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chrollogy · 3 months

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A LOVER’S UNWRITTEN SCRIPT

— kuroo tetsurou x f!reader

syn: A-list actor, Kuroo Tetsurou—your ex lover—is still shamelessly in love with you. It doesn’t help how the intimate scenes you film together feels like a trip down to memory lane where you held each other’s hearts in the past. Despite Kuroo’s best efforts to keep the bubbling feelings at bay, he shamelessly bares the truth that lay inside his heart during a private rehearsal with you—in hopes to rekindle the once passionate relationship you two shared.

18+ MDNI; actor au, ex-lover!kuroo, implied breakup, mutual pining, exes to lovers, light angst, fluff, kuroo is horrendously down bad for reader (pathetically, even), explicit smut, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, pet names (baby, temptress, my love), not beta read.

word count: 4.8k

notes: weeeee just a lil gift for my dear friend @avatarofstars whom i promised to write a kuroo oneshot for hehe !! enjoy :> divider: cafekitsune.

mimi approved: “he [kuroo] folded like a wet napkin.”

The air was thick, and suffocating, as if it had its large hands wrapped around your neck, blunt fingertips digging into your flushed skin as each second passed, each thundering heartbeat that knocked against your chest. Caged in between familiar arms atop the soft mattress, your gaze was met with bare skin—a beautifully sun kissed chest—peeking beneath an ivory evening shirt with a few buttons sinfully undone.

Kuroo.

An icy shiver kissed along the length of his spine as your digit sensually traced the dips of his collarbones, and down, down, down to the valley of his chest until it's halted by a fastened button. Breath hitching at the eye contact, his hooded gaze clouded with nothing but pure carnal desire, pools of endless hazel reeling you into wicked temptation as his stare lingered on your own a little too long for your liking.

And as Kuroo slowly inched in, your heart skipped a beat or two, the musky scent of his cologne driving all five of your senses up the wall, his evening shirt bunched beneath your very palm.

Fluttering your eyes shut, the mattress shifted beneath the weight of his palms as the tip of his nose found your own, lightly rubbing it against each other—teasing the intimacy of your faces. God, what a tease.

Mere centimetres apart from your lips, the tension in the air steadily climbed to its peak as Kuroo’s hot breath interlaced with your own, locked in an endless dance before being whisked away as he seals your lips together in a passionate kiss.

Familiar. It was all too familiar—the movement of his lips, the heavy breath that planted butterfly kisses all over your face, the miniature sounds that slipped past his mouth, the plushness of it.

Vivid memories burned into your eyelids at the familiarity of the kiss, recounting the bittersweet past that you once shared with the ravenette—the sweet exchanges, the ‘i love you’s’, the countless nights spent tangled in each other’s bodies under the moonlit skies.

A low groan stirred from Kuroo’s chest as he eagerly pressed his face further, the back of your head flushed against the ivory pillow beneath as the soft smacks of your lips together filled the thick atmosphere of the room. It made him dizzy, his body eager for more, more, more as the cloud he rode ascended higher.

Before Kuroo could brazenly slip his hot tongue past your lips to take it up a notch, the director’s sharp voice sliced through the sultry atmosphere, bitterly reeling him back to reality—as if his whole body had been drenched in icy waters,

“Cut!”

It felt like your bodies were mere magnets attracted to one another because it took all of Kuroo’s sanity to hesitantly pull away from you—from your lips—giving ample distance between both your bodies, a daring contrast to a few seconds ago. Lips parted, and chest heaving to satiate his lungs with much needed oxygen, Kuroo took the time to ground himself; to remind himself that, in fact, this was all just an act. Nothing was real.

A breeze of coolness engulfed your skin at the lack of your co-star’s body warmth, a tinge of loneliness rooting itself as you let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. Reality slowly settled in your skin, slowly becoming aware of the amount of crew, and equipment around—harsh lights flooded from the side, the view of the boom mic hovering above the bed, the camera that captured each scene.

Kuroo couldn’t hear a damn thing the director was saying over the harsh pounding of his heart, mind plagued with endless thoughts of you—it was always you. No one else.

Sure, this was all for the upcoming movie the both of you starred in but he couldn’t erase the fact that everything felt so normal, like it was meant to be. It pained his yearning heart that outside these calculated scenes, you were cold, and distant, carefully treading around him as if you were surrounded by a field of landmines—one wrong move, and everything burns to ashes.

At the end of the day, Kuroo couldn’t blame you, he was the one who initiated the break up in the first place. Five years ago, you were both aspiring actors under the same agency, auditioning for supporting roles left, and right to get your respective names out in the film industry—to get noticed by your unique talents. Somewhere down the line, Kuroo prioritised his career, leaving you to man the boat in the staggering relationship until one day, he finally saw fit to break it off.

A long time has passed since then, now, the two of you were illustrious actors that became household names through sheer talent, starring in countless award winning films. You, and Kuroo only saw each other through prestigious award shows, and buzzing premiere nights but nothing more than a few distant glances here, and there. And it was certainly both your first time to land a romantic leading role together.

The first time Kuroo properly saw you again was during table work for script analysis. Bare faced, clad in the simplest clothes, and a navy blue hat over your head—it had his heart shamelessly hammering away despite the awkward greeting you both exchanged. Safe to say, the ravenette had his hazel gaze locked on you the entire time, stuttering over his words the entire time while a deep crimson blush stained his sun kissed cheeks.

You were different—attractively different. The way you carried yourself in absolute confidence had him weak in the knees. It felt like he was young, and crushing all over again. A feeling Kuroo swore he’d never get tired of as long as it was for you.

Back in his trailer, the raven-haired male unceremoniously plopped himself atop the black leather couch, the fabric groaning beneath his weight. Resting an arm over his closed eyes, he let out a sigh into the empty trailer, silence engulfing his whole body.

It had been a long day of filming for 16 hours, albeit, only the second day, Kuroo still hasn’t gotten used to spending full days with you, he only had his personal trailer to collect his thoughts, and calm himself down from the raging feelings that bubbled in his chest. It was embarrassing, really, a grown man acting like a lovesick, hormonal teenager around his ex-lover.

He felt guilty on his end—you’ve been nothing but completely professional as any actor should be. You voiced your thoughts with the director during particularly challenging scenes, even going out of your way to discuss, and rehearse some lines with Kuroo before the initial shooting had started. Meanwhile on his end, he gawked at you like some starstruck fan, blindly agreeing to whatever you suggested, if it meant getting closer to you.

Funny thing was that Kuroo was forced to work twice as hard to ignore the blossoming feeling deep within the pit of his stomach; the feel of your clothed body beneath his palms, your plush lips, your gaze that never failed to make his breath hitch, it all drove him absolutely insane.

Removing the arm over his eyes, Kuroo’s phone loudly buzzed from the vanity table, the noise hastily reeling him back to reality. He let out a short sigh before standing up to check the device, legs heavy with exhaustion in each step. The device lit up in his hand, displaying a text message from you; that’s right, you’d asked for Kuroo’s number during the script analysis—he never really deleted yours but it was no use anyway, you had a new one.

‘Hey, Kuroo. Sorry for the late notice! I was just wondering if you wanted to briefly rehearse a few lines with me tonight before filming the scenes tomorrow?’

One thing he couldn’t get used to was you calling him by his surname—it was always Tetsurou or Tetsu from you. God, how he missed the way it rolled off your tongue like honey, saccharine, and smooth. Now, Kuroo just sounded so. . empty, and cold.

Nonetheless, he shook off the uncomfortable feeling rooted deep within his chest, rolling his broad shoulder’s back, muscles moving beneath his ivory evening shirt—it was a habit Kuroo had picked up whenever he felt slightly off.

He swiftly typed back a response, ‘Don’t worry, I don’t mind it at all! I’ll meet you in an hour?’

Seemed casual enough.

A second later, you replied, ‘Cool :) Meet at my suite in an hour.’ Kuroo’s heart pounded at the thought of spending the late hours of the night in your hotel suite. Sure, he had previously rehearsed lines with you but that was in one of the rooms in your talent agency which felt like he was on the clock. Practising scenes with you in your hotel suite however, it was a completely different story—it felt more intimate.

Given the far distance of shooting location, the production had booked separate suites for you, and Kuroo under the same hotel. It had its pros, and cons—pro: being able to see you first thing in the morning whenever you both headed to the shoot in the mornings; con: even with a wall between your suites, just thinking about how close you were drove Kuroo a little crazy.

Given the ample time to wash up, and prepare for the night ahead, Kuroo stood before the ivory double doors to your suite, script in one hand while the other lightly knocked. After a heartbeat, padded footsteps from the other side hastily made its way towards the doors, faint sounds of the lock becoming undone. A door swung open, revealing you in your relaxed late night attire,

“Come in. Thanks again for coming.”

It was exactly the same view that Kuroo had in his suite—boasting a vast, modern space for its esteemed guest, the suite exuded utmost sophistication, and luxury with its grandeur floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the bustling city beneath. Not trusting his voice, and giving you a nod, Kuroo stiffly headed for the champagne couch beneath the gleaming chandeliers.

You weren’t going to lie, seeing Kuroo standing before your door was something you kind of missed, the way his build almost completely obscured the view of the carpeted hallway outside—it wasn’t a foreign sight at all. You had to mentally slap your face for ogling the man, even for a brief second.

Though, no one could really blame you with the way Kuroo’s casual attire hugged his physique; clad in a white printed tee that you knew very well, paired with comfy, jet black sweats. The shirt he wore was his favourite, even back then, though, the only difference was that his torso filled it out much, much better now—the slight bulge of his muscled chest that left little to one’s imagination, and the sinful stretch of the ivory fabric circling his beefy biceps.

Oh, god.

Mentally cursing yourself, you followed suit after locking the doors behind, opting to sit on the champagne couch parallel to where Kuroo sat—his back was straight, and away from the backrest, sitting slightly on the edge of the couch. “Make yourself comfortable. Did you want anything? Hm, the complimentary dom pérignon is still unopened in the wine fridge. .”

Kuroo shook his head, “I’m fine.”

Mixing alcohol into this rehearsal sounded like a nightmare considering how much of a blabbermouth he became once liquid courage stained his bloodstream.

Nodding at his contentment, both of you spent the first few minutes sharing a few notes about the script from the table read, exchanging thoughts and ideas to grasp a deeper understanding of the scene at hand.

You had to physically refrain yourself from smiling at the way Kuroo stumbled over his words from time to time, his hands animatedly moving with each sentence that slipped past his lips. He was always so confident around everyone else but when it came to you, his mind just blanked. After all these years, he was still the same old Kuroo that you loved, and knew.

Something deep in your chest bubbled.

After a while, you were both on your feet, acting out the scene in the expansive living room which involved a bit of a heated argument back, and forth between the female lead, and the male lead.

Kuroo’s tall figure loomed over your own, pools of hazel staring down at you, full of hurt, and confusion, chest heaving from all the emotions that surged through every fibre of his body, “Do you—do you not love me anymore? To even throw baseless accusations at me while my heart yearns for you day, and night is unfair. If you don’t feel the same way for me anymore, tell me, my love,” Two steps closer, trembling hands coming up to cup your jaw, while his solemn gaze locked on to yours.

“Just. . just say the word, and I’ll let you be. Even if this is the very thing that breaks my beating heart.”

Closing your eyes for a brief moment, you inhaled a sharp breath, returning Kuroo’s solemn gaze, your hand sliding up to rest atop one of his own, “No—god, never. I love you so much it hurts. I love you with all my heart, and soul. . ‘M sorry I said stupid things. I just—”

“Shh, it’s okay, my love.” He whispers into the air, barely audible. Kuroo leans his forehead against yours, staying still for a brief moment, before pulling away, eyes shifting down to your lips—the next part had a passionate kissing scene between your character, and Kuroo’s character.

He waited for your approval with a bated breath, and with a slight dip of your chin, Kuroo didn’t hesitate to dive into your lips, letting out a content sigh as he sealed the distance.

The kiss was slow, and deep—it felt real, almost like it came from the depths of his heart. He took his time with your lips, moving ever so slowly to savour the saccharine taste, and angling his head to gain better access. The two of you stood there, in the middle of the spacious living room, lips locked in a sensual kiss, neither one dared to pull away as if waiting to hear the director’s voice say ‘Cut!’ to end the scene.

It never came.

And Kuroo gripped your face a little tighter, pressing himself further into you, savouring the plush of your lips before abruptly pulling away. You shamelessly chased his lips for more, looking up at your ex lover through hooded eyes. Something in the atmosphere shifted—maybe it was the way Kuroo looked down at you, his pink lips parted, and chest heaving or maybe it was the way his kiss felt too real. It was different from the kisses he gave in front of the camera.

You couldn’t quite pinpoint it but Kuroo’s kiss weighed with history behind it.

“I love you. God, I still do. So fucking much.” Kuroo breathed out, voice shaky. He couldn’t hear his own words properly over the hammering of his heart. Fuck, he felt his head spinning.

That wasn’t in the script. Was he improvising?

You froze beneath Kuroo’s searing touch upon hearing the sudden confession, meeting his solemn hazel eyes. If he was being honest, he didn’t know why he had the sudden urge to just let you know what lay inside his heart, all Kuroo knew was he was still shamelessly in love with you—none could change that fact.

“Kuroo . . ?” A deep crease between your brows formed as you furrowed them, trying to find an answer beyond pools of amber. He gave a mournful smile, “I’m sorry, I was such an idiot back then. I-I know it’s stupid to ask you to come back to me but . . you’re the only one I truly want.”

The man before you sheepishly looked down at his feet as you stared at him in disbelief, like you’ve seen some kind of ghost. Your head spun—it was too much to process, you didn’t know whether to be happy because you felt the same way or angry since Kuroo had the audacity to confess that easily after leaving you in the air for so long.

Fuck it.

At your deafening silence, the hands that cupped your face loosened, Kuroo’s body slowly reeling back but before he could put ample distance between, you grabbed him by the collar of his ivory shirt, and eagerly sealed your lips together, earning a surprised gasp from the taller male.

Melting into each other’s hold, Kuroo cut the sweet kiss short, opting to pepper hot, open mouthed kisses along the column of your neck, nose grazing against your sensitive skin to breathe in your intoxicating scent,

“Mhm—! Tetsu. .”

The sudden use of his nickname earned a sharp bite at the junction of your neck, pulling out a dulcet moan from you. Kuroo’s head spun at your dizzying sounds—god, he missed the way his name effortlessly rolled off your sinful tongue. The slumbering beast between his legs stirred as you continued to call out his name into the air like a prayer.

It wasn’t long before the two of you stumbled onto the soft bed while locked in a messy, passionate kiss, trails of discarded articles of clothing along the wooden floors of the suite, just like a pair of lovers who had been long deprived of each other’s blazing touch—it awakened yours, and Kuroo’s dormant, yearning hearts, and nothing was bound to stop it now.

It had been far too long silently orbiting around one another like two celestial bodies intertwined in an endless dance, gravity never straying you both too far from each other but also neither bringing you closer. Tonight, however, it seemed like the universe had granted you, and Kuroo a potent gravitational force—two celestial beings bound for a planetary collision.

It was scandalous—something keen-eyed tabloids would go crazy over—all teeth, and tongue paired with a series of whispered names into the night air. Professionalism was long thrown out the window.

Oh, you could already imagine the amount of bizarre headlines with your names plastered all over the media if one were to see a glimpse behind the doors of your hotel suite.

Just like the scene shot earlier today, Kuroo caged your naked body with his arms, every dip, and curve of his muscles contoured beneath warm hues of the lights above. He slowly kissed his way down the valley of your breasts—teasingly poking his sinful tongue to lap in between them—down to your stomach until reaching the very place where you needed him the most.

“Just like I remembered—beautiful as ever.” Kuroo breathed out, in awe of your raw beauty laid out in front of him to absolutely devour, hazel eyes filled with genuine admiration. His breath fanned over your hot sex, pulling your thighs apart to reveal your glistening cunt.

He didn’t hesitate to dive in, groaning into your soft skin as his tongue eagerly explored your sensitive core. With his eyes closed, forehead creased in absolute concentration, and fingers digging into the plush of your thighs, Kuroo pressed his face further, relishing the familiar flavour that graced his taste buds—you. Your hands were quick to fly down to his unruly raven strands, tugging at it as he lapped your insides like there was no tomorrow.

Whimpers of his name lingered on the damp air, going straight to his cock that hardened with each moan of his name.

Sinful, lewd sounds of Kuroo’s tongue against your velvety walls, mixed with your moans reverberated throughout the expansive suite. He pulled a long, airy whimper from your lips as he nudged the tip of his nose against your sensitive clit, sucking profusely on your sopping cunt.

God, he felt right at home.

The feeling Kuroo had been chasing for the past five years finally came to him on a silver platter, and he wasn’t about to let it go again.

A bubbling feeling in the depths of your core slowly made itself known, rapidly rising up, up, up near the surface where it was bound to release but before that could happen, you mustered all your strength amidst the lustful daze to form a coherent sentence,

“T-Tetsu—wait! Mhm! Hold on. .” You audibly gasped, prying him away from your sensitive cunt. A smack of Kuroo’s lips lingered in the air as he pulled away, hooded gaze staring up at you with concern laced in his eyes, “Something wrong? Did I hurt you?” He panted, hot breath ghosting over the apex of your legs; you watched as his eyes frantically scanned your face, looking for any signs of discomfort.

Shaking your head, Kuroo softly melted onto the ivory sheets below with ease, waiting for you to voice your thoughts; keen hazel eyes watched as you bit your bottom lip, a tinge of hesitancy clouding your blissful expression, “I want to cum around you.”

There was a heartbeat, a brief moment as your words registered in Kuroo’s head—his lips, glistening with your essence, slowly parted, the crimson blush across his cheeks deepening as he fully grasped your sentence. Millions of emotions surged through every fibre of his being, ranging from A to Z. He deemed himself the luckiest man alive, just the thought of feeling your hot, velvety walls around his cock made his head spin with lust.

”You little temptress.” He breathlessly chuckled, it was anything but innocent.

Kuroo eagerly situated himself to your left, propping his body sideways to face you. As if communicating through telepathy, you mirrored his action, bare back flush against his naked chest—it was second nature at this point, having done this countless times in the past; safe to say it was yours, and Kuroo’s favourite position.

Hooking your left hand under your thigh, you propped it up onto the air, a dainty moan escaping your swollen lips as Kuroo teasingly brushed the tip of his hard cock. It made you a little nervous with the knowledge of how thick he was—sure, you’ve taken him inside you before but five years was a long time ago. As if he could sense your nerves, Kuroo placed a trail of chaste kisses from your neck down to your shoulder, whispering sweet nothings into your skin.

With a bated breath, he slowly inched in bit by bit, earning a series of colourful profanities slipping past your lips. God, Kuroo was fucking thick. “Mhm . . Y-you feel so good.” He whined, pressing his forehead against your shoulder as he bottomed out, relishing in the way your eager walls sucked him in without an ounce of hesitancy, almost like they were welcoming him back.

Both of you stayed still for a moment, sounds of heavy breathing filling the warm air of the night, basking in the rawness of each other’s body, the intimacy of the whole thing—the way Kuroo felt inside you, and the way you felt around him. “I missed you so much, Tetsu . .” That was the last coherent sentence you confessed before he slowly drew his hips back until the head remained, and sensually thrusting back in.

Kuroo wanted to take his time, giving you deep, slow thrusts to feel every inch of him, and fuck, you absolutely did. The way the head of his cock kissed your sweet, sweet spot had your eyes rolling back, and hand gripping on the ivory sheets below; it didn’t help how Kuroo directly moaned into your ear, hearing every incoherent mumble that slipped past his lips.

His fingers dug into the plush of your hips, angling his own to gain better access. Soft, lewd squelches of your bodies meeting filled your ears as Kuroo’s pace picked up a bit, the bubbling feeling once again resurfacing as each hammering heartbeat pounded on your chest.

Fuck, it’s been so, so long since you’ve had him—the way your body reacted under his touch were enough proof of how deprived you were of this man.

Tears pooled around your eyes at the depth of his sheathed cock, hitting places inside you that you’ve never discovered. A series of dulcet moans rumbled from your chest, and onto the high ceiling above, forehead pressed against the soft mattress beneath as pleasure engulfed your whole body. Tired, burning muscles on your left thigh was nothing compared to the ecstasy that gnawed at every fibre of your being.

But before you could reach the peak, Kuroo slowed down, earning a loud whine from you. Looking over your shoulder, you met his lustful gaze, lashes, and eyes glazed from tears of bliss,

“W-wha—Why’d you stop, Tetsu . . ?” “I’m sorry but I really want to see you, my love.”

Next thing you knew, Kuroo had flipped your bodies—he remained on the bed while you straddled him, legs on either side of his waist. Impatience brewing in your chest, you wordlessly grabbed his hefty cock, and slipped it inside, earning a unison of deep moans from both of you.

An icy shudder licked up Kuroo’s spine as your nails scraped his bare chest. “Tetsu.” You whined, slowly moving your hips up, and down, up, and down. Raven strands stuck to his sweaty forehead, beads of sweat rolling down his flushed skin; he stared up at your fucked out expression, biting on his bottom lip at the sight before him; oh, how he missed this view.

It didn’t take long for you to become a whimpering mess as Kuroo thrusted upwards, meeting your hips as you came down. This earned a loud moan of his name, curling over your own body, and planting your forehead flush against his sweaty chest.

He let out a humourless chuckle, “Tired, baby?”

Before you could muster a response, Kuroo shifted beneath your limp body, hands coming up to rest on your hips, and planting the soles of his feet firmly on the mattress before mercilessly pistoning his hips into yours.

You eyes swiftly opened at the intense pleasure that ate away at your body—fuck, you didn’t even know they were closed—moaning loudly against Kuroo’s skin like there was no tomorrow. The room was filled with the heavy scent of sex, sounds of shameless skin slapping echoing throughout the walls of your suite; if one were to walk along the hallway, they’d know exactly what was happening beyond the ivory doors.

Unable to move your hips due to Kuroo’s deathly grip, you lay limp on top of his naked body, taking all of him, and the relentless pounding, your bare figure jerking with every sinful thrust. Looking up at him with teary eyes, you rested a trembling hand on his cheek, basking in his handsome beauty—his face concentrated in pure bliss.

“A-ah—! Tetsu. . ‘M coming!”

All it took for Kuroo to cum with you was your blissful expression, and the broken whine of his name. Sheathing his hard cock deep inside your cunt until his hips were flush against yours, he let out a shameless moan of your name, head pressing into the pillows beneath as icy shivers ran up his spine. Your body stiffened with pleasure, clenching around Kuroo’s cock as you reached your orgasm; a small whine left your lips at the feeling of his hot cum painting your walls white.

You lay limp atop his body, sweaty, muscles burning with exhaustion, and blissfully on cloud nine. Staying still for a brief moment, heavy breaths filled the air as the situation settled onto your bones. With your eyes still locked on Kuroo, your thumb gently caressed his cheek, earning his hazel gaze in return.

“I thought you were improvising earlier.” You let out a tired laugh, trying to lighten the mood now that lust was slowly wearing off your mind.

He looked down at you for a brief second before fixing his gaze onto the ceiling above, a solemn smile gracing his lips, “I meant every word I said back there, you know? I . . I still do love you. Like I mentioned earlier, it's stupid but I want to at least try again. I’d be more than a fool to let you go.”

Kuroo looked down at you once again as you placed a chaste kiss on the tip of his chin—something he had grown fond of—gaze melting as you met his eyes once again; he gave you a smile, one that reached his eyes.

