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kasagia · 7 months ago

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Right Hand V

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!exBeneGesserit! reader Summary: The Bene Gesserit has something... very interesting to show you—something that only makes you question your situation more. During this time, Feyd is also put to a great test. But how much can your relationship endure before you both come to the conclusion that maybe you're not meant to be together? Warning: 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; fight; brutality; smut; Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ PART IV ~•♤♤♤•~ PART VI ~•♤♤♤•~

Dreams have a strange power. You can see your future and past in them. You can drift between dreamland and the real world and be semi-aware of your surroundings. You can create a new reality that is more tempting than your real life. Dreams can be either your sweet escape from reality or your dark oppressor.

For you, dreams were reminders of what had been, ghosts of the past, catching you in your most vulnerable state. But this time, you weren't dreaming about your past.

You were in Giedi Prime. You walked through familiar corridors, hiding from the Harkonnens' eyes. It was rare to meet anyone in these corridors. Most of them were dead ends with secret passages that were unknown to most of the inhabitants of Giedi Prime. That's why you were terribly surprised when suddenly someone pulled you by your cloak.

You freeze, startled, and turn slowly to face the small child. The kid looks like Harkonnen's child, but not quite. His skin is creamier than white, and white hair grows on his head in unruly curls. But what you recognised perfectly were the blue, bright irises that only one person could boast on Gieidi Prime.

"Mommy!" A boy around 5 years old runs up to you and hugs your legs as you look at him in shock and confusion. “Dad said he would take us on a trip! To Lankiveil! We will swim in a real lake! Can you imagine that?!” – he asks excitedly and holds out his hands to you. You automatically scoop him up into your arms and place him on your hip, trying to figure out what the hell is happening.

Someone's quick footsteps echo in the corridor. You look past the child and see one of the harpies approaching you. She breathed a sigh of relief and bowed to you when she saw the boy in your arms.

"You can't run away like that, my lord Na-Baron. The baron told us to look after you."

"I didn't run away. I quickly left to find my mom. Dad wanted to speak with her. Besides, it's not my fault that you're so slow." Both you and the woman next to you do everything in your power not to burst out laughing. You smile, burying your face in your "son's" hair. He was so damn similar to his father and you.

The boy jumps out of your arms and grabs your hand. He runs with you through familiar corridors and hidden passages, not caring if you can keep up with him.

This way, you are in the war room in just a few seconds. Feyd stands with his back to you, analysing something on the hologram of the planets in front of him. He doesn't even flinch when the secret passage closes behind you with a bang.

"Dad, I brought mom." Your boy announces proudly, leading you to Feyd. The man turns and runs his hand through your son's hair. The little one smiles, showing a series of night-black teeth... with small cavities. He looked so damn cute. Like a little version of his father...

"Good job, Feydor. At least you are able to find your mother in her shadows. Go, torment your uncle. I've heard that you promised Rabban a great fight after our lessons." Feyd says teasingly, wrapping his arm around your waist. You roll your eyes at his comment about shadows, but you can't help but watch his interactions with your son in fascination.

Feyd was rarely around children; on Giedi Prime, they were quite... not shown much. They were a temporary inconvenience rather than a source of pride, and the noblest and most important of the inhabitants rarely cared for their own descendants. The nannies and servants usually took care of them. That's why you observed with admiration how soft and tender he was towards the boy, who was a living mix of both of you.

"I did! I can't wait to use the voice on him. I love you, dad. I love you, mom." He hugs you and practically runs to the training room, looking forward to training with his uncle.

"Just don't humiliate your uncle too much! And remember to turn on your shield!" Feyd shouts after him, and you feel like crying at the worried and caring look on his face. You've never seen him like this. Well, not when the two of you were in no danger. "In moments like these, I feel sorry for Rabban. He has to face a deadly mix of both of us. Devious beast, just like us. It doesn't matter that Rabban is not using all his strength against him; he would have defeated him anyway with his tactical mind and the tricks he learned from you. I need to start training with him so that he doesn't become too arrogant and self-confident after his numerous victories over Rabban. He must always be alert and ready for his opponent."

Honestly, you're not listening carefully to what he's saying. You are shocked by this new reality in which you find yourself. It was too surreal for you. But you couldn't stop your heart from fluttering as he spoke about his son with such tenderness and pride. Your son.

"What's wrong? You look pale. Are you two alright? You had unusual cravings again, and now you regret what you ate?" The concern in his eyes confuses you even more. He places his hand tenderly on your stomach and watches you carefully, searching for any sign of discomfort as you wonder what the hell happened to make him... like this. It must have been your imagination. This couldn't be any vision of your future, because even in your wildest dreams, you had never imagined it to be so... beautiful. "Y/N? Talk to me, my baroness. Should I call a healer?"

"I'm fine." You reply with a smile, shaking your head and placing your hand on his—the one that was still tenderly caressing your small pregnancy belly.

"You sure?" Your lips hurt from smiling as you try your hardest not to cry in front of him with emotion. So you grab him by the neck and pull him in for a kiss.

He caresses your lips so gently and tangles his hand so carefully in your hair that you feel like you're about to cry from the way this rare, soft side of him makes you feel that he so bravely shows you.

"Yes... we... we are perfect." You whisper, resting your forehead against his, not at all referring to yourself and the child. You close your eyes, letting yourself breathe in his scent as he draws patterns with his finger on your stomach, keeping his arm possessively around you.

You wrap your arms around him tightly and bury your face in his neck, holding him as close as you can. He laughs softly and presses a kiss on your temple.

"There you are... I almost forgot how sweetly clingy you are while carrying my heir under your heart. We should've tried for a sister for our Kwisatz Haderach a long time ago." He murmurs against your skin and lazily plays with your hair, massaging your head. "Are you sure you are feeling good? You have been very quiet. Usually, you would throw all sorts of insults and banter at me. It's not too late for you to swallow your pride and admit that you want to give birth on Arrakis or anywhere other than on this polluted planet. Damn what those old hags think of you; it won't make you any less of a Harkonnen."

Your heart swells with every word he says. It takes a lot of strength on your part not to cry in his arms and to keep your voice from shaking as you try to form a coherent sentence.

"I... just promise me you will never let me go." You ask him, not daring to even look at him because you're afraid you'll cry the moment his eyes meet yours.

"You stuck with us, my baroness. Nothing can separate us." He promises it to you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head and tightening his hold on you. You felt safe. Warm. Loved.

"Good." You mumble, snuggling into him even more. You act as if this is really happening, like this is really supposed to be your life and future.

You have come to the conclusion that it is impossible and unrealistic for Feyd to change like this. The Harkonnens were not soft; they did not lead a tender family life and cared for their wives if they did take one. But in the end, it's your dream. So you sink into his arms, enjoying the sweet words he whispers in your ear and the way he strokes your hair.

Feyd had never been in such a hurry to get to his chambers. His heart was beating fast, and adrenaline was pumping through his veins as he thought about what had happened in those few hours. The baron is missing. He was kidnapped or killed by the Fremen. Feyd was to take his place until they found his uncle's body or the council officially declared him dead.

And Feyd had his suspicions about who could have contributed to the sudden disappearance of his beloved uncle. You couldn't have given him a better birthday present. In fact, you could, and he was practically running back to his chambers to pick it up.

He enters the chambers and immediately senses that it is too quiet there. He tries to dispel any suspicions and enters his bedroom, only to find the bed empty.

“Y/N?” He calls out, knocking on the table a few times to make his presence known. He peeks into the bathroom, slightly hoping that maybe you're waiting for him in the hot bath to tease him even more, but you weren't there either.

He frowns. He wonders if this isn't one of your games. Isn't that what you wanted—to play cat and mouse with him, to give him an exciting chase before he wins and can finally ravage you—but he quickly dismisses that (charming) idea. You were as desperate as he was. You wouldn't leave this room unless it was urgent. At least he hoped so.

He clenches his fists as he steps out into the main room of his chambers. The idea crosses his mind that maybe this time you actually ran away from him. He wouldn't be surprised. Maybe you finally snapped; maybe he scared you too much; maybe he went a step too far today by injecting you with truth serum and torturing your former lover/friend.

After all, you didn't say you loved him. You also didn't say that you despised him or that you wanted him to leave you. You could have escaped from him when the perfect opportunity presented itself…

"My lord, Na-Baron?" The frightened tone of one of the guards' voices brings Feyd out of his thoughts. He realises that he has gone out into the hall and is standing in the doorway, staring blankly at his two men. He clears his throat and turns his cold, calculating gaze on one of them.

"Have you seen my right hand?" They both shake their heads, not daring to look at him.

"No one left or entered these chambers except you, my na-baron." His madness grows as he unintentionally compares them to you. You always had the courage to face his anger and look at him, proudly bearing his burning gaze.

If you really run away from him... he will unleash hundreds of hounds, bring you back to him at all costs, and make sure you never leave his side again. He won't give a fuck if that's what you want. He gave you countless opportunities to leave him and end things between you two in a civilised way without brutality or bloodshed, but you didn't want it. The only thing stopping you two from being together were your stupid prejudices and fear. He planned to get rid of them completely once he got his hands on you again.

"Bring her to me." He growls at them, turning to go back to his chambers.

"But my lord..." Before the soldier can finish his sentence, Feyd reaches for his blade and cuts his throat with one skillful move. It eases the tension in his muscles a little, but the moment the man falls dead to the floor in front of him, his mood sours again. Because he remembers how, in moments like these, you often gave him a disapproving look and cleaned up the mess he made.

He growls at the other soldier, who is shaking with fear, to clean up and closes the door behind him with a loud bang. He had to find you. You got too deep under his skin for him to just forget about you. First, he had to determine whether you disappeared alone or whether someone had helped you. And God save him who dared to steal his baroness from under his nose.

He carefully examines his chambers, slowly exploring every corner. He frowns when he sees a familiar, polished dagger in his weapon collection. He picks it up and looks at it carefully. It was your blade. The one you had attached to your thigh. You had never left it—not since you got it from him for your birthday.

"Na-baron. You wanted to see me." You say, walking onto the balcony of his chambers. Feyd doesn't turn towards you. He stares at Giedi Prime spread out below him, the city completely shrouded in darkness. Only the few white stars that managed to penetrate the polluted atmosphere illuminated the planet with a pale glow. You quickly catch the hint and stand next to him, also looking at the buildings.

"I hate it here." He confesses to you without knowing why. "My home planet had seas, lakes, wild landscapes, and tundra that no one dared to tame. And here everything is so..."

"Controlled. Polluted. Defiled. Exploited. No room for anything... wild or natural." You finish for him. He nods, agreeing with your words.

It's been two years since you served him. And he had to admit that he didn't have such a good man on whom he could always count. You were extraordinary. Loyal, faithful, brave, honourable, and cunning. Feyd wanted to liberate you. Not many could live up to his expectations, but you seemed to know exactly what he wanted and needed after just one look. It aroused in him... strange feelings. Disturbing. But he didn't think about it when he was around you.

He preferred to admire your… difference. The hair that flowed slightly in the wind, the way your eyebrows knitted together in anger when someone questioned your position as his right-hand man, the way you walked, the way you could disappear into the shadows, the cunning and strength of your mind. You were an extraordinary woman. He started to appreciate you for the time you spent planning together. Nightly conversations about the nobility of Giedi Prime, your battle plans, and court intrigues became… something other than work for him. He was starting to like being close to you.

And at night, when he was with his concubines... he found himself imagining you in their place. And how much he wanted you... so much so lately that every little thing you did was the hottest, erotic act for him, even the way you moaned in appreciation when you ate good food. He was fucked up. Like a teenager in love.

But he didn't love you. He could not. His uncle had told him many times that the Harkonnens knew no love or affection. He just had to wait until this desire passed or find another right hand and make you his concubine, which was a much more difficult task. There were many pussies and holes he could have used, but you were the only one who seemed to have a mind even remotely like his. He couldn't afford to lose such a good strategist and soldier.

"Do you need anything, Na-Baron?" Your gentle question brings him out of his thoughts. He nods and goes to his chambers. He returns quickly with a black box in his hands. He hands it to you, carefully watching your reaction.

"Happy birthday, little witch." He says, not hiding a small smirk when he sees your shock. He managed to surprise you so rarely that he treated every such moment with reverence, as if it were the most important moment of his life. Pathetic. What power you had over him…

"How did you..."

"I have my ways too. Open it." He interrupts you, excited by your reaction to his gift. He puts his hands behind his back, feeling his fingers tremble slightly as they begin to sweat. He ignores it, completely focused on you as you gently untie the white bow and open the box. You hold your breath, staring at the dagger in awe. "Steel from my home planet. Don't stab yourself with it by accident. When it pierces someone's body, a piece of the blade dissolves under the heat of the attacker's blood. A small dose of this metal in the human body causes, in the worst case, a moribund state and death. We call it the shadow killer because death occurs hours after the attack unless an antidote is administered."

"I... I don't know what to say." You whisper, taking out the blade and running your fingertips over it. He looks at you with pride. He made it all by himself. For you. A detail he would take with him to his grave rather than admit to anyone.

"You can thank me. Didn't the Bene Gesserit teach you this?" He asks teasingly, making you roll your eyes at him. However, you give him such a beautiful smile that his black, rotten heart beats faster, letting him know about you for the first time in years.

"Thank you, Feyd." He melts when you say his name. You used it so infrequently that he had every little moment seared into his memory when you let your professionalism slip through and did it. And he loved the way his name sounded on your lips. He couldn't help but imagine what it would sound like when you shouted it, under much more pleasant circumstances.

"You know, we Harkonnens kiss each other on the lips as an expression of gratitude." He says this as your eyes move back to the dagger. He sees you freeze at the memory of it. You blush slightly, but enough for Feyd to notice the slight change. And he absolutely loves seeing you blushing and confused.

"I'm not a Harkonnen." You respond with a cheeky smile, and he shakes his head in amusement.

"But you are on our planet. I guess you should follow our rules and customs, right? Besides, in a few years, you'll be considered one of us."

"If I survive."

"I think you have a good chance." He smiles at your banter. The pride in his chest grows even more when, instead of looking at his black teeth in horror, you giggle, unfazed. You were so different…

However, he freezes when you take a step towards him. You cup his cheeks in your hands and pull him in for a kiss. He almost moans into your mouth like a total slut. It takes all of his willpower not to kiss you back, not to pull you closer, and not to actually taste your lips. But he can't. He won't show that he is that weak for you. So he keeps this fake kiss very professional. He is digging his nails into his palms until they bleed, as he is too afraid that he will accidentally reach for your body and pull you closer to him.

You pull away from him as suddenly as you place your lips on him. And he's both shocked and angry that your lips left his so quickly. His eyes wander to your lips as you lick them. Feyd curses himself for how badly he wants that pink tongue of yours to wrap around his own... or the hardening manhood in his pants.

"Thank you, Na-Baron Feyd Rautha." You whisper and head towards the exit, leaving him there, completely horny and wanting more of you—your touch, your kisses, your lips, your taste, your everything. He feels himself blushing at the thought of what he wants to do to you.

"Your welcome, my little witch." He mumbles as you disappear back into your shadows. He puts his bloody fingertips on his lips, tasting his blood. He closes his eyes, imagining how sweet you must taste...

Yeah... Feyd couldn't love you. A lie he had told himself since that night every time he felt his heart pound in his chest whenever he saw you.

"Brother… I mean... my Baron…" Rabban's voice reaches him vaguely as he continues to recall that day. Now he knew the taste of your lips... and your more intimate parts. And damn him if he doesn't put his fingers and tongue on you again.

"What?" He growls at him furiously, unsheathing his dagger and attaching yours to his body. The blade of the dagger was a bit uneven. And soft in his hands. It must have been used recently. And from the dried blood on the handle, he guessed that someone had clumsily tried to clean it. Someone took you from him.

He returns to the bedroom and grabs your shawl from the floor. He puts it to his nose and inhales your scent. He calms down a little—not enough for his fury to disappear, but enough to start thinking logically.

He was going to turn Arrakis into a living hell.

"The council has met. All high families. They are waiting for you."

Feyd would ignore it and go straight to find you, but your disgruntled face appears before his eyes. He would know that you would advise him to go to the council and present himself as best as possible—show his strength. He sighed, wrapping your shawl around his wrist as he made a decision.

"I see. Let's go." He announces this as he leaves the room and doesn't wait for Rabban to follow him. His brother runs after him, cursing under his breath as he tries to keep up with his fast pace. Feyd had a plan in his head and a clear goal. He'll have you in his arms at the end of the day, or he'll burn this damn planet down looking for you.

"And your witch?" Feyd suddenly stops. He turns his head slowly and looks at his brother, narrowing his eyes at him.

He shakes his head, knowing full well that you would castrate his brother before allowing him and his men to take you away. Rabban was too stupid for that and too afraid of him. If Feyd had to bet on who did it, he would choose the Bene Gesserit or Atreides with his Fremen.

"She won't be there. Order our men to close the airspace and monitor movements in the desert. Tell them to keep an eye on the Reverend Mothers and the Bene Gesserit. If they object to or question my decision, order to tell them that the baron is only trying to keep them safe. They are to report their every move to me. Once you've done that, join the meeting."

"Me?" He asks in shock, following obediently after him.

"You are my brother. We have to show that we are strong and that there are no divisions between us. Especially after my uncle is dead. They may think we are weak targets and want to get rid of us, just like we did with the Atreides. We must assert our dominance."

Rabban nods, looking at him warily. Feyd doesn't care what he looks like. They took you away from him. He'll do anything to get you back. It doesn't matter if he makes you seem mad or a worse psychopath than he already is.

Why does he need a reputation as a bloodthirsty beast if someone dared to get their hands on what's his anyway? People sentenced themselves to death and then dared to say that he was unpredictable. Pathetic idiots. He hoped you were giving them hell. His heart ached uncomfortably at the thought of someone hurting you while he had to deal with the nobility.

"Let's be honest. Baron Vladimir is dead. Paul Atreides is still at large, probably planning our murder, and the Fremen are rampaging in the desert, worshipping the false prophet. What are you going to do about it, Baron Feyd Rautha?" Feyd clenched his fists under the table. He slowly stopped being surprised that his uncle had become such a man.

After talking to the emperor for a moment, he felt like cutting out his tongue and gouging out the eyes of other high families staring at him. As if his role was to play their hero...

"We have already taken the first measures. It only takes a few bombs to extinguish the spirit of these desert rats. As for Paul Atreides... my people are looking for him. And my right hand went missing the night my uncle died. We suspect this is a related case. I'm going to head out into the desert and join the search. Of course, leaving members of high families in the care of my brother and some of our people. No one will leave Arrakis until the traitors are killed."

His calm, unruffled demeanour, and silent threat caused a slight stir in the room. Feyd suppressed a smirk. He loved controlling the crowd this way. However, he knew that impressing the emperor would be more difficult. Words were not enough to prove that the Harkonnens were a force they should be afraid of. And so far, his brother and uncle have only brought humiliation to their family. He had to fix it. Only with you by his side. That's why he had to leave this pointless meeting as soon as possible and start taking some action. His weapon craved blood.

"It wouldn't be the first time a concubine had gone missing." Princess Irulan comments. Feyd shifts his gaze to her, analysing her carefully. She was paler than usual, her posture more indifferent, as if she were trying hard to hide her true emotions behind her mask. Feyd made a note to look at her more closely.

"Probably not, Princess Irulan. However, in light of recent events—the Atreides attack, the death of my dear uncle, and the increased activity of the Fremen—I am certain that this is not a mere disappearance. This is a deliberate action. Attack on noble houses. Attack on the Harkonnens. And maybe I wouldn't be so concerned about my right hand being missing if it weren't for the baby." After his words, silence fell in the room. Feyd delights in the shocked look from the princess and the nobles in the room.

"The baby?"

"My heir she carries." Feyd nods, repeating his words to the emperor.

Feyd could barely contain his smirk, knowing full well how much you would like to see the faces of representatives of great houses now. To say they were shocked was an understatement. But what else was he supposed to say? That he goes looking for you with a thousand of his troops because he loves you and simply can't lose you? Only the thought of losing his heir was... a good reason to search all of Arrakis and close the airspace—any possibility of leaving the planet.

Because who would stop Harkonnen from desperately searching for the woman who carries his heir? Even a fool wouldn't dare. And if the Bene Gesserit were behind your kidnapping, they wouldn't dare do anything to you either after hearing that... surprising information. After all, they needed his offspring for their plans. Why would they destroy one? Feyd just hoped to get to you first before anyone discovered that you weren't pregnant at all.

"You horny dog! Why didn't you say anything?" Rabban pats him on the back, laughing hoarsely. It breaks the awkward silence in the room. But still, everyone's eyes are on him.

"We preferred to wait with any celebration until we were sure that the baby was growing healthily. After all, this could be our Kwisatz Hederach. Of course, now the safe return of my fiancée with our child is much more important. Therefore, I hope that the Emperor will consent to whatever… measures I intend to take in this matter. Whoever dared to raise a hand against the Harkonnens will pay the weight of their crimes in blood." Feyd continues his lies, knowing full well that you will kick his ass when you find out he called you his fiancée in front of great houses.

"But… I talked to the Baron…"

"My uncle... has not been in good health for a long time. May he rest in peace. Whatever arrangement he made with you, the emperor, during my reign it must be discussed again. Unfortunately, he will not rise from the grave and give us all the details."

"Of course… Baron Feyd-Rautha." The Emperor nods at him. Feyd takes the opportunity and decides to leave the room while he can. He nods to his brother, who turns out to be intelligent enough to understand the message and stands up as well.

"Excellent. If you don't mind, we'll leave now."

He doesn't wait for an answer. He just goes out, with Rabban close behind him. He orders him to prepare the army for the march and place spies around the fortress. They split up halfway to Feyd's rooms. He goes to prepare for his departure, hoping that Rabban will cope with the tasks he has entrusted to him. He missed you. He knew he wouldn't have to worry about anything if you were by his side.

He sighs as he enters his chambers. He stops in his tracks, seeing Princess Irulan next to his collection of weapons. He closes the door behind him with a bang, announcing his presence. The woman trembles and turns towards him.

"Baron."

"Princess." He responds coldly, looking at her carefully. He didn't say anything more. He wanted her to explain her sudden presence in his chambers. He notices, however, that his new title sounds nasty coming from her mouth, no matter how seductively she tries to say it. He imagines you whispering it in his ear as you ride him on his new throne on Giedi Prime...

"I thought you were leaving." He returns to the present moment, making sure he remembers to fulfil this fantasy once you both get back from this damn planet.

"I needed to change first." He replies and clears his throat, suggesting that she should leave. Unfortunately, she either doesn't want to or doesn't understand his hint and stays where she is, watching him carefully.

He feels like he's playing chess. One wrong move, and he loses a pawn. He hated this game until you started playing with him in the evenings, when you exchanged gossip from the court and your own comments. He doesn't remember how many times you fell asleep and he carried you to his bed. His harpies hated these evenings, and he too hated them at the beginning. Over time, he was just waiting for that moment when he was able to watch you snuggle into his pillow, sleeping peacefully.

"I… that's good. I was hoping to talk to you before you left."

"Talk then." He says this and starts taking off his clothes. He notices her blush and the way she looks away. But there's nothing sweet or funny about this gesture, unlike the way you do it. He changes into his usual tactical battle armour as fast as he can, still thinking about the way you used to even shout at him when he was going fully naked around you.

"I was shocked by this news. About the baby. And your fiancée."

"Why?"

"Well, you know very well, my lord, that the Bene Gesserit has planned to unite our families. This shouldn't have happened." He furrows his hairless eyebrows, feeling the anger start to boil within him again. How dare she tell him what he should do? Who should get pregnant, and who should not? He didn't care what the Bene Gesserit wanted. Feyd wanted you, and you probably wanted him. That was all that mattered.

"Would you rather be at my fiancée's place? Would you rather carry my baby instead of her?" He asks dangerously, approaching her slowly. Before she can react, he lunges forward and almost crushes her neck in his grip when he prevents her from using the voice. "You are trembling with fear, princess. It is pathetic that the Bene Gesserit even thought we could connect in any way. Even if we got married, I wouldn't lay a finger on you. At best, I would kill you right after I consolidated my power as emperor. Now that we both know where we stand... Tell me, where is my little witch?"

