in the grass behind her house. As red as her heart-shaped glasses. I was doused in crimson gold. Hot and beautiful. It landed on my face and dyed the front of my sweetheart dress scarlet.

His hand retreated from me to grab at his throat as he choked on his own life source. He looked at me, eyes all wide with surprise and fear. I didn't recognize that look from men. No one ever looked at me, my small frame, my brown skin oiled with vanilla perfumes, and thought that I was someone to fear.

I liked it better than lust.

I watched him die in his own car. The spray of his blood settled into a quiet dribble. He fell back into his seat in a slump, limp. His eyes were still open but the distinct light of life was gone. The spark was snuffed out under my heel. I was no longer dead. I was alive. My fingers trembled with it. I was warm with blood that engulfed me. It felt good.

I felt renewed, cleaned. My sin washed away by the sins of another. Baptized in the blood of Christ meant nothing. I baptized myself in the blood of that which was worse than I and I was born again.

I had little outward reaction to killing a man. I unlocked the door and popped it open to hop out. I tossed the switchblade into his lap and slammed the door shut with slippery hands. Home was so close, I could walk there in a matter of minutes. I didn't care who saw me. I didn't care who saw my victim. I was pleased with myself and my work. The work of God.

Luckily, no one saw me. The road my family lived on was rather desolate and didn't get much traffic. I walked onto the porch and took off my shoes, which had been spared from the dappled blood, and opened the screen door to get inside.

I could hear Ma in the kitchen, washing dishes. Pa wouldn't be home from work for another hour or two. I could trust Ma. She wouldn't turn me away, wouldn't shun me for my transgression. So I walked into the kitchen and stood at the entrance.

“Edith, baby, is that you?” Ma called with her sweet voice. She could have been a soul singer in another life with that smooth, deep baritone. If only she hadn't had me. If only her life hadn't been ruined by Pa and me. She could have done great things.

I suddenly felt dirty again.

“I’m right here, Ma.”

She glanced over her shoulder at me. Then did a double take. “Edith!” She turned off the water and pulled off her rubber gloves with a speed I had never seen her move before. Ma came rushing over to me, grabbing me up and inspecting me. “What happened? Who hurt you?” She looked for any open wounds on my body but there were none.

With a soft voice, I said, “I’m not hurt, Ma… I hurt someone.” I didn't look ashamed or remorseful in any way. I had killed someone and I felt nothing but glee that another man of filth was scrubbed from this Earth. I had done something good. I was made holy by my work.

I recounted what happened to Ma, her face morphing more and more to horror with each word of what the man was attempting to do, that he was a friend of Pa’s, that I had stabbed in in his throat, that I didn't feel a thing about it. Her warm skin looked pale and blanched, her full lips trembled. She looked away from me for a moment, thinking about something.

Then she embraced me. She did so with a tight, fierce sigh almost in relief. When she pulled away, her hands came to cradle my face. Her eyes were gentle and kind. Without a single word, she had told me she understood and would not shun me for my deed. I could have cried if I wasn't so euphoric. My existence was not a disgrace as Pa would have me know. I was good, I was divine. I had done a holy act. Me. I was the hand of God.

“Come, let's get you cleaned up and hide these clothes before your Pa comes home.”

Pastor Elijah seemed to be an ever-present figure in my life since I was born. He was a “good, God-fearing man” to Pa but I knew why he said as much. He was the one who married Ma and Pa together. He was the one who convinced Ma’s parents that it would be best to marry Pa after he had forced himself upon her and impregnated her. He looked at her, even through her tears and screaming, her swollen belly of a child she had not wanted, and told her to marry her rapist.

Her life was ruined, all in one fell swoop.

Pa always insisted on staying after church for us to speak to Pastor Elijah, especially now that one of his friends had been found dead just up the street from our home. Whispers of it lingered all about the church tent. Apparently his name was Joshua and people believed that he had killed himself with the knife left in his lap and all. No one had suspected foul play, much less that I had done it. For who would suspect a young girl like me to do something so horrific?

I stood beside Pa, his arm over my shoulders, fingers gripping my the flesh of my bicep as he held me to his side. He held me like a possession, like someone was out to steal me from him. He did the same with Ma.

I hadn’t been listening much to his conversation with Pastor Elijah, too busy trying to catch any whispers of any murder. I had been pulled back into the conversation upon Pastor Elija turning to me with a smile that rang awfully similar to that of Joshua’s. It was perverted. His eyes flickered down my body, hitching slightly at my chest that was rather hard to hide. “Edith here is getting to the age of marriage, isn’t she? She’ll be eighteen soon enough.”

It was clear what he was implying. His own wife had died from childbirth before I was born. The child didn’t make it either. It seemed he was intent on making me his new child bride. He looked at Pa with a raised, white brow. “I think it could be discussed.” Pa agreed, humming softly while gripping me harder.