“I’d be the more stupid one if I refused. I missed you a lot, Tetsu.”

The next morning, the shoot started off without a hitch. Surprisingly—as observed by the crew—there wasn’t a sense of awkwardness between you, and Kuroo in comparison to the first two days of filming where many had noticed that you, and your co-star didn’t have much chemistry off-camera to begin with.

No one dared to point it out but many have noticed the lingering touches here, and there, the prolonged eye contact, and the stolen glances. One member of the crew even swore to have seen you sneak over to Kuroo’s personal trailer at the end of the shoot with a lovesick smile written all over your face.

Safe to say that these subtle actions carried onto premiere night, and press tours for the film which may or may not have had eagle-eyed fans, and tabloids speculating about a budding relationship between you, and Kuroo, especially when asked during promotional interviews.

Though, you’d both usually just laugh it off with a shrug. It was best to keep it personal—like an unwritten script.

—

affiliated with @houseofsolisoccasum !

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contentloadinggg · 8 months

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January Blues - Hozier

Author’s Note: Y’all I finally did it. We’re going to pretend it’s still January so this fits. But it’s finally here 🙏. Thanks to my bestie lunaritessane Who’s input made this fic a whole lot better. I love you💚. (Literally, like their beta reading was just delicious.)

Summary: Andrew is feeling down, you make him feel better. Gender neutral!reader. (3k words)

⚠️Warnings⚠️: Smut! Smut turned weirdly poetic sometimes?. Kinda Switch!Andrew, sub vibes at the beginning, soft dom vibes later. Descriptive descriptions of Andrew’s long dick. (I have a problem)

This is a work fiction and is not a reflection of who Hozier is.

Inspired by:

“Well you cured my January Blues, yeah, you made it all alright.”

Fic under the cut💙, 18+ only, you’ve been warned.

The further Ireland dipped into the depths of winter, the more Andrew’s mood dropped. Reflecting the rainy, washed-out climate outside the frosty windows of his house. It hardly even snowed this winter, just a cold rain that somehow made his mood worse. Logically, he knew it was likely that the lack of sun on his already pale skin was what had him wallowing. But alas, no amount of tea and books seemed to make him feel any better. So that’s why he’d given up by this point. Gaze zoned out past the pages of his novel and tea now cold on the coffee table. His mind clouded like the gathering storm outside.

“Andy?”

A gentle call of his name had Andrew startled. Usually he would’ve noticed your presence by the sound of your footsteps, but he’d been too far into his head to notice.

“Yes, darling?”

He asked, the tone of his voice reflecting yours in its quiet manner.

“I’m just wondering if you’re alright? I’ve called your name a few times and you haven’t answered.”

You replied. Despite keeping your voice light, he can tell by the slight frown and the furrow of your eyebrows you’re more concerned than you're letting on. Sighing deeply with resignation, he closes the book with a soft snap and sets it aside.

“I’m just feeling… I’m not sure. Down, I suppose.”

He answers, voice tainted with melancholy. You look even more concerned. A part of him wishes he didn’t worry you over trivial things. But how could he ever resist your questioning of his well-being?

You walk over to him and sit down on the arm of the chair. Running a hand into the long curls of his hair to scratch at his scalp. He hums and closes his eyes, leaning back into your soothing touch.

“Anything I can do to help?’

You ask and he breathes out through his nose with a shake of his head.

“Not sure there’s much you can do, but… stay?”

Andrew replies, aware his tone sounds dangerously close to needy. But you only smile and nod. Sating any insecurities he has as you continue to massage his scalp.

He hums contently once more, letting his head rest against your hand. The warm light of the room throws shadows over his face and the pale lines of his neck. Shrouding the valleys in darkness and the highlights with warmth. Turning the sharpness of his cheekbones all the more prominent if that's possible.

Leaning down, you leave a few kisses over his cheekbones. The feeling of warm breath against his face forces a smile to his lips. He turns his head, capturing your lips against his. Your kiss is like a balm on his apathy, replacing it with passion. Your free hand cups the side of his face. Feeling the gentle scratch of facial hair against your palm that’s also felt on your chin. The feeling lures you closer. Pressing into the space between his and your bodies until you’re straddling one of his legs. Lost in the velvety sensation of lips and tongues against each other. You break it off first. Ignited with one simple idea.

“Let me make you feel better, yeah?”

You prompt, in a lowered, raspier voice. He looks up at you with blown pupils, green irises dark. Shining hot in the orange light from the lamp. He breathes out. Like he can’t believe you’re real. And nods eagerly.

“Please… do what you’d like.”

His breathless agreement makes you smile and melt a bit, moving his head to get access to his throat. A soft sound leaves his mouth as you kiss over the thin skin. Breath hitching when your tongue follows along the groves of his veins. He’s so goddamn sensitive. He has to hold back a few noises, the heat of your breathing brushing over his neck. Goosebumps appear over his arms. He’s becoming more and more aware of your every move.

Andrew lets out a loud groan that he quickly cuts off in embarrassment. A response to the dragging of your teeth over the base of his neck where it meets his shoulder. The skin beneath your lips flushes a pink color. You snicker in response to the noise, and he huffs in irritation.

“It’s okay, I wanna hear you. I wanna know you’re enjoying it. You sound absolutely gorgeous, but that’s no surprise.”

You murmur to him, rubbing his side to subdue his unease. You know he’s listening because the muscles relax beneath your hand. He lets out another moan as you nibble, turning the skin a pale red.

It’s not long before you’ve scattered similar-looking bites over his neck. By the time you’re getting his sweater off Andrew is breathing a little heavier, sweat building on the back of his flushed neck.

His chest stutters watching you sink to your knees in front of the armchair. Eyes hooded and darkened.

“Just lie back, baby, and I’ll cure all those blues.”

You direct, and he does as you say. His mouth is too dry to try and come up with a sassy reply to your somewhat cheesy line. Not like that would matter anyway. All thought disappears from his head when your mouth lands on his chest. Kissing, licking, sucking down his sternum. Your lips wrapping around one of his nipples has him debating whether or not to beg for mercy. Airless moans slip from his lips without time nor thought to stop them.

“Fuckin’ Hell, darling. That’s so good.”

Andrew hisses, voice rough, Irish accent thickened, words a little slurred. His hands running into your hair. Using whatever is there to try and get a grip. Large palms grasping at the back of your skull. He can’t help but pull when you tug on his nipple, forcing a quiet moan from your lips.

“Shit, sorry.”

He apologizes in a way that would sound regretful if it wasn’t husky with arousal. You laugh in response to him jerking under your mouth when you suck softly. Your way of telling him it’s okay.

After giving Andrew’s nipple a bit more attention, just to hear him whine a few more times. And then start slowly kissing down his stomach. Feeling every little twitch and breath beneath your mouth.

“Darling, please, please, stop teasing.”

There it is, the pleads for mercy. He’s practically whimpering. His voice becomes tight. A struggle for control. You grant his wish, hands moving to his belt. There’s a large bulge beneath his jeans, straining against the fabric. God, that must be uncomfortable, you can feel the heat from here.

Eventually, with a bit of moving around, you manage to pull his jeans and boxers off. Freeing his cock from the confines of his clothes. It arches up towards his stomach with a surprising stiffness, considering you haven’t even been touching him for that long. He’s decently above average in length. To the point it burns a little to take, but not ridiculously so. The tip is a deep red, swelled with a desperation to be touched.

Andrew shoots a hand from your hair to the arm of the chair. Gripping it with a hiss when he feels the brush of your breath over the sensitive skin. His cock twitches, the two prominent veins along the bottom throbbing. You decide not to make him wait any longer. Wrapping a hand around the shaft. Andrew looks down at you with hungry eyes alight with reverence, studying your every move.

“God- fucking, yes.”

Andrew gasps in pleasured relief, a moan quickly following when you start stroking the length of his shaft, giving every inch an equal amount of attention. Just barely touching the tip to tease him. To watch his cravings become unbearable. At first, he accepts the simple touch, relishing in finally having friction on his cock. However, it soon becomes too little and he starts rocking his hips into your hand, eager for more. Slender thighs flexing with the movement. Light shining over his jutting hip bones. He’s absolutely stunning from this angle, chest heaving as he squirms. A thin sheen of sweat glistening over the bridge of his nose and high cheekbones. A stark contrast to the darkness of his neatly trimmed beard.

“Babe-”

Andrew starts, his words sounding more like a gasp of breath.

“Fine, I’ll be nice.”

You relent, not wanting to torture him too much. Dragging your hand over the weeping head, Andrew moans and sinks his fingernails into the arm of the chair. His other hand cupping the back of your neck, trying his best not to grip or pull. You circle your thumb around the very tip of his cock, over the most sensitive glands. Andrew practically whimpers because of it. Legs jerking, he throws his head back. Eyes squeezed shut. Showing off all those pink love bites you left over his throat.

“Yes, just like that. Keep going.”

Andrew manages in that sweet, unsteady voice. It’s like he can’t get enough air into his lungs, caught between moaning and whining. He thrusts his hips into your hand which moves up and down the entire length of his dick. A focused attention with a twist of your wrist over the head. Andrew isn’t the only one getting impatient. You’re interested in doing much more than just a handjob.

So, when your impatience gets to be too much, you duck your head and take the tip of his cock into your mouth. Causing a high-pitched noise of surprise from the man above. There’s an even sharper noise as you press your tongue against the bottom and suck. Pulling precum from his eagerness. The tangy and sharp taste coating your tastebuds, sticking to your tongue. It fills your senses, nearly overwhelming the musky scent of Andrew’s arousal.

“Let me see your eyes, please. Look at me.”

Andrew urges, his voice higher than normal. Looking up at him, his eyes meet yours. And he responds like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his life. His lips parted, looking down at you with warmth in his eyes. His entire dick throbbing with your gaze on his.

“God, you’re so gorgeous, sweetheart.”

He gasps out. His hand letting go of the armchair and brushing the hair away from your face. So he can see all of you properly.

“So, so pretty down there.”

Andrew continues in a murmur, the pleasure of seeing you drives his ecstasy even higher. He gently moves slightly further into your mouth, hungry for more of the warm pleasure, more than what your hand is giving him. You welcome him, slowly working his cock deeper into your mouth. Jaw stretching to accommodate until it nearly aches. Your tongue cradles the underside.

He moans lowly, running fingers over your scalp. The warm and wet feeling of your mouth wrapping around his cock causes his entire body to shiver. Pleasure bolting up his spine. He nearly becomes lightheaded with the rush of blood, cheeks flushing a bright red against the paleness of the rest of his skin.

The more you take, the more difficult it is to breathe. Andrew stops you for a moment, letting you take a breath. He caresses your jaw with the backs of his fingers, helping it relax out.

“Just go slow, breathe through your nose.”

He speaks in a calmly commanding voice. Forcing you to stay in your moment of pause for a few seconds longer before letting you continue. You follow his introductions and breathe through your nose, taking measured breaths as you sink further. Until tears gather in your eyes when the tip of his cock brushes the back of your throat. Pushing at your gag reflex.

A pleasured rumble sounds in Andrew’s chest. Vibrating back through your bones. He continues stroking your jaw, making sure you can take every inch.

“That’s good. You’re doing so well, baby. Start moving if you want.”

Andrew says, trying his best to keep his composure so his desire doesn’t get the better of him. It nearly does when you start moving achingly slow up and down the length of his dick. Your mouth is so consumingly tempting, hot and wet and just perfect. Both a gift and a curse. Luring Andrew to near madness with how good it feels. He’s speechless, wordless. Stuck in this version of heaven. You’ve got him absolutely hooked. Even more so when you start to move faster. Suck harder. Letting saliva drip down your chin and glisten on your skin the way it does on his cock.

“Fuck, I’ll never get enough of this. Your so skilled, so absolutely, fucking wonderful.”

He groans behind his clenched teeth. Resisting the urge to bury himself even deeper into your mouth. You struggle to move faster. Gagging on his cock when it hits your reflex. Andrew looks down at you, noticing your struggle. He gently pulls on your hair. Guiding you off his cock.

“It’s alright, let me help you, okay?”

He asks, but it’s less of a suggestion and more of a command if you want to keep going. You nod in agreement.

“Yeah, okay.”

Andrew takes a careful hold of your hair, holding your head in place as he brings his hips closer to your mouth. The tip of his cock brushes your lips, it’s so red it’s almost purple. Eager and more than ready to slip back into your mouth.

“Ready?”

He asks one more time and you answer affirmatively again. He accepts this and nudges his dick slowly past your parted lips. Guiding himself back into the heat of your mouth. It’s wet, soft and very, very hot. He waits a moment for you to get used to it once more. Before starting to move. Using your hair to move you up and down. His hips rocking forwards into your mouth. His breath hitching as he feels your teeth gaze him. His thighs clasp either side of your head, knees almost on top of your shoulders.

“That’s it, let me help you. Just like this.”

Andrew praises in a tone that does nothing to conceal how good it feels. Carefully thrusting his cock in and out of your already sore throat. You’re so sweet, letting him do this. Willing to take apart every piece of him and put it back together. It’s something only you can do for him. Yet he’s sure you could do it for anyone.

“God, that’s just right. You’re doing such a good job. You’re an angel.”

He manages, voice trembling. He rocks his hips faster. Guiding you to suck harder. Feeling every ridge moving back and forth across your tongue. The head is just barely nudging the back of your throat. Andrew is gasping, moaning above you like he’s never experienced something quite so amazing in his life. Something beyond any man’s wildest dreams.

His cock twitches in your mouth. His ecstasy reaching higher and higher. To the point his thighs are trembling, skin highlighted pink with exertion (is that how you spell it? idk). You look up at him. Admiring the way his features are painted with pleasure. His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes squeezed shut. His long hair is messy and falling into his flushed face. There’s strands sticking to the sides of his face and neck with the thin sheen of sweat on his skin. Droplets slide down his collarbones and disappear into his sweater.

He jerks his cock a little deeper on accident. Coming closer and closer to his finish. Causing you to gag. He opens his eyes with an apology on his lip. But you grasp his hips, pulling him closer. You shove down your gag reflex so you can take him all the way. Tears gathering on your waterline. He takes the hint with widened eyes of surprise and adoration. Carefully thrusting his cock into the depths of your throat, he groans loudly with pleasure. Both hands sinking into and grabbing on your hair.

Your nose brushes his pelvis. The smell of musk filling your nose. An almost sweet, earthy scent coming from him. You make eye contact through blurry eyes. Andrew’s breath stutters, his legs tensing by the sides of your head.

“Fuck- darling, so good. I’m gonna- shit. I’m gonna cum in your mouth. Do you want that? Do you want me to cum into your mouth?”

He asks, his words broken and stuttering. Almost failing at forming a sentence entirely. You nod the best you can. Tears and spit running down your face. He moans at your agreement. Somehow feeling hotter and even more aroused by it.

Andrew thrusts his hips into your mouth. Pushing how much you can take as he chases his high. It’s not more than a minute of nearly reckless movements before he’s cumming into your mouth just as he said he would. His back arching into it as his legs shudder. He moans loudly from the bottom of his chest. His mouth hanging open. Head thrown back with his eyes rolled back into his skull. Shooting warm, thick cum into your mouth. The salty and bitter taste overwhelming your senses, but one you could taste over and over again. You groan around his cock. Causing his legs to jump as he feels the vibrations.

He pants, remaining motionless in his recovery. His brain needed a moment to recover before piecing itself back together and pulling out of your mouth. There’s a lopsided, still half-gone smile on his face as he looks down at you. Humming happily as you swallow his cum.

“You’re so amazing, baby.”

Andrew compliments breathlessly. Moving his hands to cup your cheeks and brush the tears away.

“I’m so, so proud of you. Come on, get off your knees.”

The tenderness of his voice is so beautiful. His actions even more so, helping you up off the floor. And positioning you on one of his thighs.

“Are you okay? I wasn’t too rough with you?”

He questions, his worries calming when you shake your head. Still recovering yourself.

“Good… can I return the favor?”

Thank you so much for reading my first fic 🫶, any constructive criticism is appreciated. I’m going to go do the school work I’ve been procrastinating over to do this instead now. Hopefully, the next fic won’t take over a month to write and I’ll be more active.

-Thad 💚

#fanfiction #andrew hozier byrne #Andrew Hozier Byrne x reader #Hozier x reader #smut #fluff #rpf #I wrote this with one hand #if you know what I mean #Andrew is a sexy little shit #Spotify #Hozier smut

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rinhaler · 1 month

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Bright Light, I’m Like a Moth

CHAPTER SUMMARY: as much as you hate Megumi, it seems like you can't help yourself around him.

boyfriend!yuuji itadori x f!reader x bully!megumi fushiguro

WARNINGS : 18+, dubcon, alcohol consumption, drug consumption, infidelity, gaslighting, manipulation, paranoia, degradation, handjob (m+f receiving), oral (f receiving), overstimulation.

WORDS : 7.3k

notes : do we hate the reader yes or no

LAST CHAPTER ┊ MASTERLIST ┊ NEXT CHAPTER

—

Even if you were wearing nothing at all you’re sure you would have still felt like you were vacationing on the sun. It was difficult to tell where you were while still under the influence.

You weren’t sure if you’d been high for minutes, hours or days.

Megumi couldn’t stop telling you that he loves you and he was going to get you home.

He wouldn’t have let this happen to you, though, if he really loved you. He's just as hot as you are but you're clearly suffering the worst of it, completely dehydrated and out of your mind.

You can only hope things will feel better when you get to your room.

He manages to carry you in his arms all of the way to your room, your heart rate rising by the second the more you lose yourself to your paranoia. Your head lolls and the speed of his strides dries the tears on your face as the air hits you.

You're set down as he struggles to open the door; but he wraps your arm around his shoulder to keep you upright.

“’m so thirsty, Megumi, I can’t—”

He helps lower you down onto your mattress. Your body collapsing into the cloud-like softness as tears silently roll down your eyes. He isn’t in the room anymore. Your brain is challenging you, questioning you, bullying you. He’s left you alone to deal with this all by yourself. To suffer. To stress. His grand plan to finally drive you to complete and utter despair.

“Can you sit up for me, O’Keeffe?” you hear him say.

You don’t move anything except your head, managing to see him between the valley of your breasts resting on the balls of his feet.

There's a strange sensation throughout your body. Like you've got pins and needles everywhere. Your whole body is tingling and your lip is wobbling as you sit up and face him.

Your face glittering like the crystal chandeliers he remembers gawking at in your parents manor home. “I got you water, drink it slowly.”

His instruction goes in one ear and out the other. You drink every last drop quicker than he can blink, a lot of it spilling out of the corners of your mouth.

It isn’t enough.

You feel as if you’ve swallowed a bag of sand and had your throat cut.

More.

You do your best to stand to your feet and rush to the bathroom. He follows you in and watches you drink the water directly from the tap. He lets it happen, for a little while, before pulling you away and back to bed.

“I’m gonna die, aren’t I?” you ask him. He just laughs and shakes his head.

“No, princess, you’re not. Not gonna let that happen, alright? I love you.” he says. You get up again and try to get back into the bathroom, but you’re intercepted. He pins you against the wall and cages you in. Your chest is swelling with emotion, mainly fear. But anticipation, too.

“Stop saying you love me.”

“Why? I just, I love you. You’re so lovely, I love you.” he blabbers and you shake your head in anger.

“You don’t bully people you love. You don’t peer pressure or blackmail people you love. I’m just a fucking project to you. Y-Yuuji would never do this to me.” you stutter, trying to stop yourself from giving him the satisfaction of your tears. He grits his teeth and looks away for a split second, and then his focus is entirely on you.

“Fuck. Yuuji.”

“I’d love to, Megumi. But unfortunately I’m stuck here with you instead of him. And I’m— I—” your voice gets caught and disappears entirely in your throat. He tilts his head and moves his face closer into yours. So close you think he might kiss you again. So close your noses are almost skimming off each other.

“Say it,”

“I’m so— I’m so… lonely. I miss him. I miss being loved.” you explain as your voice cracks. Your eyes are beginning to swell with tears and he can’t resist but wipe them away for you. His thumb wanders and catches on your lower lip. The fat, puffy flesh follows his digit and then springs back into place.

Divine, he thinks.

“I’m telling you I love you and you’re telling me to stop.”

“You don’t love me, r-really,” you whimper as you try and find a way for each of you to see sense in such a hopeless situation, “you’re just high and— you couldn’t ever love me like he does.”

“How do you know?”

“I’m going to die because of you. Tonight, like this, in this shitty hotel room. I’m not gonna make it to the morning and I’ll never be loved by him again. By anyone. I’m dying and I’m broken. And it’s your fault.”

“I love you.” he whispers, his lips hovering just above yours. You turn your head to force him to kiss your cheek instead. You can’t do this again.

“Stop it.”

“I love you, I really love you.”

“You broke me and you’re gonna kill me, you still won’t stop.”

“Because I love you.”

“Stop!”

“Baby,”

He mutters into your supple skin. And for some reason, it breaks you even more.

You face him head on; and he smiles, because you’ve lost.

He, as always, is the winner. You’re letting him take advantage of you because you’re just so God damn gullible. Maybe he does really love you.

He doesn’t know his truth himself, honestly. All he knows is that he has a lot of love to give, and he wants to give it to you.

His lips are so soft but so strong. Yours are weak and feeble, which is why you’re allowing him to take the lead. Letting him kiss you however he likes. There's minimal tongue but a whole lot of passion in the heat of this one intimate kiss.

What are you doing?

Is it so wrong to seek companionship when you’re lonely?

Yes, when you have a boyfriend, of course it is. But you can’t think about that right now. Not when he’s lifting your leg onto his hip and grinding into your core.

“Megumi,” you mewl, pulling away from the kiss but reattaching yourself to him instantly after speaking.

“What is it?” he asks, concernedly.

He begins to kiss down your cheek, your neck, your collarbone, and atop your breast as he waits for you to tell him what’s on your mind. You can hardly form a thought let alone tell him what you want to say.

“We shouldn’t— we shouldn’t do this, I’m scared, Megumi,” you tell him quietly.

It doesn’t deter him, though, he can’t stop now.

He didn’t know anyone could be as soft and pliable as you. How could he have let himself waste so much time hurting you when he could have been controlling you instead?

“But I’m so lonely.” you sigh, unable to stop the words from falling out. Each nick of his teeth against your skin and delicate soft peck on your body is like a combination code to unlock more secrets from you.

“Do you want me to make it better?” he wonders, softly. It’s almost a secret confession between him and your tits. He doesn’t look into your eyes as he asks. Too enamoured by your breasts as he cups one and kisses the other.

Such simple words equate to such a life changing question. If he were Toji asking that question, you assume he’d suggest something like scolding Megumi and taking you to a drive thru for a burger and fries.

If it were Yuuji asking you think he’d buy more snacks and watch The Shining with you for the millionth time.

If it were your parents they’d probably offer to have Yuuji shipped off permanently to some foreign country and throw money at you.

But you aren’t with any of them right now.

You’re with Megumi.

And no matter what situation you find yourself in with him, you can’t help but dwell on the past. He’s never tried to make anything better for you before. He’s actively pursued every course of action that would ultimately make your life worse.

In the time you’ve known him, he’s only been truly kind to you in the last two days.

Yesterday his idea of making you feel better was to let you sit next to him on the bus rather than with the evil girls. It was going bowling and to the aquarium and buying you a shark plushie.

But, today, he’s gotten you high. He’s made you someone you doubt you’d recognise if you were to look in the mirror. He’s had his tongue down your throat and lips all over your body.