"The Reverend Mother sent her to Paul Atreides' hideout." She answers him obediently. Feyd smirks sadistically and maliciously as her eyes widen in shock when she realises he has used the voice on her. "How?" She managed to ask before Feyd tightened his grip on her throat again, giving her a bored look.

"With one of your witches by my side, do you think I won't do anything to learn your tricks? I'm not an idiot to let an opportunity like this pass me by. You think that I didn't also see you wince with every move at the meeting? This must have happened right after my fiancée stabbed you when you kidnapped her, right? The poison took effect, didn't it? Are you feeling weak? Do you feel how you slowly lose your vitality with each breath? It will get even worse. Maybe my fiancée will have the mercy to give you the antidote, but I have no intention of doing so. Now listen to me carefully. You won't say or write even a word to inform anyone about what happened. You will lock yourself in your room and endure the effects of the poison without complaining to anyone that something is wrong with you. Get out of my sight before I finish my beloved's work."

He throws her away like a rag doll, feeling defiled just by touching her neck. The only reason he kept her alive was because she was the emperor's daughter, and he couldn't afford to get rid of her YET. She runs away from him as soon as his grip on her neck is gone.

He smiles mockingly and leaves his chambers as well. Now that he knew you would be in the desert, he was going to dig up those damn sand folds and kill all the Fremen and Bene Gesserit who had a hand in your kidnapping.

And once you are by his side again, he will give you the heads of the princess, Corrino's Reverend Mother, and Atreides on a golden platter—an engagement present worthy of a real baroness. Well, he'll have to convince you to marry him first. He sighs, realising how much work is still ahead of him.

You wake up feeling numb. Entirely. There's a gag in your mouth, your hands are tied behind your back, and your ankles are cuffed together, completely preventing you from moving.

You look around your surroundings, realising that you are in one of the Fremen hideouts. A small room carved into the sandy rock resembles a prison cell. You gasp as you try to get off the floor. With a groan, you lean against the cold wall behind you as you somehow manage to sit up. You wonder how the hell you ended up here. And how can you escape when you are completely incapacitated?

Suddenly, the door to the room opens, and Corrino's Reverend Mother enters. You look at the woman with a calculating gaze, showing no emotion other than disgust.

"Y/N Y/L/N. We thought you were dead."

You roll your eyes at her. The old hag knew perfectly well that you had a gag. The fact that she expected any response from you was ridiculous.

"You betrayed your sisters. We should have killed you the moment you were recognised by one of us. You're lucky we're still keeping you alive."

You would snort if you didn't have a gag in your mouth. The Bene Gesserit knew no mercy; if they kept you alive, it was because they still needed you in their plans. After all, you were the strongest of them, which might not be visible now, but it was the truth. They didn't train you all your life and shape you into their ideal form of some sick Holly Mother, just to throw you away now.

You are tensing as the old woman walks up to you and painfully grabs your jaw. You glare at her furiously with your own, not showing an ounce of fear or remorse. What you wouldn't give to have at least a butter knife with you…

"Do you think you are smart, child? That you managed to escape fate? Not at all. Our visions may have been blurry, but now we see everything. Paul Atreides sees everything. After his plan succeeds, he becomes emperor, and you will become his concubine and the mother of the Kwisatz Hederach. Until then, we will keep you under control."

"Who allowed you to come in here?" A cold, commanding voice echoes throughout the small cell. The Reverend Mother steps away from you as if she's been burned by him, giving you the opportunity to look at Paul Atreides as she steps inside. You shiver as his cold gaze falls on you, but you show them nothing but disgust and anger. If you're going to die, at least you will make sure that before you do that, you'll be remembered by them as one big pain in the ass.

"I..."

"Silience!" Atreides yells at her as she feebly tries to explain herself to him. You frown, wondering how the hell he gained such power over the Bene Gesserit. "Leave us alone."

The woman nods obediently and leaves, closing the bars to your cell behind her. You shift your gaze to Atreides, examining him carefully. He was… more portly than you remembered him last time. He became stronger, tougher, and visibly hardened by the sands of Arrakis, since his posture was stiff as armour. You catch yourself thinking that if he stood in the arena in Giedi Prime, he would still lose to your na-baron.

"I am not here to hurt you, Y/N." Atreides says, walking over to you. He crouches down so that you are both at the same height. You look closely at the features of his face, analysing them carefully, trying to read what's behind the strange behaviour of the mysterious Fremen's prophet. "We both have our roles to play here. Something that is above us. I learned a lot about you.I know about your service to the Harkonnens, what you endured as a Bene Gesserit, and every darkest part of your past. And I know you are a wise and very strong woman. You probably understand why all this is so important and why we must fulfil the prophecy and take our places in this story." He says, removing your gag. You clear your throat as he finishes his speech, and, trying to hide your concern, you growl, your voice so hoarse and dripping with madness that Feyd would surely be proud of you:

"You are a mad freak. Feyd will kill you as soon as he finds you. And hell knows, he will come for me. It will be pure joy to fight him for the privilege of being the one who impales your head." Atreides gives you a small smile. He shakes his head, amused by what you're saying. He stands up, helping you to stand on your two feet as well, placing his hands on your waist respectfully, and touching you as little as necessary.

"Come with me. Let me show you something." He says this in an extremely calm voice as he removes the chain from around your ankles. You briefly consider kicking him and trying to escape, but you realise there's not much you can do with your hands tied. You are also still weak—too weak to maintain control over someone else for long with the voice. "Do not be afraid. I told you. I have no reason to hurt you." He encourages, concluding that your hesitation is out of fear and not a desire to attack him.

"I lived for years among the Harkonnens. I'm not afraid of anything except myself."

He gives you an ironic smirk, as if he were convinced that he was an evil worse than the Harkonnens. You don't care about his poor attempts to intimidate you. You weren't some desert rat to be terrified of a man with nice curls and eyes.

You walk through a series of corridors, and of course he leads you, holding your arm tightly and making sure you don't do anything stupid on this little trip around his kingdom. It brings you great satisfaction. Your reputation had obviously taken its toll if he continued to be vigilant around you while you were still half sedated and tied up without any weapons.

You smile sadistically at the Fremen you pass. They look away from you, too afraid to meet your gaze. You were known among them as the Na-Baron's bloodthirsty right-hand, whose cruelty rivalled that of many Harkonnens.

You and Atreides go deeper down. You slowly start to feel dizzy from the number of corridors, corners, and stairs he tells you to take, but eventually you reach a more spacious room. You sigh, feeling the humid air—a sweet change from the dry Arrakis wind. Atreides takes the torch and leads you deeper into the room. You gasp as you see a large pool full of water.

"The Fremen treat water as something sacred. They collect it from the bodies of their people; the water of the more deserving people goes to such pools."

"This is a waste. And stupid, considering that they are dying from a lack of water while having pools of it safely hidden from the Harkonnens." You notice, staring at the pool of water. You tense as you feel Paul's searching gaze on you. You turn your head and give him an intimidating look. He doesn't even flinch. He is unfazed as he continues to analyse you—something you don't like at all. You wish Feyd was here. He would gouge Atreides' eyes out the first time his gaze lingered on you for a second too long.

"Possible. But it's not the first time we waste something in the name of faith, right?"

"Faith befuddles and stupefies. Same as prophecies. We are responsible for our own fate. It doesn't matter what some crazy old man wrote in the books a hundred years ago, probably under the influence of drugs or other alcohol. No one influences our future except ourselves."

His silence at your words worries you. You turn your head to look at him. A small smirk spreads across his face—a sign that your words didn't outrage him as much as they were supposed to. He nods, agreeing with your words, and you realise what he really means. The son of a bitch was testing you. Logical, considering that he was the one who started the cult of him. He thought like you. He did not believe in any Kwisatz Hederach, and even if he did, he considered himself one. He just needed you to keep the propaganda and people's faith in him.

He wanted to show that he had tamed the Harkonnen's witch.

Atreides walks over to you and carefully places a hand on your shoulder, directing you to a different side of the room. You pass by a pool of water. In the centre, there is a large stone bowl on a platform.

"The Reverend Mothers call it the mirror of wisdom. It shows us our future if we continue on the path we are currently on. Look. See what awaits you with your crazy beast by your side."

"It's very brave of you to think that I'm not one." He chuckled at your words. He lets go of you and takes two steps back, keeping his amused, curious gaze on you.

"The Harkonnens are different from us. You may think you are one of them, that you have absorbed their ways and behaviours, but the truth is that you are not one of them at all. You may have adapted to survive among them, but can you look me in the eyes and tell me you don't long for something more... normal?"

"Normality is for the weak." You reply, huffing furiously. "Apart from that, my life has always been different from normal. This is my normality, Atreides."

"Even the bravest warrior needs a break, a moment of respite. Look. Aren't you curious?"

You were very damn curious. Especially after that strange dream/vision you had. So, without saying a word, you approach the bowl of water. You take a breath and dive your head into it, letting the images flood your mind.

This time you are not on Giedi Prime, and you are not a participant in the events. From a distance, you watch the older version of yourself adjust the crown on her head. Empress's crown.

You see yourself flinching in the mirror as the door to your chamber bursts open. Feyd, dressed as an emperor, walks in furiously, heading straight for you. He pushes the large mirror, smashing it against the wall with a roar.

However, you don't care about his sudden attack and watch him, unfazed, as he gasps with rage.

"Is something wrong, honey?" You ask in an almost too-sweet tone, mocking him.

"Do you have the nerve to ask me that? Why don't you tell me where my concubine is instead? Where did you send her? You gave the corpses to the harpies to eat? If any harm has come to her, I will make you eat all three of them before I tear out your cunning heart from your chest, witch."

"You'd have to touch me first. And we both know that lately you're more afraid of laying a finger on me than of our son dethroning you. Which is very surprising, by the way. Has that concubine of yours brainwashed you so much?" You see yourself smiling mockingly as you watch his anger grow with every word you say.

"Don't talk about her like that. Unlike you, she's not a cold, uncaring, selfish bitch."

"Of course not. A smart woman wouldn't willingly sleep with you." This completely breaks the remnants of his composure. He walks over to the older version of you and wraps his hand around her neck, pressing her against the wall.

But he doesn't do it the same way he does with you. It's not a gentle neck hold, a warning, or anything sexual—something that would turn you both on. He just cuts you off, choking you, watching with sick satisfaction as you squirm, trying to get out of his grasp.

"What's stopping me from ending your miserable life? You have already given me a son; your usefulness has long passed, and yet I still let you breathe the same air as me." He says this, tightening his grip on your neck. You gasp as he pushes you away.

From the way you fall to the floor and choke for air, you assume that the older version of you was only seconds away from suffocating. But you don't surrender to him; you don't give him any satisfaction in trying to intimidate you. You start laughing derisively, shaking your head in amusement as you slowly get up from the floor.

"Aw... you couldn't kill me. You're like a dog. You bark and do little. You love me too much to kill me, don't you remember? How did you beg me all those years ago for a piece of my feelings? Who said I love you first? Who was begging on his knees for my hand? Who wanted to have a child? You. You are just a desperate little boy looking for love and affection. You probably even liked the fact that I'm jealous of you and kill your lover? Unfortunately, I don't give a shit who you fuck. I didn't steal your whore, so get out and don't waste my time, husband." You mock him, waiting expectantly for his next move.

He stares at you with pure hatred and resentment. You feel the tension in the room begin to build; the immense anger and disgust between the two of you are palpable. You have no fucking idea how you came to be so hostile towards each other, but... you can't say you're surprised. Because if you were already imagining a future with Feyd... this was the scenario that came to your mind most often.

The two of you were too broken to trust each other and entrust each other with the remnants of the heart that beat and remained within you.

Feyd looks like he wants to say something. But he gives up and instead just leaves the room, slamming the door behind him.

You swallow, observing your pathetic fate. The empress locked in a golden palace. At eternal war with everyone. Lonely. Your heart aches at the thought of this being your fate. This is what you were running from. Before relegating you solely to the vessel she was to carry and give to the world, Kwisatz Hederach, Because what would be the use of you then? You would be rejected and alone. Waiting to die. However, you didn't expect your end to look like THIS.

A figure emerges from the darkness of the room through a hidden passage—a man who is a copy of you and Feyd. You see a similarity in him, in your movements, in your creeping through the shadows. He approaches you from behind, holding a dagger similar to the one Feyd gave you on your birthday. You don't react when you feel steel around your neck, as if you had long ago come to terms with how you would die—and by whose hands.

"You were right, mother… I was destined to achieve much more."

And with that, he cuts your throat. Crimson blood runs down your dress, almost invisible against the black material. You die quickly. Quietly. Like a rat...

"Have you seen something interesting?" Atreides' voice reaches you as you step away from the bowl after the vision ends. You sigh heavily, breathing heavily. Drops of water roll down your face and soak into your linen shirt.

"Screw you." You snap at him, trying to wipe your face on the frame. He tears off a piece of his shavl and walks over to you. He wipes the water from your face and hair, not caring about the scowl you throw at him in warning.

"I told you. The future with Harkonnen cannot end well. But if you stay with me, I promise nothing will happen to you. You can be more free with me than you ever could with him."

And you're tempted as hell to accept his offer. You can't say you're not interested at all, that what you saw hasn't made you question your choices... but you've been a Harkonnen for so many years. Could you really forget all this so easily? Forget about Feyd? Maybe in that stupid Bene Gesserit's bowl you saw your tragic end at his side... but did it really have to end like this? You could avoid all this. Take a risk to gain something much better...

"So this is your offer? Freedom and security for lending my uterus for 9 months?" You ask him, wanting to know exactly what options and choices you have.

"In very simple terms, yes." He nods, still staring at you. You find this very irritating of him; you were usually the one who pierced other people with your gaze. Not the other way around.

"What for? You're telling these fools that you're their saviour and the messiah. Kwisatz Hederach, ahead of his time. Why do you need me?"

"I need the support of the Reverend Mothers of other families. I may have... your powers and be the strongest of them all, but I've learned that if you can gain someone's support in a peaceful way, it's better to try it before reaching for a weapon."

Atreides stared at you like you were a puzzle to solve. You didn't like the hidden arrogance in his eyes—the belief that he was truly capable of discovering all your secrets.

Maybe he knew your past, and maybe he saw visions of the future, possible scenarios of what might have happened after his decisions, but the present was yours. And only yours. You will be more than happy to show him that no one could tear out all your fangs and claws.

"Feyd will kill you sooner and bind me with tighter chains than you did, than he ever allowed such a turn of events." You say confidently, convinced that he won't just leave you. In this situation, it's a huge relief for you... but in your head, you can still see his sadistic smirk as he choked you against the wall.

"Not if I kill him." You tense up at his words, and your heart starts to beat faster as you process his words. You would never think that Feyd Rautha could ever die—not by another person's hand, of course. And certainly not Atreides.

He fought too well, was too intelligent and cunning to fail in battle, and yet... you couldn't deny that that one simple sentence Paul said with such confidence didn't send a cold shiver of fear down your spine or that you felt no threat.

"Have you ever seen him in the arena? Or how does he fight? You may have become stronger thanks to your time on Arrakis, but he was trained from childhood to be a small, psychopathic killer and ruthless warrior. You don't stand a chance, Atreides. You won't last a minute fighting him."

"Maybe not in an equal fight. But by trick? More than one great king fell under the intrigue of a lesser man."

"Are you talking about your father or maybe even your mother?" You ask mockingly, making his jaw tense and his hands clench into fists. You are very pleased with yourself that you finally managed to hit his sweet spot. Feyd would be proud of you.

"I'm talking about what will happen. Feyd Rautha will die. From my hands." The more he talks about it, the more your anger grows. However, you decide to stay calm and continue the little exchange between the two of you, trying to get something useful from him.

"Are you that sure about your visions? You don't hesitate for a moment, Atreides? It must be so boring knowing what's going to happen. Never having any element of surprise…"

"There are no more certain and clear visions than mine. Maybe you should also start believing in them?"

"Not as long as I have my brain." And my own visions. You add it in your mind, thinking about what you had dreamed about before you woke up in this hole.

"The rumors about you don't lie… Harkonnen's witch." He hums as he walks over to you. His hand reaches up to your cheek, using the pad of his thumb to gently wipe your cheek clean of the drop of water still left on it.

You shiver, staring into his eyes. His touch burns, but not in a nice, familiar way. And when you realise that the reason you're not attracted to him is because he doesn't have the familiar ice-blue irises, pale skin, and bald head, it scares you more than Atreides' sudden proximity to you.

"I'm glad I didn't disappoint you, Atreides." You whisper, moving away from him. You quickly lean in, wanting to bite, or preferably bite off, his finger that was caressing your skin, but he withdraws his hand and takes a step away from you. He laughs at your feeble attempt to harm him.

He opens his mouth to say something, but then the ground around you starts shaking. The sand rock crumbles, causing some of it to fall from the ceiling onto the ground. Atreides looks at you suspiciously.

"Didn't you see it in your visions? Maybe there's a sandworm crawling through your halls?" You ask mockingly, shrugging your shoulders.

"Stay here." He commands you using the voice. He doesn't spare you a second glance, simply heading for the exit. You look at him in disbelief and quickly follow him. The last thing you want is to get buried in one of these rats' corridors because one of them summoned a sandworm in the wrong way.

"I could be of much more use to you there than here." You say, as you are catching up with him, desperately trying to convince him.

"Not if these are Harkonnens!" He replies without looking back and slamming the door shut. You kick them in rage, looking around angrily at the large hall where he left you.

"That's the point…" You sigh, fed up with it all. You walk around the room, trying to find a way out, but even when you manage to find the side passages, you can't take a step beyond the threshold. You are forced to stay inside. "Fucking Atreides."

Instead of wandering aimlessly around the room, you decide to try and break the shackles that bind your hands. You try to smash them against the stalagmite, only to hit harder as the metal cuts into your wrists. After a while, when you have released all your anger, you somehow manage to free your hands. You rub your wrists, letting your blood soak into the sleeve of your linen shirt. You close your eyes and listen to the quiet sound of the water and the footsteps you hear from the upper floors. Something is happening...

Frustrated, you wander over to the pool filled with water. You crouch on the edge and dip your toes in the water. You watch the drops fall, wondering how many people have already given their lives. How many died at the hands of the Harkonnens? You wonder whether your water and blood will also join the ranks of their victims. It seems surreal to you now that Feyd could ever kill you or your own son... but how were you supposed to know what your future was supposed to be? Were you supposed to trust some strange visions or yourself?

While playing with water, you freeze when you suddenly see someone leaning over you. Before you can turn around, a hand covers your mouth, and another wraps around your waist, lifting you up. You scream and kick, trying to get out of someone's tight grip, but your attempts to break free are futile. You freeze when you hear a familiar, raspy voice whisper in your ear.

"Don't worry, it's me. It's just me. Shhh… You're safe. It's me." You relax a little in his arms. You reach your hand up to his and remove it from your mouth. He loosens his grip enough for you to turn in his arms.

"Feyd." You sigh when you see his face. You throw your arms around him and nuzzle your face into his neck. You rest your chin on his shoulder and breathe in his scent as you hold onto him tightly.

You hear him breathe a sigh of relief as well. He places a kiss on the top of your head and hugs you tighter. After a moment, he pulls away from you—not too far away, only a bit—so he can look at your face and see if you have any injuries.

"You're getting out of here. Our men are hidden in every corridor of this hole. Take a few of them and go to the exit. They will take you to the ship. Wait for me there." He gently cups your cheeks in his hands and forces you to look into his eyes. Your heart beats faster as you recognise that concerned look in his eyes from your dream, mixed with anger. "Y/N. I mean it. I know you want to fight; you're brave and a great warrior, but do it for me and just go to that damn ship."

"No. Wait, listen to me. I have to tell you something..."

"You'll tell me you love me later, now you have to get out of here, so I can destroy this place." He interrupts you, gently pushing you towards the exit. You feel anger and frustration building within you as yet another person tries to control you and tell you what to do. No matter how sweet and protective Feyd is acting now, you are fed up with constantly obeying everyone around you.

"Stop!" You shout at him, making him stop in his tracks in shock. Under any other circumstances, you would laugh at the surprised look he gives you, but not now. "Do you trust me?" You ask, looking at him expectantly. You know you're asking a lot of him right now, but if you're going to change your future, you have to act now. And fast. Very fast.

"Y/N this isn't the best…"

"Do you trust me?!" You interrupt him, raising your voice. He must see the desperation and seriousness in your eyes because you see him swallow, considering the question you've asked him. You unconsciously hold your breath, waiting for him to respond.

You both know this isn't an ordinary question. It means something more. Admitting something you both had been avoiding since the first day your blades met in a little skirmish that earned you his sympathy. He had long admired you for your mind, intelligence, ingenuity, cunning, and natural charm. But could he trust you completely?

"I… I do. If I trust anyone, it's you. Only you."

You feel tears welling up in your eyes. You take a step towards him, cupping his cheek in your hand and kissing him. He tenses in surprise but kisses you back pretty quickly, moaning into your mouth as you express all the passion and desire you feel for him. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer to him, wanting to feel your body against his to make sure this isn't some dream. You caress the skin of his neck, shuddering as an electric shiver runs through you as he deepens the kiss, taking everything you have to offer him.

Kissing Feyd always felt like it was the first kiss between the two of you. He kissed like he fought—with his whole being, not holding back, transmitting all his passion and desire. He didn't even know how much you needed to taste all of him right now. And how bittersweet that kiss was for you.

You reluctantly pull away from him and press your forehead against his. You close your eyes, letting out a shaky breath.

"I love you, Feyd. I have always loved you. And I was very afraid of it, but I'm not anymore... I... I don't want to be scared of this anymore." You admit it as a single tear falls from your eyes. He reaches to wipe it off, but you shake your head. His hand freezes, hanging between you as he stares at you in shock, trying to process what you said.

Just as he's about to open his mouth, probably to tell you the same thing, you lean in and kiss him again. Slower, more gentle. A few tears escape you, allowing you both to taste them through the kiss.

You reach for the sword attached to his waist with trembling hands.

"I'm so sorry. But it's not our time yet." You whisper, moving away from him just as Paul Atreides returns to the room. He slowly walks towards you, his sword dripping with black Harkonnen blood. And you decide that if anyone spills blood in this room, it will be you. It must be you.

So when Paul is about to approach you and stab Feyd in the back, you close your eyes and stab Feyd with his sword. You hear him let out a shaky breath as his black blood slowly seeps from the wound, staining your hands. You keep your other hand on his shoulder, supporting his weight as he slowly sinks to his knees in front of you. You try to ignore him, not look at him or in his eyes... you simply cannot. Instead, you stare at Atreides.

Paul is beyond shocked by your actions. He looks for a moment at Feyd's black sword, the tip sticking out of his back—proof of what you did. After a moment, his eyes meet yours. After a while, he approaches you, sheathes his sword, and smiles proudly.

"This will be the beginning of a wonderful alliance, Lady Y/N." He says this, offering you his hand, which you reach for. You shake them, glaring at each other, assessing each other's behaviour as a new agreement forms between you.

You smile, hiding your fear as best as you can and holding back tears when you see Feyd's unconscious body out of the corner of your eye. But you've come too far to change your mind. From now on, you decide your fate.

Only you.

To be continued...