I had little say in my own decisions. It seemed I would have no say in who I would marry. Pa cared little for what Ma and I had to say. He made it very clear everytime he would choke Ma whenever she dared to talk back to him. He’d never lay a hand on me, but he’d threaten to.

The car ride back home was silent. The lingering idea that I might be given away to a man triple my age swam through my mind in dizzying circles. He would touch me if he wanted. There were no laws against marital rape. I knew as much when Pa would do so to Ma, even as she cried so loud that I could hear her through the thin walls of our little home. That would be me. A fate passed down from mother to daughter like a family heirloom.

We passed the spot where Joshua pulled over with me and where I had taken his life. I knew what I would do if he tried to touch me.

The idea settled for a few days. Pa had mentioned it to Ma, not to gauge her opinion but to let her know that it was an inevitably that her daughter would be married off and she would have to stand there and watch it happen. For a moment, I had believed that Pa had dropped the idea all together. Maybe I was still too young in his eyes to marry. Maybe he didn’t want it to be with Pastor Elijah. Whatever the reason,I had a small moment of respite where I believed I was safe.

I should have been smarter than to believe such a thing.

Pa had invited me to go into town with him. He never usually did. There was always a strange distance between Pa and I though he always kept me physically close. He never hit me like he hit Ma. He occasionally gave me small pieces of candy that he'd get from the store. While he was indeed belligerent, there were small kindnesses he offered me that made life slightly more bearable.

I’d come to find out that it was all a trap to get me to go with him to Pastor Elijah’s house. Pa’s small kindnesses were not without their pitfalls. I should have known better than to trust him. Though, he probably would have forced me into the car if I did not choose to go by my own free will.

I sat in the passenger seat as we pulled into the grass in front of Pastor Elijah’s home. It was larger than ours yet still modest. Pastel yellow paint chipped off the wooden frame of the house. It was not well kept. In the back, there was a pile of chopped wood and a stump with an axe lodged in it.

I reached up to grasp the cross necklace I wore around my throat. I tugged at the pace trim to the white slip dress that I hadn't had the chance to change out of. All I had on were my dress, my necklace, and working boots I had slipped on on the way out the door. I felt vulnerable, exposed as Pa stepped out the truck and I watched through the windshield as he greeted Pastor Elijah with a smile.

They spoke for a minute before they both looked back at the truck, at me. I felt like I was a used item being sold off. I felt the grime under my fingernails, the dirt accumulating on my skin. I felt like filth. I felt like sin.

Pa motioned me to get out of the truck and I hesitated a moment before complying. His eyes wouldn't leave me. His smile was filled with filth and perverse desires. I walked over, my boots digging in the dirt as I did. I felt like shit in the dirt.

“Edith, it’s nice to see you again. Why don't you come in for some coffee?”

Pa grabbed my shoulder and squeezed it so tight I thought I might bruise under his touch. I bruise easy, like Ma. With her swollen cheeks and busted lip. Her black eyes and the bruise in the shape of a handprint around her neck. I wonder if that's what awaits me in my near future. “Be good. Don't cause no trouble, now.” He murmured into my ear before letting me go.

He left me there. With the man who baptized me and now planned to make me his wife. I felt sick. My stomach squeezed with disgust. It twisted and turned as I walked up the porch steps and walked into his home that smelled like burned coffee and mothballs. I was not welcome. His furniture didn't speak to me. His mantle was empty. The wooden floorboards creaked under my weight. This house was not a home.

He came out with two mugs and handed me one. I took it with trembling fingers. “Why don’t you sit? You’re so stiff.” Pastor Elijah offered me a seat on a plush chair beside the couch. I sat. Stiffly. He sat with me on the side of the couch closest to me. He took a sip of his coffee made plain while I just held mine in my hands, scratching at the floral design of the side. Dirt under my fingernails.

There was a long stretch of silence for a while. The slight slurping of his lips against the rim of the mug, the steady ‘tick tock’ of the grandfather clock by the stairway, the settling sounds of the house. I needed out. I needed to shower, to wash myself clean, make myself pure again. I needed to baptize myself.

“You’re not dumb, Edith. I know you know that your father and I have been talking about you getting married soon. And as you know,” Pastor Elijah sipped on his coffee once more, “my previous wife passed away a long while ago.” He reached out to place his hand upon mine, with his sunspots and wrinkles. And he caressed my fingers.

I hated him. I hated Pa. My lips twitched, almost to curl with disgust. This man– he was foul, filthy, dirtier than I could ever begin to be. But I hid it well, the pastor didn't seem to notice the flash of revulsion across my face as he came to smile at me. I forced myself to smile back through the tightening of my stomach.