He’s showing love to your body in the way that only a true lover should.

The way Yuuji should.

His way of making you feel better isn’t right. It isn’t something you should even be considering.

But you’re too foolish to realise what you are now.

You wouldn’t hesitate to slap him in the face before getting to this point. You would have scoffed and told him where to go when he offered you drugs. You wouldn’t have crawled into bed with him because you were cold.

But, for now, you aren’t you. You aren’t your own person.

You’re Megumi’s.

“Help me, Megumi.” you whisper in a desperate, begging tone. He looks up at you, then. Glimmering green eyes searching for any ounce of doubt in your facial expression.

It isn’t there.

His body presses against yours, pushing you further into the wall as he kisses you deeply.

Has he secretly wanted this all along?

Have you?

He turns you around so that your ass is against his crotch. He kisses into the crook of your neck as he guides you in the direction of your bed.

Your eyes are closed, softly, as you allow yourself to melt into the false sense of romance you’re feeling from him. But they spring open again once he pushes you down onto all fours on the mattress. He flips your tutu up and grabs two fistfuls of your white fishnets. You gasp when you hear the dramatic, tell tale sound of him ripping them apart. Once he can perfectly see your panty-clad mound, he runs a finger up between your lips.

“W-Wait, Megumi wait.” you protest. He stops and helps you roll onto your back. He climbs on top of you and kisses upwards from your belly button to between your breasts. “I don’t feel comfortable.” you confess. He smirks into your skin, giving you a lengthier kiss against your sternum.

“I’m high, babe. Goin’ too fast for you? What can I do?” he mumbles clumsily against you. You wriggle beneath him until he pays attention to you properly.

“I’d like to change. Could you, um, help me again?” you ask him hopefully, fluttering your eyelashes like butter wouldn’t melt.

You’re greeted with a simpering smile as he rises from above you and helps you sit upright. You watch him as he sits on the ground and begins to untie the laces on your platform boots. He tosses them over his shoulders, not caring where they end up. He reaches under your tutu and starts to pull down your fishnets.

“Panties off too, yeah? Do you want me to look away?”

“Um—”

“I think… you want me to see your body anyway, right?”

“I don’t want you to look right away… could you get my—”

He’s already standing up and searching for your fluffy pyjamas. Once again he avoids looking as he pulls your underwear down for you, concentrating solely on the ground as he helps you step into your shorts.

He manages to help pull your tutu down over your shorts to preserve a little bit of your modesty.

You stay still as he moves behind you. You’re sitting between his legs as you feel him fiddle with the hook of your bra. He pulls it off for you like he had the prior evening. But this time, neither of you are in a rush to cover your flesh.

Your vest is by his side, and you’re looking over your shoulder. Not for the garment, no, you’re looking for him. Unlike last night, you want him to grope you.

He does.

He’s nibbling on your earlobe as he massages your naked breasts. You can’t help but groan when he takes your nipples between his finger and thumb. The way he tweaks and pulls them so perfectly, you can feel your brand new shorts become ruined as you can’t help but soak them from him touch.

“I want to touch you, down there.” he whispers into your ear, it rushes immediately to your cunt and you’re arching your back against his body.

You want him to touch you there, too.

Badly.

“M-My vest, please.” you request. He pulls away from your ear and you’re both fixated on your vest as if it’s an unwelcome observer to your private party. There is nothing in the room except you, him, your breath, and the vest. Both of your movements have stilled as you stare it down. A limp puddle of purple intruding on a good time; the shed skin of a snake who is about to be reborn.

“I don’t think you need it,” his hums hushed carefully into the nape of your neck. You bite your lip and close your eyes, the crown of your head relaxing against his shoulder. “I think… right now… you just need me to make you feel better.”

You do.

Though you’re certain anyone could be saying the same to you right now and you’d agree with them.

Whether it be Megumi, his father, or even Gojo.

The pain your feeling and the high your flying are a deathly mixture of sin and punishment that you can’t seem to escape. There’s only one answer, one cure, and Megumi is the one offering it to you. You move your forehead so it rests against his as he waits for you to answer him.

It’s wrong, you know it, but not really. All you know is that Yuuji isn’t here and you’re paralysed with misery. Megumi is giving you a solution. You’re both in a hellish paradise with so much love to give and each are desperate to receive it, and there’s only two of you here.

You nod against him and your lips slot together like they belong against one another. Like he is your boyfriend, not Yuuji.

Megumi is evil and Yuuji is so perfect.

He’s so perfect that you can’t help but cry thinking about him even while Megumi’s lips are on yours. He pulls away, only a little, to hold the sides of your head as he kisses you harder. It’s more urgent, an apparent desperation behind each suction of lips pulling apart.

He guides you down onto your back. His hands move down your chest, along your curves and underneath your thigh. He pulls your leg up so that it’s wrapped around his waist. Lazy yet emotional ruts of his hips stimulate your already sopping heat.

No matter how badly you want to pull away from him so that you can breathe, he doesn’t let you. All you want is to pant out a soft, breathy moan and earn a moments reprieve from his actions, but he can’t let you.

The knowledge that you’re with him and he’s with you and you’re just as pathetic and needy as each other is mind-numbingly intoxicating.

You’re so good but just look how bad you’re being.

You want him just as badly as he wants you. And yet, neither of you know why. As far as you’re both aware, you despise each other. You are worlds apart and there’s nothing between you but anger, contempt, and disgust. But maybe that isn’t the whole truth after all.

Maybe he’s had feelings for you since you first met.

Since you complimented his art.

Perhaps he wanted to push you away and make things impossible so he knew there would be no chance for anything to ever happen between you.

But why would anything have happened?

You’re with Yuuji.

And that hasn’t stopped you from being in bed with Megumi right now. Would things have worked out better if you tried to be friends rather than enemies? Or would that have lead you down this very same path?

He isn’t sure if it’s true.

He isn’t sure if he had feelings for you from that very first moment or if that’s just the hidden romantic in him trying to create a love story that isn’t there.

He isn’t sure if he has feelings for you at all other than hate and lust. He wants to fuck you, now, because he’s aroused. He’s drugged up to the eyeballs and it seems like the right thing to do despite how wrong it is. You hold no feelings for him, he’s sure. You hate each other but you’re about to do something only lovers do.

“I— Megumi, I don’t want to have s-sex.” you speak almost assertively. It’s powerful to hear you talk, he thinks. And so confidently too. Do you think he loves you, for real? Is it the prospect of sex that has turned you into someone entirely new or is it the possibility that you’re beneath someone who loves you?

He pulls away, perplexed by your words. What did you think he meant by helping you? Admittedly he was more interested in helping himself, but it seems you’ve come to your senses.

“You want me to stop?” he asks, somewhat concernedly. His eyes widen excitedly when you shake your head. Now he knows what you want.

Is this some sort of compromise in your deluded little mind? His dominant hand slithers down your stomach and tickles you as his fingers trace along your body. You gasp when his fingers breach the waistband of your shorts.

He’s stunted, for a moment. Your eyes focus on one another, almost asking if this is really happening, before he licks his lips. Your lungs expand and collapse with each passing moment.

Yes, it is happening.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.” he whispers. Immediately your face burns hot with shame and embarrassment as you feel him toy with your slippery folds.

“I’m so— please, I just wanna— I need to feel better.” you beg wantonly. He smirks as he begins circling around your little pearl but not quite touching it. Legs shaking and heart beating rapidly.

“You will.” he assures you.

It has always embarrassed you to receive pleasure from a partner. Not because you don’t like it, you just have no idea where to look. Yuuji thinks it’s cute when you hide your face from him when he fingers you in this position.

It’s bizarre to him that you’re so shy even after so long, especially considering he eats you out on a regular basis and has made his face your personal throne. He lets you, though, whatever you need to do to be comfortable is alright with him.

No matter what, he thinks you look beautiful.

But Megumi isn’t Yuuji.

The minute he sees you trying to hide your face behind your hands he stops touching you. When you come out of hiding, you look to see him sucking his fingers clean of your mess. It’s hot, but you aren’t quite sure why he felt the need to stop.

Air is knocked out of your lungs when you feel him grab each of your wrists. He pins them above your head with a furious look in his eye.

A strict warning.

“Don’t do that again. Got it? I need to see your face so I know what I’m doing.” he explains. You nod quickly, understanding him perfectly.

He grabs a fistful of your hair so that you can’t move your face, forcing you to stare at him as he searches for your clit yet again. He goes slow at first, finally touching it instead of teasing around it.

You think you might burst into flames because you’re so humiliated.

He isn’t letting you take your eyes off him and he’s staring at you like an animal in the night. The only indication that he’s still human is when his eyes twitch and eyebrows falter whenever you release a heavier breath.

He picks up the pace and you can’t stand it, fingers grasping into the pillows by your head as he draws more pleasure from flicking over your throbbing clit. Your mouth falls open to moan and he copies you in faux sympathy. His mouth turning to a smile as he laughs at your whimpering state.

“There we go. There’s your little slut button.”

You bite your lip in an attempt to keep your cool. But it’s useless. Your legs open wider for him and even with his fingers laced through your hair you can’t help but throw your head further back into the pillows beneath you.

“I’m so— I’m so h-happy, Megumi. You’re so good— at this.”

He’s almost insulted that you thought he wouldn’t be good at giving pleasure with his fingers. It lights a match under the ball of hot air which is Megumi Fushiguro as it makes him feel somewhat threatened.

He knows he’s good.

And by God, he’ll make sure you know it too.

Your toes begin to curl as you feel his lips latch onto one of your nipples. It’s a dirty trick that manages to bring you that much closer to your orgasm each and every time. With that and the way he’s expertly rubbing your clit you know you’re soon to be a goner.

“M-Megumi, please slow down. I’m tryin’ to hang o-on a bit lo-onger, here.” you request. He holds your nipple lightly between his teeth and smiles, shaking his head in refusal. You groan when he sucks and releases it with a pop.

“Stop hangin’ on. If you wanna feel better, let go.” he demands. He begins to pay the same attention to your opposite nipple as he carries on stimulating your pulsating bead. He yanks your hair tight as your hips begin to buck wildly against his fingertips. Your pussy desperately searching his touch to help you along quicker than he’s delivering.

Your vision turns to a starry night as you begin singing his name in approval. Each wave of orgasmic pleasure gushing through your body from the top of your head to the tips of your toes again and again. You feel him kiss your breast softly as you plummet from the never ending high. The kindness doesn’t last, however, as he stands on his knees and hooks his fingers into your shorts.

“Lift your fuckin’ ass. I want these off, now.” he tells you stringently. You obey, as always, raising your hips so he can rip the purple shorts away from your body.

For some reason you instinctively press your knees together as your body goes into high alert. They don’t stay like that, of course. He places his palms on your kneecaps and pries your legs apart.

“Don’t close your legs unless I say so. Until I’m done with you. I’m not finished yet, you haven’t even let me look at your pussy properly.”

He looks down to see your slippery, shimmering cunt. It’s intoxicating. So little and perfect and pink. So cute, like you. He holds your mound and uses his thumb to pull back the hood of your clit. He grins, watching it throb and pulse because of him. He bends down to spit on it which makes you moan.

You’re even louder when he attaches his lips around it and begins to suck.

“Oh fuck! Megumi, please, I can’t. I’m too sensitive I can’t cum like that—”

“Do you ever shut up?” he asks as he raises his face from between your legs. “Just having a little fun with you, I’m not an idiot. But since you want to rush…” he trails off, a menacing tone behind his words.

You jolt when you feel him grab your entire face in one hand and pinch your cheeks. Your lips pucker and he can’t help but grin at how truly ridiculous you look. How can you look so fucked out and drunk from his fingers but still have a glimmer of craving behind your twinkling eyes?

“Open your legs. Wider.” he instructs.

You spread them as far as they’ll possibly go, an overwhelming desire to please him overcoming you. He pulls back a little, and at that point you notice a string of drool pooling on his lower lip. His mouth hangs open as he slides a finger inside of your entrance. You squeak at the intrusion, you squeal at the unrelenting thrusts he delivers as it batters you g-spot.

“You’re so fucking tight.” he informs you, making blood rush to your ears in an attempt to block out his words.

“T-Think ‘m gonna cum. I think—”

“Already? Fuck, it’s ‘cause you’re tight baby. Like a little virgin cunt. Bet you can’t even take more than one finger, can you?”

“N-No. I mean, no. I ca- I can’t take— two is— fuck, too much f’me.” you tell him, and he snickers.

“Knew it. You’ve got a princess pussy. Nice ‘n tight and she creams like a dream when you treat her right. Gonna show me how you cum on my fingers for doing a good job? Gonna give me my reward for makin’ you feel better?”

“FUCK, Megumi. You’re so— hnngg—!” you cut yourself off as he brings you to yet another small death. He bites his lip as he watches you squirm and whine in pleasure. His fingers still not giving up their assault on your sensitive insides and gummy interior. “I love you—” you breathe shallowly.

Almost imperceptible, but he hears you. When he said it earlier, he didn’t mean a fucking word of it. He’s high, and so are you. So once again, you’re just devils telling tales.

“You look like you’re feeling better, O’Keeffe.” he jokes, you begin to giggle once he pulls his fingers out of your pussy. “I wanna sleep but I’m still wired. Are you sleepy?” he questions.

“Mm-mm.” you hum, shaking your head. “I wanna… I want you to feel better, too.” you inform him.

“How are you gonna do that?”

You smile cheekily at him as you raise your leg between his. You press around his crotch area with your toes. It was already apparently just how hard he was from your dancing and then hearing you moan for him. But apparently he hadn’t expected you to be so brazen. He lets your fingers explore his upper body. Grazing over his pecs and abs as you continue to torment his cock with your foot.

“Are you gonna get me off properly? I’m not super into feet, babe. Willing to try if you’ve got the talent for it, though.”

“No, ‘m not using my feet. Wanna hold you in my hand, take it out f’me Megumi.” you tell him. He scoops you up in his arms and sits you upright at the top of the bed. He sits beside you and begins to unbuckle his jeans. You can see the agonising strain in the form of his bulge in his boxers once he pulls the zipper down.

You know immediately he has an impressive size and you aren’t quite sure if you’re confident enough to deal with it. Yuuji is big too, though, so maybe you’ll be okay.

He groans when he moves his underwear enough to free his cock. It’s heavy and craving, thick and full of lustrous desire. Your mouth is more or less watering at the sight of him. Perfect, you think. Perfect size. Perfect shape. Perfectly defined.

Perfect.

“Are you scared?” he grumbles, his speech is so relaxed it’s almost idle. You can’t answer, because you aren’t sure. You aren’t scared, but you feel like you should be. It’s just a dick, after all. Yuuji has one. Yuuji wasn’t your first, either. But this is Megumi Fushiguro bearing himself to you. He’s willing to let you hear him at his most intimate and vulnerable. And you’re crossing another line. Everything you do with him, every second you spend with him, is another betrayal against Yuuji.

“Show me how you like it.” you tell him.

He takes your hand in his and wraps it around his cock. His hand holds tightly onto yours as he demonstrates how tight he likes it and how fast he likes the strokes. He lets go and allows you to take over, hoping you’re capable of doing what he’s taught you. A slight whimper leaves him as you swipe your thumb over his dripping slit.

“Mmm, leaking s’much Megumi.”

“I won’t last long, been needin’ to cum since I felt you on me last night.” he alerts you.

It only spurs you on. You use his precum to your advantage and lube up his cock with it. You even drool all over him for good measure. It’s so erotic and lewd sounding as you begin to pump him furiously. The way his chest rises and stutters with each rub of your fist is so God damn dreamy. Seeing him so helpless and at the mercy of your touch is heavenly.

“Keep going, a lil faster,” he tells you. It doesn’t go unnoticed how his hips start grinding into you. It’s nice to know you’re equally as impatient when it comes to reaching your climax. ‘Unhh’ and ‘ahh’ language escape him as you don’t let up. Allowing him to fuck your fist as you meet his thrusts with ten times as much vigour.

“Fuck, are you close? You look so pretty when you moan.” you tell him.

“Shut up or you’ll put me off. Tighter, squeeze it tighter. Ah— f-uck oh, hnng.” he finishes. He squirts a copious amount of white, viscous cream which you’re more than happy to milk out of him. Every last drop as his cock flexes and shoots it out. It splashes up his abs and all over your hand. He uses his free hand to push your face into his by the crown of your head.

You straddle him as you kiss, uncaring of the mess between you as his cock begins to soften. It’s a messy, drool filled kiss as your tongues tangle and you breathe against each other.

Into each other.

He carries you into the bathroom, still kissing all of the way there. He sits you down on the counter next to the sink as he undresses. As you wash your hands, he starts up the shower. He stands beside it for a while until it reaches a perfect temperature.

He grabs your wrist and pulls you towards him. He leads the two of you into the shower, allowing the water to warm you both.

He lathers shampoo and conditioner through your hair as you wash your body. You do the same for him, with great difficulty, as you stand on your tip toes so that you can wash his hair properly. You kiss under the water as the shower rinses away all of the suds.

He gets out before you, wrapping a towel around his waist and then holding one open for you to step into. You spend time with him sitting on top of your mattress with nothing but your towels protecting your bodies. He brushes your hair for you. You want to do the same for him, but you start falling asleep.

“You can’t sleep in your towel.” he reminds you. He walks away and returns just as quickly, the mattress sinking behind you once he takes his seat again. “Here, lift your arms,” you do, and you’re greeted to the soft texture of your purple, fluffy vest. “You’ve ruined your shorts. Were those the only pyjamas you bought?”

“Uh,” you pause for a moment as you think, “yeah, they were. But I bought some sweatpants to travel home in. If Gojo is picking us up in the morning, I’ll just wear what I sleep in for the car ride home.” you explain. He gets up, rifling through your shopping bags until he finds them.

“Up.”

You stand to your feet, allowing the towel to drop and pool around your feet. This time, you don’t care if he looks up while he dresses you. You step into the grey sweatpants one foot at a time and wait for him to pull them up your legs.

“Thank you.”

“Get into bed, I need to get ready.” he almost snaps at you. You get cosy under the duvet and hold tightly onto Gerald.

You don’t look at him while he changes his clothes. He has once again decided to forgo his t-shirt and wear matching sweatpants with you to bed. The sound of his bed creaking is like a stab in the heart.

You aren’t sure what you had expected. He isn’t yours and you aren’t his. You’re just classmates in a bad situation sharing a hotel room. He has his own bed and you have yours. You have a boyfriend, but he isn’t here. It doesn’t matter, though. You should only want what’s yours. You shouldn’t want anyone else. You shouldn’t crave another man’s touch. And yet—

“I need you, Megumi.” you speak quietly.

The words are simple and bland. Room for interpretation and nothing too specific. Do you want to fuck? Do you want a hug? It doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t need Megumi. But he knows exactly what you want. He gets out of his own bed and you feel a sense of relief when he joins you in yours. His arms wrap around your torso and he nuzzles his nose into your freshly washed hair that smells like cinnamon and toffee.

This town is a horror setting. This room is a mystery. Four walls that you hope will keep your scandalous secret.

It’s all coming to an end, tomorrow.

—

The levels of regret you both feel are infinite. You think he’s been awake longer than you, but he didn’t want to let go. You woke with his arm still wrapped around you, holding you close. Once you stirred, he rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. You did the same, endlessly entertained by the disgusting popcorn ceiling.

You didn’t utter a word.

Nor did he.

You took turns using the bathroom to brush your teeth and get ready. The atmosphere is foul. Impossibly awkward and uncomfortable as you shuffle around each other and still can’t find it in either of you to speak.

He doesn’t even fill you in on what’s happening with Gojo. He declines his calls and texts him instead so that he doesn’t have to break his silence. He doesn’t tell you when he arrives. He simply walks towards the exit and assumes you aren’t dumb enough to stay behind.

Your hair is thrown into a bun and you are painfully aware of what a mess you are. You’re holding Gerald under your arm and carrying your shopping bags in your hands all while struggling to close the hotel room door behind you. Megumi is way ahead of you, and you aren’t sure whether you should bother trying to catch up.

You hand your room key to the receptionist. There’s barely enough energy in you to smile and say goodbye. It’s even worse when you step outside. Gojo is standing with a cheesy grin on his face as he leans against his car.

“Good morning, you two. Let’s get you kiddos home, huh?” he smiles. He unlocks the trunk, and you’re appreciative when he rushes over to grab your bags for you.

It doesn’t surprise you at all that Megumi takes shotgun. You’re more than happy to sit in the backseat and watch the sky. There’s a generic, mundane radio station playing. Maybe even Gojo has a limit on energy in the mornings. You’d half expected him to be playing something annoying just to piss you both off.

“How was your weekend?” he asks the two of you.

“Awful, obviously.”

“Aw don’t be like that. This is a nice town, I bet you found something to do. You’re just being sour because both Toji and I have lives outside of you. But I’m here now, aren’t I? We’ll be home in no time. Or maybe you’re just tired... up all night? Take a nap, Megumi.”

“W-What are you implying? I—”

“He knows I do drugs, O’Keeffe, relax. Couldn’t even do that in peace because of princess buzzkill back there.”

You swallow your tongue and decide to keep silent for the remainder of the journey from that point on. Your eyes are watering but you just about manage to hold it together.

You’re sitting directly behind him, it seemed like the lesser of two evils. But he can see you in the side mirror of the car. You’re wrestling with your conscience and the enormous mistake you made together. You jump a little when you hear your phone ping. You hadn’t expected to hear from anyone today and you begin to pray that it isn’t one of your parents.

Hopefully just a stupid spam email.

It's Megumi.

You don’t remember giving him your number. He must have done it when you were sleeping, or high.

Megumi: Why did you make things weird? You: I didn’t. You gave me the silent treatment. Megumi: Sure. What now? You: Don’t.

“Are you texting Yuuji? I haven’t heard from him since he left. I know it’s only been a week but it’s weird.” Gojo speaks directly to you.

And that is what does you in.

The fact that your boyfriend hadn’t even been gone an entire week before you decided to fool around with someone else.

Someone worse.

Someone who used to be his best friend.

Gojo looks alarmed as you burst into tears, almost slamming the breaks to figure out what happened. Megumi just huffs, though, making him think it isn’t that serious.

“I’m sure I’m wrong but, I’m picking up an odd vibe. I’m usually pretty perceptive but—”

“Gojo shut up. I’m not in the mood and she’s fucking crying, whatever you wanna say just say it instead of doing your annoying step-dad shtick.” Megumi barks, eyes scrunching as he immediately faces the window to avoid making eye contact with Gojo.

“Alright, alright. Grumpy. I wasn’t going to say anything. Sorry for making you cry, sweetheart. I shouldn’t have assumed it was him. It’s gotta be tough being without him. I’m sorry, really. And I’m still around for whatever you need.” he tells you.

“T-Thanks Gojo, appreciate it.”

It’s silent for a while. A surprisingly long time given that you’re in a car with someone as insufferable and annoying as Satoru Gojo. He’s a nice guy, you think. But God does he know how to press people’s buttons.

“Though I’m sure you two hooking up probably took the edge off missing him so much.”

“Megumi, you told him?!”

“You just told him, you idiot.”

Your eyes hold shut as you replay what you just did. The oldest trick in the God damn book and you fucking fell for it. So much for your secret staying between those four walls. You aren’t sure if your heart has stopped beating or is beating too fast for you to register. It’s all over, now. He’s going to tell Yuuji and you’re going to lose him.

You’re going to lose everything.