Taglist: (I REALLLLY hope that everyone who wanted to be here is here...😅 I;m sorry if I missed someone <3) @skymoonandstardust @prettybubblesintheair @thegabbyh @himesuedi @wo-ming-bai @beebeechaos @mamawiggers1980 @moonsoulk @avidreader73 @heartarianagran @dreamlandcreations @ancientbeing10 @lovereadingfanfic @jeansjoie @workof-a-rr-t @aixicl @ladyredstar1991 @evangelineimagine @hobobobo-fett56 @happyant3 @marsflys @aaaaaamond @kamcrazy123 @k1swass @yum-yahgurt @tyns13 @oh-you-mean-me @menari @tyns13 @vaf24 @dacreshoney @emrennoll-blog @tian-monique @slightlypossessed @celestialadrift @lauramooij05 @flaps200 @chixnugg22 @aaaaaamond @marvelfangirl04 @sw33tsnow @emeraldsgirl @imyourbubblegumpop @tempt-ress @harkonnin @k1swass @alana4610 @cloudroomblog @lotus-888 @lowlyloved @spoolsofgreenspoolsofblack @w3ird11 @kythefangirl25 @hobobobo-fett56 @nj452896 @oneandonlybbygrl @noirecatt @iloved1lfs0 @mamawiggers1980 @lololfixu @barnes70stark @obsessedvibee @aaaaaamond @workof-a-rr-t

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willowser · 1 year ago

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katsuki blames the alcohol for making him stupid.

really stupid.

not that he's had a lot, but his tolerance is low for a guy of his size, and he can feel the edges of his inhibitions dulling with every drink of whatever denki has shoved in his hand. it doesn't taste like absolute shit, which is rare enough to have him indulging, just a bit, for the agency halloween party.

another sip has his head feeling a little swimmy, and before he knows it, his eyes are trailing across the room until they find you. again.

whatever the hell you're supposed to be tonight—a witch, or something else in a pointy hat—is really fucking with him, and has since you walked in. the costume isn't revealing in a sense that it's inappropriate for a work event, but it's...hugging you in all the right places. in every single one of them.

without tights, it would be on the too-short side, but—and no, katsuki can't fucking explain this—something about them is making everything worse. and your calf-high boots ain't helping, either.

it's just—your fucking—hips.

katsuki couldn't tell you what song is playing, but you're swaying back and forth to the tune and one of his canines digs into the plastic of his cup, so deeply that it makes a terrible creaking sound and dents beneath the pressure—and that's when a sharp elbow is delivered to the center of his chest.

mina is at his side when he looks, and her wide, freaky eyes scan his face before narrowing in her little shit-eating way.

"you're a pig."

katsuki chokes, and the little freak takes that as an admission of some kind.

"oh my god," she gasps, mouth falling in all her disgust and awe. "you can't even deny it!" and then she laughs, high and chirpy, and there's no way you can't hear her. "oh, you're down bad."

"cram it," he snaps, sinking his scowl into his cup. "i dunno what the hell you're talkin' about."

"you know i really thought better of you," mina sniffs effectively, turning her face up and away. "not the type to be blantly checking out somebody's ass."

katsuki bristles, and his aggrivation growns until the plastic in his hands starts to melt. "i wasn't—"

"i'm kidding!" mina snorts before flicking him in the nose, narrowly dodging the hand he swipes out at her. "quit being a baby and go shoot your shot already."

"piss. off."

but the hero is unaffected by him, simply scrunching up her face in response before turning on her heel to disappear further into the party.

she's wrong, katsuki thinks, because he's not a pig like sero or fucking dunce face or even kirishima, from time to time, who gets red in the face over a low cut shirt and a pair of tits.

fucking ridiculous, katsuki thinks, because he's way better than that.

it's just—the alcohol. that's making his lids heavy and his thoughts dark and his face hot. has him peeking at you over the lip of his cup, has him picturing you in his head when he's forced to look away.

and, well, maybe, the short cut of your dress has a little something to do with it, too—but he's keeping that shit to himself.

taking it to the grave, even.

#i just love the idea that bakugou really thinks he's so much better than like. denki or sero.#like he does NOT think with his dick like those idiots 😒#he's a level headed guy 😒 doesn't get all drooly over some hot babe 😒#but then he sees you all dressed up in some cute outfit and he's like 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 uh um 😵‍💫😵‍💫 ahem 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫#biting his fist over the curve of your ass and he's never felt more primitive in his LIFE #i am squeezing him until he pops #happy halloween dears 😌🎃🩸✨️🦇#TAKING IT TO THE GRAVE HA HA GET IT YOU GET IT #GRAVE HALLOWEEN GET IT GET IT #✿ willow writes #✿ thoughts: bakugou #✿ theme: pre relationship bakugou

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planetpedri · 4 days ago

Text

All in good time, — Franco Colapinto.

Pairing: Franco Colapinto x Fem!Reader

Summary: When a college student meets her polar opposite in Franco Colapinto, she instantly disliked him. But, Franco was enamored with her and he would get her to like him, all in good time.

Word count: 1.65k+

Disclaimer/s: this is a hockey!au

A/N: this is for @purinfelix and jet only! though i love each and every one of you who choses to read it.. this was. this was ass girl shit i’m sorry i didn’t know where i was going toward the end… i may do another hockey player!franco fic tho but its going to be far more centered around the actual hockey

Franco Colapinto was a force to be reckoned with. Somehow, you’d gotten tangled into his life. When your dorm was being renovated and you needed a place to stay, your roommate suggested her friend’s house—that friend being Franco. A notorious hockey player for the Golden Knights.

He was, in simple terms, agitating. Your two and a half weeks staying in his basement was something close to hell on earth. He held parties, big ones! Ones that interrupted your studying, which he’d half ass apologize for the next morning while nursing a raging hangover, right before asking you to make your signature hangover recipe while he showered.

That was your payment for staying there. You nursed his hangovers and helped him come up with various excuses as to why he was late to practice, even going as far as to go out of your way to tell his coach you’d gotten terribly sick and he had to bring you to the hospital.

Two pea’s in a lying pod. That’s what you were.

In the first week, he’d convinced you to go to the rink to help him practice. You—only ever using figure skates—had a difficult time keeping up with him. You nearly broke a tailbone trying to catch up with him.

Franco held a lopsided grin when he stopped, ice shavings flying as he turned to face you. Though, you saw the concern flash across his face as he skated back in your direction, leaning down to help you up.

“I need an ice pack—“ Your lips formed a thin line, “actually, I need wine and an excuse to get out of this hell.”

The curly haired man laughed, pulling your hand over his shoulder as his free arm looped around your waist. Holding you up, he assisted you back to the bench, setting you down carefully.

Once you shifted to get comfortable, wincing in pain, you untie the laces on your skates. “How do you do this for a living? I’m fucking miserable and we’ve done this once.”

Franco shrugs, leaning his head against the tempered glass that separated the rink from the benches. “Maybe I will just have to put you to work.” His lips threaten a smirk, “if it helps, I do prefer practicing with you than my teammates.”

That wasn’t even particularly a lie. He tried to find ways to get to know you, but you were a tough nut to crack. He tried so hard to find ways to get in your good graces, and forcing you to hang out with him was the only way he could get you to spend quality time with him.

His flirting was what annoyed you the most. You couldn’t stand it, only because it made a weird feeling erupt in your stomach. “First of all, don’t let them hear that. Second of all, I will never do this again. Ever.”

Franco was a convincer. He was good at getting people to do things, and you were unfortunately, not exempt from that. Even when you were back in your dorms, he’d convinced you to join him at the rinks.

You rarely ever practiced with him, simply opting to watch from the stands. You hated to admit it, but you’d grown to enjoy the time spent with him. When he took breaks, he’d explain the rules to you, different tactics they used, various things.

When you’d get so engrossed in conversation, he’d slip in a question about you, that you’d answer without thinking. He was good at getting to know people, but you were a difficult case. He’d found a way eventually, only getting you to talk about yourself when you were so distracted you couldn’t think long enough to stop it.

“Hockey pucks are actually frozen before games to make them move faster and glide smoothly on the ice, so they don’t bounce a lot.” Franco was rambling about different facts, waiting for the perfect opportunity to slip in a question he’d been waiting to ask for weeks.

“Seriously? So they don’t just stay rubbery and lukewarm?” The last part was only slightly sarcastic, but the fact had actually surprised you.

“So.. are you seeing anyone?”

“No.” You pause, wait—what? You don’t get an opportunity to ask any further questions because he was already onto the next fact. “Franco!” You snap, interjecting his next rant.

Francos eyebrows raise slightly, “yeah?”

You narrow your eyes, licking your lips. “You just asked if I was seeing someone. Then—you know what. That doesn’t matter, what does though, is that you just slipped in a question that was not like the others you’ve slipped in.” His face contorts and you laugh, “i’m going to law school, I notice tactics like that.”

The hockey players mouth quirks, he wasn’t even slightly ashamed. “Oh, I love how smart you are.” He hums, “I was just curious. If you were, thank the lord you aren’t, but, he wouldn’t like you hanging out with me.”

“Thank the lord? Seriously?” Your eyes roll dramatically. The wooden bench beneath you feels stiff and uncomfortable the more he watched you with his stupidly smug face.

Franco nods, “hey—“ He begins untying his laces, “you should come to my game tomorrow. You haven’t come in a while.”

The topic switch was noticeable, but you ignore it. “I have a lecture late tomorrow. I’ll probably be tired.” But when Franco’s face changes into that familiar doe-eyed expression, you cave. “Fine! I’ll come! Quit looking at me like that.”

“I’m not looking at you like anything.”

“Yes you are”

“No i’m not.”

“Are too!”

“Let me take you to dinner.”

“Are—what?” Your brain stops working, words failing your tongue. Excuse you? “Wait a fucking minute—“

Franco watches you carefully. “Is that a no?”

“No! I mean—“ You were still a stumbling mess. Your mouth opening and clamping shut. “It’s a-well, I mean, It’s a yes! Yes, I will! Jesus, Franco. You couldn’t have asked any smoother?”

He’s smiling, finding your stammering all too amusing… and adorable. It was very cute. “It felt fitting to me.” He shrugs casually, slipping off his skates. “After the game and a shower, the diner you like a few blocks from your dorm?”

That was most definitely something he learned during his not-so-secret questionnaires.

“That sounds perfect.” You huff, “now, can you bring me home? I think i’m developing hypothermia.”

After changing into his regular shoes, he stands, offering you his hand. You take it, though it was with an eye roll. Franco smirks at your reaction, not commenting on it as he helps you to your feet.

“Does your body not ache every time you finish?” You ask as the two of you exit the arena, making your way through the dark parking lot.

You regretted your choice of words the second they left your lips. “Don’t even—“

“I have incredible stamina, actually.” Franco cheeses, slinging his arm around you. You allow it, even leaning into his side.

“You are insufferable.” You scoff, but the twitch of your lips betrayed your feigned annoyance.

The laugh that emits from Francos mouth has a smile growing on your lips, it was a sound you’d grown to enjoy.

Franco opens the passenger door for you, which had you suppressing a smile. It was a gesture he made every trip to the arena, in fact—Franco was very much a gentleman, despite boy boyish he could be.

Only when he was the drivers seat with the engine going and heater ablaze, does Franco finally grow serious. “Are you sure you want to do this? I don’t want to make you feel like you have to, I know you’re sort of a people pleaser.”

Okay, ouch?

Franco’s eyes widen, “I didn’t mean it like that!” He says quickly, stumbling for a way to fix what he said.

You’d never seen Franco have to search for words to say. He was always so smooth and, well, he was never one to falter.

“I know what you meant, and you’re right. But, when have I ever gone out of my way to people please you.” You reassure him, a gentle look on your face. “I want this.”

The rest was history. You want Franco had been going steady for months. Whenever you had enough time in your busy college schedule, you went to his games, you were his number one cheerleader and support system.

Hockey had easily become your favorite sport, you knew everything about it due to Franco’s inability to ever stop talking. Thats probably what made the two of you such a perfect pair. You were quiet, he wasn’t. He was your polar opposite, the yin to your yang. And thats what made it work.

When you didn’t want to talk, he wasn’t there to fill the silence. When he didn’t want to talk, you enjoyed each other’s silence.

You had never thought in a million years, the man who annoyed you oh so much, was the same man you would grow to love.

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future franco posts.

ᝰ.ᐟ tags @halfwayhearted @purinfelix @sakashq @hrts4havertz @spidybaby

#franco colapinto #franco colapinto x y/n #franco colapinto one shot #franco colapinto x you #franco colapinto imagine #franco colapinto x reader #franco colapinto au #hockey au #blurb #fluff #fanfic #formula 1 #formula one #f1 #willaims racing

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krypticcafe · 2 years ago

Note

Can you do a part 2 of the platonic reader and the 141+Alejandro where reader gets kidnapped and comes back? I love your writing!

No One Can Hurt You

Sequel to As Long as I'm Here

rating: mature

pairing(s): platonic gn!reader x task force 141 + alejandro + rodolfo

warning(s): language, canon-typical violence, torture, blood, military inaccuracies, mild gore descriptions for a hot second, implied ghost zapping a guy's balls, reader is lowkey traumatized, comfort, no use of y/n, no beta read, possible ooc?

a/n: I did NOT expect to get such an overwhelmingly positive response on the first part?? I was worried that the writing felt bland, but you guys seemed to love it, so here's the highly demanded part two!

synopsis: the 141 and Los Vaqueros weren't going to stand for what happened to you. No one would.

alternative title— fuck around and find out

"We found the guys your sources claimed to be the men that were there, Captain. But they're refusing to say anything to us. Honestly, it looks like they're just another pair of lackeys." Gaz was speaking over comms with Price after locating a suspect with Roach. The two had found the pair in a dingy old building, a safehouse conveniently placed far from heavily populated civilian areas.

"Should we-"

He was cut off by a series of loud thuds and glass crashing, immediately grabbing his handgun and running into the room where Roach was keeping an eye on their suspects.

Roach had one of the men pinned to the ground, repeatedly decking him in the face whilst letting out frustrated yells and broken cries. Blood splattered across the floor and on his visor, but he could've cared less, it wasn't his anyways.

"Roach, get off of him, that's enough!" Gaz practically had to tear his teammate away from the man with how Roach flailed, grunting and clawing at Gaz's arms to let him go. "Roach, we can't do anything if you bloody kill them!"

Pushing off Gaz, Roach seethed with pained eyes, nearly tearing up out of sheer frustration. "He's hiding something, I know he is! That sadistic fuck started bragging about what they did to the sergeant and- and the smug shit look he had! These are the guys, but they're not telling us everything!"

He knew it was a terrible excuse, but his own gut feelings about reading people's expressions had never proved him wrong before, not when he had an eye for reading people through their body language. Gaz hesitated. He understood why Roach lashed out and didn't blame him for losing his temper, hell, he rarely did, and Gaz would've done the same in all honesty. You meant as much to him as you did to Roach. They were the first friends you made when joining the 141, the ones who helped acclimate you to the team, and the ones who trained under Price alongside you like you were their sibling. But it didn't help that they nearly broke protocol, which would've compromised the mission and made your sacrifice and suffering for nothing.

Looking down at the unconscious yet still-breathing man, Gaz then noticed how the blood pooled around him. It seemed to stop spreading at some point in the floorboards and spilled into an unusually large crack in the wood that looked suspiciously intentional.

"Roach, take the other one and call for exfil but don't tell them to leave just yet." Once his partner left, Gaz kneeled down to the floor and knocked on the wood. It was hollow.

Seems they would definitely need them alive now more than ever.

"I don't know who supplies us, I just work for them! Just ask-" The man let out a cry as Soap held his shoulder, digging his fingers into it and balling his other hand into a fist before landing a solid punch into his gut. A moment passed he choked on air, the wind knocked from him, his mouth painfully dry except for the tears that dripped from his eyes.

"Tell us who you work for or things are about to get real nasty for you like they did for your friend."

"You're in it if you think I'm gonna say shit! The 141 is just a freak show, ain't it? Bunch of you cowards hiding behind stupid callsigns, what the fuck kind of name is—" That earned him another beating. He wailed, writhing in pain against the tight restraints, but ultimately wasting his energy. He only stopped when he heard screams and crackles of what was undoubtedly electricity coming from behind one of the walls of the room.

"So you do know," Soap growled, beating him once more and backing up when he retched from pain. Blood dripped from Soap's knuckles, to which he scowled in disgust and irritation, his accent growing thick, "No, you just had to make things a fuckin' mess, dinnae you?"

Normally, it was Ghost who took care of interrogations, at least the more painful parts of it. But Soap needed to let out his anger in a useful way, he needed to hear the sickening crunch of ribs so that he could remind himself of what you went through and erase any sliver of doubt or sympathy in his mind for the enemy. Every splatter of blood that'd spill when he'd throw a fist across the guy's face was just another testament to how much he despised what happened and how desperately he needed to let it all out.

The man, in his bleary-eyed haze, made out another figure that entered the room. It was Ghost, with a box of electrical clamps in hand. "What is he doing here?"

Soap and Ghost made a silent exchange of words, nodding to one another in confirmation and speaking purely through eye contact. It only created more fear when Soap left the room and the man was all alone with the lieutenant.

"Hey hey hey where are you going you can't leave me with him! I did what I had to do, it's not my fault your friend was collateral—" The man choked on his words when Ghost pulled out two clamps and tested them, both emitting a spark and loud crackles that echoed off the walls. "—fuck! Oh god, no no no—what the fuck are you gonna use that for?!"

The lieutenant was a different situation. Sure, he wanted nothing more than to dig his hands into the man's open wounds, curl his fingers until flesh separated from bone, make them feel just exactly how much they got 'under his skin'. He wanted to hear the satisfying pop! of bones and cartilage. He wanted them to writhe like worms on a scalding sidewalk, pathetic and left for dead. But that wasn't enough, they didn't deserve the time, the effort, nor did they deserve the pleasure of a quick death. No, he needed to make them suffer.

Ghost brought one clamp up to the man's crotch with one hand and held a rusty knife with the other, lowering himself to look directly at his target. It was at that moment the man came to the realization that he wasn't captured, no, he fucked around, pulling off the stubborn shit act until they'd inevitably grow bored of him and move on, maybe put him out of his misery if he was lucky enough. But there was no moving on, there was no luck in this ring of hell. No, not with what had already been done and what couldn't be taken back even if he begged. The 141 was revered for their soldiers and their work, but it was a myth all at the same time. They were said to be efficient and ruthless, better to surrender to than to suffer at the hands of. Since they were off the books, it was a mystery as to what lengths they would go to, just how far they would push the limits.

He had fucked around, and now he'd find out.

They locked eyes, one pair filled with fear, the other devoid of any emotion. There wasn't the sympathy the man prayed for, nor the anger or violence of Soap, not even a hint of mercy or hatred. It was so empty of feeling that it almost felt dismissive, as if the man wasn't a human held hostage but an object, a book to be torn open for answers, then tossed aside. If Soap had been his judge and jury, then Ghost would surely be his executioner. He felt small, insignificant, and hopeless under the gaze as the man he truly believed was death incarnate responded to his question.

"Last. Chance."

One by one, Price and his crew had cleared the facility, evacuating workers and eliminating guards and cartel. After bringing their "guest informants" to the brink of delirium, wrenching them like wet towels to get every drop of info. Along with the intel Gaz gathered from a hidden basement where hard drives of transactions were being kept, they found the main supplier and other bases. If they took down the heart of the operation, it would cause a domino effect, shutting things down to a point where the Los Vaqueros would be able to handle them on their own. With every bullet shot, they were closer to their goal and closer to making up for what they considered a personal failure to protect one of their own and many more.

Maybe it was crazy that their primary motivation beyond recovering the drugs was to seek justice for a single soldier. But it was to prove a point. To prove that they weren't just a team of highly skilled and trained soldiers, to prove that they were a force to be reckoned with, and to prove that you were no less valuable of a member than the others, all of whom would lay their lives on the line for one another. After all,

The 141 was not to be messed with.

Making his way through the rooms and getting closer to the center of it all, Price was interrupted when a door to his side busted open from a man toppling back into it, falling to the ground. He tried to scramble back, a boot quickly stomping onto his chest. Alejandro towered before him, pressing a rifle to his head, growling in Spanish, "Where is your leader?"

The man responded, and without hesitation, the colonel gave him a quick and painless death for his obedience. Looking up, Alejandro nodded in acknowledgment at Price, "I'm not the only one that owes your sergeant, they protected my men, and I owed them a favor even before that."

That caused Price to chuckle, even despite their current circumstances. There was no denying how much of an unnecessarily reckless saint you could be with those you worked with. "I suppose you got a location from that poor bastard?"

"Yes. Have our teams regroup, it's going to be a long night for us all, my friend. But it's worth the trouble for Las Almas and the kid, no?"

"Yes, indeed." Price hummed, the two making their way out and on to finally settle the score.

You woke up blinded by a bright light, briefly contemplating if you were dead and if heaven was actually real all along. But after some time passed, your eyes adjusted to the all-too-familiar setting of the infirmary with its barren walls and sickly sanitized scent. With a groan, you tried to prop yourself up on your elbows until a hand gently pressed you back. Puzzled by the motion, you rubbed your eyes and found your captain looking back at you.

"Easy there, soldier." Price cautioned, and you kept your eyes on him as you laid back down. He had a small smile on his lips, but the way he looked at you signified that he was still concerned for your state, "You alright? Need the nurse or anything?"

"No," You shook your head, wincing at how hoarse your throat was. Price laughed softly and handed you a cup of water he had prepared at the side of your bed, and you started to wonder if he had always kept one there for you and if he even regularly changed it for you. You wouldn't put it past him to, the ol' sap.

Gulping the cool liquid down heartily, you took a few breaths before continuing, "How- how long was I out?"

"About a few days, no longer than a week." He shrugged, your eyes widening in response, "Cut yourself some slack. When you came back, you were bleeding out all over base and in hysterics. Doctor told us that if you got back any later, we would've lost you from the blood loss alone."

"Just the blood loss? Not the drugs? I would've figured the latter would be the end of me." You chuckled until you saw Price's expression, muttering a sheepish 'sorry, too soon?' and sipping your water cup, "I didn't hurt anyone, did I?"

"Well, you did punch Garrick square in the chest, but he's been through worse. Wouldn't stop making puppy eyes at you the entire time after, I think you wounded his heart. Ghost had to restrain you afterward, and you were too weak to do any real damage at that point, just kept screaming your head off until you passed out."

"Shit," You cringed, your face burning hot with shame, "I'm sorry, Captain. I should've been more careful, I could've compromised the mission and-"

"Don't be. Sure, you made a bloody fool of yourself, but you saved your team in the process. And that's got to count for something, yeah?" He nudged you gently, "So don't beat yourself up, especially after you fought your way out of hell."

The sympathetic look he gave you held unspoken words, No one could've known. You couldn't have known. The urge to tear up right then and there was strong, but you didn't want to embarrass yourself more than you already apparently had. Biting back the sting in your eyes, you only quietly nodded in response.

"Good. I'm proud of you, got that?" Price stood from his seat, giving your head a firm pat, "Rest up after they're done with you, alright? Can't have one of my finest on the sidelines for too long, now can I?"

"Honored to be one, Captain." You faltered for a moment, "Wait, 'they'?"

Price only gave you a sly shrug and left the room. You remained to wonder what he meant for approximately ten seconds until Gaz and Roach burst in, the latter immediately glued to your side. So this is who he meant by "they", why were you even surprised?

"Feeling alright there?" Gaz smiled, taking a seat at your other side.

"I should be asking you that, didn't you get all heartbroken after I punched you?"

"I shouldn't have asked," Gaz groaned, shaking his head despite his smile, "Cheeky as ever, huh? Can't even be sympathetic without you trying to make fun of me."

"Well, I for one was pissed!" Roach interjected, "Right after you got here, we got to work on finding the assholes who hurt you and made them eat shit for dinner. Man, I wish I could've been in the interrogation room with Ghost and Soap but Price said I'm only finding an excuse to beat them up more."

Gaz raised a brow, "You were finding an excuse to."

"Well yeah, but I was only gonna mess with them a little bit, not zap their balls like Ghost—"

"I'm sorry, what?" You coughed, stunned by all the information coming out of them and hardly able to keep up. "What happened when I was knocked out?"

"Price didn't tell you? Oh, well," The two began to give you a run-down of events, from how Roach nearly beat the living hell out of your torturers, to the hidden basement, Ghost and Soap's whole interrogation (with great detail via Roach intel), and how both Price and Alejandro held a whole operation and shut down the suppliers.