“I want you to be comfortable around me, in my home. Your father has already blessed our marriage.”

I could have screamed. I could have grabbed him and strangled him. But who would that make me other than my father's daughter? No, I chose to be methodical about how I would get rid of him. I smiled all pretty like I was open to the idea of marrying this man who had watched me grow up and now planned to have me bear his children. I would kill him. I would dispose of this filth and cleans my hands in his blood to clear my own sin.

“Thou shall not murder”, but it’s only murder if the man is innocent.

“Why don't you give me a tour of the house, Pastor Elijah?” I layered my voice with kindness to hide the venom dripping from my lips. I hated the way he smiled. I hated the way his hand held mine, his thumb stroking my knuckles. “Please, call me Eli. We’ll be getting very close soon. It’s only right you stop calling me that.”

He stood up to offer me that tour with a big, bright smile across his thin lips. Elijah showed me around the living room, the kitchen, and as he was about to take me upstairs to look around up there, I politely asked, “Can you show me the backyard?”

He paused and looked towards the back door in the kitchen. One foot already on the stairs, he stepped down with a gentle sigh. “Of course.” I followed him through the kitchen and through the back door into the backyard where the pile of wood had been stacked against the house under an awning. The stump with the axe was just a few feet away. My gaze lingered on it before flickering back to the pastor who was speaking with his back to me. He spoke of “our children running around and playing back here once we get married.”

I grabbed the handle of the axe and placed my foot up on the stump to brace myself as I pulled it out and tossed it over my shoulder. It was heavy and I was rather small but I was determined to get out of this marriage any way I knew how. I was desperate to free myself from this life of filth.

I walked up behind Elijah and with a great huff, I lifted the axe over my head. It seemed that my slight noise alerted him because he turned around just as I began to bring the axe down with a great swing. There was a sweet look in his crystalline eyes, a look quite familiar to me. I liked the flash of fear across his face, the millisecond he had to react was that of terror for his fate.

The axe split his head open with a sickening, wet crack. Blood splattered across my body and I didn't mind it one bit. This was good. I was good. I watched a man go from living to dead once and I enjoyed it even more the second time. I could see his brain matter pulsating beneath the shattered fragments of his skull. He fell to the ground dead. Blood pooled around his head quickly and I was sure to avoid leaving any prints in it. Dead. I had killed him. It's a wonderful feeling to have power over all the men who told me I was nothing, that I was dirty, that God would never forgive me for what I was. Now they were nothing. Just dirt under my feet.

I smiled.

Pa is not a good man.

I knew that from a very young age. Between his drinking and his violence, I saw a man not meant to be a husband, a father. I would whisper to Ma promises of us running away, escaping him as I tended to her cuts and bruises. She’d cry in my arms, the arms of a child no older than 9. And through her tears, she'd apologize to me. She'd apologize like any of this is her fault. That's how I knew Pa was nothing more than scum, even at my age.

“You have your mother's body,” he’d say to me at my tender age of 14 when I was developing into a woman. He was drunk — like he often was — and Ma was sleeping upstairs. I had been in the living room sitting with him, reading a book. I was just in shorts and a camisole when he had first commented on my body. I hadn't known how to respond at the time, so I didn't. It seemed that that was enough of a response for him, a silent submission to his sexualization of my young body.

If anyone in this world made me feel the dirtiest, it was him. He had made me this way, this muddled abomination — an amorphous shape of nothing but flies and shit. I was no one to him. Just a doll. And because I was a doll to him, it inspired everyone around him to treat me just the same way. Like I would take it. I was done taking it.

No one found poor Pastor Elijah’s body for a few days. Everyone was suspicious when he hadn't shown up to give his Sunday sermon. So a few people went to his home and found him dead in his backyard. And accident, probably while cutting wood for his fireplace. He fell and that was the end of it. Everyone was distraught. The funeral held at the church tent brought people even from out of town. Everyone said the same things, “he was a good man”, “he didn't deserve this”, “why did God take him”.

I hadn't realized that taking a life meant I was playing God until right then. I decided who lived and died. I decided when, where, and how. And that made me powerful. It wasn't God who took him, it was me. The thought made me smile, but swiftly, I hid it behind faux tears. A farce. Ma knew what I had done and she knew that I had to do it. He had to die so that I could flourish. I had to kill him and bathe in his blood and let him know that I was above him so that I could live. She never wanted me to suffer the same fate as her.

Pa was yelling at Ma in the car. He was upset that Pastor Elijah had died and somehow found a way to blame it on her. “You didn't want her married to ‘em. Fucking bitch, you worthless piece of shit.” He grabbed her by her hair. “You’re gonna get it tonight.” And when he let her go, she was already crying. I hated how he treated Ma. Like a punching bag. When we got home, she had run away upstairs to come herself while I cleaned up.