“Oh-ho! That actually worked, I can’t believe it. I knew you had a thing for one of the Fushiguro’s. So you guys… did you fuck?”

“No!” you objects instantly.

“We gave each other handjobs.” Megumi tells him.

“Megumi!”

“You opened your big mouth so may as well set him straight,” Megumi snips at you. “I convinced her to get high and the E made us stupid. She loves Yuuji, it was a mistake on both parts.”

“Gojo, please, I know Yuuji is one of your closest friends but—”

“It’s really none of my business. You’re both fun to annoy so I play around. But secrets aren’t mine to tell. I’m not going to interfere with your relationship, it’s not my place. I’m sure each of you had your reasons.”

“He’s good at keeping secrets, one of the best things about him. Unless they’re about my dad, any chance to get him into shit.”

“That’s because I hate Toji,” he laughs. “And he hates me. That, however, is irrelevant. I’ll take this to my grave for everyone’s sake. I’ve never done drugs so I’m inclined to believe you both were acting out of character because of it. Especially if it’s new for you, sweetheart.”

“I can’t— I really can’t thank you enough, I—”

“That being said,” he interrupts, holding up a finger to silence you both so he can speak. “I don’t believe for a second there isn’t something brewing between you. Tensions are high, I could hear it through the phone when you called me. You’ve opened Pandora’s box and whether it was a mistake or not, there’s a connection between you now that will keep bringing you back together. Deny it all you like, but what happened won’t be a one-time thing. Just be careful, there’s gonna be some heartbreak down the line.”

A deathly silence falls upon the car. Neither you nor Megumi know what to say to him. Your eyes find each other's in the side mirror but you quickly avert your stare as you focus on the clouds in the sky instead.

There’s no way you can let yourself fall into a pattern of seeking comfort in Megumi while Yuuji is away.

It was one mistake.

People make mistakes all of the time. People bounce back from their mistakes, too! You can’t be with him again. Maybe you need to cut him off for good. It’s not like you can’t trust yourself around Megumi. But being near him knowing what you did is going to be a heavy burden of guilt to bear.

Of all of the things he’s done, this has got to be the worst. You know it’s your fault too. You know you could have said no at any point. But you’re sure if he didn’t insist on getting you high it wouldn’t have happened.

You hate him.

You fucking hate him.

He’s like a tornado going above and beyond to destroy everything. How you could let yourself see humanity and kindness in him is embarrassing.

It’s humiliating that you let yourself trust him. You fell for him this weekend. You fell for the idea that he could be something he isn’t.

Normal.

He’s evil, plain and simple. This was a calculated move. A pre-planned scheme to really destroy you in the worst way possible. And you only have yourself to blame.

You’re the one who let him.

—

81 notes · View notes

monster-disaster · 1 year

Text

[orc] Zorag Iron - 3/3

orc!Zorag Iron x human!Reader - 3/3 Good to know: smut

Summary: Both you and Zorag want more.

A/N: The first journey in Ironridge reached its end. I hope you enjoyed it and you will stay to meet Zorag's brothers.

Almost a month goes by after your last encounter with Zorag in one of the storages. You barely meet, and when you do, both of you act like nothing happened. He is busy outside with the others while you do your job in the office. You take care of the orders and organize the deliveries. And try not to think about him too much for the sake of your sanity.

The sun is at the top of the sky. Bright and warm. The puddles left by the rain are nowhere anymore, and the lumberyard is busy and loud as usual. You can hear men shouting to each other through the vibration of the machines. The metal building in the middle of the yard is uncomfortable now that there are no clouds to protect you from the heat. You have to pull on your clothes every now and again so the fabric doesn't stick to your skin. You are hot and sweaty, and Zorag's sight through the window doesn't help.

You try everything to keep your mind away from Zorag, but the task seems impossible. You can still feel his hold on your legs, his nails digging into your flesh. At night, you imagine his face between your thighs as you touch yourself. Even the thought of his tongue on your folds and his finger in your pussy is enough to make you soaked.

Zorag is outside. You can see him from your seat behind the desk. Your fingers linger above the keyboard as your attention turns from your laptop to the orc. His trousers hang low on his hips. The fabric stretches on his thick thighs as he moves. His upper body is bare. His t-shirt hangs from his back pocket. To your surprise, he is smooth and shaved. You always imagined him hairy. His green skin seems lighter under the bright sunlight, and he is flushed by the heat. His black dreadlocks are tied back with a worn band. The beads and rings glint in his hair. Your fingers curl into fists as you imagine them gripping his locks.

Fuck.

Zorag feels your eyes on him the whole day. It burns his skin and twists his stomach. He has to force himself not to look at you through the office's window. And his willpower fails him rather often. Every now and again, when he is sure you are busy with something else, he dares to steal a few glances. You sit at the desk, your eyes on the laptop in front of you. A few sweaty locks of your hair are sticking to the delicate curve of your neck. The light summer dress you wear highlights the valley of your breasts and the curve of your waist. He saw you when you disappeared into the office early in the morning. The skirt swirled around your legs with each step you took. He couldn't help but imagine what you hid under the clothes. He jerks off more times at the memory of your taste than he would dare to admit it.

A relieved sigh leaves Zorag's lips when he arrives home, but the ache in his chest doesn't lessen. It's Friday, and he has a whole weekend ahead of him without seeing you. Not long ago, he would have been happy about it, but now… Now he just wants to grab his keys and go to your house.

While he decides to go and take a shower, you let your annoyance take over you.

You are angry, impatient, and horny.

Not even half an hour later, your car is parked in front of his house, and you are at the door, knocking on the wooden surface.

You are not even sure what you want to do if he opens the door. You can't ask him to have sex with you, can you? Then what? Should you talk about what happened? Clean the air between you two?

After a few seconds, the door of his home opens, and you forget how to breathe. Shock shows on his face, but you are too busy staring at his bare chest. Your gaze travels down, following the muscles of his stomach, until you pause on the white towel around his hips. The fabric barely reaches the middle of his thighs. Water still shines on his green skin.

"Ruby?" Zorag asks. His surprise quickly changes to smugness when he sees your reaction. Your lips open, and your eyes darken with desire. He still remembers your expression when you came because of his tongue and finger. The thought makes his cock jerk under the towel. The thin fabric does nothing to hide his half-hard erection. "What's wrong with you?" You snap at him, frowning. He doesn't get angry at your words. "You are the one who came here." "Yes," you agree. "Well…" Raising one of his brows, he finds amusement in your frustration. No matter how much you try to avoid the obvious bulge under the white towel, your gaze falls on it every now and again. "Did you come here for more?" He asks, leaning closer. Even though the neighbors can see him, he is not in a hurry. He is enjoying every minute of your struggle. "Of course not," you scoff. "I came here to clear the air between us. We can't work together like this." Lies. Lies. Lies. Zorag wants to kiss them off your mouth so you can scream the truth only. He hums, smirking. "Sure, Ruby. Come in, and we can talk about it." It's the worst idea you ever heard. "Okay."

The moment the door closes behind you, your back presses against the hard surface, and Zorag cages you in his embrace. His kiss is wild and out of control. His tusks dig into your lips, and his tongue invades your mouth. It's all need and demand. His lips are still open when he breaks the kiss and leans down to reach under your bottom. His hot breath fans over your neck, kissing down your collarbone and licking into your cleavage while hauling you up in his arms. Your legs curl around his waist immediately, and your fingers dig into the hard muscles of his shoulders. "Where are you taking me?" You gasp out. "Up to my room," he replies. His words are heavy with need. He moves like you weigh nothing. "I will fuck the bossiness out of you." The promise makes your pussy ache for him. A low groan rumbles through your skin when you start to grind yourself against him. "You love my bossiness," you tell him while he kisses up on the line of your neck. "I love it better when you are too fucked out to say anything." You land on his bed with a shriek. You are still in your clothes, and he is naked. The towel probably fell off somewhere on the stairs leading up to his bedroom. "Take off your clothes," he orders you. "It's time for you to learn how to be obedient." You scoff but do as he says. Kneeling in the middle of his bed, you grab the hem of your dress and pull it off of your body with one swift motion. You don't wear a bra, and when Zorag notices it, he groans at the sight. His hand is around his cock, already jerking off. "Stand up on the bed and come here." A part of you wants to argue with him, but in the end, you obey again. With the bed under you, the height difference is perfect for him to grab your waist with his free arm and pull you against himself until you are so close he can lick and suck your nipples. Your back arches at the feeling, pushing yourself into his greedy mouth more. Every swirl of his tongue goes straight between your legs. Your panties are ruined. You are sure of it. "Zorag," you croak out his name. "Please…" "What do you want?" He grunts. His tusk flicks over your nipple. Your breasts are soft and just enough for him to play with them to his heart's content. "You," you tell him. "I want you." Your words are breathy and impatient. "Take off your panties and lay down on your back if you want me to fuck that pretty pussy. I'm sure it's already wet for my cock."

Zorag still barely believes his own eyes. You are lying on his bed, naked and ready. Your legs are wide apart, showing him your hot center. Your nipples are hard and wet peaks, and your folds glint with your juices. You are the prettiest sight he has ever seen. His balls twitch with the need to cum, but a squeeze around the base of his shaft stops him at the last second.

"So pretty," he says, letting his eyes wander on your body. "You are so fucking pretty." "Then come and fuck me," you suggest, lifting your hips to entice him. "I need you, Zorag! Please!"

Your plea hits something in him because of your absolute delight; he is above you before you know it. He keeps his weight off you with his strong arms but his warmth still cages you into something safe and comfortable. His hard cock grazes your lower stomach, almost reaching the slit of your pussy where you need him the most.

"I need to get you ready," he says, mostly to remind himself of the size difference between you two. You are still a human, while he is an orc everywhere. Before he can lower himself, you grab his hair. "You don't have to." Zorag frowns. "I don't want to hurt you." "You won't," you promise. "I- I'm ready. I was ready when I got here." Your confession humiliates and excites you at the same time, and more heat creeps up on your cheeks when you see the recognition crossing Zorag's face. "Did you touch yourself before you came here?" His voice is nothing but a low growl. "Answer me, Ruby." "Yes." "Did you think of me?" He asks. One of his hands slides down your body, reaching between your legs. His finger brushes over your clit, sending shivers all over your body. "Did you think of my mouth? My tongue on your sweet pussy? You taste so good, Ruby. I want to eat you every day from now on." "Zorag!" You cry out his name when his finger pushes inside you. "Did you imagine my cock in this pretty hole? Did you think about how well I could stretch you out?" When you don't answer, he stops his finger from pushing into you deeper, and you sob out a croaked reply. "Yes, I thought of you. I thought of your mouth, your fingers, your cock. I only think about you." "And did you come? Or did you come here because your pretty fingers weren't enough anymore?" "I came here to fuck me," you tell him. Your hips move in sync with his thrusts. "I come here for your cock, Zorag." "And you will get it," he promises, leaving the warmth of your wet channel to adjust his cock at your entrance. "I will fuck you, Ruby." "Yes," you moan. "Do it! Please, Zorag, do it!"

You roll your hips to get him inside you faster. Your pussy stretches around the head of his cock. The orc pushes into you slowly and steadily. His heart beats in his throat at the feeling of your warm tightness around his shaft. Your walls already flutter and pulse to pull him deeper and deeper until he is inside you completely. "Oh, god," you groan. "So full." "That's right," he growls. "That's what you needed, Ruby. You don't have to use your fingers anymore. I'm here now." When he is sure you are adjusted to his size, he starts to move in and out rapidly. He pounds your pussy while you can do nothing but moan and shake under his heavy body. Your wetness coats his cock, dripping down on his balls. His eyes roll back at the feeling of your pussy clenching around him, demanding more, demanding everything he can give you. "Where do you want me to cum?" Zorag grunts. "Where do you want my seed, Ruby?" "Inside me," you cry. Tears roll down your cheeks at the pleasure that burns your veins and jerks your muscles. "I'm on the pill." Hearing you reply, Zorag moves even faster. You didn't know it was possible. The bed thuds against the wall in the background, mixing with the wet sound between your legs.

You both reach your high at the same time. Your walls flutter around his cock, your nails dig into the hard muscles of his back, and he can't keep up any longer. He pushes himself inside you entirely and cums. His seed fills you up, dripping down where you meet while your cunt milks him for more.

"Wow," you pant after long minutes of silence when he drops on the bed beside you. You start to miss his warmth immediately. "Yeah," he agrees. "Do you want to take a bath? I can make us something to eat in the meanwhile." You are not sure why you are surprised. Zorag is not the type who sends his partners away after everything is done. "That would be good," you reply. "Thank you." "Good," he smirks, leaning closer to press a quick kiss on your lips. "Because I'm not done with you yet."

- Masterlist Ironridge Masterlist Patreon

#monster x human #orc x human #monster x reader #orc x reader #ironridge #monster smut #orc smut #orc romance #monster romance #orc boyfriend #monster boyfriend

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bigfan-fanfic · 1 year

Note

Geralt and his bf cuddling up in kaer morhen. Just cuddling on a windowsill under some thick blankets enjoying the falling snow over the valley. (What a veiw that would be!) can you tell a little story with that setting perhaps?

The cold doesn't quite reach Geralt. The songs say the mutations turned all witcher blood to fire, but Geralt knows that cold affects him just fine, he simply has a higher tolerance to it because of mutations and the endless residual decoctions lurking in his system.

Perhaps the true reason for this warmth lies in his arms.

Geralt leans his head down, sniffs your hair, lets the scent wash through him. Ask anyone, he's not the poetic type, but ask him to describe the way you smell and he will find the most lyrical and most brief summary he can muster.

Maybe the answer is much more obvious and it's the heat of numerous blankets draped over yourself. Geralt would find it amusing - no, strike that, he does find it amusing. But along with that, it's just adorable. And he won't deny that the physical touch is glorious.

Geralt is a Witcher. And most people daren't deal with a Witcher, let alone touch him. But you - whether bravery or naivety or a need for connection greater than his - you fearlessly initiate and continue contact. Geralt had never cuddled before you. Bed sharing was usually transactional, and with Yen, let's be honest, if cuddling occurred, it was more Geralt holding her than her actively participating.

You seem to crave his touch. You hold his hand on your own, you wrap your arm around his waist and invite him to hold you round the shoulder. You cuddle into his chest as if it is a safe haven. You play with his hair, his nose, his lips, his chest, his arms. There is never fear on you - and though Witchers cannot smell emotion like people think, he can usually hear the elevated heartbeats, see the shortness of breath, the dilating pupils, the contraction of muscles as they tense - none of the signs of fear from you, ever. Not towards him.

Lambert would find it insulting, he chuckles to himself. Geralt finds it... enchanting. More than any sorceress' spell.

"Witchers can hear the snowfall, you know." He smirks. It's a game sometimes. He makes up some wild, outlandish 'witcher fact' and practically dares you to call his bluff. There's enough weird shit that IS true to often disguise well whatever he comes up with.

"Oh, really?" You grin, leaning back against him as the valley beneath Kaer Morhen is coated in snow like powdered sugar. In an hour or so, the clouds will drift and the whole valley will be obscured in fog. "What does it sound like?"

"Like biting an apple. Crunch, crunch, crunch."

"Ew." You respond, and Geralt can feel you cringe while imagining the unappealing noise. "That doesn't sound right."

"Snow is wet and crunchy. Ice crystals grinding together."

"Yes, but they land on top of each other, not crunch, don't they? It should be more like a tinkle or a wet thud."

Geralt laughs. "Ah, yes, I forgot. The Continent's expert in onomatopoeia is in my arms."

You turn to raise an eyebrow at him.

"You do know I studied at Oxenfurt? I taught a class or two at Oxenfurt - I know big words!"

"I believe you." You smile, craning your neck to kiss the underside of his jaw, and Geralt is immediately mollified. "You know what? Tell me about it."

Geralt chuckles. "It's not all that exciting."

"I like hearing your voice anyway."

"Alright then... this was way back, sometime in..."

And Geralt talks, you cuddle against him, and the snowtouched valley is slowly lost in fog. Safe. Happy.

Home.

#geralt x male reader #geralt x reader #witcher headcanons #headcanons #witcher x reader #witcher x male reader

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koiiiji · 5 months

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The Flakes Are Goin’ Up

my favourite russian songs + lookism boys (pt.1)

хлопья летят наверх (by FEDUK) = Kim Joon Goo

tw ; pure fluff, ooc Goo(?), established relationship, helpless romantic, wedding

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

0:21 - 1:01 "Where did you come from here? Cool shorts - former Levi's jeans Simple makeup You smell just like the first lily of the valley, I won't tear you down Where did you come from here? You smell just like the first lily of the valley, I won't tear you down I thought about you and it started snowing Cold weather warms us: closer to family All this vanity, where we are not New texts, but not about you The flakes are flying upward"

Goo caught himself thinking that he could never imagine himself at his own wedding, this was the last thing on his mind in a series of fights, showdowns with gangs, counting cash, and entertainment with his secret friends and Gun. And now here he is, standing at the altar and can’t take his eyes off you - in your beautiful, light, white dress, walking down the aisle along the rows of invited guests. Under your feet the path is lined with flower petals, everything around is decorated with white flowers, light fabrics and candles, Goo chuckles at his memory - it was your great wish for the wedding planner to create a light and bright atmosphere as much as possible.

1:05 - 1:30 "Magic and light are everywhere Why are you here alone? Hello, Let's go to the planet parade I'll give you a warm scarf: it's cold out there in space And we meet the dawn Wrapped in the clouds"

As Goo stands at the altar with you, the air is thick with emotion, anticipation, and love. The words he prepared for this moment swirl in his mind, but as he looks into your eyes, all thoughts seem to evaporate, leaving only the overwhelming feeling of adoration and commitment.

"From the moment I met you," Goo whispers into your ear as pastor keeps reading his words, "I knew my life would never be the same." He smiles so brightly, looking down at you.

"In a world of chaos and uncertainty you are my guiding light, my rock, and with you by my side, I am whole. I promise to stand by you, to protect you, and to cherish every moment we share together. You are my partner, my confidante, and my love, now and forever." As you exchange your vows, the world seems to fade away, leaving only the two of you in a bubble of pure bliss. And when the moment finally comes to seal your promises with a kiss, time stands still. As if by some unseen force, you are drawn together, your lips meeting in a tender, heartfelt kiss.

2:27 - 2:53 "New era of love New life, you choose Something painfully familiar, but we don’t know each other I want to kiss you again and again These cozy days The flakes are falling - and we are with them Slowly melt like our kiss All our dreams are slowly melting away"

Amidst the applause and cheers of their friends, Goo and you emerge from the ceremony as husband and wife, greeted by the smiling faces of those who have stood by their side through thick and thin. Despite his ties to the gang, Goo's friends show nothing but respect and admiration for the newlyweds, offering their heartfelt congratulations and well wishes.

As the evening unfolds into a lavish wedding dinner, filled with laughter and camaraderie, Goo and you steal moments together, savoring the quiet intimacy of being newlyweds.

As the evening progresses and the festivities reach their peak, Goo and you find yourselves lost in each other's embrace on the dance floor in newlyweds dance. The room fades away, leaving only the soft strains of music and the gentle rhythm of your bodies moving as one. Goo holds you close, his touch igniting a fire within you, a passion that burns brighter with each tender caress. In this moment, there is only you and him, the rest of the world melting away into insignificance.

With every step, every movement, you feel a deep connection between you, a bond that transcends words and defies explanation. Goo's eyes meet yours, filled with a love so pure, so profound, it takes your breath away. And as the music swells and the night stretches out before you, you surrender to the magic of the moment, allowing yourselves to be swept away by the tide of emotions that threatens to consume you both. In this dance, in this embrace, Goo and you find a sanctuary for both of you, a place where time stands still and the worries of the world cease to exist.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

author’s note ; i know that’s not how traditional Korean wedding goes, but i decided to go with something more familiar for everyone, sorry hehe

author’s note 2 ; this song… ahhh, it’s such stereotypical choose for wedding i think, but it’s so beautiful, author wrote this song on his own wedding if i not mistaken and honestly this song def will be on my own wedding😭🤧😋💒✨

also!! i used Bella’s and Edward’s wedding from twilight as reference, so you can check it on pinterest or on yourude if you don’t remember!!!

author’s note 3 ; planning to do same with Jake, Sammy, Gun, Zack and Vasco

💒💐🎀🎗️

#[ ~ koi.talks🗣]#Spotify #lookism webtoon #lookism #lookism manhwa #lookism x reader #lookism imagines #kim joongoo #kim jungwoo #kim joongoo x reader #lookism fic #lookism fluff #kim goo x reder #kim goo #lookism kim joon goo #goo kim #goo kim x reader

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phoenixcatch7 · 10 months

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Welcome to the environmental lore photo collection that took me three weeks to do! We shall see if we can fit all the photos in!

Okay! For purposes of this compilation I'll not be talking about either seasonal areas or the war! Because those are whole separate topics, and well...

We know enough. Also, I had to lighten several photos, so they might look slightly off to experienced players. It's so you can see!

So, the very first area -

Forgive the quality, this is their second compression lmao. As you can see, we start off with pretty standard Sky Kingdom architecture - blue stone with pale blue paint, topped with gold almost-spikes. There's a landing area from valley (middle left) but it's almost entirely flooded with cloud so good luck landing on it now lol. An overhead walkway (bottom left) that only appears elsewhere in the valley citadel and skate race. Unsurprising, given the proximity.

The interesting things are the campfire, the lanterns, and the broken bridge (top left, right, and bottom right respectively).

The huge campfire and the rows of lanterns speak of low light levels and temperatures. The nature of the wasteland is pollution and corruption, so it's easy to think the thick, dark cloud layer blocking out the sun is a result of that, and thus came about later in the timeline. But it seems to be early enough that ancestors made their own countermeasures to the darkness.

The broken bridge, of course, led down. It's sizable. I wonder what it looked like, before the hurricane? Perhaps they used shuttle boats like the village of dreams? Unlikely - there's no boat debris anywhere on either side, but it's an interesting thought. Either way, it tells us the hurricane wasn't always there...

^ Enter the wasteland proper, and you're met with this. Everything is half buried in sand, the water is toxic, and there's not a candle to be seen (except of course on cake days, as you will see later XD) - this will remain true for the whole realm. Under the hooked arch in the bottom pic is the sapling (clinging on for dear life, surely) and the dock leading to Enchantment.

What purpose the listing building in the centre pic does, I don't know, but if you squint under the left arch in the bottom picture, you'll see there's another one (with nothing inside). Given its placement, it could be assumed one had to pass through it to reach the main entrance. It's highly unlikely they were homes.

Similarly, all those giant broken arches could have enclosed a vast area the size of a small town (figuratively, if we consider the dream village and the aviary) - they're all pointing at each other (as best they can). Valley has proven the smaller version of these are to be walked on, so perhaps guards or manta riders could patrol on them? You do crashland enter under the only standing arch, after all.

The paths, centre right, also seem to be doing badly. Their solidity and thickness means they're not simple flagstones or paving like other areas in sky - they're heavy duty, lined with I believe to be more of that golden metal that bent instead of crumbled. They were built over unsteady ground. Whether that be the sand and toxic water they sit in now or just normal water remains to be seen.

If you look left, you'll see a distant... Factory of some kind. Middle left picture. Pipes leading in or out of it. Whatever it is, production, water purification, waste disposal, it probably doesn't work anymore. If you've played Journey (sky's predecessor), it's strongly reminiscent of an area where you build a temporary bridge connecting the broken arches so you can cross into the enormous building ahead. It's a fantastic sense of scale, to realise that this ancient civilisation ringed a significant portion of way around the base of this gargantuan mountain.