Gaz shrugged, "Of course, it was mostly to shut it down and for the sake of Las Almas-"

"-but I mean, we also had to defend your honor!" Roach huffed, passionately signing to emphasize his point, "At least I wanted to. Seriously, how fucked up is it that they drugged you? It wasn't even helpful, they're just sickos that-"

Before Roach could further rant, Gaz tugged at the back of his uniform collar and glanced at his watch. "C'mon Roach, we've been here for a good hour and Price has us on duty right now." Roach only whined at Gaz in response but he ignored it, giving you one last glance, "Get some rest and get well soon, mate. I can't babysit all on my own after all."

"Hey!"

You broke out in laughter, watching the two leave and waving them goodbye. While you wished they could've stayed longer, your heart still warmed at the thought of how they cared, waiting for you to wake up and immediately being at your side. It reminded you of how you stayed at their side when they got sick from a mission in the rain and you didn't, so you felt somewhat obligated to help them as the 'survivor'. Perhaps they felt the same way too, that as your friends, they felt obligated and willing to stay by your side in return.

Hours passed since Gaz and Roach had visited, morning turning to late afternoon. The only ones who did pass by were either other soldiers on base needing medical attention or the nurses themselves, who regularly checked up on you. It wasn't exactly the company you wanted, but it was better than agonizing silence and isolation, which you quickly found to be the worst of it all. Not the scars, not the stiff bandages, not even the sickly clean smell, but just when things were silent. When things were silent, your mind went back to the time you spent, the hours you waited in between questions and beatings with nothing but you in your own head fighting for your consciousness. The buzz of the fluorescent lights in the infirmary drilled a hole in your skull the same way that singular overhead light had, drowning out your thoughts in an uncanny way. The IV drip was no better, it kept you awake the same way the rhythm of your own blood dripping had. You hadn't even noticed the way your breathing suddenly turned ragged just like it did when—no, you had noticed, but you didn't want to.

It shouldn't have bothered you as much as it did, it was only a few hours, you've been through worse, others have been through worse.

But god, the silence.

"You doing okay there, uh-" A nurse walked in through the curtains, pulling up the clipboard at the end of your bed and reading your name, "I'm just going to administer some painkillers real quick, okay?"

Unconsciously, you nodded and watched in a slight daze as she pulled up a cart of medical supplies. Your hands balled into fists to stop the trembling you weren't even aware of but somehow knew you had to hide. It hadn't quite registered to you what was going on or what she had said, even as you watched her fill up the syringe and flick it. But the moment you felt the needle against your skin, you roughly grabbed her wrist, causing her to yelp and drop it.

Your hands began to tremble again, growing clammy. You became all too aware of how muffled the nurse's panicked words were but how sharp the ringing in your ears was, piercing your brain. Words wouldn't come out of your mouth, replaced with small, quick breaths while your eyes darted around to find something, anything to focus on with your blurred vision.

"At ease, sergeant." A heavily accented voice spoke, ripping you from your haze and you turned to find that familiar skull mask standing by the curtains.

"I... I'm sorry," You mumbled, letting go of the poor woman's wrist and hanging your head apologetically. Your breaths returned to normal, the lights were less bright, and the noise was gone for now.

"I think it's best if you ask the doctor to try other kinds of painkillers with our friend here, miss. They aren't too fond of needles, ain't that right?" Soap appeared behind Ghost, trying to keep things lighthearted with how tension in the air was thick enough to suffocate in. The nurse nervously nodded her head before walking away with the cart, understandably still shaken by what had happened.

"I'd ask if you're doin' okay, but it seems a bit obvious now, ain't it, Ghost?"

The other grunted in response, sitting down at one of the chairs by your side. "You'd think they'd know better with these kinds of things."

"Don't be mean now, they're just doing their jobs," The scotsman chuckled, turning back to you, "Now, aren't you quite the sight for sore eyes? Sorry we couldn't make it earlier, we got tied down with paperwork after the whole fiasco, you know about that yet?"

"Yeah, I didn't expect you guys to get the job done so fast."

"Aw, did you want us to leave you some left over? If I'd known, I would've told Ghost to go a little easier on the lads." Soap was the only one trying to make any conversation out of this visit and you already knew the reason for Ghost's silence. It was just like in the helicopter after you took the blow for him, though you were pretty sure a pun wouldn't be enough to break him from "brooding" like last time.

"Sure. Would've loved to get a few punches back on them," You teased back, "But thank you guys. Really. I know it wasn't the main purpose, but I really appreciate that you guys had my safety in mind. Never figured joining the 141 would come with vengeance perks, or am I just that special to you guys?"

"You little shite, you," Soap cackled, ruffling your hair.

"Looks like they beat us here, Rudy." Alejandro's voice chimed out of the blue, appearing soon after.

"Too bad, I was hoping we'd have them to ourselves," Rodolfo hummed, followed behind with a gift basket in hand, "At least we bought something, eh?"

"Oi! We would've brought something too, we just wanted to get here as soon as we got back." Soap pouted, "Tell 'em Ghost."

"Actually I was hoping to get a 'get well' card on our way here." The masked man mumbled, ignoring his partner's offended gasp.

"You seein' this?" He whined, but you also ignored him, favoring the sweets that were in the gift basket.

"How'd you know this was my favorite?" You gasped, your reaction had the two Vaqueros looking at each other with proud faces.

"I have my sources."

"Ale, you just asked around base."

"That still counts as sources."

The whole lot of you started breaking into conversation, the boys exchanging their accounts of their ambush. In return, you shared what had happened when you were caught and how you escaped in a small summary of events, which led to them ranting about the men they interrogated and about the drugs themselves. Even Roach, Price, and Gaz popped in one last time for the day to visit you and join in on the discussion. Seeing them all like this, gathered around your bed, laughing and bantering, it almost made you forget all that had happened. You wanted to cherish this moment, keep a mental picture of it framed over the locked box in the back of your mind. Being in the military never allowed much room for friends gathering and all this chit-chatting outside of pubs, so it was a rare sight for sore eyes.

In a way, it made your life a little more meaningful. Reminded you that you weren't just a "good soldier", you were a teammate, a friend. You were important, someone worth fighting for. A purpose.

Although the job was harsh and you always felt like you had a gun to your head, that everyone wanted you dead on the battlefield, the 141 always showed you that someone out there still cared, still wanted you to fight and stay alive. Even if life tried to put you six feet under, they'd be there to pull you out without hesitation. You didn't have to doubt or question why, you already knew the answer.

You were family.

Unfortunately, the moment couldn't last for long, the poor nurse from before had been startled by the sheer volume of people around you, especially when most of them were high-ranking. Regardless, she chastised them for keeping you up when you needed your rest (you didn't) and began to shoo them all out. It was almost comedic how the group of giant, intimidating men left with little resistance in a pile of shame. Christ, they look like a pack of sad puppies, you humorously thought to yourself.

Ghost was the last to leave, hesitating to say something by the way he just stood there, curling his hands into fists. You had to force yourself not to laugh right then and there. For someone who was so silent and stoic for most conversations, he was easy to read. It wasn't hard to notice how his eyes kept flickering to your bandages the entire time he sat there, followed by the flashes of concern on his face every time you had coughed from laughing too hard or accidentally hurt yourself by shifting your body too quickly.

"I'll be alright, Simon." Giving him a reassuring smile, you hoped he'd take your words to heart, "Don't worry about it, I'll be on the field right as rain again in two days tops and you can kick my ass around all you want then. Promise."

He didn't say anything for a moment, and you began to worry that maybe your words were too cheap for him to believe, or maybe that he was more upset than you'd originally thought.

"You better be sure." He finally responded, "I take my promises pretty seriously, remember that, sergeant."

You stared at him all googly-eyed until your lips broke into a wide grin, beaming brightly at him and shouting as he left.

"Message received, L.T!"

a/n: AAAA I haven't written this much in so longgg. I had the first half already down from the last part because it went on for too long, but this one is nearly DOUBLE the word count. It's bound to have some grammar mistakes, but I hope that doesn't ruin the immersion too much. Let me know what you guys think!

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bubblergoespop · 11 months ago

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My Top Avior Quotes

this was so hard to cut down; this isn’t even half of the original list. also some angsty ones snuck in bc it’s AVIOR. @mokozroach ta daaa~

“I’m just a little testy after being trapped here for who knows how long thanks to the religious fanaticism of an uninformed peon.”

“The human who never stops asking questions, and the demon who thinks he knows everything. We make quite the pair, huh?”

“Do you trust me? Good, you shouldn’t.”

“If you ask me — which, no one ever does, but hey, when has that stopped me — …”

“I’m sure it feeds that knowledge hungry gremlin that’s apparently forever tap dancing across your neurons.”

“Don’t look right now, okay? Look at me. Look at my eyes. Yeah, like that. Just keep looking at me. Shhh… Hi.”

“This place won’t be the end of either of our voices, Starlight. I won’t let it.”

“Kissing you makes me think of lots of things. Some of them are even nice.”

“I wish I could show you Aria. It’s almost as beautiful as you.”

“What are you doing? I know what a hug is, Starlight, don’t be obtuse.”

“All I can tell you is that I fell in love with you two years ago when we got trapped in this place together. And I loved you two years later when I pulled you back in. And I still love you now.”

“I love the way you do that. How you hold my arms like that when I hug you like that. [..] It’s cute. And so are you.”

“But have you considered that means that everything visible here is a kind of illusion? Including… my clothes?”

“You look so heavenly like this, Starlight. Bathed in ethereal light. Gold dripping from gorgeous skin. Lips that taste like cinnamon and hope.”

“I feel things with you, that I’ve only tasted in the hearts of others before.”

“You’re an awakening from a dreamless sleep I didn’t know I’d settled into.”

“You make my heart bound. And you make my cock throb.”

“I’m left threadbare and shuddering in the wake of you.”

“In truth, the limits of my magic are the limit. But I would expend every last ounce of it for you.”

“Only you could leave me speechless. A rare gift.”

“We will be free of this place. But in the meantime, I’ve found a different kind of freedom in knowing you.”

“Deft implements like these deserve praise. I could just say you have nice hands.”

“I’m happy. Even in the midst of literal hell, surrounded by imagined medieval torment of damned souls… with you, I’m happy.”

“Tell me about it. Yes, the boring coffee shop, tell me about it. I want to hear it.”

“Simple pleasures. The things that shouldn’t feel special. But when I imagine them with you, I cherish them.”

“Starlight. Look at me. Please.”

“I do love you. But love is too easily used as an excuse for terrible harm.”

“You have one life. One fragile, beautiful life. Please don’t throw it away.”

“I’ll be gentle, I promise. Just let me help.”

“The things I feel for you fly in the face of every justifiable fear and suspicion this situation has burned into me. And yet, somehow, because it’s you… I don’t mind that.”

“I’ll grapple with the existence of my people’s ancient gods and them giving us a mission to save the world in a second. Right now I’m just trying to wrap my head around the idea that you don’t fucking hate me.”

“I’ll always find you. I feel you. Like a lighthouse in my senses.”

“In every hell we find ourselves, you’re heaven to me.”

#redacted audio #redacted asmr #redactedverse #redacted avior #redacted starlight #bubbler’s top quotes

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thewulf · 1 year ago

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Who Did This To You? Pt 2 || Rafe Cameron

Summary: Request - Rafe fic based on song wait in the truck by Hardy. Basically he sees her one night that he’s going for a drive to calm down picks her up and drives to the house of maybe her dad or boyfriend and shoots them... Read Rest Here

A/N: Had to write a part two. Thanks for the inspo @loving-and-dreaming !!

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Maybank!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k+

“You did what?” You tried, but failed at, stopping your jaw from literally hitting the ground as you looked between your brother and Rafe. Neither looked too terribly thrilled to be in the presence of the other. You would’ve felt the same a night prior. But now? Now all you wanted to do was hide into Rafe’s arms. He made you feel safe, protected, secure. A different kind of feeling than when you were with your friends.

Rafe looked away from you quickly. Almost ashamed? Your head snapped back to your brother who looked terribly uncomfortable.

“JJ?” You asked him.

JJ shrugged only muttering, “Piece of shit got what he had coming for him.” Earning a small huff and grin from the other man in the room. JJ looked back up to your eyes only softening seeing your distressed state. As awful as a human as he was he was still your father. Was your father.

“Rafe?” You asked turning your attention back towards the man you never thought you’d have any good will towards. Yet here you were. Pining over the man. A man that even JJ would have to accept. How could he not? He’d quite literally saved your life last night. There was no way you were going to make it all the way to John B’s place.

Rafe sighed looking back up at you with that same softness that JJ was just exuding, “He almost killed you. I just, I don’t…” He paused, sighing once more before forcing a hand through his tangled hair, “He would’ve killed you if I didn’t get to him first Y/N.” He stated matter of factly as if to justify his own actions.

You sat down on the chair surrounding Rafe’s kitchen table, “Wow.” Your brain couldn’t think of any words to speak as it reeled over the events of the last few hours, “What about you?” The panic kicked in forcing you to jump up from the seat and back over to the much taller boy, “Are you going to get in trouble?” You asked looking at him with pleading eyes. You’d never dream of putting him in this spot. Putting anybody in such a spot.

He shook his head before gently brushing your own tangled hair out of your face, “It’s taken care of, don’t worry about it.” He refrained from going ‘too far’ in front of your older brother. Rafe knew JJ was a hothead, much like himself. Much different than the gentle soul that you were. A natural balance to his chaos.

“Are you sure?” You asked once more, afraid you could lose him just as quickly as you had gotten him.

He nodded, “Positive. Don’t worry about it.”

You turned back towards your brother, “What about us? Where are we going to go?”

“I’ll drop out. Get a job. Be your caretaker.” He shrugged as if it was as simple as that. Oh, how you wish it were that simple.

But you simply shook your head walking back over to him, “You can’t do that JJ.”

He smiled over to you trying his best to stay as calm as possible for you. It was natural that neither of you had felt much for the man. He was simply a body that took care of the bills at this point. But that was now gone. The two of you had to fend for yourself just like John B was currently doing. How in the hell had both your dads died within the span of a few months?

“You and I both know I’m never leaving this island. What’s it matter if I graduate school? I’ll get my GED and call it a day.” He pulled you in for a rare hug. One that he knew you needed by the way you were tensed up. He knew how off kilter your life had just been swung into.

“But JJ…” You started before he shook his head interrupting you mid-sentence. Rafe walked behind you giving you some distance, letting you have this conversation with your brother.

“It’s been figured out.” He finally let his bear hug grip on you go before looking down at his phone before sighing, “Look, gotta go pick JB and Sarah up. Going to fill them in. Don’t worry about it Y/N. Let us handle it, okay?”

You nodded, “I’m sixteen JJ, not five. I can help.” Letting out a frustrated sigh JJ just shook his head again before wrapping you up in another loving hug. He knew you needed it. He reserved these hugs just for moments like these. When your world was threatening to topple down right in front of you. He couldn’t bear it. You were one of the few consistent things in his life that always, no matter what, believed and cheered him on. His own personal ball of sun. He couldn’t let that diminish. No, he’d rather die than let that happen.

“You’re still my little sister. No matter what, yeah?” He grinned while punching you on the arm lightly. He didn’t know where you were hurting but he knew you certainly were. You were bruised and scratched from head to toe. JJ tried not to let his eyes linger on the particularly nasty bruises or scrapes. It should’ve been him. He should’ve been there for you. His worst fear come right to life in front of him. The sunshine that you were had been hit over and over again. JJ couldn’t help to feel like he had failed you.

Bobbing your head up and down you couldn’t help but to smile at him, “Yeah, okay.”

“Atta girl.” He walked towards the front door, “I’ll pick you up later?” He looked back and forth between you and Rafe who finally decided to step in.

“No need. I’ll drop her off at John B’s?” He asked as he walked towards your brother not letting you step in. It was odd having a male figure be so caring towards you. Not that JJ wasn’t. He was just your older brother who made you tough. He wasn’t always the one you wanted to cry to. He wasn’t your shoulder to lean on when everything was tumbling down. He was the one that was always there to build you back up. He was your brother. Your JJ. Your world and your starts. Your best friend. The person you needed most. JJ.

Your brother gave him a quick nod, “Sure.” He turned back towards you as his hand tugged at the doorknob, “Text me when you’re on your way.”

“Sounds good JJ. I’ll see you later.” You waved as he opened and shut the door quickly leaving you alone again with Rafe. He was quick. In and out in thirty minutes. Changing your life in thirty minutes. He might’ve just changed it for the better though. It might be naïve of you to think JJ could pull this off but why couldn’t he? He was always resourceful when he needed to be.

Feeling a gentle hand on your shoulder you were tugged out of your thoughts immediately, “Are you alright?” Rafe asked quietly seeing you stuck in your head.

You turned to look up to him with wide eyes, “I’m… Yeah I’m fine.” You sucked in a breath suddenly feeling incredibly awkward under his gaze. His very intense Kook stare you were terribly used to.

He frowned as he studied your nervous expression. Were you scared of him because he killed your father? JJ left you here so he couldn’t be worried. But were you?

Rafe decided to test the waters and reach out a hand to you. Without a second thought you brought your hand to his bringing his confidence up just a little. He tugged at your arm gently knowing you were in pretty serious pain. You complied following his to the couch. He pulled you into his side. He ran his hand along your back trying to calm your racing heart.

“It’s okay if you’re not okay.” Rafe whispered in your ear as he laid his head atop of yours.

You nodded into his chest feeling him wrap his arms around your waist pulling you ever so much closer, “I’m confused and a little sad. But I’m okay.”

He gave your hip a squeeze, “I’ll be here for you. Every step of the way.”

You let his words process in your head before finally speaking once again, “Why?” You just had to ask. It was eating at you, “Why do you care now?”

He didn’t let you go, only held you tighter, “I’ve always cared. I just didn’t know how to express it. Being uh… mean to you made it easier. My friends stayed away. They’re trouble. I’m trouble. You really shouldn’t want much to do with me Y/N.”

You sighed only letting your head fall completely onto his chest, “Yeah sure, whatever. My life’s already kind of fucked up isn’t it Rafe? Why not got all in?”

He smiled down you cuddled into him, “Because I care for you. Always have. Always will Maybank.” He began brushing your hair wish his fingers trying to tame it from the restless sleep you had the night prior.

You groaned, “I suppose I care for you to Rafe, please don’t go running away from me now.”

He shook his head, “Not unless you ask me. But don’t say I didn’t warn you sweet girl.”

You couldn’t help the creeping blush at that nickname he’d given you overnight, “Well, we’re in luck. Because that won’t happen.” You grinned up at him feeling that warmth you felt earlier spread around again, “Thank you Rafe.” You mumbled feeling sleepiness begin to take over you once more.

He kept brushing your hair hoping you’d fall asleep on him once again. Knowing full well your body needed the sleep to help recover after such an assault, “Anytime pretty. You know that.” He hoped in fact you did know that. Even though you’d been strangers moments prior he hoped you knew how much you really meant to him. He’d admired you from a distance hoping the cold shoulder would lead you away from him. And that worked until he saw you broken on the side of the rode. Rafe could never leave you to fend for yourself like that.

You mumbled something incoherent to his ears as you dozed off once again. He wasn’t sure how long you’d be asleep, but he was sure he wouldn’t move an inch hoping you’d get the best sleep you possibly could. He was a goner and he couldn’t really give less of a damn in that moment as you were curled up on him

Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!): @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891

Fic Taglist: @starkeysheart @f4ll-for-you @thesnailus

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saladscream · 2 months ago

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This was too good. Couldn't resist. Here's the short nonsense fluffy ficlet this artwork inspired. Thank you @discessio !! ❤️

Title: Misstep (crap title, I know)

Pairing: Merlin/Arthur

Warning: sappy, fluffy, cliffhanger, unbetaed

Wordcount: 1377

The first time it happens is by complete accident, Merlin can swear it on his mother’s life. Well, it’s an accident that turns into an opportunity, really. Let’s say it’s half-accident, half-neediness. And let’s keep Merlin’s mother out of it.

What’s for certain is that the first time it happens, it’s definitely not on purpose. Merlin doesn’t engineer it. He simply reacts instinctively and freezes the course of time in order to avoid the loud, inevitable clatter of the falling tray. Arthur’s still fast asleep and Merlin knows the prince’s sleep has been a little elusive over the past few weeks, so really he stops time for all the right reasons.

He picks the suspended goblet, plate and cutlery from their arrested tumble, mid-air. Accident averted. Gaius wouldn’t be happy with this, but again, at no point did Merlin actually think it through. He merely reacted. There’s a surreptitious lick of unease down his back as he realises he is somewhat playing with fire here.

But Merlin wants to concentrate on the positive outcome – Arthur’s uninterrupted and much-needed sleep.

In a rare show of self-indulgence, Merlin stands by the bed for a moment, gazing at his prince. His sweet, brave, arrogant prince who’s such an insufferable clotpole but also the most important person in Merlin’s world. The most aggravatingly beloved man in Merlin’s guarded heart. The most forbidden idol in Merlin’s unmentionable fantasies.

Merlin blinks himself out of his nebulous and slightly lascivious thoughts.

And finally realises he hasn’t unfrozen time, lost in contemplation of the darling bane of his existence as he was. It’s just that Arthur is so pretty when he’s asleep, all tousled blonde hair and soft lips and peaceful features. It’s such a rare occurrence to be able to look upon him being so care-free and utterly safe.

Merlin releases the flow of time.

And immediately wishes he’d used the suspended pause to stroke Arthur’s hair.

Merlin gets to touch Arthur in many rather intimate ways throughout the day, but he’s never been at liberty to simply indulge in a fond ruffle or a gentle caress – for obvious reasons. He’s always wished he could. He can’t help it. He’s a tactile kind of person, though it may not seem like it. To him, touch is a crucial, under-used language that conveys love and affection like nothing else can. And he finds there’s never enough of it in his life. He’s made his peace with it. It is what it is.

But he wishes he’d thought of reaching out and stroking Arthur’s hair while time was frozen. No one would’ve been the wiser, yet it would’ve meant so much to him.

Merlin presses his lips into a resigned line and resumes his morning duties, delivering the offending tray safely to the table.

And that’s the first time it happens. Complete accident. Missed opportunity. Bittersweet musings.

The second time it happens… Merlin’s again caught wrong-footed. The knife that’s just slipped off the plate is about to stab through his boot, and so everything stops for the almighty warlock. Merlin huffs an annoyed breath, puts down the plate and grabs the suspended knife. The damn thing is sharp and heavy as hell, and Merlin scowls at the hole it would’ve punctured into his boot – and possibly his foot.

And then he realises he’s done it again. Caught Arthur in the bubble of frozen time. He should feel terrible – and he does – but he also feels something else. Like, just a frisson of euphoria. A guilty thrill of elation at being given a second chance.

His hand shakes just a tiny bit as he places the forgotten knife on the bedside table, but he then takes a steadying breath and turns to the bed’s occupant.

The prince is arrested in slumber, slack-jawed and slightly drooling on the pillow, and alright, he looks more ridiculous than dashing right now, but it is this very vulnerability that makes the knight so absurdly dear to Merlin.

Merlin reaches out and his fingertips brush, feather-soft, over the tangled blonde mess of hair. It feels wonderful. Intimate. Illicit. There are shameless butterflies dancing in Merlin’s belly as his fingers caress their treasure. He pushes an errant strand this way and then that way in search of ultimate perfection, as he probably would if Arthur were his. Something in him trembles at the forward gesture.

But enough with these stollen familiarities. Merlin shakes himself out of his tender thoughts and releases time.

And Arthur gives an undignified snore.

The third time it happens… Well, much to Merlin’s own unease, the third time is deliberate. Nothing to startle him, no impending jarring threat, no excuse whatsoever. It’s just that… today was a close call and Merlin truly thought he’d failed his destiny and his prince, and Arthur looked so deathly pale as the poison crawled through his veins, and so now Merlin needs a bit of quiet time alone with the unwitting other half of his soul.

He just wants to look at him. He won’t touch Arthur, he promises himself sternly. It feels too terribly good to touch him – as well as a little wrong.