“Edith! Grab me another beer!” I could hear Pa calling from the living room. I was in the kitchen washing the dishes, scrubbing the knives that couldn't be tossed into the dishwasher. I ran the sponge down the length of the blade before rinsing it off and placing it in the rack. I pulled the rubber gloves off with a sigh and tossed them into the sink before grabbing a Pa’s 4th beer out of the fridge.

He sat lounging in his recliner, his beer bottles sitting beside him. He looked at me as I came with his new bottle, already opened for him just how he liked. Pa took it from me and immediately took a swig. And as I turned away from him, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me back. He was drunk, he stunk like sick and alcohol. He disgusted me. I trembled under the bruising grip of his hand around my wrist, not in fear, but in anger. I wanted him dead. I wanted him screaming.

Pa looked at me, licking his lips. “You look so much like your ma did at your age.” His eyes glaze over me, predatory, hungry. Dirty. He was dirty. He made me feel dirty too. “You have the body of a fucking whore. You should stop walking around like that. If you weren't my daughter, I would have already had my way with you.” He let me go. I snatched my hand away and rubbed away the ache in my wrist. “Get some clothes on.”

I was tired. I was tired of the way he made me feel. Worthless. I was worthless. I was a doll. I was disgusting. How dare he make me feel like this? I was a God. I was a saint. I was doing holy work and he dared to undermine it?

That night, lying in bed, I thought of how I would kill him. He had to die so that Ma and I could live. It was the only way for us to flourish, to strip ourselves of our suffocating cocoon and finally be free.

Through our paper thin walls, peeling pink paint and floral wallpaper, I could hear Ma crying down in the living room. Pa was yelling. She screamed before being abruptly cut of by a loud smack, skin meeting skin. There was a thump, her body hit the floor.

I shot up in bed and tossed my comforter off my body. I ran into Ma and Pa’s room to grab Pa’s revolver and went downstairs to go help Ma, praying that today wasn't the day that he actually killed her. I fumbled with the bullets. Shaking. My hands shook violently and I placed the bullets in the chamber.

He had her on the floor, his body mounting hers, with his hands wrapped around her throat. There was fire in his eyes. That look. He was going to kill her. The devil had possessed him. The fires of Hell was within him. Ma always scolded me for getting in the middle of their fights. She never wanted me to get caught in the crossfire. But if I didn't now, she would surely die.

I had never shot a gun before. But seeing my Ma there on the ground made me angry. I pulled back the hammer and it clicked just loud enough for Pa to hear through Ma’s struggling gasps for air. Her fingers clawed at his arms.

Pa saw me with his gun pointed at him and immediately let Ma go. He raised his hands as if to surrender to me, his eyes wide with terror. Now I was the one with power. He would no longer terrorize us. “Edith–” My hands trembled, my bottom lip quivered, and I could feel tears welling in my eyes. “Get offa her!”

He scrambled to get up, his hands still in the air. “Edith, you don't know what you’re doin’. Just put the gun down.” Pa tried to seem calm, or maybe he was just trying to get me to lower my defenses. The same way he’d sneak me candy or let me have a sip of his beer when I was young. His small affections didn't make up for anything. They always had their pitfalls. And I wasn't falling in them anymore.

“You will not hurt us no more!” I shrieked. The tears burned my eyes as they left them, rolling down my cheeks in soft rivers over the contours of my face. “I am not dirty! I am not a whore. And you won't ever lay a hand on her again!”

I didn't think about it as I pulled the trigger. It was quick. A bang that made my ears ring and then he hit the floor clutching his chest. I had hit him in the heart. The open wound where his chest should have been spilled with blood. If I were any closer, I would have been able to see his heart coming to a quivering stop as he died.

Ma let out a startled gasp. Her hand placed over her mouth, she had always supported my actions but she had never seen me kill in person before. Would she still love me, seeing what I’ve done to her husband? I looked at her through glossy eyes, desperate and hopeful that she wouldn't be afraid of me. “Ma?” My voice trembled and fractured. How could one love a killer like me? Someone so disgusting and undeserving of love. She looked at me with soft eyes, sweet and gentle. She came and she took the gun from my hands before grabbing me up and embracing me into her.

She smelled like vanilla and honey, like warm, sunny days, like home. And I sobbed into her shoulder, she sobbed into mine. We held each other like the world was falling apart and we cleansed ourselves with nothing more than our tears.

I am the patron saint of filth. I might be of dirt but so are you. And from dirt we are and to dirt we shall return.

#to dirt we shall return #writeblr #writers on tumblr #short shory #creative writing #original story #readers #readers of tumblr #writing #writings

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