Half buried statues guard the crumbling entrance - smaller than the gigantic ones in the valley stadium, but pretty much the same otherwise lol. Given the amount of buried rubble around them and the chasm in the stone above, did something burst in... Or out? The mystery isn't solved on the inside, but at least the corridor isn't completely blocked. Sky kid (me!) for scale! It's interesting, how apart from the obviously ceremonial dramatic valley statues, these are the first things we see of anything resembling combat or even weapons. A culture which has a concept of militaristic might. They're guarding something important. (Vault, duh.)

No! Unlike what you'd think, the important thing becomes clear immediately. The collosal, toppled bell (I always wondered if they were hollow), the odd ceremonial structure it landed by (top left), those funny diamond bells (top right, top left if you squint), the studded cylinders (bottom left). The hastily stacked rubble blocking the krill's sight (bottom middle), the ripped open roof (bottom right).

It's identical to the forest elder shrine. This is a temple. Could this have been the original location of the wasteland elder shrine? The only remaining proof of a secret eighth elder, now subsumed?... A cool shaped building the architects took and ran with? We don't know. Whatever it was, it was clearly of great import. Most likely ceremonial, or for worship, or, heck, the equivalent of a podium specifically for big grand speeches. When the roof was there, it was an enormous, grand room, guarded by stern stone giants twice over and blocked by the same great doors that hide the forest glade. The ones that light up and spin and only open after meditating and meeting the elder...

There's no sign of those doors now, which is impressive. Probably where they got the stone for the krill blockade and the hiding places along the little bridge. Good thing they're gone, then, because those magic hinges seem to have run out of juice and gone dark. My theory is they were there to keep people out - a barrier between the last traces of peace and the battle torn graveyard we're about to walk into. (Another potential point in the 'prev wasteland elder location' - an ancestor would have to pass through him to enter, and the enemy on the way out.)

There's pipes now, too - I can only believe they were a later addition, given how haphazardly they coat the walls, and the industrial pollution aesthetic much more suited to the grimy, bleak wastes of today than the gilded ceremonial hall this once was.

Just off the left after the main temple area, there's a large room, ceiling also torn off. I can only describe them as pedestals, but what stood on them I don't know. My first thought when I found this place as a moth was a wardrobe/constellation/friend constellation thing, but it's??? Eh. If it were statues, they're long gone with no sign, and they're not big enough for anything mobile. This room served a function, that much is clear, but if decorative or practical I doubt we'll ever know.

^ The graveyard. This is its actual name, I believe. Fitting. The wasteland title promised us Vault, that's all this place is now good for, so that must be the vault we see looming in the background, tower reaching into the low clouds. (If you've played Journey, you're already familiar with the tower idea, so it's easy to slot the two together.)

Here you'll find, uh, krill. There's four here, the highest concentration of krill in all sky lmao. You'll find giant skeletons. You'll find sand. Toxic water. And that's kind of it.

Interesting things abound, however! There's a fleet of sunken, broken boats (middle left), a campfire now overgrown with dark plants (not shown) and a giant crab roasting campfire with a poor, beloathed by the community, crab loving spirit (middle). We can only assume he's the one who built the campfire! Thanks dude! Please have an easier relived memory! (should we call it a seance??) Now, given the guy is an elderly dude who carries a guitar and spends his time chasing crabs all across the dang map, he's probably not a warrior. Heck, with the amount of crabs, he probably arrived after the pipes. After the war, even? On the middle right pic is the weirdly undecorated entrance to the sunken ship.

Of course I looked at the skeletons and compared them! Each wasteland one had tiny scratches or notches in the spine spikes, and yes they aren't there on the other, but otherwise the size and shapes are identical! These skeletons are whales, as proven by the skeleton in forest haunted by the whale whisperer! The poor forest whale died of head injury colliding with the building, so there's every chance these guys were also used in warfare for similar reasons - maybe even specifically bred to fight the krill - but it could also have been a tragedy of mass extinction during what turned the graveyard into what it is today. :( That you can find a Rythm spirit in a skull tells us the troupe came about a LONG time after the deaths.

^ To the shipwreck! The first pic I caught during the shard event (though they landed all the way in prairie!) lol. It looks so ominous... Outside of the seasonal enchantment beauty, this is the biggest vessel in the game, and much more utilitarian. Unlike SS Enchantment, this thing was a tanker, not a home for those on board.

Featuring - the only decorated pipes in the kingdom (middle left)! Life boat deployment cranes (bottom left)! A beached lifeboat, bottom right :(. A boat still attached (feat me). More of those weird diamond bells for cargo, which proves they were a valued commodity and at least semi mass produced and shipped around the kingdom! More than the craftsman in prairie, or the tree fellers in forest, they prove a thriving, stable kingdom steadily advancing in technology and society! And the boat being pointed to the temple - incoming goods? Potentially, for Vault?

The krill decided it didn't want to be in the top pic, but I swear he's there XD... Most likely what sank the ship, tbh. It's not caught on some rock, or ledge, or ditch. In fact, the bottom is more intact than the top!... I think the krill escaped the warzone and caught the arriving ship, possibly spotting an unlucky crewmate through those big arched windows. The memory of the saluting captain walks the wreckage of his ship, sending away a loyal crew member on the second last life boat, back out to sea. Whether it's the boat dashed on the rocks or if they escaped the krill I don't know, but we know the captain didn't. Crab whisperer passes through later, so we know the light seekers are also post event.

We've reached the entrance to the vault! It's.. Smaller than it looks from a distance. Vault must be a shorter building hidden behind it, or far enough away it vanishes into the smog. Under a shard event sky, the black waters look like blood.

The first thing you see of the battlefield is the large, imposing building, now listing to one side and rimmed with stakes (cheval de freise, if you want to be fancy. Large caltrops... When your mounts and enemies can fly). There's only one spirit here, lookout (middle left). Whether it was supposed to be a temporary building (UNLIKELY) or whether they didn't build it properly and the sandy ground subsided over the aeons that have passed between then and now is up to interpretation, but at least this time the lack of roof seems intentional. I'm more annoyed it doesn't line up with the temple, I had to stand literally on the right wall to get the bottom picture and it's still slightly left!

Lighting the crystal triggers three krill to emerge from the ground and start hunting. (One time I visited some unknowing friends who triggered the gate... A krill emerged less than a metre from me with no warning... Terrifying XD.) Previously they used to spawn basically on top of the players and you had to run for your LIFE, but now they take a leisurely stroll in your direction, so you've got plenty of time to wander your way to safety. Maybe stop and get an ice cream. Boring :/. In terms of lore very fascinating and scary, given the last stand and the aurora concert both seemed focused on defending the crystal. This whole time... It was rigged. By which side, I don't know.

The shrine! ^

From the outside, a large, ominous building covered in pipes and statue towers. On the inside, an octagonal chamber many stories high. Like the rest of wasteland, what little decor there is is chockers with that hollow star shape that symbolises light, the king, all that good stuff. There's six ginormous double doors ringing the chamber, all tightly shut. My first thought was six realms, one war council. Nothing to prove or disprove that lol. It would have been a great place for diplomacy, though, without the shrine statue. Sand everywhere, probably through the gaps in the ceiling lol. Beautiful door.

Wasteland elder himself!!! His weapons are the ones arranged on his shrine - whether that means he can manifest in the world and grab them or if they're stone recreations of the ones he carries at all times, I don't know. He's never been seen in any memory or cutscene of war, so maybe he can't manifest... We know the isle elder can, in the song runaway of aurora. His space is the very same place as the Crystal outside his chamber, facing out, and he points his spear towards where the kings star would be, the crowning jewel of his tower. We can safely assume whatever his role, he was defending Vault and Eden behind it. And he succeeded.

There's so much to talk about with the vault door. Top left, the closed wasteland/vault door. Bottom left and right, the closed forest door. Centre and top right, the open vault door. You'll notice more diamond shapes and boat imagery. But in wasteland, the jewels that presumably power the great door are missing, black. The double switches, inactive. Even when activated, no line traces up and no light appears - only the outlines of the stars and speckled lights hidden on the door itself. If that's not divine intervention from the elder, I don't know what is lol.

Pass through into vault, and see its beauty untouched. But turn around, and see the mounds of golden sand blown in from Wasteland, settling in the still air. Vault acknowledges its protector.

Some final thoughts:

^ For some reason, probably that it's the only place it's not very visible, the shipwreck is the only place where the kings star is absolutely massive and has a ring. Every other place, it's normal! It's probably an old design tgc forgot to update with the rest lmao.

^ An entirely accidental realisation due to my research. Man I love environmental storytelling. Nearly every detail of the mask matches the skull! The IMAGERY.

^ My first attempt to get a good shot of wasteland instead caught a first person witness to an expert krill dodger! I didn't get to talk to them, but know you were caught being very cool in high definition!!

^ I didn't get to talk about this theory before, but every entrance and exit to the graveyard and next door shipwreck EXCEPT their connecting corridor are all huge drops in altitude. Both are the only places you find boats. Both are sodden with black water. The ground is uneven. There's whale skeletons. My theory is that these areas were once entirely submerged! Water areas! Shipping and naval battles and cargo! Abyss proves krill can survive perfectly under water - and all emerging krill do so from water!! It'd explain the sand and the debris and the beached boats and all!

Elder shrines do like their slitted roofs. This is prairie. 'S why I wasn't theorising about the sand in wasteland lol. Gotta get the dramatic shafts of light from somewhere!

The open door and two beautifully poised strangers - well done on completing wasteland! I hope you enjoy vault!!

Pipe theory: these things pop up at the entrance to wasteland and follow you all the way through to the shrine, disappear in vault, and then reappear. They go all the way to the point of no return in eden!!! They're either taking something up, or, considering the amount of pipes that open into black water areas, the general gravity situation of vertical pipes... It's likely they were siphoning something away. Sewer pipes, but evil. Maybe trying to wash away whatever corruption happened to the Eye? It didn't work... Poisoned the waters instead. Maybe they carried water up to the Eye like a kingdom sized cooling system and that drained the waters??

And the photo that started this whole thing, the day I climbed the wasteland temple...

that's not smog. That is a wall. That is the biggest wall I have EVER seen.

Do you see the line under the clouds? The sky box? The 'horizon'?

YOU'RE ALREADY LOOKING AT VAULT.

TGC YOU MOTHERS OF DUCKS.

#LONG POST #VERY LONG POST #Realising the true size of vault from the outside I think messed up my brain #It's like an ant seeing a circuit board #Like yeah. Vault is huge. It's got to be. It's like a pocket dimension of indigo magic. Vault barely follows the laws of physics.#It's a world unto itself.#But to realise all of vault fits in one building of brick and stone.... It's insane. It's a mind boggling feat of engineering and magic #It's just insane.#Thank you for making it this far LMAO I hope the pretty pictures kept you entertained #extremely long post #Do you love the colour of wasteland?#But now I feel settled lmao that's been bugging me for months #sky children of the light #sky cotl #sky oc #sky photography #thatgamecompany #thatskygame #that sky game #skykid #that game sky #Tgc #s: cotl #Scotl #sky cotl screenshots #sky cotl photography #sky kid #skyblr #sky cotl lore #environmental storytelling

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http-paprika · 7 months

Text

IVY AND IRON THORNS

CHAPTER II

a medieval au / sir simon riley x lady reader / 2.7k / warnings descriptions of death, religious imagery, trauma, and an unhealthy response to food. / taglist open

arriving at castle tharn, you are thrust into the startling reality that you are at the mercy of those who govern these unknown lands.

masterlist / chapter III

There’s a dull ache in your head that pools down your throat to the ribs to the stomach and rests in your hips. With every trot of the horse, you are thrown back and forth from heavy exhaustion and startling awareness. While you pretended to sleep under the canopy of stars, you’d heard the quiet murmurings of the knights and what they’d do upon returning to their castle. Dread burrowed deep in your bones as your fate looks as dreary as the morning sky that has been cast with a gray haze of clouds.

The gnawing realization that you’ve fallen from grace, ripped from your place as a lady haunts you every time your eyes close and your stomach twists. A lady of your stature is not supposed to witness horrors you’ve seen, they were not supposed to show the face of humiliation as they arrive in a foreign land. But you fret knowing these knights are leading you to a foreign land and a castle with a lord you do not serve.

Around the company, the pines begin to thin and the hooves fall on a dirt path. Your eyes shutter close and your brows tighten against the gray light of the morning. Even with the sun hidden from your sight, it rivals the dark shadows of the forest. The horse slows along a cliff edge and you cower away from the plunge with its roaring waters and rocks below.

“There she is, Castle Tharn.” Simon directs you, his arm stretched out to the north. Set above the valley of rivers, marshes, and wild green, you can see the dark structure silhouetted. Turrets reach the sky behind fortified walls, and a deep river isolates the castle from the valley. It causes you to shiver in your seat, an unwelcoming sight built like a fort to keep out any unwanted visitors and keep in any prisoners.

Full of excitement to return to their grazing grounds, the horses make haste as they’re led down the cliff path and trot into the valley. Over streams and babbling brooks, past hamlets and homesteads where the people stop and watch the knights return. You exhale as you catch a sense of familiarity in their architecture and clothes, so similar to the servants who filled your home and the villagers you met when you were allowed out of the castle.

There’s a jolt of relief when the hooves fall onto a cobbled road, it leads over a wide river that roars as it splits over stones and falls under the bridge. You glimpse your wavering image in the wild waters, before looking up at the flagpoles, flying high with vibrant dark greens and reds. It feels cold compared to the one of your home, you miss the warm yellows and oranges.

Guards in the watchtower shout at your arrival, raising the portcullis as news spreads through the walls and rooms of the return. You pass under the heavy iron gate, looking back disheartened as you watch it lower and shut you off from the rest of the world. Left to the mercy of those who run the grand estate with its ivy-covered walls, blooming bushes of roses, tall stained glass windows, and faded banners. The whole castle’s alive, bursting at the seams with pride as servants and soldiers move through the bailey.

Simon dismounts from the horse, offering his hand to help you down. He’s careful of your sprained wrist and makes sure your feet are steady before dropping his hands to the sides of his armor. You wrap your arms around your chest and tug your cloak closer in an attempt to cover yourself as people join the knights. A stable boy takes the mares away and you listen as John begins to loudly boast about the bandits they’d slain. Women and men alike peer at you when John makes your presence known, and you shrink away almost bumping into Simon in your cowering.

“Come, let’s get you settled for the night,” Simon orders, gesturing you to follow him. Together, you ascend a side set of stairs into the castle. In the dim interior of the castle, servants stare and whisper amongst themselves. Girls who must be no older than you giggle at your disheveled appearance and what little pride you have left makes your cheeks burn with shame.

You enter into a large kitchen, busy and filled with an air of urgency as food is prepared. Barrels of grains and fruits are stacked along the wall, a goose turns on a spit in the fire that crackles happily in a large hearth. Women bustle around, taking orders from a plump and rosy-cheeked woman whose eyes flash when she spots intruders in her kitchen.

“Ach! What have I told you dirty boys about coming into my kitchen while I’m working, Sir Riley?” The woman berates the knight as she comes up to him, swatting at him with a cloth. But upon seeing you in such a state, wide-eyed and ashamed, she lets out a sigh. “What have you done to the poor girl?”

“I’d tell you if you’d let me speak,” Simon says, plucking up a plum from a bowl and shining it. “Found her while out on patrol with John, Mrs. MacTavish. She needs to be looked after, she’ll see Lord Price in the morning.”

“Well, anything for the poor lamb.” The woman takes your arm and offers you a smile. Warm and inviting compared to the stares you’ve received upon entering the castle. “But, Sir Riley, you tell my son that he is in trouble with his father, you hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He nods, turning to leave you and the kitchen without another thought.

“You’re leaving me?” You call out, naively thinking the knight would stay by your side. Afraid to be left alone in the presence of another stranger, a shyness you’ve never known dawning on you.

“I’m a knight, not a nursemaid. I have duties to attend to.” Simon responds with a firm tone, like a father scolding a child. The knight bows his head to you before returning down the hall you’d just walked through, leaving you in Mrs. MacTavish’s care.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, Lamb.” She says, walking you out of the kitchen after she finishes instructing the women for dinner preparation. “Have you got a name, or should I give you one?”

Mumbling your words together, you tell her your name. With hesitation, you hide your status as a lady from her, feeling wrong to address yourself with the name and title that had belonged to your mother. Even if you consider the treatment you might receive brandishing the name.

“Well, you must have had quite the journey, no? I’m sure you’re more than ready to rest.” She asks, slowing her pace and stopping in front of an oak door. The keys on the wrought iron ring jingle as Mrs. MacTavish picks through them, finding the right one and twisting it in the lock.

You follow into the room which is decorated lavishly, a guest room prepared for only the most prestigious of company. Slowly turning to look over the room, you’re horrified by your appearance when you see yourself in the looking glass. Hair in a tangle, dirt and blood clinging to your skin, and your favorite dress shredded into scraps. Unable to look away, the woman hums a tune as she sets to work making a fire in the hearth. When you finally tear your eyes away, she’s left to fetch water for the bath and you slump onto a creaking stool and sit in the unwelcome silence.

Your mind feels at war with grief and fear fighting against the rage as you question why this happened to you. Why had you been stricken down and left to drown in a sea of loss? Such a divine punishment that made you feel like Job, abandoned by God with no money and no prospects. Everything you held dear, your future and dreams are unraveling like a beautiful tapestry torn through, destroying the foolish hopes you had for bliss. After all, what peace could come from this?

The door opens and you startle up, like a deer hearing a hunter. But your shoulders slump again when Mrs. MacTavish returns with buckets of steaming water. She tells you of the castle and its Lord and Lady whilst preparing your bath, singing praises for those who govern the lands. It’s so endearing that you wince remembering the bleak mutters of those who served under your father, the endless strings of complaints when they thought that no nobles were listening in.

“So, lamb, do you want to tell me how you ended up in the care of our knights?” She asks once the bath is drawn and you’re sinking into the hot water. You let it sting and spill over your skin as her calloused hands massage soap into your hair. Mrs. MacTavish works with care, making sure the soap doesn’t spill into your eyes and that you’re comfortable, just like your mother had done with you were a child.

Bloodshot eyes begin to sting with tears at her question and kindness. A sob quakes through your ribs as you bury your face in your damp hands, the hot water suddenly feeling like ice to you. Like a child who’s fallen from a tree and hurt themselves, you’re wailing for your mother but she cannot save you from this.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

By the time you’ve stopped crying, you are alone in the room dressed in a warm, brown flock. There’s a longing to be dressed in black, wishing you could partake in the mourning ritual for your mother though there will be no burial. In vein, you try to recount what the church instructed upon the death of a righteous person. But you feel foolish and disrespectful knowing you cannot give your mother the courtesy she deserves.

You wonder when your father will hear the news, and when he will come and comfort you in this time. The hope of a reunion seems foolish, the idea of grieving alongside the only living member of your bloodline is folly as the confines of the castle are chaining you in. A fear blooms in your chest that you’ll never find the sun again.

The sounds of the fire dying in your idleness fill the room, playing a pitiful song along with your hollow breaths and your nails digging into the plush quilt and animal pelts on top of the bed. The soft feather mattress is a welcome relief from the nights tossed to and fro in the carriage or the dirt under the open sky. And finely woven drapes shield your face from the fading light of the fire as you curl up like a kitten.

As sleep begins to invade your mind, quiet knocks startle you out of the daze. Lazily you rub at your eyes as another knock sounds against the oak door. Finding the strength to stand and covering yourself with a robe Mrs. MacTavish had left, you force yourself out of the warm comfort and find the door in the fading light, the oil lamp in the room having been ignored.

Creaking on its hinges, you blink up at the masked face of Simon. Curiously you wonder if he ever removes the black cloth as you let him into the room and he steps in with a word. In his hand, Simon carries a plate of food covered by a linen towel. Moving through the room, he sets it down on the tea table next to the stool.

Still silent, he directs you to sit down on the stool. And not having the strength to argue, you listen and sit down, smoothing the rough fabric of your smock. “Mrs. MacTavish said you declined dinner.”

With a nod, you glance over at the covered dinner as the smell wafts through the room and causes your mouth to water and tickle your nose. But your mind is refuses to give in, willing your tongue to dry and throat tighten. Painfully stubborn even in a time like this.

“It’s not poisoned. Eat.” Simon orders, uncovering the wooden plate and setting the lcloth aside. Your eyes gleam at the sight of ham, steamed vegetables, fresh slices of bread, and a ripe, red apple that shines even in the dull light. But you make no move to eat, hesitating under the watchful eye of the knight. “You shouldn’t starve yourself. What would your mother think to see you depriving yourself?”

His words feel like an infliction, striking like a whip and pulling at your flesh with a sting. It enrages you even if you know his words are true. She would be grievanced at the sight of you in such a state, eyes dried red, cheeks stained and skin gaunt. You feel as close to a corpse with a beating heart. But still his statement drives you mad, making your mouth sour in distaste.

“Do not speak of my mother! You know nothing about her, nothing about the loss I’ve witnessed!” You speak out, jumping from the stool to glare at the knight despite his intimidating stature. For a moment, his eyes flash with anger and his hands tighten into fists. But Simon does not rebuke your nor does he strike like you anticipate.

Instead, he takes his place on the stool, reaching over for the beautiful, fresh apple from the plate. A sliver knife is brought into the light, no longer hidden away in his garments, and he begins to cut at the fruit. So ripe, the juices run down the blade and into his gloved palm, appeitizing to the eyes as you watch.

“You’re right, I did not know your mother. But I’m well acquainted with the loss you’ve come to know.” Simon admits, stretching out his palm with an apple slice to you in offering. “And I know starving yourself won’t ease the grief or guilt. It’ll only make it worse.”

Your lip pushes out with a frown, but you steady your hand and accept the fruit. The taste fills your mouth with sweetness, flourishing your senses as you take the fill. He continues to slice up the fruit, precise and neat with each cut until all that remains is the sour core that Simon places on the plate alongside the other foods he allows to grow cold. Never pushing you too far.

“I’m sorry, I spoke out of place.” You apologize, dropping your gaze to your borrowed slippers. Blaming the hunger, you’re certain thats what made you so erratic, appauled by your abhorrent behavior to the knight. Even if you were in this fortress against your will, they’ve treated you with nothing less than kindness. They’ve fed, bathed, and dressed you, Simon proved to be a man of chivalry, seeing to your wounds and wellness when you did not ask.

“Don’t apologize.” He responds, wiping off his gloves and standing from the stool with a grunt. Simon turns to the fire, adding another log and bringing it back to life before turning to leave. “Get some rest, you’ll meet with the Lord in the morning. I’ll make sure breakfast is brought and a knight comes to escort you. Lock the door when I’m gone.”

“Of course,” You mutter as he passes by the fire, eclipsing your vision as you watch his silhouette leave you. The door creaks again, shutting heavily behind him. Following his instructions, you bolt it close and rub your hands against the old ironwork that locks you inside. A thin veil of security over in your mind.

But your knees still buckle with fear, you sink on the stone floor and pull your knees to your chest. Though there are no tears left to cry, you still grieve. “This shouldn’t have happened, what am I going to do? I know nothing!”