And so he freezes the course of time, and it feels odd and strained because he seldom does this voluntarily. His magic itches and writhes in discomfort but obeys, and now he can look his fill.

Arthur is still awfully pale and there’s a sheen of sweat dewing his face and throat. One that spreads to his shoulders and upper chest – and Merlin isn’t strictly touching him, just lifting a corner of the covers to check that the bandage hasn’t slipped. But Arthur’s alive. He’s safe now. And Gods, Merlin wishes he could touch him, if only to ground himself and chase the residual fear that lurks within his battered little heart. Just a caressing sweep of his thumb over the crook of the shoulder would do it. A reassurance. An offering. A blessing.

But Merlin has promised himself he wouldn’t touch and he wants to prove to himself that he has a measure of self-control and a modicum of decency. That he’s not one of those sorcerers who abuse their powers. The cover flops back down and Arthur is left to recover in peace.

The fourth time... Alas, there’s no good excuse for the fourth time. It’s the middle of the night and there’s something dreadfully fragile and needy to Arthur’s moans as he struggles with a nightmare. The prince’s chest is bare and heaving, his hands clutching and clenching, his whole sturdy frame restless in the throes of a distressing dream. And truly, Merlin has no other choice. He can’t just stand there and watch and do nothing. He kneels on the bed behind Arthur and leans over him, bracing a light hand on Arthur’s hip while the other rests on the headboard.

“It’s all right,” he murmurs very gently. “You’re all right, Arthur.” And before he can honestly help himself, he’s brushing a soft, tender, timid kiss over Arthur’s damp cheek.

He’s so anxious to make all the bad things go away for his beloved prince. So selflessly ready to do anything and everything to spare his beloved prince any ache of any kind. So damn in love with the clotpole and so unable to exorcise it any other way. The gentle rub of his lips over Arthur’s cheek feels pure and wanton, and tremors of pitiful bliss shimmer though him, miserable wretch that he is.

Which is when Arthur shifts beneath him, tilting his head up for more.

It is at this precise juncture that Merlin, this untold genius, becomes aware of two things.

First, it is not a nightmare. The dream is of a completely different nature, and it is not anguish that strains at Arthur’s features and rocks his body, it is lustful hunger – as the grunt of pleasure confirms.

Second, Merlin forgot to suspend the course of time. He is therefore kneeling over Arthur – pressing a kiss to the man’s cheek, for fuck’s sake – while the prince is having a very natural, very private and very pleasant dream. In real time.

Arthur opens blurry, confused eyes, gazing straight up into Merlin’s blinking, confounded ones.

Now this should be fun to explain.

*the end*

#merlin x arthur #merthur #arthur pendragon #merlin emrys #merlin #merlin fanart #ficlet #merlin ficlet #discessio #fanart

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bellaxgiornata · 1 year ago

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Falling For the Devil [Part seventy-nine: "The Hell Day"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: You stay home from work because you're having a terrible day on your period.

Matt stops by for a surprise visit and offers you comfort in more ways than one.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut (like...a lot of it later in the series), language, some violence

Word Count: 2.9k

a/n: This is a little hurt/comfort fic while Reader is on her worst day of her period. And there's some Sweet Matty comforting Reader and some moving in discussions! Our next installment is titled "The Revisitation of Moving In" that I'll hopefully be sharing later this week! You can find the entire list of installments for this series on tumblr here.

Tag List: @stilldreaming666 @mattkinsella @ninacoette @murdocksclient @madscamp02 @1988-fiend @lina-mar @pinkratts @schneeflocky (I apologize if I missed someone or if any of these tags didn't work! Some of you might have search settings turned off on your account so I can't actually tag you!)

Curled up on your couch absently watching the food channel, your arms were wrapped around your abdomen as you groaned in misery. Your whole body ached, especially your lower back, and you'd been feeling nauseous since early this morning when you'd woken up. You'd had a headache for the past five hours that just wouldn't go away no matter how much water you drank or ibuprofen you took.

You were on day two of your period–also known as Hell Day. Since it was Friday and you'd felt like death, having woken up long before your alarm had gone off and been unable to fall back asleep because your cramps were just that painful, you'd called off work. Last night had been one of those rare nights that Matt hadn't stopped by as Daredevil because he'd stayed home working on a case, so you'd thankfully not had to wake up to him witnessing how miserable you were.

While you'd avoided Matt over that first period week you'd gotten months ago, right after the two of you had gotten together, you hadn't continued that trend for most of the periods that followed after. Though admittedly you had often managed to find a way to avoid him one way or another on Period Hell Day for months now, so he'd yet to encounter you on the absolute worst day of your period. Which you'd been grateful for, because generally you were more of an emotional mess than usual, and that's exactly how you'd felt today, as if you were one random, small thing away from crying. Again .

A knock at your apartment door drew your eye towards it, a deep frown settling onto your face. There could only be one person who would be here knocking on your door at almost seven on a Friday night. You closed your eyes, rolling over and burying your face in the pillow you'd been lying on. Another groan left you yet again.

"I don’t feel good tonight, Matt," you grumbled into the pillow. “Leave me to my misery.”

"You and I both know that I'm not going to do that," Matt's distinctive voice came from the other side of the door. “Let me in, sweetheart.”

“I don’t want you to see me like this,” you protested, face still buried in the pillow.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m blind,” he quipped back, amusement clear in his tone.

“ Matt ,” you whined.

You heard the clear rumble of his chuckle outside of your door, the sound of it drawing your face from its hiding place. It had been yesterday afternoon since you last saw him for lunch and you certainly had missed him–despite how pathetic it was to admit because it had barely been over twenty-four hours.

"I brought mint ice cream?" Matt called hopefully through the door. “And it’s uh, probably going to melt on me if you leave me out here.”

“Why didn’t you lead with that?” you called back.

You pushed yourself upright on the couch with a grimace, your cramps somehow feeling worse now that you weren’t curled in the fetal position.

“Because I sort of thought my girlfriend would be happy for some company and comfort tonight?” he responded. "Didn't expect that I'd need to bribe her to answer the door."

Eyes narrowing, you rose to your feet, shuffling your way to your apartment door. Your right hand was pressed to your bloated abdomen like it was going to keep your insides from somehow falling out of you while you walked. Quickly unlocking your door with your left hand, you swung it open to reveal Matt’s handsome and smiling face. He held up the container of mint ice cream he had in fact brought over in one of his hands.

“What the hell does that mean?” you asked him suspiciously, eyes still narrowed as you ignored the ice cream. “Why would you think I want company and comfort tonight?”

Matt’s smile immediately fell, his dark brows drawing together, a crease forming between them. His head slowly shifted to the side as he pursed his lips. There was a long moment that he stood in your doorway looking confused as he remained silent.

“Because you’re…on your period?” he eventually answered carefully. “And I know you usually don’t feel well?”

“How do you know I’m on my period?” you questioned him.

Matt’s head tilted further to the side, his dark brows almost entirely disappearing behind the red lenses of his glasses now. “This…this feels like a trick question,” he said slowly. “I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to answer that.”

You shook your head quickly, hugging both arms over your stomach as if that would somehow block Matt’s heightened senses from picking up on anything from your body. “No, ew, definitely don’t answer that ,” you agreed. “I meant I haven’t seen you today, how would you know?”

“I saw you yesterday, sweetheart,” he pointed out.

“But I hadn’t told you I was on it because I just had–” you stopped, eyes going wide when Matt’s expression turned sheepish. “Oh my God , you could still tell ?” When he opened his mouth you immediately shook your head again, throwing a hand up from your stomach to stop him. “No, please do not actually answer that.”

“It’s not a big deal, sweetheart,” he said gently.

“Says you !” you shot back.

“So you’re just going to leave me to let this mint ice cream melt all over my hands in your hall then?” he asked.

“Obviously not,” you said, stepping aside.

Matt took a slow, careful step into your apartment, almost as if he was wary that you really didn’t want him here. Your shoulders sagged at the sight, shutting the door after him.

“Sorry, I’m a hormonal mess,” you apologized. “I feel horrible and I wasn’t expecting you to stop by tonight and now I’m just overthinking your senses. Again .”

You accepted the ice cream from Matt, turning and bringing it to the kitchen to keep in your freezer for now. Behind you, you heard Matt slipping out of his shoes.

“You know you really don’t need to do that,” he told you. “Overthinking my senses about things.”

“Sort of hard not to do,” you mumbled. “Overthinking is sort of my thing.”

You made your way back towards the living room where Matt was pulling his dark glasses from his face. His eyes were tracking your movement as he leaned over to set the glasses onto your coffee table, the smile growing on his lips as you made your way towards him.

“If you’re ever actually going to move in with me,” he said, “you’re kind of going to have your period around me, sweetheart. And you know it doesn’t bother me. I’ve told you that a hundred times now.”

Sighing dramatically, you once again hugged your arms across your bloated stomach as you came to a stop in front of him. “Try getting my overthinking mind to believe you,” you replied.

He chuckled lightly, his hands reaching out and landing on your shoulders. He gave them an affectionate squeeze that drew a small smile onto your face.

“I have been trying that for awhile now,” he pointed out. “Clearly it’s not an easy feat to accomplish.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, “because all I can think about are the gross things you’re picking up on when I’m like this. And I’m…” you trailed off, lips clamping together before you could admit what was on your mind.

Matt’s face shifted to something serious instantly, clearly sensing your hesitation. His eyes were scanning around your face curiously. “You’re what?” he prompted.

Chewing your lip, you gazed down at your coffee table. Could you really verbalize something so gross and ridiculous to Matt? The last thing you felt like doing right now was discussing your period with the man you wanted to still find you attractive when you weren’t bleeding in a few more days.

“Hey,” he said, his tone softer as he gripped your shoulders a little tighter, “you can tell me anything. What’s bothering you?”

“It’s just…if I move in with you, you’re right,” you admitted quietly. “I’ll be having my period around you. Like all the time.”

“Yes,” Matt agreed. “I am aware that it's a monthly occurrence. And I don’t have a problem with that.”

“But like…” you continued, your eyes locked on your coffee table because you could not look at him, “that means I’ll, you know, be…disposing of period-related things. At your place. All the time."

Matt let out an amused snort that quickly drew your eyes to his face. He bit his bottom lip, shaking his head quickly.

“Sorry, sorry, I really don’t mean to laugh,” he said immediately. “I’m not–not trying to make light of your feelings, but sweetheart, it’s just blood. I bring enough blood home on a near nightly basis. I don’t care. It doesn't bother me. And for the record, it would be our place."

“But you have the nose of a bloodhound–”

“Better, actually,” he cut in.

“Matt!” you shrieked, to which he only chuckled again. “That’s not helping!”

"You're right, I'm sorry," he said, the grin still on his face. "Just trying to lighten the mood."

You shifted awkwardly on your feet before him, other anxious thoughts about living with Matt crossing your mind. As if sensing that, his hands slid down your shoulders, making their way down your arms until they wrapped around your own hands.

"Hey, let's sit," he suggested gently.

Matt led you back towards your couch, the pair of you settling down onto the cushions beside each other. He kept his hold on your hands, that serious expression back on his face as he gazed at you.

"What's on your mind, sweetheart?" he asked. "Tell me."

"I just–just worry about all the things you're going to pick up on if I move in with you," you confessed. "Things I'm not aware of because of your heightened senses."

Matt murmured your name, the sound drawing your eyes up to his face. Nervously you chewed your lip, Matt's thumbs rubbing lightly over the backs of your hands.

"You've spent so much time with me already, sweetheart," he pointed out. "Staying the night at my place or me staying here. And I'm still here not grossed out by you." One corner of his lips curled upwards as he added, "And I lived with Fog during college for years . Share an office with him almost every day of the week now. You're not going to gross me out or whatever you're afraid of."

"Well Foggy isn't hoping you're still attracted to him at the end of the day," you blurted.

Matt's mouth twisted into a bigger grin in response. "Well that would mean I'd have to be attracted to Fog at the beginning of the day," he teased.

You sighed deeply, not wanting his jokes right now. Quickly picking up on that, Matt sent you an apologetic smile.

"I'm serious, Matt," you admitted awkwardly. "If we live together, you'll be around me all the time. Every bad day I have and every morning of my gross morning breath. And every period where I'm super gross, like right now. And every time–"

"Hey," Matt cut you off firmly, squeezing your hands. "I want every moment with you, sweetheart. All of it. The good and the bad. I want you with me. And you are not super gross right now," he stated sharply. "You never are. Nothing is going to make me love you or want you any less."

You couldn't help the sting of tears that pricked at your eyes or the way your lips had begun to tremble as Matt's words hit you hard. His brows drew together on his forehead as he noticed your body’s reaction.

"Sweetheart?" he asked, his eyes softening as they focused near your own. "Why're you crying?"

Tears had already quickly begun falling down your cheeks in hot, wet steaks. You sniffled loudly, fighting to keep your voice as even as you could when you spoke.

"Because I'm hormonal as fuck, Matt," you sobbed. "And you're so fucking charming and sweet. And I love you." You slipped a hand out of his hold as you gestured behind you towards your kitchen. "And you brought me my favorite ice cream on my worst damn day of the month!"

His brows knitted further together, the crease between them deepening on his face. The corner of his mouth twitched downwards. "Those are all–all good things though," he pointed out carefully.

"I know!" you agreed, your voice cracking.

His head tilted to the side as he studied you for a moment. "So you're…happy?" he clarified.

"Yes!" you exclaimed. "I'm incredibly hormonal and you're being really great and it's making me cry! But I also cried watching House Hunters earlier, too."

He laughed lightly, pulling you into his chest and wrapping his arms around you. One of his large hands began soothingly running up and down your back as you buried your face into his dress shirt. You quickly soaked the material with your tears as your arms wrapped around him in return, balling the material in your fists. That familiar scent of him surrounded you and you buried your nose further into his shirt. A moment later you felt him pressing a kiss into your hair.

"I love you, Matty," you said into his chest.

"I love you, too, sweetheart,” he murmured. “How about I get changed and I come cuddle you on the couch?" he offered. "I can give you a back massage if you lay on me. I can hear how sore your back is."

"You've had a long week yourself," you replied, sniffling again. "Both in and out of the office. I'm not going to ask you to do that."

"Well you're not," he pointed out. "I'm offering. Here, let me up."

Reluctantly you released your hold of him, Matt rising up from the couch. He shot you a smile, murmuring he'd be right back back before you watched him disappear down your hall to your bedroom.

With a sigh you settled back onto your couch, your eyes focusing back on the food channel. It was a few minutes before Matt returned no longer in his work attire. Instead he padded down your hallway barefoot in a pair of gray sweatpants with a tee-shirt in one hand.

"Shirt or no shirt?" he asked, stopping before you on the other side of the coffee table.

Your lips parted in surprise as your eyes raked over his bare torso, every defined inch of him on clear display in your living room. Matt grinned devilishly at you, tossing his shirt onto the coffee table before he made his way back to you.

"That answered my question," he said, amused.

He sat down on the couch, drawing his feet up as he maneuvered behind you. And then he opened his arms to you, waving you over with a smile.

"Come here, sweetie," he whispered. "Let me help you feel better."

You gradually climbed up on top of him, nestling your head just below his chin as your legs rested between his on your couch. While your right hand slid up to grasp his shoulder, your left hand landed along his chest beside your face, fingers absently running along his bare, warm skin that felt amazing against your bloated abdomen. Matt’s own hands settled onto your lower back, his palms beginning to press in the exact right spot against your aching muscles. It was only a matter of seconds before your eyes were closing and you were sighing in relief and contentment.

“You’re really, really good at that,” you whispered, relaxing into him beneath you.

“Sort of easy when I can hear your body that well,” he replied gently.

“And that made it weird,” you pointed out.

Beneath you, Matt let out a rumbling laugh that had you bouncing along him with the movement, which in turn had you giggling. Burying your face into his chest as you laughed, you felt his hands pause their movement to hold you tight to him, his nose nuzzling into your hair as his warm chuckle filled your ears. When both your laughter subsided, Matt placed a kiss into your hair before his hands resumed their movement on your back. You gradually eased back into him beneath you, your eyelids dropping.

“You know,” Matt began, his tone catching your attention instantly, “I hear orgasms help relieve cramps.”

Your eyes instantly grew wide, your jaw dropping in response to what he’d just suggested. There was a rumble of laughter beneath you again as you raised your head from his chest, staring down at him in shock.

“Matthew!” you shrieked.

His eyes crinkled at the corners, his smile growing wider. “Oh that one warranted my full name, did it?” he teased.

Heat crept its way up your cheeks as you buried your face back into his chest. “Oh my God ,” you groaned, voice muffled.

“I’m just letting you know that I am more than happy to help,” he told you, amusement in his voice. “Just so you know for the future.”

“I am officially embarrassed and uncomfortable,” you mumbled, still hiding your heated face against him.

“I strongly believe that one day you’ll take me up on that,” he mused, his hands still working the muscles of your aching lower back.

“Doubt it,” you disagreed.

He chuckled yet again, his hands managing to relax you back down from the topic of conversation. Slowly you shifted until your cheek was once again resting along his chest.

“Mmm,” Matt hummed out. “Guess we’ll see who’s right eventually.”

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x fem reader #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock series #matt murdock fic #matt murdock fanfic #daredevil x female reader #daredevil x reader #matt murdock #fftd

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lavendertales · 1 year ago

Text

Fire breather**

pairing: young!Din Djarin x f!reader

summary: he knows that even being around you is dangerous, forbidden even. But he can't fight against it for the life of him, not when you lure him with the most innocent of moves that throw you both into an intoxicatingly erotic game.

word count: 6k

WARNINGS: mini crisis of faith; virgin!Din, mutual pining, blowjob, piv, praise kink, cum play, first time shenanigans.

AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!

gif: @manny-jacinto

read on AO3

It started out tentatively. Teasing to an almost ridiculous degree.

As a new bounty hunter, Din sought work. And for a beginner, Nevarro isn’t the worst place to be: plenty of questionable thieves, seemingly charitable folk on the street with dark pasts—a truly varied pool of work for someone like him. He almost-too-eagerly joined Greef Karga’s parsec of bounty hunters, and quickly learned the hazards of the job.

But he also learned there was beauty to it.

Whenever he had spare time, he liked to sit in the local cantina. Not necessarily for the food, but for the people. Simply watching them as they walked by, enjoying a warm meal, a good drink and a polite conversation. For the most part, it was a radiating canvas for young Din Djarin—most of the time unsoiled by the dark desires and past times that possessed so many creatures.

Then he saw you.

He watched your cat-like movements from behind the bar, serving those who stopped by, always with a smile. The more he dared to gaze in your direction, never forgetting to look away just as you sensed his visor upon you, the more he felt a certain fascination for you. Something about you exuded warmth, a rather mysterious sensuality, that of a foreigner, which Din knew had the ravishing possibility of getting him in trouble if he got too close.

So he didn’t. He observed you from afar, never uttering more than a grumbled “thank you” when you serviced him.

He meets with Karga to discuss business. It’s always business; nothing more, nothing less. He sneaks a glance at you, so quick it nearly makes his head spin. He finds himself lost in your smile, your politeness with even the rudest customers, your agility. His helmet suddenly feels constricting.

“Mando? Are you okay under there?”

Even Karga seems to notice. Din gulps, nodding his head ever so stoic, and resumes the conversation about the puck he’s taking today. But today is different. Today, you catch his visor, eyes big and radiant, and you smile at him.

You fucking smile at him.

“Be sure to finish this mission before the heatwave hits Nevarro,” Karga warns. “Seems it’ll be quite a hot season this year.”

Din finishes the mission a few days after said heatwave hit Nevarro. And it sure as hell was hot.

It was one of the rare circumstances when he wishes to done his tunic and beskar and jump into a body of water. It seldom happens, and yet now, he finds himself craving some release from that asphyxiating sensation.

“You’re back.”

The voice, soft and sweet like honey slowly drizzling on skin, startles him. He turns to meet your radiant face welcoming him back on the planet and into the cantina, and he gulps. His throat is so dry it’s itchy.

“You’ve been gone some time,” you say politely.

“Tricky mission.”

“Bounty hunter, right?”

“Yes. You keep tabs on all your clients?”

You chuckle, and the sound is playful, crystal clear, almost causing him to gasp.

“Only the most interesting ones,” you smile. “Can I get you anything?”

His mind feels scrambled, emptied of all other wishes. All except for one, clear and concise, and yet so terribly frightening to even think, let alone voice.

“I’m okay, thank you,” he replies.

“Some water at least. This heat is no joke.”

Eventually he nods, his eyes glued to your figure from the second you depart until you return with a tall cup of ice water.

“I’ll give you some privacy,” you tell him.

Din feels astounded at your understanding. Unlike others, you don’t question his armor or his habits, you simply… understand. You have enough respect for him already to know when to walk away.

And that awakens something else in him.

In the twisted and explosive world Din had voluntarily stepped in, his infatuation for you unfolds agonizingly slow, and yet far too fast for him to catch up and attempt to understand it.

The manifestation of Eros happens in increments, over long weeks of heat and simple words exchanged: from the lingering, curious gaze you began to return, to the mouth-watering way he longed to touch you. Just once, just a light touch over your arm, nothing more.

A lot more, actually. But Din forbids himself from thinking that far.

It is an erotic and mystical experience, unknown to him. He hasn’t felt the touch of another being, ever, but this he can learn to recognize that he ardently wants. There are moments of insecurity that go beyond his Creed and everything he had sworn himself to. Moments of jealousy of the infatuated man beneath the Mandalorian armor, failing to understand how someone can just touch another’s arm so innocently, so tenderly, and awaken such animalistic instincts in another.

He sees the guy at the bar, shamelessly smiling at you, at one point even laughing. Din’s heart stills, his breaths barely there. He watches the guy touch your hand, hold it for a few seconds longer than he has to, and Din finds his fist curled into a fit of rage. He does and says nothing. What could he say or do? Besides, he has no right to intervene. You aren't his to be had, and he isn't anything more but another client.

“Is everything okay?”

Din is taken aback by the fact that you take a seat right in front of him. You seem to be able to read him easily, and that thought alone is as surprising as it is scary.

“Yes,” Din almost groans.

“Are you sure? Because it looks like you’re about to rip your own gloves.”

He glances down at his hands, both curled into fists so tight he fails to acknowledge that they feel bothersome. He instantly relaxes them, taking a deep breath as you smile reassuringly at him.

“Long day,” he retorts, trying to appear as careless as possible.

Then, the unthinkable happens. You reach and touch his hand, stroking the glove gently, with the same kind and understanding smile on your face.

You touched his hand. It burned his skin through the fabric, his cheeks turning crimson under the weight of flattery and desire.

What is happening to me? Din can't help but ask himself.

“If you need some company, a conversation or… anything, really… you know where to find me.”

As you say so, you stroke his hand one last time and return behind the bar, glancing at him on occasion. Din gulps, struggling to manage for the rest of the day. Had his jealousy been that obvious that you had to come over to soothe him?

No, it couldn’t have been that.

He likes to think of himself as a smart man. Not possessing a superior intellect, but definitely smart, quick to come up with solutions when needed, even impulsively so.

And so he knows that the basis of this attraction he carries for you is nothing but physical. No other explanation for it. It’s pure biology; he can’t really help the way his body sweats and aches for you, let alone the way he just stiffened when his eyes met yours and when you touched him. He felt confined in his own armor, in his own pants, like he couldn’t breathe.

And you only just touched his hand.

It’s simple biology. Action and reaction; excessive nervousness, a celibacy record of twenty four years and counting, internal restlessness and a horrid fear of what the future might look like should he succumb to—whatever this is. He grows more and more fearful of the day he’ll finally snap and his body will take the reins of his feelings and needs, but the precarious situation actually thrills him, and he can’t explain himself. Not anymore.

Din knows he’s a moral man—or so he tries to be—but the demon inside, acting on biological, needy grounds, tempted and proved him the opposite with each moment he spent in your presence. You’ve barely lived, much like him, and yet there lives a refined sensuality and confidence about you, as well as a perplexing innocence inside of you.