All those years of being coddled and running about the gardens like a fool have left you defenseless and confused. You are not in the state of mind to believe that there is a chance of negotiating your freedom with the Lord of the castle. The arguments you’d had with your mother and nursemaid did not prepare you for a time like this. Not even empty prayers bring you hope as you drag yourself from the ground. Could God himself even save you?

taglist @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @ghostlythots @jadeloverxd

#call of duty #call of duty mw2 #simon ghost riley #ghost #fanfic #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost call of duty #cod mw2 #ivy and iron thorns #ivy and iron thorns series #medieval!ghost #medieval au #knight!ghost #knight!au #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x you

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avonne-writes · 19 days

Note

Would you feel inspired to write something for #38 Multiverse? I imagine them falling in love with each other in every universe 🥹💓

Thank you so much for the prompt, lovelies ❤️ This is exactly why I have "In Every Universe" on my blog!

I'm so sorry but this got very angsty... This is a multiverse of two new and wildly different AUs. Tell me if it’s too much and I should delete it. I uploaded it to AO3.

Warning for angst, MCD and suicide.

~~~

It's no harder to die in sunshine than in rain. It’s a fat fucking lie that tragedy avoids the light. In fact, in John's experience, heat and blue skies bring more pain striking at unsuspecting hearts than a storm or nighttime. This is why today is so fucking perfect - not a cloud in sight above the wide plains of the desert. The wind whips past his ears as he pushes his chopper to speed on towards the valley as fast as it can go.

The road is straight and empty. A path devoid of life.

Nothing makes John feel more alive than staring that gaping nothingness in the face and accelerating. The sun tilts towards the earth with sharp, cheerful rays the colour of the marigolds in the front yard of John's Ma. The marigolds he trampled to death when Gale told him he was going to 'Nam, the marigolds that grow in the park where his love rests now. It's the same hazy, warm sunset that shone when Gale’s Huey was shot down.

A light John will never forget. Fire under blue skies, his own bird straining to stay up high. The same heat that rose from the pyre of Gale's helicopter wreck that day will see John off on this last flight. His bike's engine roars like a cry of rage, and he laughs even as the tears spill out his eyes.

"That’s what you get for being sentimental." Gale's deep drawl says in his mind. Then a kiss, the last one, pressed hastily to his lips behind a jeep in the deep, silent night, his gift for remembering a simple date in the calendar. Not much.

If he had known, he would have given his own life instead, but he couldn’t, so here he is now, rectifying that mistake even if it doesn't bring Gale back. Down to the exact date. Still sentimental to the bone. He promised Gale they would ride these roads together one day - it feels right to end it here.

John lets his focus slip as his bike flies towards the end of the road, the wind in his curls, sunshine warming his side, and Gale’s voice riding with him, "still with me?" His dog tags feel heavy on their chain. He blinks, and his sight blurs. Reds and blues and marigolds rust together into one glistening swirl of colour. Light shatters in his eyes, and the blood in his ears deafens him to the screech of his skidding bike, do you hear me? John John -

"Bucky!" Gale's voice rings loud and clear through the sudden silence that snaps into clarity around John. He closes his eyes for a moment to fight down a wave of nausea, then sits up with a groan.

Around him, all he sees is a sleek, dim cabin with dark furniture and an oval window like a ship's, only larger. Outside, the night sky. A strip of teal light lines the feather-soft bed he’s sitting on, and ink black clothes as soft as silk rustle as he bends his arms. Somewhere off to the side, he hears the sound of a shower running.

Is this the afterlife?

"Gale?" He calls out tentatively, his heart stumbling painfully over every breath, scared to believe but helpless to hope.

"Finally." Gale mutters.

John's lips twitch into a smile. This isn’t the heaven he imagined but nothing matters, as long as they're together wherever they are. He’s sorry it took him so long to make it here. He’s sorry Gale had to wait two whole years for him to follow.

"I know that you're sorry, but come over here already, will ya?" Gale says impatiently.

"I'm coming!" John jumps up, then promptly falls back on the bed when something yanks him down. Something flexible around his neck with a transparent mask dangling from it, connected to the headrest behind him. He’s curious, but there’s no time. He needs to get to Gale, he waited long enough. He needs to hurry.

"Damn right, hurry up." Gale says, then part of the seamless black wall hisses open to reveal a doorway with rounded corners. Warm air and steam rushes out, and a golden glow radiates from the space inside.

John extricates himself from the strange tubing and pads towards the light on bare feet. Perhaps, the space he’s in is Purgatory, and he’s headed to Heaven now. He just needs to follow the voice of his love. His heart swells with joy as he steps inside.

Behind the curtain of steam, Gale laughs that stifled chuckle of his that John has always loved ever since they met at the country fair three years before they went to war. It's him. John's best friend, his love, his man - everything. John rushes towards him but he stops dead in his tracks when the air suddenly clears at the press of a button and Gale turns to face him head on.

He looks older than John has ever known him, closer to thirty than the twenty-one of his death. There’s light stubble on his jaw and twin scars on his cheeks. Silky-smooth, sleeveless blue pajamas cover a frame a touch too thin but familiar. His hair is long enough that he could pass for a hippie, well over the regulation cut he said he would grow out again once their tour was over. But he never got to do that, not John's Gale, so he doesn’t understand -

"Whoa!" John exclaims.

A pair of hand-sized... things flare out behind Gale's ears. They look like iridescent palm leaves. They twitch, ripple, then fold away as Gale winces and turns to the mirror on the wall.

"That bad, huh?" He says. Then, whispered in John's ears, disappointed. His lips don’t move, but John hears him as clearly as if they were standing inches away.

John's heartbeat speeds up. When one of the appendages on Gale’s head flares out again, John jumps.

Irritated, Gale's voice says without uttering a word.

"It’s just a goddamn haircut, not the end of the galaxy. No need to panic." Gale says, holding a device up to his hair. Blond locks fall to the shiny grey floor with a swish. "I thought you'd like it."

Insecure. Sad. The whispers echo in John's ears. When Gale shakes himself and gives him a faint smile from the corner of his eyes, the murmuring changes to hopeful. "Come here and tell me how much I should cut."

John takes a step closer, then another, until he’s close enough to touch. His trembling hand finds Gale's shoulder. When it connects with solid, warm muscle and the jut of an unbroken bone, skin healthy and not burnt, John's breath hitches around a suppressed sob. His eyes water again.

"Buck." His voice cracks. He raises his fingertips to Gale's cheek. Saltwater runs down his own. "Is it really you? Are we in heaven?"

This time when the flaps flare around Gale's head, he expects it and only jumps a little before he leans in for a kiss, long and desperate because he spent two years wishing he held Gale longer the night before his death. He never wants to let go of him again. It barely even registers in his brain that Gale keeps whispering feelings close to his skin even though his lips are pressed to John's.

Confused, confused, happy, affectionate -

John figures it's something about this place that lets him hear Gale's thoughts. They're one in God - must be, if their souls are tangled like this. A shared heaven. Peace. The pain of John's grief is nothing compared to the slowly spreading happiness he feels.

"How about this?" Gale mumbles, pulling John's hands to his hair. It’s longer in the back and shorter on the top, an unusual style but John likes it, but he doesn’t know why Gale is so preoccupied with his hair. Don’t they have more important matters to discuss?

"Gale." John says quietly, running his thumbs over Gale’s cheek scars. He wonders how they got there. He didn’t think they’d still have marks like that after they die. "Do you remember Vietnam?"

Gale draws his eyebrows into a severe frown. Irritated, John hears him again. "Don’t tell me you named that mutt and smuggled him aboard."

"What?" John replies. His pulse starts racing with his confusion again. "Aboard?"

The appendages behind Gale's ears flutter wildly as Gale stares at him with those bright blue eyes of his. His expression is one of surprise and bafflement before a look of realization passes through him.

Alarmed, exasperated, John hears in his ears, then, calm. Pitying.

Gale's voice, when he speaks again, is patient and reassuring. "Is that where you come from? Viett-namm?"

He takes John's hands and pulls him gently towards the bedroom, too gently not to be suspicious. John's scared now. He doesn’t know what's going on or what he did wrong. Perhaps he only hit his head and didn’t die like he wanted, and these are the last fever dreams of his mind. Or, what if he didn’t say the right thing and he’s expelled from heaven?

"What are we doing?" He asks, chest rising and falling rapidly from the fear he tries and fails to control.

"We're just going to lie down, and you'll put your mask on." Gale says. "Calm down. Tell me about Viett-namm."

"I don't want to." John swallows, sitting on the mattress when Gale pushes him down. "You died." He grabs Gale's hand again. "Figured I'd follow you."

The anguish washing over John doesn’t feel like his own, but Gale’s face is kind and unreadable as he keeps pressing on John's shoulders until he lies down.

"Tuck these in." Gale says, sitting by John's hip and touching something around John's head.

"Ah!" John yelps when he feels a part of him flutter. He has those feeler things too, he realizes, gobsmacked. He reaches up to touch them, and they flare out against his pillow again.

Fond, heartbroken, he hears before Gale reaches up and tucks the things away again. When John tries to raise his hands to them once more, he pushes them away. They keep swatting at each other until Gale cracks a smile.

"Stop playing with you antennae."

"Yes, sir." John grins, but Gale just gives him a confused look as if he doesn’t understand.

He pulls the tubes around John's head again, then tries to put the mask on him, but John resists. "Wait, wait a second. What the hell is going on?" John tugs at the device. "What’s this? Where are we, Buck?"

Gale gives him a sad look and strokes John's face. "I'm not your Gale."

When John gapes at him, he slides the mask over John's face. He presses a button, and a sweet smell fills John's nose. Like a meadow. His limbs grow heavy, and he tries to protest and fight this strange, alien Gale off, but his strength drains from his limbs, and all that's left to him is to blink at Gale through drooping eyelids. His fingers flop on Gale’s thigh.

"My Bucky likes to use this device to see things happening to him in other times and other places. But this thing -" Here, Gale’s jaw clenches. "- is so goddamn old that sometimes it fails to wake him up properly. So you need to go back to sleep." He leans over John and strokes his head.

When John's antennae flare open again, he gives John a fond, amused smile. "In every universe, huh?"

The world starts darkening around the edges. Shadows cling to John's vision, narrowing it down to Gale's face, then only his eyes. A drop of wetness trickles down John's cheek.

"Gale..." is all he manages to say.

"He's waiting for you in your world." Gale says quietly. "Just go to sleep."

He's dead, John wants to say, but the words don’t make it to his lips. His eyes close, and he can’t open them again.

The soft touch of a kiss brushes his forehead. I love you, Gale’s voice whispers, but John isn’t sure if he really hears it.

Darkness descends, and he leaves.

#mota #buck x bucky #gale cleven #john egan #clegan #tw: death #tw: angst #tw: mcd #tw: suicide

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theladyofbloodshed · 3 months

Text

You're The Closest To Heaven I'll Ever Be - Chapter 27

Under another glorious sky where the clouds were gilded by sunlight, the meeting resumed.

Nesta’s head was not in it. She remained mute throughout, heart still in Illyria. It took all of her strength not to lean over Feyre and grip Azriel’s hand. Last night had opened her eyes to a world that she’d never known. The one crude, excruciating conversation her mother had ever had with her about intercourse had never mentioned a women’s pleasure – only that of a husband. It was a woman’s job to lay silent on her back until it was done, whether she liked it or not. A man could take his wife or whatever other woman he wished.

Nesta knew she should feel ashamed for what had occurred. It was not what mortal women did. But she was a fae female now. A marriage was an after-thought for their kind. And she found that she could not feel embarrassed for seeking pleasure with Azriel because each time she glanced at his handsome face, she craved it again.

The conversation about numbers washed around her. Tamlin parried words with Helion about his army. Feyre shifted in her seat, face contorting with something like regret. Tarquin began to-

Nesta sucked in a breath.

A feeling like a hook stabbing through her stomach had her lurching out of her chair onto her knees.

She tried to stand, a hand pressing to her chest which felt like it was cracking.

A hand brushed her shoulder – Feyre’s? – but Nesta tipped forwards from the sudden pain. Somebody grabbed her before she hit the reflection pool.

‘What’s wrong?’

Mor’s face was close to hers searching for an injury. Nesta couldn��t say. Couldn’t speak through the excruciating pain.

‘Something…’

Another body was behind her, cold and flanked by shadows. Azriel’s hand slid around her waist but she lurched from his grip too then emptied her stomach into the reflection pool. More touched her; Feyre, Thesan, Cassian. Clamours of poison rang out in the room. Nesta gave a shuddering breath before vomiting again. Something was wrong. Seriously wrong. A shadow pressed to her forehead, its touch like ice to take the edge off of the heat coursing through her.

‘Something’s wrong.’ She panted. Hating the stares around the room. ‘Not with me. Not me.’

The whole room shook. Shadows blanketed Nesta then Azriel threw himself on top of her and Mor, spreading his wings wide as debris rained down on the room.

Screaming rose up from the valley below but silence reigned in the palace.

The last of the pain receded from Nesta’s body.

‘The King of Hybern just used the Cauldron to attack the wall,’ announced Rhysand. ‘The wall is gone. Shattered. Across Prythian and on the Continent.’ He shook his head with dismay. ‘We were too late – too slow. Hybern just destroyed the wall.’

***

It took heartbeats for them to evacuate from the Dawn Court with the other delegates peeling off at an equal speed back to their territories.

Mor reached for Cassian who had everybody’s bags hanging off one arm to winnow him then Feyre and Rhys went, hand in hand. Azriel lifted Nesta into his arms and carried her through the open doors then winnowed back to Velaris. When the cooler air hit him, Azriel did not stop. He carried her straight through the Town House, past the others gathered in the hallway, past Amren and Elain who joined them.

He settled Nesta down onto his own bed in his small room on the top floor and drew the curtains to block out the light. Her skin still burned like a furnace beneath his hand.

‘I will fetch the healer,’ murmured Azriel as he pushed golden strands of her hair away from her face.

Nesta tried to rise and he pushed her down by the shoulder.

‘I don’t want a healer,’ she said, words coming out breathy.

He could feel Rhys entering his mind so pulled his shadows even there so he wouldn’t see this moment.

I need you to go there, Az.

Nesta touched his hand then dipped her chin, giving permission. He didn’t want to leave. Not now they knew her magic was inexplicably tied to the Cauldron.

‘I’ll rest a while,’ Nesta said. She brought his hand to her lips and kissed his knuckles.

Although Azriel ached to leave her, knowing she was curled up in his bed soothed a part of him. He caught Feyre in the corridor. The worry on her face also eased him.

‘Will you check on Nesta?’

Feyre blinked. ‘She’s not in her room.’

‘I put her into mine.’

His High Lady drew back and scrutinised him with a gaze not unlike Nesta’s. ‘Why?’

‘It’s the coolest part of the house,’ he lied. It was hot as hell in summer in the roof room, but Feyre didn’t need to know that.

She nodded then patted his arm. ‘Be safe, Az.’

That was his dismissal. While the others could regroup together, Azriel was always sent away. He understood the necessity of it; his skillset was unlike the others. But it stung at times. Part of it was his own fault for never voicing his unhappiness. Sometimes he needed that break or needed to be useful. Others times, it felt like he wasn’t wanted. He was better elsewhere than kept near.

Why do you always send me away? The words bubbled on his tongue so he let his shadows wrap around him to whisk him away.

Hours later, he returned with little to show for it. His mood was irritable as a result of lurking near the mortal lands with no results. They had not noticed the wall's absence - not the mortals or the foul creatures that resided in the Spring Court woods.

Noise filtered from the dining room – subdued for once. Azriel had half a mind to bypass them and return to his room in failure then Nesta’s voice snagged his attention.

‘We should have evacuated months ago.’

Azriel slipped in unnoticed, as always, but then Nesta’s eyes caught his. She assessed him in silence, examining from head to toe for injuries before returning to her untouched plate of food.

‘We can go to your estate tonight,’ Rhys said. ‘Evacuate your household and bring them back here.’

‘They will not come.’

‘Then they will likely die.’

Nesta straightened her cutlery so it was in line with her plate. ‘Can’t you spirit them away somewhere south – far from here?’

‘That many people? Not without first finding a safe place, which would take time we don’t have.’ Rhys blew out a breath between pursed lips. ‘If we get a ship, they can sail-’

‘They will demand their families and friends come.’

The silence was thick and heavy as Azriel took the empty chair beside Cassian. His brother gave him a look of acknowledgement.

Quietly, Elain spoke. ‘We could move them to Graysen’s estate.’

Her finger brushed the ring on her left hand.

‘His father has high walls – made of thick stone. With space for plenty of people and supplies. His father has been planning for something like this for… a long time. They have defences, stores…’ A shallow breath. ‘And a grove of ash trees with a cache of weapons made from them.’

Surprising them all, Cassian and Elain traded words about her once-lover’s home. About the weapons he had against fae, the dogs to hunt their kind, about setting up a guard, the escape tunnels.

‘I can speak to him.’

‘No,’ Feyre said in unison with Nesta.

‘If- if you and… they,’ Elain said glancing to them, ‘come with me, your Fae scents might distract the dogs.’

Nesta’s voice became tender. ‘You are fae, too, Elain.’

‘Glamour me,’ Elain begged, pleading with Rhys. ‘Make me look human. Just long enough to convince him to open the gates to those seeking sanctuary. Perhaps even let you set wards around the estate.’

Cassian ruffled his hair with his hand. ‘With the wall down, we need you to make a few things clear to the Illyrians, Rhys. I need you at the camp with me – to give one of your pretty speeches before we go.’

Rhys’ mouth twitched. ‘We can all go then head to the human lands. We have an hour to prepare. Meet back here – then we leave.’

Azriel had only an hour to prepare himself for mortals – and fucking Illyrians. Worse was to invite the Archerons. Nesta had only met his mother in a quiet part of Illyria where the land was sweet. She’d see the true brutality of his people; their viciousness, their cruelty.

A brush of knuckles sounded at the door.

Nesta stood with her shoulders rigid and spine as straight as an arrow. ‘I forgot… something in here.’

That sort of oversight wasn’t like her. Azriel moved towards the bed, finding it neatly made without even a single hair left behind. Nesta closed the door behind her and leant against the wood. Ah, an excuse to come to his room. One that was welcomed.

They met each other halfway and embraced. He tucked Nesta’s face into his neck, breathed deep the smell of jasmine and vanilla from her skin.

‘Keep your wits in the mortal land. The lack of magic can affect your senses,’ he murmured into her hair. ‘Be wary of ash. Even a scratch can make you queasy enough to set you off balance. And Illyria…’ Azriel swallowed. ‘Do not be alone with any. Do not be with any of the males except us three. Whatever they say to you, don’t react.’

Nesta pulled away with a resigned look upon her face. Her fingers grazed his then she slid a pin from her hair.

‘I found it.’

With that, she was gone.

***

Despite the summer, the Illyrian mountain camp was damp. A brisk wind was carried from the mountaintops.

All of the males that Nesta spotted were busy in the camp and all sported the same dark crop of hair as Azriel and Cassian. Their skin matched too, the golden-brown hues glistened with sweat as they trained under the keen eyes of Lord Devlon who wore full armour. None of the males wore more than two siphons. It made the seven that Azriel had seem obscene by comparison. Nesta looked at him long enough to see the tension tightening his body. He stood beside Rhysand although none of the other Illyrians paid any attention to him or Cassian. Nesta remained clustered with Morrigan and Feyre to hide Elain; they stood a few steps away from the meeting as these males weren’t known for welcoming females.

‘It’s true then,’ said Devlon, his voice far deeper than Nesta was expecting, like the low rumble of a storm in the distance. ‘The wall came down.’

‘A temporary failure,’ crooned Rhys.

As he delivered unwavering, cold instructions about the impending push southwards, Cassian added his own input to clarify orders, leaving no room for misinterpretation. Through it all, Azriel stared them down with hatred burning in his eyes. She could feel his anguish passing through their bond. His disgust to be amongst them, revulsion for himself. The other Illyrians met his lethal gaze with rage and dread. It was a different side of Azriel. One that Nesta wasn’t sure how to cope with.

Devlon’s eyes slid to her then widened. ‘What is that?’

Another lord nearby made a sign against evil.

‘That is none of your concern,’ said Cassian, eyes going to Azriel with wary regard.

‘Is she a witch?’

‘Yes,’ replied Nesta, in the flattest voice she could manage.

‘She is High Fae,’ amended Rhysand.

The camp lord was not satisfied. His stare was rude. Azriel’s fingers flexed. Shadows crawled up his legs in a promise of what was to come.

‘She is no more High Fae than we are,’ countered Devlon.

Her magic rose up her gullet and Nesta fought against it to push it back down. The last thing she wanted was a display of power here when she’d been adamant that she had none.

‘Let’s find something warm to drink,’ offered Feyre with a pointed look to one of the largest tents In the camp which had a black banner streaming from its apex. A mountain was sewn into the material with three silver stars above it.

It was not at all what Nesta was expecting inside. There was a luxury to it, from the thick carpet that covered the low platform to keep out the damp, to the braziers of faelight that flickered. There were chairs and chaise longues that had furs strewn across and a massive desk occupied half of the space.

Nesta said a silent prayer that Cassian was the one who’d remain with the Illyrians – that Azriel would accompany them to the mortal lands. She could not stand the idea of leaving him amongst people who brought him such discomfort. Part of her knew that he needed to overcome that hatred one day. To fight alongside these males meant that he needed to trust them, understand they were not like the ones who’d hurt him.

Once Elain had been glamoured – the faint glow of immortality hidden away and spiked ears changed to rounded ones – they departed for the mortal lands.

The heat lay heavy upon them. The grass was dry and brown, the earth beneath cracked. It all felt wrong. The stress fractures upon the stone walls of Nolan’s estate stood out to Nesta’s eyes. It seemed so plain. Compared to the golden palace of Thesan in the Dawn Court or the great House of Wind cut into the red mountains, mortal architecture paled in comparison. The walls were rectangular and made of ordinary, grey stone. The thick, iron gates were crude. It was like a prison – yet it had room. For mortals who needed a place to hide, this would be the chosen option.

‘Tell Graysen that his betrothed has come for him. Tell him… tell him that Elain Archeron begs for sanctuary.’

Mounted guards galloped down the long, dusty road to the fortress while they remained at the walls in wait.

‘How did you even meet him if he’s locked up in here?’

At Feyre’s question, Elain’s face fell into a distant memory. ‘At a ball – his father’s ball.’

‘I’ve been to funerals that were merrier,’ muttered Nesta.

She had not wanted to go at all. Her heart still ached for the sister lost to faeries, but she was the only one who knew such a thing had occurred. Elain, delighted over their new found wealth, had begged and pleaded with her to attend so they could spend the run up comparing new fabrics for dresses or looking at jewels. The three of them had gone so they could be reintroduced to society properly. It had been a sombre affair with Nolan’s tight fist clutching at his purse. A meagre spread of food and a handful of musicians with beaten up instruments. The dancing had been stiff. The men even worse.

‘This house has needed a woman’s touch for years,’ shot Elain.

Nesta held her tongue. It would not be Elain to give that touch. If Nolan supported the village better – hired housekeepers rather than sentries – the manor would not have had such a sour feel.

Entry was permitted as far as the guardhouse and guards swamped them. Whether they sensed the otherness that pulsed from Rhys was unknown, but it was Azriel who received the most uncomfortable looks. He was the most different, she supposed, with his massive wings and shadows. A sudden need to step beside him in defence came to her.

‘Two dozen guards,’ he murmured to Rhys, oblivious to her need. ‘Lord Graysen and his father, Lord Nolan.’

Elain went as still as a doe. Any attempt to harm her, Feyre and Nesta knew what to do.

She stilled her body, ready for the approach of the dim-witted male who’d captured Elain’s heart – then a single shadow brushed the back of her neck.

Azriel had seen her step towards him but this was the only way he could acknowledge it.

Graysen was not as Nesta remembered him to be. He’d been solidly built, a strapping young man that turned the eye of many women who were prepared to put up with his father. But he seemed dull now. Drab. The colour of his hair wasn’t the warm chestnut that Nesta remembered, but almost grey like the colour had drained from it. His blue eyes weren’t bright. His flaws were more obvious; the slight crook to his nose, the way his ears stuck out. Mortal. Painfully mortal.