He’s used to a different type of feminine behavior, and everything about you thoroughly confuses and excites him.

As the heat thrives in Nevarro, Din feels like he’s falling apart with each day.

No other woman has ever troubled him this much. He’s never been disrupted from his job by anyone, much less a woman. The sensual suffering you unknowingly put him through is beginning to feel like a curse, and this weather isn’t helping either.

He thinks about you when he’s chasing down his targets. He thinks about you when he carbon-freezes them. He thinks about you when he can’t sleep, then he gets so hard it actually feels like he’s being strangled. He thinks about you when he washes the day’s exhaustion off, and his hand seems to act of its own accord and curls itself around his erection, mindlessly stroking in hopes of some release. He seldom feels his own flesh in times like these; if he would’ve cut himself right now, he wouldn’t feel a fucking thing. And yet, what he does feel are his own nerves like a fishnet of beskar, weighing heavily upon him. He’s practically trembling as he rushes to finish himself in the shower, his ragged breath like molten lava. Even after he spills his seed, ashamed of such specific thoughts, you do not leave his mind.

Is it the mystery of your body, the curiosity that comes attached whenever you’re nearby?

He doesn’t know, and he certainly doesn’t care.

After his parents’ demise, Din was raised in a tough environment, one meant for a warrior. And that’s what he became: a hunter of beskar, cold and calculated, sharp. Yet there you are in that cantina, drawing him into a complicated, decisively erotic and unpredictable game. A lingering gaze from either of you is a code that must be deciphered; a touch of the hands is an act of bravery and a betrayal of one’s ways of thinking.

What of the Creed? What of everything I sworn myself too? I can’t fall in this trap, I can’t abandon my family.

But if it’s wrong, why does he ache for you with his whole being?

When you intentionally touched his leg one time as he sat at a table with Karga, it meant a big promise to him, an invitation. The promise was later fortified by a tea that you made especially for him to help with his restlessness.

And it fucking worked.

Din slept the best he had in months, thinking of you as he drifted into a peaceful sleep.

The next day, he brought you flowers as a thank you, but most importantly, as a little gesture to mean “I accept your invitation”. You smiled and thanked him.

Plenty of the customers around noticed you received flattery from the Mandalorian and plenty teased you about it, but you didn’t care. You felt like he could trust you, and being offered the trust of such a skilled warrior was more flattering than anything else.

Of course, there was the issue of attraction. There was no denying that over the months you had developed a rather carnal desire for the covered man. His modulated voice was softer when he spoke to you, almost shy; his movements, usually harsh and brutal, were tender and careful, hesitant as if he were afraid to not break you—or perhaps he was afraid of breaking himself. You began to fear that the physical attraction was too powerful to be contained and that one day you’ll snap, revealing or doing something that’ll put him off.

That was the last thing that you wanted. And, unbeknownst to you, it was the last thing Din wanted, too.

The situation is twisted, to put it mildly; Din, more simplistic in his all-too-new desires, lets himself be tempted by the potential of an affair that could end in tragedy. He’s become obsessed by myths, tearing them down, and new sensations. The observations he makes about body language in particular and the suggestion of foreign sensuality, with its heavy moments of infatuation, are stronger.

The erotic myth that Din finds himself drawn to is unfolding in the most unusual situations: when you smile at him during a busy day in the cantina, when you welcome him after a mission, when he accidentally touches your arm or your leg and his whole body trembles with fear and excitement alike. The now love he carries for you awakens raw, animalistic feelings inside of him, and the inevitable sin happens one evening when he seeks you.

The cantina is empty by this hour, except for one drunken Mythrol in a chair somewhere in the back. Although Din’s pulse is through the roof and he hears his own thrumming in his ears, burning auburn at this point, he inches closer to you.

“Mando, hi,” you smile, pleasantly surprised to see him. “What can I get ya?”

He hesitates, gulping. The heat wave hasn’t retreated from Nevarro, and it does not help with the way his body sweats right now.

“Spotchka. Please,” he clears his throat, insecure.

He’s never had the beverage before, but it’s the one thing that crossed his mind. Because the question that unveils itself at the back of his mind as he approaches the bar is… what is he doing here tonight? Just for the drink? He can’t drink with anyone around. So what the hell is his plan, why is he here with limp legs, barely able to breathe—

“Here we are,” you say, pouring the blue liquid in a glass and putting it in front of him.

“Thank you.”

“So what brings you here tonight?”

Gloved hand curled around the glass, Din falls prey to a deep silence. What can he tell you? He doesn’t know himself.

“Uh—“

“Are you okay?”

“How can you tell if there’s something—“

“Well, for one thing, I know Mandalorians don’t eat or drink in front of others, even if I can turn around and that guy in the back is drunk under the table. And you do seem a bit nervous.”

Kriffing hell, how are you so damn good at reading him? How can you even be so understanding and kind?

Would you be so understanding if he’d told you he can’t stop thinking about you? That he thinks about you even when he shouldn’t?

“Tell you what,” you lean over the counter and get so close to his visor he could pass out. “I have to close up soon anyway. How about I take this”, you smile and take the whole bottle of spotchka, “and we go somewhere more private?”

“Are you—is that okay? Closing early, I mean.”

You sneak a look back to notice the Mythrol still under the table and refrain yourself from giggling. “It’s fine, don’t worry. I might need some help cleaning around here.”

Din carries the Mythrol out the cantina all the way till he passes out somewhere on the street, near the garbage cans. Neither you nor Din care enough to keep tabs on him, and honestly, Din is far too lost in your scent to pick up on anything else around him.

“Where we going?” he asks eventually.

“My place.”

Din stops, gulping and staring at you in awe. He knows what this means, the implications and everything else, and suddenly he’s fearful.

Fearful for not being enough for you and not living up to whatever expectations you may have.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you immediately apologize, noticing his stiff stance. “I didn’t mean—I just thought you’d like it better if you were in a more intimate setting. I mean not intimate, but—not a public space, you know?”

“Yes.”

“You just seem like the type of guy who likes to be mostly by himself, so if that’s okay with you—“

“It’s—fine.”

Suddenly his mind is plagued by the possibilities: are you nervous too because of him? Could that even be possible? No, how could it? He’s a Mandalorian, sworn to the Creed and a lifetime of solitude. He never lost his head like this—or at all, really.

How could you foster any sort of interest in him when you barely know him? When you haven’t even seen him?

But he finds himself following you blindly, his heart’s desire and curiosity exceeding his brain’s rationality. Although he knows that you won’t hurt him in any way—he supposed infatuation does that to someone’s logic—he cannot help the nervousness that seeps through its every pore. The surrounding environment slowly fades with each step he takes in proximity to your place, and suddenly, all Din is capable of focusing on is you.

You’re all he sees, all he’s curious about, and all he wants. Though not versed in the ways of relationships and feelings and such, he does know what he feels. He knows that he aches for you, deeply, and—perhaps delusion is part of the deal because he’s foolish enough to think that maybe you might be interested in him as well.

For why else would you invite him to your private quarters?

“Here we are,” you announce with a sweet smile.

Din suddenly realizes that he is finally in your private quarters. He glances around at the neat space, very much in tone with you. He’s nervous still, but much more content to be in such a space.

“If you feel like having a drink, I can give you some privacy.”

Din feels struck by your politeness; more so by you respecting boundaries he hasn’t even set.

“I know Mandalorians don’t show their faces in front of—strangers,” you smile.

“You do?”

“Yeah. My father was a Mandalorian.”

Underneath the helmet, Din raises his brows, almost shook at the realization.

“He was?”

“Yes. He fought in the war, defending Mandalore. And… he passed away.”

“This is the Way.”

Din nods somberly, hoping you understand. And you do. Of course you do.

But this explains why you’ve been so understanding and respectful. And it explains why you’ve been gravitating around him. Perhaps Din’s presence was a faint reminder of that former Mandalorian in your life.

“Anyway, I uh—I’ll leave you to your drink if—“

“Stay. Please.”

His please sounds throated and shaky, and it blindsides you. You figured he was nervous, maybe because he’s unaccustomed to being alone with someone, and you didn’t want to scare him off.

You pour spotchka for the two of you, polite enough to look away whenever Din lifts his helmet in the slightest to take a sip. The liquid is intense, going down to his stomach like a fire rapidly spreading throughout his whole body.

Once he takes the first few sips—and albeit their small quantity, they still relax him and make him feel more at ease and slightly sweaty—Din asks about your father and your past. You share gladly, openly, as if you are talking to an old friend. And so he finds out about your childhood and about you, soaking up the knowledge like a sponge.

In return, he tells you about him and his past, how he came to be the warrior standing now before you, and to say you are mesmerized is an understatement.

You are beyond touched by his life story, his perseverance and his bravery to carry on and find himself a new purpose even after suffering the loss of his parents. You could relate to that as well; losing your father in the Great Purge when you were very young could’ve easily let you to become a train wreck, but instead you were determined to provide for yourself and your mother. She took it the hardest, and while she always made sure you had everything you needed and was enough mother and father for you, you knew that she missed him terribly all the time.

As the stories come to an end, Din finds himself craving again. Now that he’s getting to know you, his craving only surges, and, like never before, he feels that his armor is constricting him.

“Are you okay?” you ask after a while.

He swallows harshly, his throat dry whereas his mouth was watering with each second he spends looking at you. What an odd phenomenon, he thinks.

“Why?” he foolishly asks.

“You just seem to be very nervous.”

“I—am. You make me nervous.”

You raise your brows, visibly surprised at the confession. Though if you have to admit to yourself, you’re quite nervous too; your heart’s thrumming in your ears, beating so fast inside your chest you can feel it.

“I do?” you ask just as foolishly.

Din nods. “Why? I’m just—me.”

He can’t even begin to tell you just how wonderful you seem to him. Frankly, he doubts he has the words for it anyway.

You think the same about him. There’s an aura of mystery surrounding him, a lot of things you still don’t know about him, and yet you feel as if you’ve known him for months, if not years. And, though it may seem crazy, the more you stare at him, the more you can imagine the face of the man behind the armor. You can imagine his eyes, kind and warm, plush lips, perhaps some facial hair making him distinguishable.

And suddenly heat spreads throughout your whole body, settling dangerously low in your belly and between your legs.

You want to ask what happens now; you drank, you shared stories, and now all you’re left with is a yearning that doesn’t seem to subside. Din doesn’t know how to continue the conversation, either. He’s too struck by you, too smitten to verbalize his feelings, which are those of desire, he’s concluded.

But how to say this aloud? “I want you”? That just sounds crass. Instead, he coos your name, gulping afterwards, and you hold your breath, waiting.

“What is it?” you ask.

“You make me nervous.”

“So you’ve said.”

“You make me nervous because… I want you.”

Oh, dank farrik. He should not have said that. He should not have said it like that—or at all, really.

“I meant—I want… to be with you. No, I—“

Then he hears you giggle, and his heart flutters in his chest. Laughter is a good sign, right? That he didn’t yet make a complete fool of himself? He can only hope.

“That’s okay,” you smile at him. “I have to admit, I… I want to be with you too.”

If he was unsure whether he was sweating before, Din is now convinced he’s sweating buckets underneath the armor and the tunic.

“You—you do?” he asks, completely dumbfounded.

“Yes. Is that bad?”

Maybe it should be, he thinks. Maybe it should because he’s a Mandalorian and he has taken the Creed and he is loyal to his family and his beliefs, but… why does it feel so good to stand here before you, so vulnerable?

“No,” he replies.

You stand up, extending your hand to him, and Din gulps again as his gloved hand takes yours into his. He struggles to regulate his breaths while you guide him to what he can assume is your bedroom, but fails to do so. Anticipation is nearly asphyxiating him, and he’s so hard by this point it’s a miracle you didn’t somehow notice it.

Or you did and were too polite to mention it.

Either way, once he’s in your bedroom, Din stills, and so do you.

“Have you done this before?” you ask, and boy is he grateful for your consideration. Since you’ve had a Mandalorian father, he can only assume you know some things about the culture that make you more attentive to details. “Have you ever been with someone?”

“I have not.”

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

All the blood flow is basically in his pants so he can’t think of a decent thing to say.

“I do want to,” he replies.

“Okay, then we take things slow, and… if there’s anything you feel uncomfortable with, we stop. Does that sound good?”

“Yes.”

You turn off the main light, allowing only some lights from the street to shine in, thus granting the minimum visualization, for which Din is beyond thankful.

“Is it okay if I—take this off?”

He assumes you mean the armor, and he agrees with a shaky yes. You move closer to him, removing his armor bit by bit, all while his heart’s about to burst out of his chest and his pants on the verge of explosion. You don’t reach for the helmet; you leave that up to him. Once the armor is removed, Din is standing in his tunic, and he takes it upon himself to remove the clothing, mostly because he’d be embarrassed if you were to discover how hard he is right now.

Though he supposes you will find out soon enough.

Since it’s dark enough to not actually see anything but forms, Din feels comfortable enough to remove the helmet. You hear the faint click and you gasp.

“You took off the helmet?” you ask.

“Yes.”

Gods, his voice sounds so rich and smooth even without the modulator.

“I thought you’re not supposed to.”

He doesn’t reply; yes, he’s not supposed to, but technically, you can’t see him, so there is no danger. Then it hits him that you’re probably naked by now, too, and his nervousness returns.

“Alright then,” you say, though your voice is shaky with emotion too. “Is it okay if I kiss you? To… you know, get us started?”

“Yes.”

He couldn’t have answered that fast enough. You can easily deduce that this is his first time kissing someone too, so you make a mental note to be extra tender.

“Can I touch your face?”

“Y-Yes.”

He feels your warm breath on his lips and he shudders. Then you cup his cheeks, grazing them gently and pulling him in. You can tell he’s new at this, as well as rigid, so you kiss him sweetly, slowly, patient and eager for his reaction.

Reaction which does not fail to arise.

Din grows needier within seconds; he’s roaming his hands over the small of your back, then to your shoulders and hair, opening his mouth in order to explore more of yours. You gladly reciprocate, but do so just as tenderly, as if showing him the way around your mouth. The thing you didn’t realize about Din, he’s a fast learner. He rapidly learns how you like to be kissed, thus learning how he likes it, too, and he lets himself go. He lets himself get lost in the moment, in your sweet scent and taste, and by Gods, it is heavenly.

When you break the kiss, he’s almost sad. But then you say something that makes his heart jump right into his throat.

“Lay on the bed, and let me take care of you.”

The saccharine request has him weak—and questioning things he doesn’t dare question aloud. Take care of him how?

Soon he finds out; the moment you see his rather broad shape lounging on the bed, you move atop of him, kissing a hot trail from his cheeks to his jaw, neck, chest, belly…

Then Din gasps.

You reach his neediest part and he twitches just as you wrap your arm around his cock, the strokes slow and steady.

“Is this okay?” you check with him. “Does it feel good?”

“Mhm—yes—“

Unbeknownst to him, you smile, continuing to stroke him. You listen in to his grunts, and you can only think of the sounds he’d make once you’d take him in your mouth. Or the sounds he’d make being inside you.

Dank fucking farrik, you’re growing wetter as your imagination is running wilder. With your hand at the base of his cock, you take the rest of him in your mouth.

“F-Fuck—“Din moans brokenly, his breaths shallow and rapid. “Fuck, you’re s-so—so good—“

You hum in appreciation, and the vibration sends tingles down his spine. He’s not sure he’s going to keep going like this. His whole body burns and aches and he doesn’t want to come like this, not when you have him in your mouth. It feels… inappropriate. Like you deserve better than something purely filthy.

“Wait, stop,” he wails.

Instantly your eyes go to where his face would be, taking him out of your mouth and ceasing your strokes. Though still hard, Din no longer feels the need to come—at least the need isn’t that urgent.

“Did I hurt you somehow?” you ask. “I’m so sorry!”

“No, it’s—I didn’t want to come yet.”

“Why not?”

Maybe it’s more than just lust. How can he explain how enamored he is with your whole image, how drunk he is on your presence, and that he thinks you deserve only the kindest and best things in this life and him coming down your throat feels cheap?

“I want to feel you,” he mutters. “Can I?”

Breathless, you whisper a desperate yes and make your way to his face, kissing him again. His lips are soft and plush, like you’ve imagined, but if you move too much you fear he’d hear how shamefully wet you are.

The kiss, though innocent in the beginning, turns rather sloppy, betraying both your eagerness. Din moves so that he’s on top of you, one of his hands boldly parting your thighs to make room for him. He brushes against your folds, almost grunting upon feeling the slick heat. The mere idea that you want him this much and that your body is so responsive to his hesitant, clumsy touches is mind-boggling to him.

“Can I go inside you?” he asks.

You feels his shallow breaths on your face and you can’t believe how overstimulated you are just from light touching and undressing.

But you know that for a Mandalorian, the undressing part at least was erotic in and of itself. What follows is merely an enhancement of that longing, one that Din feels more than lucky to get to share it with someone like you.

“Yes,” you respond.

Din grunts as he wraps his hand around his cock, painful to the touch. He fails to see you sneak a hand in between your legs and rub your clit while you wait. The anticipation is overwhelming you too, and it’s so surprising to want someone you barely know so damn much.

But here you are, wet as you could possibly be, legs spread for him, waiting.

“Remember, if you want to stop—“

“I don’t want to stop.”

Almost out of breath, everything around Din fades once he pushes the head of his cock past your lips. You gasp and moan as he keeps pushing in, making you feel every inch of him. The sting is a bit painful, on account of his size and girth, but you welcome it gladly. Once he’s fully sheathed inside you, Din exhales. You’re warm and tight around him, and it’s making him dizzy.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

Gods, how can you be so considerate even when you’re just as deprived of proper touch as he is?

“You just feel… so tight and warm,” he replies. His voice sounds like it doesn’t even belong to him. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. Everyone’s nervous and clumsy during their first time. I’m thankful you wanted to share this with me.”

“I can’t imagine this with anyone else.”

It’s then that you find the strength to cup his cheeks and kiss him again, which prompts Din in return to move at last. You groan into his mouth when you feel his languid thrusts inside, both of you starved. Little by little, Din builds a pace, one that works for both you and him. He’s in awe at the sounds you make, the way your body feels around him and even enamored by the squelching sounds emerging in between your legs where your bodies are joined together. Everything about you is inebriating.

In this moment, when everything feels so much more heightened, he knows he’d do anything for you. Anything you want, he’ll give you.

Despite his prior nervousness and lack of experience, just like with the kiss, Din learns fast. He quickly learns which angle feels good for you and which motion drives the sultriest moan from your side, and sticks to that. His thrusts are tender, much like him, and frankly, it surprises you to notice the imbalance between the fierce Mandalorian you’ve seen in the cantina and the man behind the armor, naked above and stealing moans and sloppy kisses from you. He stretches you wide with each thrust, growing a bit too eager and thus speeding up—which you do not mind one bit. It’s the ideal combination of tender and rough, getting you just where you need to be.

He kisses you as he buries himself inside you to the hilt, making you feel every inch of him. His head falls in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent, closely listening to the sounds you make for and because of him. One hand sneaks at the back of his head, caressing his hair as sweat begins to prickle your skin—and his too, it seems.

“You’re so good,” you whisper to him. “You’re doing—so good.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm—so good for me—that’s it.”

You wish you’d know his name so you can call it out when you come, but you don’t think to ask of that right now. Not when you’re so full of him you could scream throughout the galaxy.

So instead, you keep muttering sweet nothings to him, encouragements to get him going and build his pleasure further. You simply have the feeling that this is a man who needs the praise, someone who thrives on validation though he may not admit to it. so you keep doing that, for both your pleasure, and then you start to feel it: the familiar burn in your lower belly that’s threatening to explode.

And Din feels it, too.

“I’m gonna come,” he warns, sucking in a sharp breath. “Shit, I’m—where?”

“What?”

“Tell me—where to come.”

You peck his lips. “Anywhere you want.”

You don’t have the patience or the time to tell him that you’re safe and clean, and it doesn’t really matter right now. This moment is far too precious and important to not enjoy it to its fullest.

Din pulls out, stroking himself to completion over your folds and lower belly in thick, hot spurts. You follow suit and you rub your clit fast, reaching your own orgasm. You close your eyes, relishing into the blissful sensation. You can still hear Din catching his breath, so again you pull him down to your face to kiss him. Oddly enough, that seems to steady him.

“Was that good?” he asks shyly afterwards, and Gods, you’re just so enamored with him you could cry.

Instead, you chuckle lightly as he falls to your side. “It was wonderful.”

You feel him shifting towards you, his breath over your face. “If you’ll have me… I’m yours.”

Though he can’t see you, you smile so wide you fear you might overstretch your whole face.

“There’s no ‘if’,” you whisper him reassuringly. “I do want you. But I do hope you know this means I’m yours, too.”

Din smiles, nodding in the darkness. He smiles for the first time in a long time. There’s a calm happiness about him, yet a violent one at the same time. A tumultuous happiness which his heart cannot possibly resist. He’s in this euphoric state, having discovered the pleasures of the flesh, as well as those of the heart; he grazes your arm as you retreat at his chest, and in this moment, there is no fear.

tags: @groguspawbeans

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shortpplfedup · 7 months ago

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We Are Episodes 1-5: Just guys being dudes I guess

Well I didn't think this was the show that would bring me back to writing anything, but low stakes and baby steps I guess. As with most of the BL I've enjoyed lately, I originally had absolutely zero intention of watching this. A 4-couple 16-ep hangout BL from New Siwaj? Nothing in there I need. Then this photo emerged from the set stills...

...and suddenly I was listening. Not terribly attentively mind you, but my curiosity was piqued enough to give her a try. So I did, and 5 weeks in I've decided she can stay for now.

I wanna be clear: there is nothing happening in this show. This isn't a good or interesting show. This is all about guys being dudes, hanging out with their friends, making new friends, and liking each other. Occasionally some of them talk about Art. But the vibes are...intriguing is far too strong a word. It's fun. It's cute. The characters are cutouts but clearly drawn (that is definitely one of New's strengths, I always know who his characters are and they rarely surprise or confuse me). The situations they put them in are pure undiluted tropery, but it works somehow? The cast has a lot of charm, that helps. Aou is playing probably my favourite character of his ever. Satang is making aegyo work for him shockingly well. Winny is giving something inexplicably fun as a surly art student. Poom is a goofy delight. Godji is here being hilarious. Every character is somehow pitched perfectly for the vibe. I am endeared. Each of our 4 couples is playing in their own genre of romantic comedy, but it all pulls together and not apart for me because of the breezy vibe of the whole. It ain't much, but it feels like everybody was having fun making this, and I'm really responding to that right now.

Our trope troupe, in no particular order.

Chain and Pun

Let's start with the friends to lovers couple, because there isn't much happening here yet (methinks the reshoots have pushed their story back near the end). There are all indications that both are somewhat aware of how they might feel. Pun is kinda chaotic and dumb like a fox methinks. Chain is endeared. 1.5/4 hearts

Tan and Fang

Next up we have the loud and quiet pair. Fang mostly keeps himself to himself and Tan is LITERALLY incapable of doing that. Motormouthing a mile a minute, telling all his business, calling friend gatherings together to announce that he likes somebody (not that they're dating, just that he likes them). He's annoying. And Fang is endeared by that. Him agreeing to date Tan seems a little out of nowhere but there isn't any pretence or secrecy to Tan. What you see is exactly what you get, and Fang seems to like what he sees. 2.5/4 hearts.

Toey and Q

Our third couple are our grumpy/sunshine couple. Normally this level of cutesy would drive me straight up a wall, but I think what's saving it for me is that nobody's really denying their feelings here. Q grumbles, but Toey has him completely wrapped around his little finger, and they both kinda know it. I'm pretty sure these two would actually burn down the world for each other if it was required. 3.5/4 hearts.

Phum and Peem

Our enemies to lovers couple. Up until this week I did not understand what they hell they were doing with these two, but it's clicked into place now: you think Phum is taking advantage, but Peem wouldn't be doing a single solitary fuck of this if he didn't want to. He started this out by kicking that man in the nuts, he ain't scared. Once Peem's curiosity overrode his pisstivity, it was only a matter of time. Watching him wait this entire episode for Phum to kiss him, then slowly realize he was gonna have to be the one to do it himself was...*snort* 2.5/4 hearts.

#we are #we are the series #guys being dudes

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erebird · 1 year ago

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I’M ON THE RUN AND YOU’RE HOME ALONE | 𝔪. 𝔰𝔞𝔫𝔬

pairing/s: Manjiro Sano x gn!reader

genre: hurt/no comfort, established relationship, angst

warning/s: none

wc: 530+

Note: I didn't have a specific timeskip in mind but mikey is aged up in this fic! I felt like my characterization wouldn't fit if he was 14-15 here so it’s up to you to imagine what arc this takes place in besides the toman arc :)

It was late and quiet in your shared apartment. The entrance door opening could barely be heard. Your lover, Manjiro, came back from an awful day. He was rarely ever filled with joy anymore, but this day was worse than the previous days he had experienced.

“I’m home.” is what Manjiro usually yelled after entering the house to let you know that he was back, but he stopped since he’s been coming home at ungodly hours recently. Hours when you were already fast asleep after forcing yourself to stay up and wait until he came back to you.

Setting foot in the bedroom you both slept in, Manjiro stared at your deep sleeping figure. The hued lamp was lit up on his side of the room, a habit you did when he hadn’t come home yet. He wonders how you got so unlucky to love and stay with him. Even he knows it himself, he treated you better when you two were still children.

He softly sat on his side of the bed, still staring at you, adoration and guilt in his eyes. Manjiro loves you. Hell, he loves you more than anything. He isn’t as affectionate as most would be, but he really does cherish you as the light of his life. Your kindness and compassion never faltered even after all these years of hell putting up with all the pain he’s felt. It makes him sick knowing such a sweetheart like you witnessed every terrible deed he’s done even after doing everything he can to keep you away from the dangerous side of his life. You just never went away, you stuck to him like an annoying pest that needed his attention all the time. However, Manjiro knew that in reality, it was the other way around. He was the annoying pest that desperately clung to you and unnoticeably begged for your affection.

Though he never verbally said it, he needed you. He believes that he needs you more than you need him. Maybe that's why after all these years, he’s too selfish to let you go for your own good. When everyone is slowly leaving him, you’re all he has left.

“Mikey…” You mumbled. He gently swiped your hair away from your face to tuck behind your ear. Now your face was clear on full display for him to see. It’s not the first time he’s heard you say his name in your sleep. It’s always “Mikey” or “‘Jiro” that leaves past your pretty lips.

Now that he thinks about it, it’s been a long time since the two of you shared a kiss.

Manjiro looks at your lips once more before hesitantly moving down to give you a soft peck that lasts not more than a few seconds.

Sitting back up, he sighs out a breath that he didn't know he had been holding. He reached for your hand to intertwine your fingers with his.

Not once did he stop looking at you. Not even while he’s shedding light tears, an action with his intent to apologize for being so absent.

A whisper that could barely be heard leaves Manjiro’s trembling mouth.

“I’m too consumed with my own life.”

#erewrites #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers angst #tr #tr x reader #tr angst #mikey #mikey x reader #mikey angst #manjiro sano #manjiro sano x reader #manjiro sano angst #i dislike mikey but somewhere in my heart he’s got a special place in there #told y'all i'd still be alive after a year

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tsumusangxl · 6 days ago

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꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ・┈ ─ ・┈꒱꒱

chapter five ʚ [the denial]

pairing ʚ Hinata Shoyou x f!Reader x Iwaizumi Hajime

warnings ʚ Iwa's pov, not checked for mistakes, slight swearing, denial of feelings

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The hum of the city filled Iwa’s ears as he stepped off the train, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets. The crisp bite of autumn lingered in the air, sending leaves skittering across the pavement with every gust of wind. He wasn’t one for nostalgia, but there was something comforting about being back in Japan—like slipping on a well-worn hoodie you’d forgotten you owned.

Tonight wasn’t about nostalgia, though. It was about catching up with Mattsun and Makki. Their group chats were always lively, but seeing them in person had become a rare treat over the past few years. Life had pulled them in different directions—work, cities, even countries in Iwa’s case—but somehow, they always found their way back to moments like this.

As he rounded the corner, he spotted the bar, its faint golden glow spilling onto the street. It wasn’t the kind of place they’d have picked in high school—too grown-up, too polished—but it worked. They weren’t kids anymore, after all.

Iwa pushed the door open, the warmth of the room hitting him first, followed by the hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses. He scanned the booths, searching for familiar faces, until he spotted Mattsun already seated, nursing a beer and scrolling through his phone.

“Early, huh?” Iwa raised an eyebrow as he slid into the booth. “Who are you, and what have you done with the real Mattsun?”

Mattsun looked up, his usual lazy grin spreading across his face. “Funny. I could say the same about you. Didn’t expect you to show up on time, Mr. California Dreaming.”

“Guess LA didn’t mess with my sense of punctuality,” Iwa shot back, shrugging off his jacket.

“Makki’s going to have a field day with that one.”

“Speaking of,” Iwa said, glancing toward the door, “where is he?”

As if on cue, the door swung open, and Makki strode in, his usual mischievous energy practically radiating off him.

“Sorry, sorry,” Makki said, plopping down next to Mattsun. “Traffic was terrible. And by traffic, I mean I didn’t feel like leaving my couch until five minutes ago.”

Iwa rolled his eyes. “Some things never change.”

“And thank God for that,” Makki said with a grin, flagging down a server. “Alright, let’s hear it. Who’s got the most interesting life these days?”

Makki leaned back, stretching his arms out. “Mattsun, let’s start with you. How’s the coffee shop going?”

“Coffee shop?” Iwa raised an eyebrow. “I thought you worked at the funeral home. Did I miss something?”

Mattsun shook his head. “Not anymore.” He took a leisurely sip of his beer. “Miyu and I started talking about opening our own business after college, but we couldn’t make it happen right away.”

“So you worked at the funeral home to save up some money?” Iwa asked, taking a sip of his drink. “Damn, Mattsun. Never saw that coming. Mr. Entrepreneur.”

“Imagine him yelling at the baristas about latte art,” Makki chimed in. “This life already sounds pathetic.”

“Nah,” Mattsun said, waving Makki off. “I’ll leave that to Miyu. I just make sure the money flows and the customers don’t riot when someone screws up their macchiato.”

“Macchiato,” Makki repeated, like the word was foreign to him. “Who even orders that stuff? What happened to plain old coffee?”

“It’s called taste, Makki. Maybe try developing some.”

Iwa laughed, shaking his head. “You two are exactly the same. Anyway, what about you, Makki? Still looking for a job?”

“Hell nah, man,” Makki replied proudly. “I’ve started freelancing. Got some gigs editing videos for mid-tier influencers. It’s not glamorous, but better than being unemployed. Plus, I can work in my pajamas.”

“So… no change from high school, basically,” Mattsun deadpanned.

Makki shrugged. “Hey, I’m happy. Besides, I don’t need to third-wheel you and Miyu anymore.”

Iwa chuckled, leaning forward. “You guys are hopeless. Meanwhile, I’m over here trying to make it as a trainer.”

“Yeah, yeah, Mr. Gym Rat,” Makki teased. “How’s that going? Adjusting to Tokyo life?”

“It’s good. Different, but good,” Iwa said. “I started as a trainer assistant for the Tokyo Great Bears. It’s nothing major, but it’s a foot in the door.”

“Dude, that’s not ‘nothing,’” Mattsun said, looking genuinely impressed. “You’re working for a pro team. That’s huge.”

“Yeah, but it’s a grind,” Iwa admitted. “I’ve got a lot to learn, but I’m hoping to work my way up in the next few years.”

“You will,” Makki said confidently. “You’ve always been the most determined out of all of us. No doubt you’ll be running the team before long.”

Iwa smirked. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. We’ll see.”

Makki raised his glass. “Alright, here’s to Mattsun’s coffee empire, my pajama freedom, and Iwa climbing the ranks of pro volleyball.”

They clinked their glasses, a comfortable silence settling over them before Makki’s grin turned mischievous.

“So,” he began, leaning forward, “speaking of volleyball… anyone heard from the old gang?”

Mattsun groaned. “Here we go.”

“What? It’s been ages!” Makki said defensively. “I mean, Kyoutani’s still semi-pro, right? Anyone know if he’s still terrifying his teammates?”

“More like terrifying his opponents,” Iwa said with a smirk. “Last I heard, he’s doing well. Finally found a coach who knows how to handle him.”

“Small miracle,” Mattsun muttered. “What about Kindaichi? Is he still playing?”

“He’s with the Tamaden Elephants,” Iwa said. “Pretty steady career path for him.”

Makki snickered. “Can’t say the same for Watari, though. Did you know he’s working at the Kanagawa Aquarium now?”

“For real?” Mattsun asked, raising an eyebrow. “What’s he doing there? Dolphin wrangling?”

“Something like that,” Makki said, laughing. “And Yahaba? Last I heard, he’s a sports instructor now.”

“Figures,” Mattsun said with a shrug. “Always had that bossy streak.”

Makki’s grin widened as he leaned forward again. “Alright, last one. Shittykawa. What’s our favorite drama king up to?”

“Still in Argentina, still Oikawa,” Iwa said, shaking his head. “Signed another contract and is as smug as ever.”

“Of course he is,” Mattsun said, laughing. “Bet he sends you highlights of every match he wins.”

“Every. Single. One,” Iwa said with mock exasperation. “And don’t even get me started on the selfies.”

Makki burst out laughing. “Some things never change.”

“Nope,” Iwa said, raising his glass again. “And honestly? I’m okay with that.”

Makki leaned back, swirling his drink with a sly grin. “Alright, enough volleyball talk. Iwa, what’s the deal with you and Y/N?”

Iwa nearly choked on his beer. “What?”

“Oh, come on,” Mattsun chimed in, smirking. “Makki’s right. You’ve been glued to your phone every time we talk. And don’t think we didn’t notice the notifications lighting up during that chat about Oikawa.”

“Yeah,” Makki added, leaning in dramatically. “Spill. Who is she to you?”

“She’s just a friend,” Iwa said quickly, his tone firm but his ears betraying him with a faint pink hue.

“Oh, it’s definitely not just that,” Mattsun said with a chuckle.

Makki tilted his head, mockingly serious. “A friend, huh? Like the kind of friend you’d drive all the way to Osaka to meet?”

His stomach twisted uncomfortably. It had been days since she’d told him about her run-in with Hinata. He wasn’t sure what bothered him more: the fact that she’d been hurt again, or how badly he wanted to protect her from it all.

“She’s… different, okay? We met through a mutual friend. That’s it,” Iwa said, trying to keep his tone neutral.

“Different,” Mattsun echoed, his voice dripping with mock sincerity. “Wow, Makki, did you hear that? She’s different.”

“Totally different,” Makki agreed, nodding solemnly. “Definitely not the kind of girl you’d cross cities for, huh?”

Iwa groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Would you two shut up?”

It wasn’t a lie. She was different. From the first time they talked online, there’d been an ease between them, like they’d known each other for years. When she opened up about her past, about the wreckage Hinata had left behind, something in him had shifted. He wanted to be there for her—not because of romance. Or at least, he told himself it wasn’t about that. It was about trust. Respect.

Mattsun leaned back, crossing his arms. “Alright, fine. We’ll back off. But seriously, man, you’re dodging the question. Is there anything there, or are we imagining things?”

Iwa hesitated, fingers drumming lightly on the table. “She’s been through a lot. I’m just trying to be there for her, that’s all.”

Makki’s teasing grin softened, though the playful edge remained. “That’s sweet, Iwa. But you didn’t actually answer the question.”

“There’s nothing to answer,” Iwa said, too quickly. “She’s my friend. End of story.”

Because that’s all she could be, right? Anything more would be too messy. Too selfish. She didn’t need complications, not after everything she’d been through. And maybe he didn’t either.

“Right, right,” Mattsun said, exchanging a knowing look with Makki. “Whatever you say.”

Makki grinned, clearly unconvinced but willing to let it go—for now. “Alright, but when you need tips on how to confess your undying love, you know where to find us.”

“Or better yet,” Mattsun added, “just let us know when the wedding is so we can book our flights.”

Iwa shook his head, chuckling despite himself. “You two are impossible.”

“And you’re terrible at denying things,” Makki said, laughing. “But hey, that’s why we love you.”

As the conversation shifted to lighter topics, Iwa found himself distracted. His thoughts circled back to her. Maybe they weren’t entirely wrong. But whatever feelings he had, they were his to carry alone.

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notes ʚ

ʚ miyu is mattsun's girlfriend since high school

ʚ makki finally found a job but I think it will definitely change in the future

ʚ the career change for mattsun was a random thought

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next ʚ chapter six

previous ʚ chapter four

ʚ masterlist

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taglist ʚ @jojo23allegra @mjustag1rl @dazqa @gigiiiiislife

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu smau #haikyuu time skip #hinata shouyou #angst #fluff #akaashi keiji #hinata x reader #kuroo tetsurou #miya atsumu #bokuto koutarou #sakusa kiyoomi #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi x reader #oikawa torū #original character #hanamaki takahiro #matsukawa issei

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its-jaytothemee · 9 months ago

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Gentle Hands

Pairing: Halsin x Astarion x Tav (OC:Tavara), Astarion POV

Word Count: 7,411, One Shot

Rating: Explicit, MDNI

Read on AO3

Summary: Astarion returns to camp after a long day in Baldur's Gate and Tavara is nowhere to be found. He finds her and Halsin together relaxing by the river and has to decide whether or not he should tell them how he feels. This takes place shortly after Astarion resists ascension and after a couple of other bloody battles. Astarion POV, lots of explicit content at the end. Approx 7.4k word count. Enjoy!

Tags: Fluff and Smut, Light Jealousy, Hand Jobs, Oral Sex (m receiving), gentle kissing, Spawn!Astarion, Lots of comforting.

Author's Note: This is an extremely self indulgent fluff that turns into smut piece. This is my first go at writing anything sexually explicit and I'm pretty happy with the result! I love getting feedback if you have any, but please be kind!

The sun was still blazing in the sky when their party wearily made their way back to their camp. This had been a tough day, some of the Flaming Fist were still pursuing them and all four of them had been beaten to the hells and back by some Sahuagin that ambushed them around the harbor. Rather than push their luck with running into any more trouble, they had decided to call it early for the day. Karlach and Shadowheart made their way towards the fire pit, and Wyll opted to go directly to his tent. As Astarion made his way through the now familiar camp outside of Rivington, he noticed Tavara was nowhere to be found. Today was one of the rare days that she had actually agreed to stay behind in camp. Yesterday was the day that they had found and infiltrated the Iron Throne as well as the Steel Watch Foundry. The fight at the Foundry took a bad turn when they ran into the monstrous Steel Watch Titan. Tavara had landed numerous blows against the construct but was overrun by other Steel Watchers. The others managed to take down the Titan, but Tavara was lost. Karlach and Halsin had to drag her body out with them as they ran from the exploding foundry. That was the first time they had lost Tavara in a battle. Even though they have more revivify scrolls than they would likely ever need, and Withers always available in camp, Astarion vividly remembered the absolute fear and anguish of watching her fall and holding her lifeless body in his arms.

When they woke today, Astarion and Shadowheart had insisted Tavara stay behind and recover. To their surprise, she agreed to stay and get some rest while they scouted out some other leads in the city. Halsin volunteered to stay with her as well to check over any leftover wounds. The two of them had really become inseparable over the past few days. Astarion’s chest tightened with a wave of jealousy. Not jealous of the two of them together, but jealous of how easily it came to them. Tavara always made time for both of them somehow, but it was clear to see that the relationship with Halsin came much more naturally.

Fucking wood elves. He thought to himself. He made his way to his tent and removed his bloodied armor. His left shoulder protested in pain at the gesture. After changing into some cleaner clothes, he made his way past the camp into the nearby tree line. There was a small stretch of the river that ran near their camp where Tav liked to relax and he figured he could find her there. As he made his way through the shrubs, he reflected on the events of the past few days, it was almost too much to process. Not 5 days ago they succeeded in finally killing Cazador; his revenge that he had dreamed about for 200 years was finally realized. Tavara stopped him from making a terrible mistake that day. Standing in Cazador’s dungeon, he realized that all of the power in the world was nothing compared to the love and compassion she had shown him in their short time together. He truly wanted to live a life where she could be proud to be with him, where they could be equals.

Then, there was their experience with the drow. He had been eager to jump in and join both Tavara and Halsin. He really thought that once Cazador was gone, once his influence was no longer a fear to hold him back, that his arousals and sexual appetite would return without a problem. It was more of a hope than anything. Yet as badly as he wanted it, he found himself oddly numb during their encounter. There he was with four other devastatingly beautiful elves, and it still didn’t feel right. While the drow were obviously experienced in the art of pleasure, they were rather rough and detached, which he supposed should be expected of the escorts. As badly as he wanted to share in Tavara’s heart, perhaps jumping straight into an orgy with two strange drow wasn’t the proper approach to restarting his erotic endeavors. But perhaps starting with two people who he trusted…

The sound of familiar laughter startled him out of his thoughts. Instinctively, he crouched behind a bush to hide the sound of his approach. As he peered around the leaves, he saw Tavara standing in the shallow water of the river bank with Halsin sitting in front of her. They were both in their underwear and Astarion spotted the rest of their clothes folded on a rock nearby. Both of them had their hair loosely falling around their shoulders rather than their normal tied up styles. He thought about making himself known, but something stopped him. The two wood elves had made it more than clear that he was always welcome to join them in anything, although he had never really taken them up on their offer until the drow came into play. Watching them now, Astarion suddenly felt an overwhelming sadness. They looked so…happy. Happy…an emotion that was truly new to him, one that he hadn’t experienced in over two centuries before meeting his new traveling companions. Even then, it took days before he could feel comfortable enough to identify the feeling, and even more days still before he could admit it to another conscious soul. But Halsin and Tavara…they were happy the moment they were together. There was no suspicion, no manipulating, they simply trusted each other and for some reason, they trusted him as well. It wasn’t fair. He was never afforded the luxury of trusting those around him, yet it came as easily as breathing for the two of them.

He continued to observe the pair from his hiding spot. Tavara was running a wooden comb and her fingers through Halsin’s hair. He watched as the druid leaned blissfully back against her legs, a small smile creeping across his face. She leaned over and gently kissed the top of his forehead, wearing a smile to match. Tossing the comb onto the soft ground near the river, Tavara started weaving small braid’s into Halsin’s hair. Her hands were so delicate and gentle, it was hard to think that those same hands were capable of wielding a greatsword that could cleanly cleave a goblin in two. Astarion couldn’t remember the last time he saw her looking so relaxed. The jealousy washed over him again, this time stinging his eyes with tears. Was she unhappy while she was with him? At least compared to her time with Halsin? He shook away the thoughts. She had shown him time and time again how much he meant to her, why was he doubting her feelings now? After all, he was the one who constantly pushed her away. Another sweet laugh from Tavara brought him back. He realized that he was spying on the person he claimed to love during a particularly intimate moment and the jealousy was quickly replaced by guilt. He thought about turning around and going back to camp to rest after the long day. He glanced over his shoulder, and then back to Tavara and Halsin.

No. He thought to himself. No more pushing people away. He felt his breath quicken, and suddenly he felt as if his legs would give out from underneath him. He slowly stood up and walked into the clearing. So many thoughts raced through his head. What if they wanted to be alone and he was intruding? What if Tavara went away from camp to have time away from him? What if she was having second thoughts about their relationship? As his mind wandered to every negative thought, he stopped watching his steps and ended up snapping a particularly loud twig. Both Tavara and Halsin’s heads snapped towards him.

He winced, but all worry immediately melted away when Tavara spotted him. Her face lit up and she gave him a huge smile. All of the tension left his body, and he somehow managed to smile back at her.

“Astarion!” She called towards him and immediately started making her way to the shore, Halsin standing up behind her to wave at him. Tavara bounded right over to Astarion and gave him a quick, soft kiss.

“You’re back much earlier than I expected. I was hoping to be back in camp waiting for you when you returned.” Her hand lightly caressed a small scratch along his neck. The touch sent a shiver down his spine.

“Yes, well we ran into some unexpected trouble down by the docks.” He gently took her hand and lightly kissed the palm, earning him another dazzling smile from her. Halsin had made his way back to the shore as well and was obviously looking Astarion over for any other injuries.

“Is everyone all right, love?” Tavara was still holding his hand.

“Oh of course, darling, everyone’s fine, just a little bruised. We simply decided not to push our luck any further today.” Astarion shifted nervously in the soft sand beneath his feet.

“What is it?” Tavara gave his hand a reassuring squeeze and smiled gently at him. Astarion’s eyes darted between her and Halsin, he was unsure of what to say next or how to approach them. This whole situation was so new to him, but he wanted to get better. He wanted to be with Tavara, that was obvious. What he had realized now, is that he wanted to be with Halsin too.

“I just…erm…well…” Astarion’s throat was suddenly very dry. “I hope I’m not interrupting…I just…”

“Nonsense! I was just making sure our sweet Tav here isn’t still suffering from her mortal wounds from yesterday.” Halsin called from the boulder where they had left their clothes and a small blanket.

“Ah, well…that’s good of you.” Astarion continued to shift nervously. The druid’s large, gleaming muscles were rather distracting, not to mention the large bulge in the front of his underwear. He brought his gaze back to Tavara.

“You’re always welcome with us, Astarion.” Tavara responded softly, still smiling sweetly.

“Would you prefer time for just the two of you?” Halsin asked, his friendly smile still shining on his face. “I could head back to camp if you wish.”

“No!” Astarion blurted out quickly, startling both of them. “I mean…erm…” Tavara was staring at him with a worried look. He took a deep breath to steady himself.

“Actually Tav,” he said nervously, “I uh, I wondered if I might join the two of you.” He suddenly felt embarrassed and looked towards the ground. Every muscle in his body was tensed. He trusted Tavara, loved her even but there was always the doubt in the back of his mind. It was always telling him that eventually they would betray him. But after Cazador, he vowed that he would stop letting that fear control him. He would say what he wanted, when he wanted it and he would make his feelings known even if it caused him pain. Because it was his pain now. Not pain inflicted by a cruel master for his sick entertainment, but the pain of living. The type of pain that let him know that he was still alive…well, in some sense of the word. A soft touch on his cheek interrupted his thoughts and he looked back up into Tavara’s piercing, green eyes and found her smiling back at him. She looked over her shoulder and beckoned Halsin closer.

“You…you called me Tav.”

“That’s your name, darling.”

“No, Astarion, that’s my nickname. You said you never used nicknames.”

“Well,” he started, as Halsin sauntered over to them, “there’s a first time for everything.” Tav smiled in response and took both of his hands in hers.

“You’re sure this is what you want? I would love for us to all be together my love, but I want it to be because you truly want it. After our time with the drow, I thought…”

“The drow ordeal was…overwhelming.” Astarion interrupted. “I thought my desires would return as soon as Cazador was dead but…” he trailed off. He felt another pair of hands wrap around his own and Tav’s. Halsin’s large, lightly calloused hands easily enveloped both of theirs.

“Astarion, you were held captive, tortured, and used for Cazador’s cruel amusement for two hundred years.” Halsin responded gently. “He excruciatingly carved the words of your own destruction into your back for the purpose of giving him more power. You were forced to lure hundreds of people to their deaths. The guilt and pain and disgust you feel, that takes time to heal, my friend.”

Astarion felt hot tears gathering in the corner of his eyes. He braced himself for the rejection. He waited to hear Halsin and Tav tell him that he just wasn’t ready to be with both of them. He waited for that decision to be made for him once again. As he opened his mouth to speak, he was interrupted by Tav’s arms tenderly sliding around his waist, and Halsin’s wrapping around his shoulders. Before he had a chance to realize what was happening, he found himself practically smothered between the two of them in a hug.