Behind him, holding him back from Elain, was the tall, hawk-nosed father who Nesta had traded more than one barbed word with at his ball. His son was in want of love that night, but his father had his own reasons to host – and being his wife offered no joy to Nesta so she’d made it known to him and her own father in colourful words.

‘What is the meaning of this?’

‘Sir – Lord Nolan,’ attempted Elain before falling into silence.

‘The wall has come down,’ said Nesta, stepping forward and meeting his steel gaze. When both men noticed her spike ears, Nesta continued, ‘I was kidnapped from my bed. The enemy has a Cauldron of great power that turned me into this against my will.’

They catalogued the other four – Feyre, Rhys, Mor, and Azriel – noticing all of their differences.

‘Elain, why are you with them?’

‘Because she is our sister,’ Nesta answered. ‘There is no safer place during this war than with us.’

Elain whispered, ‘Graysen, we’ve come to beg you. Please. Both of you. Open your gates to any humans who can get here. To families. With the wall down, we believe… there is not enough time for an evacuation. The queens will not send aid from the continent. But here, they might stand a chance.’

Graysen remained quiet for a time then his eyes landed on the ring that Elain still wore. ‘I would be inclined to believe you if you were not lying to me with your every breath.’

‘Did you think,’ Lord Nolan said, ‘that you could come to my house and deceive me with your faerie magic?’

Rhys said, ‘We don’t care what you believe. We only come to ask you to help those who cannot defend themselves.’

‘At what gain? What risk of your own?’

Yes, thought Nesta, because a man like Nolan only ever acted when it was in his interest. It was too far-fetched to imagine others might be moved by altruism.

‘You have an arsenal of ash weapons. I’d think the risk to us is apparent,’ said Feyre.

‘And to your sister as well,’ Nolan spat toward Elain even as Nesta and Feyre formed rank beside her. ‘Don’t forget to include her.’

‘Any weapon can hurt a mortal,’ Mor said blandly.

‘But she isn’t a mortal, is she?’ Nolan sneered. ‘No, I have it on good authority that it was Elain Archeron who was turned Fae first. And who now has a High Lord’s son as a mate.’

‘And who, exactly, told you this?’ Rhys said with a lift of the brow, not showing one ounce of ire, of surprise.

Steps sounded.

A handsome male with unkempt brown hair to his shoulders strolled down the steps. Nesta had seen him once before – on the worst day of her life. Jurian. A hero to all mortals. One who’d cut through the heart of the enemy camp and killed a faerie general. He was a legend. One she’d read stories of. Now, the reason why she was fae.

‘I did.’

#my favourite dude showing up #nezriel

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omgahgase · 1 year

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modern au were obi-wan is the bob ross of the PBS channel and cody tunes in for every episode

i saw a video of bob ross doing his thing on tiktok and my mind immediately conjured up obi-wan as bob ross, thus leading to cody developing a lil super fucking big crush on the pretty painter with a nice voice. i don't really know where i was going with this, but i had fun while doing it, and isn't that the whole point? the fic's under the cut, i hope you enjoy!

it started off as him dabbling in the arts, wanting to learn how to paint landscapes bc, as a nature photographer, he can capture nature's beauty, but he just can't paint it from his mind's eye.

he heard from his brothers about a tv show starring a guy who paints beautifully in simple and easy instructions so cody—thinking it's not possible to fuck it up if even his most creatively challenged kin can do it—can do it as well.

only, cody did fuck up and it's bc the guy who greeted him with a friendly, "hello there," and said that they're going to paint today is super fucking pretty and has the gentlest, most relaxing voice cody has ever heard. he's wearing a simple button up and slacks, his beard is neatly trimmed, and his eyes—dear god his eyes. they're a stunning light blue but under different lighting they shift from green to grey to—is that a mole? cody squints, leans in real close to the tv screen, and he groans. this guy has a beauty mark to the right of his nose, a little ways below his eye and it's so fucking endearing. he even has an accent, one cody can't decipher when his gaze is trained on the painter's—obi-wan's, his mind helpfully remembers—long, elegant fingers. hold a brush, a knife, gesturing in quick, stuttery movements, anything his hands do, cody's eyes follow relentlessly. obi-wan is saying something about happy clouds and reassuring his audience that even if they mess up, it's okay bc it's their world that they're creating so mistakes are happy little accidents and, suddenly, cody doesn't care about his blank canvas. all he wants to do is watch this pretty man with the velvet soft voice speak to him and say that life has its ups and downs but it's still a beautiful thing that cody should be happy to take part in.

and cody is happy, very happy, actually, bc with his new found motivation to watch every single episode, he learns how to paint. he learns newfound patience for himself that he thought he mastered after raising so many of his brothers. hell, he even develops a celebrity crush on obi-wan bc no one has ever spoken to him like that and, despite it being through a screen, cody feels as if he's painting with obi-wan for real, as if he's right next to cody, guiding him through creating trees and oceans out of nothing.

though, after so many weeks of watching, cody's crush stays as stand-still as ever when the person you long to know on a personal level doesn't even know you exist.

cody guesses that's why he books a little trip to the mountains, to take a break from the screen and from painting to go back to his first passion of photography. cody hikes through the shrubbery and finds himself wandering on a cliff looking out across the deep, green valley of forestry and rivers, content to snap as many photos as his camera's memory allows. he breaths in the fresh, crisp air and feels at home amongst the chirping birds, the sounds of shifting earth and rushing water, and for the first time in months, cody allows himself to forget about the pretty painter who so carefully carved himself a place in cody's mind.

(and in cody's heart, but he's not ready to admit how far his crush has gone.)

it's sunset when cody starts descending down the mountain trail and sees an open area overlooking the west. his photo-hungry brain tells him to capture one more picture of the sun's rays, the oranges, reds, and yellows blending into deep, dark purples and blues. he quickly jumps off the trail and makes his way to the opening through the trees, but stops short when he notices a painter, engrossed in his art and the beauty of the sun setting behind a curtain of mountains, facing the spectacle at the perfect angle—the same angle cody was hoping to stand in.

it's fine, though, because after carefully stepping around the painter because cody knows on a deep, personal level how frustrating it is to be interrupted in the middle of your craft, he finds a spot that's just as good as the one he wanted. cody gets his camera out and takes the obligatory photos his brain is telling him to take. After a couple dozen, he feels satisfied with the landscape's outcome, but a louder, more intuitive-feeling voice is saying to snap a photo of the painter.

cody doesn't photograph people, he found that he'd rather take his skills to the outdoors where he feels more comfortable, but now he has a deep, almost painfully knowing need to take at least one picture of the man standing with his back to cody. so cody does. he moves quietly, swiftly hopping over fallen twigs as to not step on one and spook the painter (and ultimately rat himself out in the creepiest way possible). cody has a stunning view of the canvas and it's breathtakingly likelihood of the setting sun and blooming night sky, but the man's face is covered by the collar of his jacket and the beanie sitting low on his head. cody feels a pang of disappointment at not being able capture the man's side profile, but the sun is quickly fading and he's in a race against time to still have enough lightning to showcase the canvas, so he snaps a photo.

then that photo turns into two, then three, and by the fourth one, cody's camera is bursting with shutter sounds that echo across the clearing. but the painter still hasn't noticed him. cody, thanking whoever's looking down on him, is eternally grateful because with how he's crouched behind a tree and pointing his camera directly at him, the painter wouldn't hesitate to call authorities on him at first glance.

with his need quelled, cody decides on one more photo for the road when a merciless gust of wind rips past both of them. the painter's hat floats off his head and he immediately drops his brush to reach for it, collar lowered and face fully exposed in cody's direction and—

"no fucking way," cody whispers.

click!

the fly-away beanie hits cody right in the face and over his camera lens, but he got it. he took a photo of the painter who, in just the few seconds his face was unobstructed, struck a chord of familiarity deep in cody's chest because he looks exactly like the reason why cody decided to escape into the mountains.

frantically, cody ignores the "hey!" called out to him in favor of scrambling behind his hiding place and desperately scrolling through his photos for the last one taken. he mentally curses himself for not changing the default settings and starting from his most recent photo as he fingers through the hundreds of previous ones he took. cody is almost to the bottom with the tiniest sliver of hope a frenzied, erratic thing rattling around in his chest when he hears footsteps getting closer.

he's there, he's almost there, just a little further down and he'll see if it's really—his camera dies. right in his hands.

cody lets out a frustrated, low guttural groan at his luck because of course this happens. he wouldn't have expected anything less when it comes to him because only cody can develop a crush on a man who doesn't know he exists then creepily stalk someone who looks scarily similar to said obtainable man. who's cody kidding? he's hallucinating, for christ's sake. he would've followed an apparition off a cliff if it looked like obi-wan and cody isn't afraid to admit that now.

the footsteps grow in volume until a pair of heavy hiking boots stand right in front of cody, most likely attached to a pair of legs that'll lead up to a man who's seconds away from calling the police.

"excuse me?" he says.

"yeah, yeah," cody waves him off, dejected and uncaring of how rude he might sound. he stands on shaky legs and shoulders his camera, eyes unable to move from his feet. he unclenches the beanie in his hand and dusts off pieces of leaves imbedded in the knitting. "Sorry about that, i'll delete the photos if you want. i know i didn't get your permission and it's super fucking creepy of me to just take photos of you—"

"on the contrary," the man says, "if you were taking photos of me, i'd very much like to see them.

the man has such a familiar accent that it has cody's head shooting straight up because there's no fucking way.

"hello there," obi-wan greets, grinning that sweet, gentle smile he wears during every episode of his show.

"uh—um. h-hi." god, could cody sound anymore stupider?

obi-wan's smile broadens and isn't that something? being on the receiving end of something cody's ever seen through a screen? cody feels like he just ascended.

"would you mind sharing them?" obi-wan asks, pointing to cody's camera. "it's not every day i allow someone to take candids of me, especially by someone as handsome as yourself."

okay, cody must've hit his head on something because the guy he's been crushing for months did not just call him handsome. there's just no fucking way.

"uh—i, um," cody clears his throat and manages not to choke on the embarrassed little stutter of his voice, then says with barely any mind, "yes, i'd like that."

if the sun were to burn out in that instant, then cody believes that the unrestricted smile obi-wan gives him could take it's place. it's bright and so genuine for someone he doesn't know let alone just met, and cody thinks he's undeserving of such a thing.

"wonderful. if you'd let me just pack up my things, then we can walk back together."

"i can help!" cody so foolishly blurts. he flushes, cheeks warming under obi-wan's gaze and...and he really doesn't care anymore. Because obi-wan's laughing and the corners of his eyes are crinkling in that cute way he laughs at himself when he makes a mistake on his canvas, and cody thinks this is the most mortified he's ever felt. but dear god is it worth it. he'll embarrass himself to hell and back if it means obi-wan can giggle like that again.

obi-wan takes him up on his offer and that's how cody finds himself standing stiffly next to him, holding open a briefcase as obi-wan carefully places each tube of paint back into it's labeled home. he handles his equipment with grace, the same way cody handles his cameras, and it strikes it then: that he's actually here. obi-wan is in front of him, talking about his reasonings for trekking out this far from his studio and why he's so particular about the set up of his paint, a fact cody knows from his hours of sitting in front of a screen with or without paint and a canvas, and he's speaking to cody in that soft, gentle tone of his that cody—cody can't make a fool of himself anymore than before, so what's there to lose?

"i watch your show," cody says all in a single breath. obi-wan stops talking, a bit startled from cody's outburst, and raises a curious, bushy eyebrow.

"do you now?"

cody nods because it's the only thing his body knows how to do while under the undivided attention of a pretty man.

"yes, all the time. i-i've seen every episode. and i've even thought of sending in a letter and photo of my paintings but i just—i never did."

obi-wan hums, inquisitive, the sound warming something gentle behind cody's ribs. "why is that?"

cody shrugs. he's not about to admit that if he did then he'd be acknowledging how permeant obi-wan's become in his life, a deeply-rooted thing that cody thinks about every hour of every day and has never felt such strong feelings for despite never meeting in person.

that is, until now.

"didn't get around to it," he says instead. obi-wan takes that as an acceptable answer, though, because as soon as it fully sinks in, he's leveling cody with a hopeful stare so promising that the warmth in cody's chest implodes, nearly caving him from the inside out.

"well, i'd love to see those too, if you'd let me." obi-wan swipes the tip of his tongue across his lower lip in an unsure fidget—an action that cody's eyes greedily devour because how could he not?—then he's speaking with certainty that cody only wishes he could have. "i'm not sure why we're meeting like this, nor do i think it's just a coincidence that my hat decided to leave my head and assault you like that." they share a laugh, a private, little thing that cody's going to treasure forever. "but i feel like—like something is telling me to not let you go."

cody eagerly nods along because he knows. he's felt that exact same stomach-swooping tug the moment obi-wan appeared on his screen with a blank canvas and an open smile, happy to meet someone he can't even see.

"same here," cody agrees. "i feel it too, like there's something leading me to you. a—a sort of—"

"force," obi-wan breathes, eyes shining in the dimming light of the setting sun. "yes, exactly that. i'd like to further understand that feeling, why it's there and what not. and," obi-wan takes the case from cody and steps closer to him, until there's barely a foot's length of space between them. standing this close, with obi-wan looking directly into cody's eyes, cody can see that obi-wan's taller than him by a few inches at most. cody would've never learned that though a screen.

"i'd like to get to know you, too," obi-wan says, voice a velvet soft litany in cody's ears. "if you'd let me that is," he adds as an afterthought as if cody would say no.

as if cody would say anything other than yes.

"i'd like that." he smiles, the corners of his lips stretching side across his face, a mirror imitation of obi-wan's.

the sun has fully descended behind the west mountains by the time cody and obi-wan are finished, everything packed up in the bag that hangs from obi-wan's shoulders. the ground lights on the trail illuminate the path back to the main road and they follow it engaged in conversation about cody's work and obi-wan's humble beginnings, for the tv show and even before his decision to become an artist.

"i wanted to be a singer," he confesses, shyly looking down at his boots as if they're more interesting than the disbelieving look on cody's face.

"you can sing?" obi-wan nods, a cute, little shake of his head and cody's heart soars. "i can play the guitar. and i sing a little, too."

"really?" it's obi-wan's turn to look at him, eager and nothing short of extraordinary. "amazing. then you can serenade me as i paint elaborate landscapes dedicated to your likeliness."

that pulls a laugh from cody, the sound a joyous echo in the forests space. "don't get ahead of yourself, pretty boy. serenading is third date material," he says, then promptly shuts his mouth. maybe cody can get stupider because what the actual fuck? he chances a glance at obi-wan to make sure he hasn't disrupted the casual thing they have conspiring between them, but his expression in unreadable in the dark of the forest.

in that next second, they step back onto the main road and underneath a streetlamp shining down on a large map that reads 'YOU ARE HERE' with a bright, red arrow pointing at their location. in the light, cody can see obi-wans pondering stare, the furrow of his brows and hand under his chin. cody closes his eyes, sure he messed up a good thing before it even started.

"would dinner tomorrow night at my hotel count as our first, then?" obi-wan asks, timbre high and expectant.

cody releases the shaky breath that was caught in his lungs, relieved. then, because he's feeling bold and stupid and so revved up on everything obi-wan, he says, "no, that would count as our second. splitting a shake and some fries at that mcdonald's down the road can count as our first, though."

obi-wan starts to grin that happy pull of his lips cody's seen as many times as he can count on his tv and he wonders how many dates it'll take to kiss a different sort of happiness to obi-wan's mouth.

"sharing milkshakes already, are we? how brave. we've already evolved so far into our relationship and i don't even know your name."

cody mentally berates himself because, yeah. with all the excitement and emotions running him through the ground, he forgot the most important thing when trying to shoot your shot with the pretty painter: his goddamn name.

"i'm cody. cody fett," he introduces, hopefully sounding cooler than he really is when he's pushing 35 and desperately pining over someone he's met just shy of ten minutes ago. though, cody's known obi-wan for months now, so maybe he's not a total loser. cody shifts his camera strap more securely over his shoulder then extends his right hand. "it's a pleasure to meet you. and you are?"

obi-wan giggles and no matter how many times cody hears it from now and how ever long he's able to, he's sure he'll never get used the gentle chime of it, how it's directed to and for him alone.

"hello there, i'm obi-wan kenobi." obi-wan takes his hand in a firm grip and cody swears sparks fly from their joined palms. "and, i'd love to join you for a milkshake. chocolate flavored, please."

that catches cody off guard. "chocolate? i would've figured you'd be more of a vanilla type of guy."

obi-wan releases his hand but holds onto cody's fingers, letting them hook over each other in the shared space between them. "you have a lot to learn, my dear. i have many secrets that people don't know about me."

cody sucks in an optimistic breath, eager to learn every single one.

#codywan #obi wan kenobi #commander cody #after mcdonald's they head back to obi-wan's hotel where they spend the next couple hours just talking #they both fall asleep on the couch and by morning cody has a terrible kink in his neck but he's also in love so there's that #obi-wan isn't too far off either bc he wakes up with a handsome's arms wrapped around him and he thinks he's died and gone to heaven #star wars #star wars the clone wars #omgahgase writes

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winterwriterstudios · 4 months

Text

The Prince And The Frog (Malyuu ver.)

Pairing: Malleus x Yuu (From Twisted Wonderland)

Inspo: https://www.tumblr.com/bi-panicatthedisco‘s comment under https://www.tumblr.com/skyerooodraws/749572968954413056, Tiana’s frog form

Notes: Not a great writer. Not truly accurate to the game nor the manga nor the book. Yuu uses they/them pronouns. Also, Yuu takes inspiration from Tiana (I just imagine them with the accent). Plus, I did not proof read, so please pardon errors

Prompt: Malleus never was alone in the garden.

———————————-

Malleus absolutely hated when Lilia had to go on trips. It meant he would be all alone in the castle garden, playing with no one.

Today was no different. It was just him and his newly bought golden ball, gifted by Lilia before he left. No one, not even the gardeners were in the garden. Just him, alone.

He looked around for maybe any animal that would catch his interest, long enough to distract him, but alas, even the animals seemed to fear him as much as the fae.

No annoying chirping of the birds or the prominent wildlife that were allowed to stay in the gardens. Not even a grasshopper or ant was nearby.

Feeling utterly defeated, Malleus threw the ball as far as he could, not caring where it landed. He then fell to the ground, his eyes welled up with tears. He didn’t care enough to wipe them away, after all, no one was around to notice.

The weather seemed to act according to the poor prince’s emotions. The clouds got darker and suddenly started to merge with one another, chasing the sun away and casting a shadow on the whole castle.

The garden seemed darker, more hostile than it did before to the fae prince. The trees seem to bear wicked grins and the wind sounded like whispers, the same whispers that plagued the castle every day.

“Why won’t anyone play with me? I-I have done nothing wrong! I have been a good prince like-like in all the stories! All I want is a single friend! Please!”

His desperate cries remained unanswered, though. The wind only lived up its speed and droplets of water fell from the sky, matching the tears that spilled from his eyes.

It all seemed to come to a halt when the golden ball, now muddy, rolled to his knees and a small, caring voice said, “Well, if it’s a friend you want, then it’s a friend you’ll have!”

Malleus’ head immediately snapped up, in search of this voice.

“Down here!”

Lo and behold, the voice belonged to no other than a frog.

Malleus wiped his tears away, sniffling a bit. “R-Really? You will be my friend?” His voice was soft, not wanting to scare the friendly frog away.

“’Course I will! My mama always said that I should be making more friends, anyway! I’m Yuu! And you are?” The frog comically held out its hand, still beaming at the young fae.

As the clouds faded away, Malleus smiled, giving the frog a gentle handshake. “I am Malleus. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Yuu!”

———————————-

From that day on, Malleus and his frog friend were inseparable. They’d play together, take long walks around the castle together and sometimes Yuu would dine with Malleus when no one else was around.

Even when Malleus was older, he never forgot Yuu. In fact, he just grew more attached to the frog.

“Yuu! Yuu! I brought you grapes! The red, seedless ones! And I brought a lot of berries, too!”

It was a very queer sight to see the noble prince of Briar Valley carrying a basket while yelling out to the garden.

It was an even funnier sight to see a frog suddenly jump on him and land on his hair, right in between his horns.

“Good afternoon, dear! Are you doing as great as you are looking?”

The melodic laughter of Malleus made Yuu smile even more. Jumping off his hair and back into the grass, they laughed along with him.

“I am doing wonderfully, now that you are here, Yuu. You know I always love the time we spend together,” he replied, sitting on the grass, in front of the frog.

Yuu croaked, before their tongue extended, landing on a grape in the basket and bringing it back into their mouth. They hummed, satisfied as they moved closer to the basket.

“Me too! It’s kinda lonely when you’re not around! I mean, the other frogs are great, and the tadpoles are just adorable, but nothing beats hanging out with you!” Their smile was unwavering as they helped themselves to more grapes in the basket.

Those words warmed Malleus’ heart more than it should. It was always nice knowing that his best friend loved him as much as he loved them.

The conversation continued, thought it was mostly just Malleus ranting about his day while Yuu listened and gave him helpful tips and advice. Both enjoyed hearing the other’s voice and just being in the other’s presence.

Soon, the basket was empty and the afternoon came to an end as the sun started to set.

“Well, that’s sad! The sun’s coming down!” Yuu pointed own, a frown on their face.

Malleus nodded, disheartened. He didn’t know why days with Yuu always seemed too short to be actual days. If only Yuu could spend the nights with him, as well.

Wait.

“Yuu? Would you like to stay the night in the castle?”

“Ooh! Like a sleepover?”

“A what?”

———————————-

“And that’s why I NEVER eat flies!”

Malleus wiped away the tears at the corner of his eyes, his large grin basically lightning up the dimly lighted room. Yuu was sitting in front of him, on a pinecone on top of his king-sized bed.

Pinecones were tangled up in Malleus’s lovely dark hair, acting as makeshift curls, due to Yuu’s insistence (though, they did not need to beg much, as Malleus was willing to do anything to make their first ‘sleepover’ memorable) and his smile took up half of his face as he intently stared at his best friend.

“You do have a lot of interesting stories, Yuu,” he spoke, “I assume you have adventures everyday in the garden, when I’m not around.” Malleus brushed off his comment as a joke, even though he was a bit saddened by this realization.

Sometimes, he’d debate permanently turning himself into a frog so that he could have more adventures with Yuu and their friends, but then he’d remember his family and Lilia and would decide against it. But that did not stop him from daydreaming.

“Aww! Don’t feel left out, Mal’! I tell the boys back at the pond about ALL the things we do, and they are always super jealous!” Yuu tried to cheer him up, instantly catching on to his change in demeanor.

Malleus perked up at that, seeming pleased, until he remembered something, “I hope your stories aren’t the more embarrassing ones that you so fondly remember, though.”

Yuu, feeling nervous, suddenly croaked. “Uh…would ya look at the tone! You,” they pointed at Malleus with an innocent smile, “should be heading to bed to rest that pretty little head of yours!”

Understanding that his reputation to the garden creatures is probably already ruined beyond repair, Malleus simply nodded. “Where will you sleep?” He asked, curiously. Malleus didn’t exactly have a bed fit for a frog in his room, nor did he know how Yuu liked sleeping.

“Oh, I could sleep on a drawer! Wouldn’t want you to deal with a frog on your bed!” Yuu said, hopping towards the drawer that was next to Malleus’ bed.