“We can help you with that, if you’ll allow us.” Halsin whispered to him.

Uncertain at first, he stiffened. This wasn’t the reaction he expected. Tav must have felt him tense, since she started to pull back. He responded by grabbing her waist and pulling her back into a crushing embrace. He buried his head into her neck and hair. Halsin drew them both closer to his chest. His deep, slow breaths were calming. The three of them stood there for what seemed like an eternity. Tav and Halsin both held him in place, gently stroking his hair and the scars along his back. Eventually, he pulled away as Tav wiped a tear from his face.

“So…” Astarion started, “What were you two doing before I so rudely interrupted?”

“Just taking the time to have a proper bath.” Halsin responded. “I think we can all agree that Tavara desperately needed one.” She stuck her tongue out at him in response.

“Well then, let us continue.” As Astarion finished talking, he took a deep breath and reached down to remove his shirt. He winced with pain, forgetting about the blow he took to his left shoulder earlier today. Tav quickly untangled the shirt from his arm and pulled it over his head.

“Come with me, love. We’ll take care of that shoulder.” She took his hand and led him closer to the water. Astarion placed his shirt with the rest of their clothes and glanced down at his pants.

“I’ll be right there, darling.” He reached down to undo the laces, his hands now feeling stiff from the day’s fights. Suddenly, he saw a flash of movement next to him and Tav was whisked off of her feet into Halsin’s arms.

“Enough is enough, my heart.” His voice was light and cheerful. “You’ve stalled for quite a long time.” Tav kicked and laughed in his arms.

“No! Put me down! I have my hair just as messy as I like it!” Tav protested.

“Yes, and it’s also still covered in blood and oil from the foundry.” Halsin countered.

“Exactly! Just as I like it!” Tav yelled, still laughing. Halsin kept moving out further into the river until the water was waist deep for him. Tav’s protests became louder and faster as Halsin swung her slightly to the side and then tossed her into the water in front of him with a squeal. The sound brought a smile to Astarion’s face.

“Astarion! Quickly, bring me the soap hidden under my shirt.” Halsin yelled back at him. Meanwhile, Tav resurfaced and was laughing and wiping the water from her eyes. Astarion kicked his pants the rest of the way off and found a small bar of soap tangled in Halsin’s clothes.

“Hold her legs, druid. She’s quite the kicker.” Tav continued to laugh and yell in protest but seemed happy enough to let Halsin hold her in his lap. He moved them to slightly more shallow water so they could all sit comfortably. Handing over the bar of soap, Astarion walked around to sit in front of them. Tav sat in Halsin’s lap, facing away from him while he rubbed the bar of soap on to her head. Her fake cries of protest quieted quickly as he worked his hands through her hair. He was right…it was desperately in need of a wash. Astarion reached out underwater and laced his fingers with hers. Halsin slid out from behind her to stand, so she worked her way over to sit on Astarion instead. She put some of the soap on her hands and slowly cleaned the shallow cuts he was sporting along his neck and chest. After a few minutes, Halsin helped her rinse the soap from her long hair restoring it back to it’s beautiful red color. Astarion gently tucked a loose piece behind her ear.

“I hardly ever get to see you with your hair down, darling.” Astarion said softly.

“I don’t like having to re-braid it too often. The braids are more practical for fighting but a pain in the arse to do every day.” She leaned forward to rest her head on his shoulder, he winced. “Shit…sorry about that. Halsin?”

Halsin was already making his way behind Astarion. He kneeled down behind him and his hand hovered over the shoulder.

“May I?” He asked leaning forward. Astarion nodded in response. He felt the familiar warmth of Halsin’s healing magic spread over his upper body. It soothed the pain away, and Astarion felt the exhaustion of the day’s fights fade away with it. He took a deep breath and leaned back into Halsin’s chest. Tav followed suit and rested her head on Astarion’s good shoulder, her right hand resting on his chest, and her left arm wrapped around him to rest on Halsin’s leg. Astarion concentrated on the sound of their breathing and the warmth of both of their bodies pressed against him.

“That should do it.” Halsin said gently, lifting his hand. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the shoulder he just healed.

“Thank you.” Astarion responded, still leaning back against the large elf. Halsin sat back down in the shallow water and gingerly moved his arm around Astarion’s waist. He pulled him closer and Astarion felt him kiss Tav’s forehead. They sat there in silence for a moment. Astarion slowly traced light circles on Tav’s back and Halsin’s leg, eliciting soft sighs from each of them. After a few more moments, he finally broke the silence.

“How do you two do it?” He asked softly.

“Do what?” Tav murmured into his shoulder.

“How do you trust so easily? How do you joke and laugh and act so…vulnerable with each other?” He felt both of them squeeze him just a little tighter.

“Like I said,” Halsin began, “it takes time.” Astarion sighed in response.

“It helps to have other people who understand.” Tav added. Astarion sighed again.

“I don’t think anyone else here can truly understand.” He responded. Halsin moved his hands up and rubbed Astarion’s shoulders while Tav sat up so she could look into his eyes.

“We may not understand exactly what you went through my love, but we both know something about healing after someone breaks you. Nothing we endured compares to 200 years of torture it’s true…” She trailed off. “But we do know what it’s like to be broken. We were just lucky enough for it to be much quicker.” She cupped his face in her hands. “No one deserves to be treated the way Cazador treated you. You’ll never fully forget it, but you can move past it, I promise you that. We’re going to help you.” She smiled encouragingly at him.

He wanted so desperately to believe her, but the ever present doubt in his mind prevented that. He sat there for another moment, enjoying the feeling of Halsin’s strong hands gliding over his skin. Tav was still holding his face and staring at him intently. Gods her eyes are beautiful in this light. He decided to change the subject for now.

“You know Tav, if you don’t want to braid your hair I could always do it.” He said, causing her to drop her hands.

“You can?” She asked.

“Of course my sweet, I’m really quite good at it. Just because I can’t see my own hair doesn’t mean I never learned how to style it for others.” He smiled at her.

“I think I’d like that.” She smiled back. He stood up slowly and walked over to the shore where she had thrown the wooden comb earlier. He grabbed the small tool and walked back over to Tav and Halsin.

“Turn around darling, I’m sure I can tame this tressym nest before the sun sets.” He teased. She smiled and turned around, moving all of her hair behind her for him to reach.

He knelt behind her and started carefully running the comb through her hair. Halsin looked on, smiling at them softly. Tav stretched her arms out in an inviting manner, convincing Halsin to come sit between her legs and lay against her chest. She held him gently, stroking his hair and face lovingly. Astarion continued combing until he was confident there were no more snags. He divided her hair into sections to start working on the braids. Every time his fingers moved across her scalp, Tav would let out a happy sigh. It was a lovely sound that made his chest feel warm. She closed her eyes and leaned back into him, which made it a little hard to work with her hair. He didn’t mind though, seeing her relax into him was more intoxicating than the wyvern whiskey she favored. He took every opportunity to let his fingers brush against her neck and shoulders just to see the shivers run across her skin. He would lean forward now and again to kiss her head or shoulders causing her to smile or giggle. Every now and then he would hear the sound of a soft kiss from Halsin against her lips or chest. She handed Astarion the ties she had wrapped around her arms for holding her hair in place. He was able to twist the braids together to keep them off of her neck, he knew she didn’t like her hair to get in the way when she was fighting.

“There we are my dear, and with plenty of time to spare.” Astarion said softly, patting the braids and admiring his work. The sun was just starting to set over the horizon. She reached up with one hand to inspect the braids and smiled.

“Thanks, love.” She said, leaning her head back to look up at him. He responded with a soft kiss on her lips and felt her smile underneath it. Halsin looked up slowly, almost as if he had drifted off into a trance.

“Should we head back to camp?” She asked, still leaning against him.

“Not yet, I don’t…” Astarion trailed off. “I don’t wish to leave just yet.” He settled back into the water behind her. She leaned further into him, still holding Halsin in her arms. Astarion wrapped his arms around her to hold one of her hands, his other hand finding Halsin’s. He held on to both of them as if they were the last piece of debris to float on after a shipwreck.

“Could I perhaps stay with the two of you tonight?” His voice was barely louder than a whisper.

“Of course you can.” Tav responded, her smile widening. She turned so she could look up at him.

“Nothing would make me happier, Astarion.” Halsin added.

Astarion felt himself smile like a fool. He leaned over to Tav and kissed her, softly at first and then with more urgency. He felt her tongue slide softly over his lips, and his breath caught. She pulled away with another quick peck on his cheek. He took another deep breath.

“I’m ready.” He said. “I want this, I want all of this. I want all of you.” With that, both Halsin and Tav stood up. They each offered their hands to help him up, which he accepted. Each of them placed a soft kiss on either side of his face. The sun was nearly set now, so they made their way back to the pile of clothes and prepared to return to camp. As they walked back, Astarion told them about the day they had in the city, how the ambush nearly killed Wyll and some other civilians. He of course had to add some flourishes to his heroic deeds in battle which earned him some gratuitous coos from Tav. Halsin assured them both that he would help check over any injuries from the day. Astarion walked between the two of them the entire way, occasionally holding a hand, or stealing a kiss as they walked. But more than anything, he was thinking about the rest of the night and what other excitement it may hold.

As they approached the camp, the familiar smell of the campfire wafted past them. No doubt Gale had found a way to make something incredible out of the absolute mess of items they scavenge during the day. Most everyone had already taken their usual spots around the camp. Shadowheart, Wyll, and Karlach laughing at everything Minsc said. Gale and Yenna discussing the proper cooking temperature for meaty versus vegetable stews, Gale pretending to not know the answer so Yenna gets to correct him. Lae’zel and Jaheira sitting just far away to avoid excess conversation, but close enough to eavesdrop. Astarion went with Tav to sit by the fire, while Halsin decided to make the rounds to check any injuries. The rest of the evening was the usual light conversation devolving into arm wrestling matches when the extra bottles of wine came out. Astarion never participated but did love watching Tav win most of the time, although tonight she seemed more content to just watch.

One by one, his travelling companions retired to their tents. Halsin was one of the first to excuse himself, smiling at Tav and Astarion knowingly before he left. Finally, it was just Astarion and Tav with the remaining embers of the fire still barely burning in front of them. He stood up and offered his hand to her.

“Shall we, my dear?” Astarion asked with a smile.

“Lead the way.” She replied and took his hand. They walked hand in hand over to Halsin’s tent. She tapped on the walls of the tent gently before parting the entrance. Astarion followed her inside. Halsin was sitting on his bedroll, with his pipe in one hand and a book in the other. He smiled up at them as they entered, setting his pipe to the side. The sweet smell of his tobacco circled the air of the tent. Tav went over and gave him a soft kiss before picking up his pipe and taking a drag. Halsin held out a hand, inviting Astarion to come and sit with them. He happily accepted and sat on the soft bedroll in front of them.

“So Astarion,” Tavara began, blowing puffs of smoke from her lips, “what would you like to do tonight?” The smoke from the pipe was barely obscuring her devilish grin. He moved forward and placed his hands on her thighs before kissing her deeply. He heard a light chuckle from Halsin. After a moment, Tav pulled away with a smile.

“Oh, looking for a little fun, are we?” She teased.

“If a night of passion is our definition of fun, then that is absolutely what I’m looking for.” He whispered back. With that, he suddenly felt Halsin’s large hands working their way into his shirt. They softly glided up and down the length of his back, pulling his shirt off a little bit more each time until it was off and thrown to the other side of the tent. Astarion turned to face him. There was an intensity in his eyes that Astarion hadn’t seen before, and it caused his breath to catch. He reached up to touch Halsin’s face, working his hands up into the druid’s hair. He felt the small braids that Tav had weaved into it earlier and he reached up to the small bun that was holding half of his hair and pulled it out. Halsin’s hair fell softly around his face. He heard a small sigh from Tav at the sight.

Gods he’s handsome. Astarion thought to himself.

He heard a rustling sound behind him, and turned to see that Tav had removed her shirt, exposing her bare chest. He took a moment to look over her half naked form. Her breasts moved slightly with each breath, the familiar scars across her arms caught the dim light in the tent. Her stomach was delightfully curvy and soft. She moved her hands to caress his chest and leaned in to kiss him softly. Behind him, Halsin started kissing along his shoulders and neck, all while his hands continued to learn every line and groove of Astarion’s back. He felt Tav reach around him to tug at Halsin’s shirt. As he pulled the garment off, Astarion slowly moved his hands toward Tav’s pants, gently pulling at them. She returned the gesture, allowing her fingers to ever so slightly graze his growing cock. He felt a shiver shoot down his legs and let out a soft moan against her lips.

“Mmm…you make such lovely sounds, Astarion.” Halsin growled into his neck. As Tav continued teasing him with the lightest touches in his most sensitive places, Astarion reached behind to lightly caress Halsin’s thighs. His touches were rewarded with another growling moan against his back.

“You don’t sound so bad yourself, druid.” Astarion briefly parted from Tav’s lips to whisper back. He continued lightly tracing the stitching of Halsin’s pants, mirroring Tav’s teasing touches on him. As she expertly worked the lacing of his pants down, Astarion let his hands wander to Tav’s breasts. He lightly cupped each one and rubbed his thumbs over her nipples. They hardened under his light touch causing Tav to let out a small whimper into his mouth. She broke away and started kissing down his cheeks to his neck while continuing to tug his pants down towards his ankles. Halsin reached over to help pull Tav’s further down as Astarion kicked his free of his legs.

“I can’t help but notice you’re a little bit behind, love.” Tav gestured to Halsin’s pants still fastened tight against his hips.

“All in good time, my heart.” His breath was hot and sweet against Astarion’s neck. He moved to the other side to pull Tav into a kiss over his shoulder. Astarion took the opportunity to turn around and straddle him.

“Hopefully you won’t mind if I hurry it along.” Astarion whispered into Halsin’s ear. His hands eagerly pulled at the druid’s pants, desperately searching the unfamiliar clothing for any clasps or laces. Halsin gently placed his hands over Astarion’s, slowing his frantic tugging. He guided his hands to the thin laces holding his pants before bringing his hands up to hold Astarion’s face. His intense gaze distracted Astarion from Tav’s hands making their way up his thighs.

“We have all the time in the world, my love. Let us take care of you tonight.” Halsin said, his voice as soft as silk. He leaned in and kissed Astarion deeply. His hands fell to the side as he melted into the kiss. Tav continued caressing every exposed inch of his skin, kissing up and down his neck, eventually making it to his ears. She kissed a spot at the tip of his ear that sent a wave of pleasure down his neck. Halsin chuckled against his lips.

“Ah, we elves do have sensitive ears, don’t we?” Halsin said as he moved to kiss Astarion’s other ear. Another moan escaped from his lips as Halsin nibbled lightly at the bottom. Tav reached over to finish unlacing Halsin’s pants while Astarion was lost in their soft kisses. As Halsin pulled the rest of his clothing off, Astarion felt his cock press against his thigh. It was warm and hard, he could feel the small pulses making their way down its length.

“Come here, love.” Tav whispered. Astarion broke away from Halsin to turn around and face her. She pulled him close and continued kissing him. Her tongue slowly made its way across his lips and playfully swirled around his. She moved her hands down his torso softly tracing the scars found all over his body and eventually making her way to the top of his underwear. Her fingers teased the fabric away from his body, slowly making their way further down. He drew in a sharp breath as her fingers just barely grazed down the length of his shaft, still pulling at his last bit of clothing. Tav pulled back ever so slightly.

“Are you alright, Astarion?” She asked softly.

“Oh yes, darling. You’re just such a tease.” He answered with a smile.

“If you think I’m a tease, wait until Halsin has his way with you.” She purred into his ear, switching to Elvish. The sound of her soft tone caused him to whimper with delight. He always loved it when she spoke to him in Elvish. She kept circling her hand around under the fabric, never quite fully touching his shaft. Astarion started bucking his hips up instinctively, silently begging for her to take him in her hands. He reached one hand up to Tav’s waist, digging his hands into her soft, warm skin. His other hand reached to the side and gripped Halsin’s thigh.

“Does she not have the loveliest voice?” Halsin replied, also switching to Elvish. He could feel Halsin getting harder and harder against his back now. He was grinding against him slowly, sending even more pulses down his shaft all the while covering Astarion’s neck with small kisses and very soft bites.

Tav gave in and ripped the last bit of clothing from his body. Astarion’s breathing quickened as she ran her hands up his thighs finally making their way to wrap around his cock. He let out a quiet sigh of relieved pleasure as she worked her hand up and down slowly and he reached out to drag her face back to his for another passionate kiss. Halsin continued to whisper sweet nothings in Elvish, his deep voice sending shivers through Astarion’s body. Halsin told him over and over how beautiful he was, how perfectly sweet he tasted, how lovely his moans sounded every time Tav hit just the right spot at his tip, how well he handled her incessant teasing, how exceptionally happy he was to hold him tonight. Astarion melted into the large elf’s embrace, begging to hear more in his low, beautiful voice.

“Oh, I could go on all night. But I think I shall have to take a break as my tongue will soon be needed elsewhere.” Halsin gave one more quick peck against his ear before moving one of his hands over Tav’s, falling into her slow, gliding rhythm. Astarion let out another gasp of pleasure at the added warmth of his hand and threw his head back into Halsin’s shoulder. His desire was burning hot in his chest, he slowly reached behind himself to wrap his hands around Halsin. He only got a few strokes in before he moved out from behind Astarion to kneel between his legs, but he was at least rewarded with a few moans from him first. Tav slowly moved to the side to allow Halsin to fully face him. She went to take a place behind Astarion, but Halsin grabbed her first and pulled her into a deep and sloppy kiss. All the while, his hand never left Astarion, continuing to slide up and down, up and down…

“Gods above…” the words left his mouth involuntarily as he felt his body building up for release. He placed his hand over Halsin’s, trying to get him to move faster but he simply broke away from his kiss with Tav to give a teasing smile.

“Oh Halsin…I think he wants you to finish him.” She practically sang the words.

“Please…” Astarion’s voice was rasping, begging for him to fuck him into the void. Instead, the druid’s hands and movements slowed and slowed until he was simply resting his hand at his base.

“Is…is everything alright?” Astarion looked up to ask, out of breath.

“Oh, everything is perfect. I’m just not done with you yet.” Halsin’s primal, growling tone was almost enough to send him over the edge. His sharp gaze made Astarion’s arms feel weak and he was lucky that Tav had moved behind him or he may have fallen flat to the ground. Halsin waited for a couple of minutes to touch him again, except for the deep kiss Astarion pulled him into. His breathing slowed, his hips still ached with desire but he could feel himself backing away from the edge.

It was Tav’s turn to whisper little praises into his ear. She told him all of her favorite parts of him, his hair, his ears, his hands, his lips. She whispered little details of their first night together, reminding him of how she fell for him, every moan from him reminded her of another night where he made the same delicious sounds for her. Her sickly sweet voice brought forth another involuntary moan, which caused Halsin to smile against his lips. He slowly pulled back and gave Astarion a quick wink before starting to kiss his way down his body.

He started with a couple of kisses on his chin and jaw, slow and deliberate followed by a very quick succession of kisses down his neck. His hands working in the opposite direction, starting at his thighs and massaging their way up to his chest. He kept his lips moving down Astarion’s torso. Leaving a trail of wet kisses all over his chest and stomach. As he moved towards his legs, his kisses became slower and longer, much more taunting and deliberate. Astarion felt his body shiver under the touch, causing Tav to chuckle into his neck.

“I told you so.” She whispered, her lips still making their way around his neck.

“I heard that.” Halsin grumbled into Astarion’s inner thigh. The vibrations sent another shiver through his body.

“Use his hair, love. He won’t be able to resist you.” She lowered her voice even more, trying to keep Halsin from hearing.

Astarion slowly worked his hands into Halsin’s hair. Gently stroking his scalp and twirling his fingers among the strands. He felt Halsin tense a little under his touch. The druid looked up from his tortuous kissing with a mischievous smile, causing Tav to giggle. Astarion lightly bunched a wad of hair in his hand and pulled on it gently. Halsin let out a gasp that made him smile.

“That’s it,” Tav continued whispering in Elvish, “just like that.” She was moving her hands all over his body, putting pressure on tight muscles and light touches in his ticklish spots. He relaxed back into her body, allowing her to soothe his overworked muscles while Halsin labored over his lower body.

“Don’t stop…” His voice was barely a whisper. There were no other thoughts in his brain except the intense pleasure he felt at the sweet, gentle touches from his two lovers.

He continued working his hand through Halsin’s hair, earning him more moans and gasps. He grasped Tav’s leg with his free hand, desperate to touch more of her. Suddenly, Halsin grabbed his legs and started bringing them up to rest on his broad shoulders. He lowered himself down, Astarion’s calves resting over his shoulders onto his back. Slowly, he took Astarion into his mouth causing a much louder moan that was interrupted by a kiss from Tav.

“Careful lovey, you don’t want to wake everyone in camp up do you?” Tav whispered, her voice low and sultry.

“I see now why Halsin’s tent is much further away from the others.” He managed to gasp out in response. He felt Halsin chuckle against him, the vibrations driving him mad. His hand grabbed at the druid’s loose hair flowing around his legs, desperately encouraging Halsin to keep his rhythm. His hips instinctively grinding up to meet Halsin, whose tongue was tracing all kind of patterns into his shaft. Every now and then, he would pause at the tip and lightly suck it until Astarion thought he would scream. Just as he thought he couldn’t take anymore, Halsin paused to plant more kisses all around Astarion’s stomach and legs. Instead of going back down on him though, he slowly crawled up to softly kiss Astarion on the lips, his hands making his way into the white curls around his neck. As they sat there, kissing and taking ragged, gasping breaths, Tav’s hands made their way back down to his cock, squeezing lightly at the base and lightening her grip as she made her way up to the tip. Astarion cried out again, he was so close. His entire body craved the sweet release they were teasing from him.

“Oh please…darling please…” Astarion begged between kisses, his legs were starting to shake.

And that was it. Her hand worked its way up and down much faster this time. Halsin’s tongue dove into his mouth, constantly seeking his own while his hand reached down to work with Tav’s. Astarion’s hips moved up and down in unison with their strokes, the friction from both of their hands and his own motion bringing him closer to the edge.

“It’s alright my love,” Tav whispered, once again switching back to Elvish, “we want you to feel good. We want you to let go.” Her soft words were his undoing. He grabbed Halsin and pulled him closer, digging his hands into his muscular back. Astarion broke away from his kisses and buried his face in the druid’s neck. He couldn’t hold on any longer. He cried out in ecstasy, the sound slightly muffled by Halsin’s neck. He felt the warm fluid escape from him and run over their hands. They slowed their strokes, pulling every last drop from him and causing a few more whimpers to escape from his lips.

They sat together, still tangled in their embrace for another few minutes, the only sounds were the heavy breaths between the three of them. As they pulled apart, Halsin stood up and went over to the other side of the tent where he had some cloth for them to clean up. Both Tav and Halsin cleaned their hands and Astarion, slowly bringing his heart rate back down to normal. Tav pressed her forehead to Astarion’s, and Halsin pulled them both into an embrace against his chest. Not a word was said between them as Halsin slowly pulled them down onto the bedroll. He kept Astarion held to his chest as Tavara wrapped her arms around his waist from behind. She pressed a kiss into his shoulder and nuzzled her face into his neck. Halsin placed his lips against Astarion’s forehead, tangling his hand in the curls of his hair. Tav drifted off into her meditation first, still holding onto him tightly with her body pressed against his. Halsin took a little longer, slowly stroking Astarion’s hair and leaving small kisses along his face, but eventually joined Tav. Astarion forced himself to stay awake for just a little longer, trying to enjoy every sensation rolling over him. The warmth of their bodies against his, the lingering feeling of their kisses and touches. Tonight he felt loved, and free. Both Halsin and Tav lavished their love upon him without expecting anything in return. For the first time that he could remember, he was able to fall into a meditation free of nightmares. Held between Halsin and Tav’s warm and comforting embrace, he finally felt safe. He finally felt truly happy.

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