Malleus was able to catch them, before they landed on the drawer, though. “I wouldn’t be dealing with any frog on my bed. It would be you, my beastie.”

The sincerity of his words made Yuu’s heart warm, and they wished they were finally a fae, once more, so they could give Malleus a big hug, but all they could was laugh. The curse was still as strong as ever, and they couldn’t even dream of breaking it. Or burdening Malleus with that knowledge.

“Whatever you say, Mal-Mal,” Yuu smiled, sadly at him, taking in Malleus in all his pinecone haired glory, “Whatever you say…”

———————————-

Yuu yawned, opening their eyes to meet Malleus’ still sleeping ones. They got off the bed and groggily made their way to the window to open it, since they felt that the place was a bit stuffy.

Then, they tripped over their own two feet. They hissed in pain, cursing as they struggled to help themselves up. “Since when was I this heavy?” They muttered, holding on to the edge of the bed as they stood tall.

Their curses soon turned q into silence as they noticed how ethereal Malleus looked while he slept, even with those ridiculous pine ones in his hair. Yuu chuckled, before wobbly making their way to the window, grabbing onto any piece of sturdy furniture they could.

Surprisingly, Malleus failed to wake up from the noise they were making, and continued to slumber away. Yuu was thankful for this, as they reached the window. They did not want to interrupt the prince’s sleep schedule after all.

“Huh?”

Everything seemed to slow down as they came face to face with their reflection on the window.

They brought a hand to their face, before immediately retracting it back after noticing that it was no longer green. The shock of the sudden shift in appearance made Yuu fall down, breathing heavily.

Yuu always imagined this moment, thinking about how they’d react. And in every possible scenario they made up in their head, they would laugh or cry with joy, thanking the great seven for everything.

But, no.

They don’t know why, but they screamed.

Incorrect Quotes

Lilia: I can’t wait to see your best friend, Malleus!

Yuu: Why, hello, handsome!

Lilia, highly amused: Is that a talking frog?

Silver: How did you and the young master meet?

Yuu: Oh, well, when we were younger, he threw a golden ball at me.

Sebek, telling Ace off: HOW DARE YOU RUIN THE NAME OF THE G—

Yuu, enters: Heya, Croco!

Sebek, hugging Ace: And that is why I cherish you, as a friend!

Leona, insultingly: You smell like a lake.

Yuu: Actually, it’s a pond!

Floyd: I’m going to call you, Frog-chan!

Yuu: Uncreative! Next!

Yuu, with Riddle: If being a teenage mom is a crime, then I’m innocent, this is my short friend.

Rook: I know what you are, Mademoiselle du lac.

Yuu: He’s going to say frog…

Rook: They’re definitely married to Roi des dragons.

Jamil: I swear to the great seven, that I’ll kill that octopus!!

Yuu: That’s not very bonvita of ya, Jam-Jam!

Idia: Alright, it’s been 6 months. Let’s see your progress.

Yuu, in front of a lot of laptops: I have made an entire mobile game which is so addictive that people CANNOT stop playing, it has risen to the top of the charts and become the most popular game on the internet. Next, I’m planning on invading Mars.

Idia: Good, good. Malleus?

Malleus, in front of an old computer, holding a rat: I finally located the mouse.

Idia: *unholy screaming

Rollo, exists:

Yuu, rofl: LOOK AT THE TOP OF HIS HEAD!!!!

#Twst fan fic #malleus draconia #malleus x yuu #The Frog and The Princess AU #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland au #incorrect quotes

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ro-aming · 5 months

Text

Confessions in The Valley Pt. 3 Sam!

Sam was my fav for a lonnngggg time. this is the last chapter pre written so after this they'll be brand new ! I'm not sure who's next but it might be Haley or Harvey since he's so popular rn. Anyway Enjoy :3

“Hey Farmer !!” Sam's cheery face called out to you, smiling from ear to ear. The blonde was waiting for you outside the bus stop in the early summer morning. Light beamed down on him through the leaves of the oak tree he sat beneath, tracing his face in a golden glow. He was sitting against the trunk, his board next to him and dirt on his blue jeans. He must've already been skating today. Sam invited you earlier this week, to spend the Saturday with him at the ZuZu city skatepark upon watching you fail miserably to ride his board. I mean like REALLY failed miserably, you didn't even make it an inch before the board slipped beneath your feet and you came clamoring down the cobble sidewalk. Lucky for you, Sam was seconds behind you catching you and keeping you from a gnarly concussion. You haven't stopped thinking about that moment all week. While doing farm work, mining, fishing, or chatting up your friends, he was all that was on your mind. His denim jacket was tied around his waist leaving his arms bare under his t-shirt. He wasn't buff by any means but he had a slim and toned physique that always managed to leave you staring anytime his skin was exposed. You Just hope he never noticed. Promptly after basically saving your life on that skateboard, he invited you to ZuZu City skatepark to teach you a thing or two.

You were on your way now, sat next to each other on the dingy bus seats as you stared out the window and the valley faded behind you. It was a beautiful day and you haven't been to the city in so long. To be honest, you were just really looking forward to spending such a large chunk of the day with Sam. The wheels of the bus clunked against the dirt then slowly turned to rolling smoothly as nearing the city led you to a much newer road.

“Sooo are you excited, Farmer?” His voice broke the silence previously sitting over you two as he turned to face you. “ I mean you used to live here didn't you? I bet it'll be cool to be back” He smiled softly, pink dusting his cheeks.

“Oh yea !” you returned excitedly. “ I'm stoked, as much as I hated living and working in the city, seeing all the places i love will be really nice.'' The light from the window cast a shadow against your face as you turned away from it, opting to look Sam in the eye instead. “I should go back some day when I have more time and explore”. You chuckled.

“ Hey, now that's a great idea! We can come back together another day, it'd be perfect. You get to explore the city and show me cool stuff, and I get to spend the whole day with you!” He chuckled, bumping you with his shoulder as he turned back to face the font of the bus. You couldn't help your face heating up at his words, though you tried to ignore it. The rest of the bus ride remained comfortably silent, only interrupted by the occasional squealing of birds in the sky. White seagulls flying in from the coast danced across the sky which was littered with fluffy clouds. Distantly you caught a peak at some thicker gray clouds and you wondered inwardly if it might rain today.

“This your stop kiddos!” Pam called out hoarsely to the back of the bus as you pulled up to the stop nearest to the park. You both excitedly clambered out of your seats and quickly exited the bus, giving your thanks to pam. You really couldn't believe how pretty the city still was. Without the stress of your previous draining life, you really had the chance to look back and appreciate the warmth and brightness of the city. A thousand sun beams reflecting off the glass of every tall building in the center of the city. The air smelled delicious as you and Sam headed to the park, passing every restaurant and market you remember loving.

“God it really is nice here” You smiled softly, speaking under your breath.

You are literally gonna die. “Sam WHY IS THIS SO SCARY '' you yelled out to the blonde who was behind you laughing uncontrollably at your misery. Upon reaching the empty, and frankly very rundown, part of the skate park, you had been placed firmly on the board as Sam tried his best explaining to you how to get started. He gave you several demonstrations (likely just an excuse to show off but you didn't mind). Right now you were only standing, but after your last time on the board you were seriously terrified you'd fall and knock your head. It didn't help your nerves that Sam doesn't exactly do helmets. After nearly an hour of demonstrations and practicing to get your stance right you were finally ready to try moving.

“You'll be fine, farmer i promise, just push off with your foot like i showed you.” Sam yelled back to you giggling. Your feet wobbled as you struggled to keep your balance. Drawing in a deep breath your foot came down to the pavement ready to push off and move you forward until…Sam's arms came around you, halting your movement. Your eyes widened and jaw fell open as his hands held tight against your hips. You completely froze, his grip was so tight.

“ Hold on there dude, if you push off with your foot like that you're totally gonna fall.” He was smiling brightly. He bent down, squatting on his knees and grabbed your leg, adjusting your stance. “There, keep your foot like that, higher up on the board, see?” He looked up at you confirming you knew what to do now, but you could only turn away sheepishly and nod your head. “S-sorry..” He stood up quickly giving you space. Was he blushing? “Ok you got it, c’mon you can do it just push off now.” He smiled at you, throwing up two cheery thumbs ups. The way his eyes closed and cheeks puffed up when he smiled at you like that was convincing enough for anyone, but especially you. Ok you can do this.

Without giving yourself any more time to panic, you pushed your foot hard into the ground and hurled your body, and likewise the board, forward and down the very subtle hill. Picking up your foot now you shimmied and settled yourself on the board as you gained some speed and rolled forward. You couldn't believe you were actually skating! The birds sang loudly in the sky above you feigning a congratulatory song for your achievement. You barreled down the stained and cracked pavement, probably not going very fast but still absolutely delighted in yourself. “SAMMY I'M DOING IT OMG!” You cheered out to him. Your wheels bumped against rocks as you neared steeper slope. You became increasingly aware of the fact you did not go over how to stop as you started barreling down a steeper hill and gaining a lot of speed. “UHH Sam I DON'T KNOW HOW TO STOP”. You started to panic, you probably weren't going as fast as it felt but you were terrified of losing balance.

“Oh shit.” Sam spoke aloud to himself before he grabbed his extra board and set off after you. Given his much higher skating ability it only took him seconds to speed up and pass you on the hill. “Don't worry, Farmer just slow down !!” He seemed way too happy given the obvious distress written all over your face

“ DON'T YOU THINK I'D STOP IF I KNEW HOW” You shouted at him, though he could hear you well at normal volume. Yours and Sam's wheels rolled on and on taking you down the hill faster and faster as adrenaline kicked into full drive. A turn was approaching and it was coming FAST . “ Sam, I can't turn or stop. What do I do?” The genuine fear in your voice seemed to flip a switch in Sam's mind as his laughter stopped and expression quickly shifted. He looked concerned but focused and he acted quickly to stop you from falling or getting hurt

“Alright just hold on, I got you.” he smiled softly hoping to assure you. In a flash, as the sky shifted to gray allowing more shade, he was slowing down and reaching out to you. His hands surged forward; one gripped your waist on the side farthest from him, and the other grabbed your arm. “Jump !” he shouted at you as he pulled you to him. You think normally you shout back at him that he's crazy, but the sloped pavement carrying you swiftly to a brick wall to the face, didn't really give you much room to argue. You jumped, leaning into him as you stumbled, trying and failing to stand on his board. You opted instead to cling onto him for dear life like a koala. The board you had been on sped up on its own and slid all the way down the hill, likely to crash into the wall. Above you, you could hear him giggling softly as he turned down the end of the slope, starting to slow down. When the decrease in speed allowed it, you shakily placed your feet on his board. His arms around you, holding you tightly. His chest moved up and down under your cheek as he continued laughing at your state of disarray. “You okay?” His voice was impossibly sweet as he looked down at you.

“Y-yeah I'm fine, thank you” you gingerly stepped off his board and released your grip for him, cringing as you regretted moving away from his warmth. “Sorry…” you muttered under your breath. As the sky darkened slightly again, he didn't let go. Why wasn't he letting go? His eyes met yours as a smile playfully curled on his face. A mischievous glint ran through his emerald eyes. Before your brain could catch up his sneakers landed right next to yours as he stepped off his board, tightening his grip on your waist and leaning in close, Breath ghosting over your face.

“Aren't you glad I caught you?” He was smirking. What a jerk teasing you like that. You smacked your hand against his chest pushing him away as you stumbled back and playfully scoffed at him. He doubled over in laughter still finding his act amusing. You couldn't help smiling back at him. “C'mon, I think that's enough for today,” he said, picking up his board and grabbing your hand while dragging you down the street. “Let's go get ice cream!” he really was like a giddy little kid as he rushed in the direction of the nearest vendor still holding your hand tightly.

Rain had started coming down in buckets. All those gray clouds you saw earlier? Yea well they moved over here on your walk to the ice cream stand. While finishing your ice cream on your walk back to the bus stop the clouds had come in, blanketing the sky in a chill overcast and drenching the city with rain. You held the boards as Sam held his jacket over your heads, shielding you from the downpour. You laughed and chattered back and forth while waiting for the last bus of the day to arrive and take you back to the valley. As you stood huddled together under the shield of a Sam’s jacket you watched the city light up as the earth darkened. Gloomy clouds and the slowly setting sun left everything dark, leaving room for all the lights of the city to shine together. You couldn't help the gleeful smile that spread over your face. You'd spent the whole day with Sam. looking at all the places you used to frequent made your heart yearn with nostalgia, and Sam's proximity made your heart flutter with…something else.

“I had a lot of fun today” you said, leaning into him slightly. “ Thank you for teaching me to skate even though I sucked.” You chuckled and placed your head against his shoulder. You really couldn't help wanting to be close to him and as you looked upwards you could swear his pupils dilated and a blush, much more intense then earlier, lay on his cheeks.

“Y-yea of course ! I'm glad you had a good time.” He was stuttering and turning away from you, seemingly just as affected by the closeness as you were. You just couldn't help it. Seeing the faint slivers of yellow light peeking through the heavy clouds down on his features. He cleared his throat trying to steel himself as if you being here made him nervous. You'd made his suddenly loud boisterous personality fall quiet and the fond look in his eyes paired with a gentle smile wasn't helping his case. Down the road Maybe a mile you could faintly see the bus coming and not really one for public affections you knew you had to hurry.

“Hey Sam?” You spoke. He all too quickly turned to you, humming in question and tilting his head like a lost puppy. His blonde damp hair fell into his face and as he went to fix it he felt your hand graze his cheek. He stilled, looking toward you. Your hand gripped his cheek and yanked him down, pulling his lips onto yours. He stood still in surprise but only took a few seconds to quickly kiss back. It was fast and fleeting but sweet nonetheless. The look on his face after was even better. He sputtered a bit trying to find words as his face bloomed beet red. "I like you a lot you know." You whispered to him still near his face staring at his lips. Wheels turning against the pavement came near leaving you to pull away from his face and grab his hand. The bus had arrived just in time as the harsh rain picked up even more. Giggling you dragged him towards the bus doors. Despite being entirely floored a bashful smile spread wide across his face following your lead out of the rain and onto the bus. The bus will Take you both home to the valley, to the peace and quiet of your homes. You definitely have a lot to talk about on the ride back but that didn't worry you even the slightest. No matter the circumstance Sam's presence would always put you at ease and despite you nervous nature you knew with certainty that he'd be there, to break your fall.

#stardew valley #stardew valley fluff #stardew valley fic #stardew farmer #sdv farmer #stardew valley sam #sam x farmer #gn!reader #gn!y/n

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soggydogggy · 2 months

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Small Isengrim/Dijkstra fanfiction because I love old men yaoi. There is actually an amazing art piece drawn based on the fic by my dearest and loveliest friend @gsope! check out her other stuff, she’s incredibly talented <3

Dijkstra talks a lot, Isengrim is madly in love. Their first kiss just kinda happens.

P.s. for english not being my native tongue i'd kindly ask you to be gentle with me (please otherwise i might actually cry /j)

The night was a little colder than the others. Clouds filled the dark sky barely lit by stars, and a tingling breeze crept under their cloaks, unobtrusively reminding to change into something more suitable for the upcoming winter. The crispy weather wasn’t anything unusual, as their long journey was about to come to an end — they were approaching the North, and so the chills running rapidly along their spines caused almost no questions. Although he never showed it in the way he was acting, it was extremely hard for Isengrim to believe that was the only reason — he was certain the frost did not come only from the changes in climate, but emerged somewhere from the inside of his own head too.

They were both sitting by a small now dying fire they made earlier, just a few inches away from each other, their knees nearly touching. They were comfortable at last, being so close to one another. Sigi Reuven (and this name yuckily rolled with a taste of deception on Isengrim’s tongue) was gaping at the burning logs of wood, slightly squinting from ashes getting into his eyes, discoursing on something, explaining everything in such detail. Isengrim found it hard to pay attention, not because he wasn’t curious enough, but because his companion's voice was too quiet, hoarsely soothing, and his own thoughts were too deafening — therefore all the political intrigues forgotten in the sandy valleys of Zerrikania flew right past him, for he had unintentionally turned a deaf ear to anything that was said.

Isengnim, however, didn’t dare to look away even for a split second, and was gazing quite attentively, to the point it might have been a little shameful for him to do so — that was if he could experience shame, after all. The warm fiery light fell gently on the rough features of Sigi’s face, and so they seemed to slightly change, visually softening. This, for a completely unclear reason, caused a very faint smile on Isengrim’s own face — and the only thing that scared him was it seeming natural, too natural, even. There was something not quite right about looking at a dh’oine with zero withering contempt, especially at a dh’oine who had almost condemned you to a painful and unworthy death in the past.

There was something not quite right even about thinking of such a thing at the moment — though Isengrim, already feeling the ever-increasing smell of familiar northern herbs all day long, absolutely could not help but do so.

Here, in these familiar lands, he was considered a war criminal — and a pathetic fugitive at the same time. His head was still probably worth a whole fortune — although his name send shivers down people’s spines not so often anymore, slowly starting to get erased from the history books. He was getting forgotten, swiftly and quickly, and he himself was also forgetting everything(a little slower, albeit). The scar on his face seemed to itch less and less with time — and there was something not quite right about that, too. He was away from here for too long, and who knows how much longer it might have taken — if not for one particular proposal, that was more of a polite request, at the end.

“Oxenfurt first, then Novigrad, and I could use your help there, Grim." — not Wolf,

— “I would love you to consider that", — and a smile, that smile, that ugly, atrocious smile of a dh’oine,

and "Fine, I would think about that",

and "We are leaving in a week",

and "Thank you, my dear" said with a small grin,

— and a heavy hand on a sturdy shoulder, gently squeezing the tensed muscles and the rough skin for a second too long.

And these memories were terrifying too. And here, in these familiar lands, the value of his life was dropping significantly, yet next to Sigi it never seemed to matter, fading into the shadows of Isengrim’s twisted mind. His fingers always trembled because of that — well, because of that, and because of the way the shining sparks from the fire were reflecting in Sigi’s watery tired eyes.

Isengrim sat a little tense, rubbing his roughened hands against one another. Old calluses and marks and scars were covering them whole, constantly reminding that they used to bleed daily from a grip too strong on the hilt of a shabby old sword. They didn't hurt much anymore, just like the ugly scar covering his face didn’t, yet that was not quite important in the moment —what was important was that Sigi didn't have any of those. Isengrim noticed the fact a long time ago, and ever since it reminded him of the unchangeable difference between them even more than the accents in their speech or the shapes of their ears did.

Isengrim swallowed hard, his next sigh filled with some kind of an irksome disappointment: Sigi's hands were the best evidence that all he did was hold quills in them, write a lot, sign so many important documents and crucial papers — and the very particular one, the one that decided Isengrim’s fate, too. Here, in these familiar lands, at that one specific moment, it was Sigi himself who determined the value of his, Isengrim’s, very own not-so-fragile life with his own unscathed fingers.

And the only thing that scared Isengrim was all that important business not raging him even in the slightest.

Isengnim knew he ought to have been rageful earlier. A lot earlier, to be exact, somewhere around the time they shook hands for the first time ever, introducing themselves with fake names, looking at each other knowing they both understood everything about one another just right. Yet even then he just couldn’t bring himself to do so. There just wasn’t any need for that: he was to find someone to travel with, someone to ensure his path, a strong ally, an alibi and, finally, some rightful decisions in his life, — and after meeting Sigi, he found everything except the very last thing.

Something else had come to replace it — something strange, completely wrong, dizzying his mind with a heavy burden of feelings. This special something was now scraping his aching heart from the inside when Sigi, throwing a couple of sticks into the fire, laughed hoarsely looking right at him.

He went on with his speech immediately after — and Isengrim let out a sigh that seemed a little heavier than usual. And the only thing that scared him was the absence of any desire to curse any gods known to men now.

That was new.

Their knees still were nearly touching, and the chilly wind was still blowing around their bare necks, and the fire was still making them squeeze their watery eyes, and the smell of familiar northern herbs was still sticking to their clothes. The value of Isengrim’s life was dropping significantly with every going second — and here, in these familiar lands, it seemed to be starting to matter. And there was something not quite right about Isengrim not being able to understand what the exact value would be like now. Sigi's fingers, the ones not disfigured by any scars or marks, were confusing him even more.

Sigi was calmly going on with his speech, mentioning Radovid's weakening position, the future of Redania, the plans for their freshly found friend Bart, — and yet it was becoming more and more challenging to properly concentrate (or even impossible, Isengrim had to admit). Despite that, he still wasn’t planning to take his eyes off his comrade any time soon. The light from the fire still brushed softly along the very familiar features of a very familiar face — and here, in these familiar lands, the tender small grim he was given did not leave Isengrim’s not-so-fragile life a chance. And there was something not quite right about the feeling not scaring him at all, but being absolutely needed right now instead.

Impatient enough, Isengrim moved just slightly, awkwardly making their upper hands touch, placing a wide palm on a stubbly cheek, making Sigi look right at him, his gaze shining from the heat of the fire. He did not seem to be frightened or shocked, and his face was not at all familiar to the touch: it was not of a sophisticated Aen Seidhe, but of a simple dh’oine, rough and prickly — yet the special something scraping inside Isengrim’s heart did not let him stop.

Isengnim closed his eyes and quickly leaned forward — and just a second later, he pressed his slightly trembling lips to Sigi’s very own. He didn’t do any more, waiting for any kind of a reaction, and his breathing was a little heavier than usual, — and right there he felt their knees finally touch. The intimacy of the moment sent shivers down his spine, and Isengrim almost forgot about what he was doing — right until the piercing realisation hit him.

Sigi was smiling. The bloody, Sigi-fucking-Reuven, let him be damned, Isengrim thought, was smiling right into his lips. It was a very familiar smile, the one Isengrim had seen so many times before, the ugly, vile, disgustingly gentle smile of a disgustingly precious dh’oine — and the only exception was that this time he could actually feel it. Grasping that smile made Isengrim titter, right as he started to pull away — when suddenly, at the very last second, he felt he was actually getting kissed back.

Unfortunately, it was already too late to come back to the hot touch of those desired lips— yet to look at the cunning, satisfied eyes before him was quite the right time.

Sigi never stopped beaming, now with a tint of arrogance, looking right at Isengrim — yet there was a very slight hint of crimson blushing on his cheeks. From the heat of the fire, it must be.

They spoke quietly.

“Is that how they show love now, men?”

"Well, I would think it's more of an Aen Seidhe thing. But yeah. Something like that.”

“Something like that” and Sigi grinned again, turning his gaze to the fire.

And the familiar features of his face were softer than ever. And his raspy voice was gentler than ever. And he slightly stroked Isengrim’s knee(the one that never broke the touch) with his huge rough hand — and there was something just quite right about that — more right than ever.

“So, Radovid…”

And here, in these familiar lands, the value of Isengrim’s life seemed to increase more than ever. And, once again, it seemed like Sigi himself was the one to determine it with his very own unscarred fingers — and his very own lips, too.

And so the night felt warm again.

#the witcher #isengrim faoiltiarna #sigismund dijkstra #the witcher 3 #the witcher fanfiction #scoia'tael

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