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mermaidgirl30 · 2 months ago

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✨Saving What Was Lost Part 8: Keep Me From Drowning✨

Pre-Outbreak! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: This fic just keeps getting softer, and I love writing in Joel’s POV 🥹 I hope you enjoy this one, lovelies. I put my whole heart into this one 🩷

Chapter Summary: Joel helps you brave the bath.

Rating: 18+ only MDNI

Word Count: 5.2k

Tag list: Soft! Joel, angst, yearning, dual POV, age gap (reader late 20’s, Joel late 40’s), mentions of violence and kidnapping, Joel helps reader take a bath, words of affirmation, slow burn

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The end of December comes to a rapid halt as white snowflakes fall from the sky. The ground is blanketed in a thin layer of snow, Christmas lights still strewn around the house. It’s that weird middle ground where it’s not quite the new year, but just about there. It’s quiet, still—just how he likes it.

Christmas was a little more bright this year, a little more merry now that you were here. Your smile was so wide when you helped make Christmas cookies with Sarah. Tommy and Maria were sprawled on the couch in a thick blanket, drinking eggnog. And Joel was just happily watching his little girl bond with the woman he saved. The woman he fell for.

Oh, and the way your eyes went extremely wide when he brought you out front and showed you the brand new sparkling white Nissan Rogue he bought just for you? The look on your pretty face was priceless. You were speechless, dumbstruck, and he accidentally made you cry when he handed you the shiny keys.

“But I’m not… I’m not ready,” you had said, doe eyes glossy and bright. “And you… Joel. You didn’t. That’s not my car.”

He just nodded his head up and down and smiled brightly at you, placing the keys in your palm and closing your fingers over them. “You’ll be ready. One day. And yes, it’s yours. Brand new, jus’ for you.”

“But I…”

“None of that, sweetheart. It’s a gift, so please, take it. I want you to have it. I want you to...” His speech was cut off by tears running down your face. He carefully, gently brushed one away with the pad of his thumb just as a tiny snowflake kissed your cheek.

Beautiful. You’re so fucking beautiful with snowflakes gathering on your eyelashes. Like a sparkling star in the night sky.

Your eyes melted, and the look of pure wonder and awe made you shine that much brighter. You were glowing as bright as the twinkling red and green lights on the roof. You were shining all shades of the rainbow which made him smile just a little wider. Just for you.

It’s funny��that fuzzy feeling he gets in the pit of his stomach each time you smile. It seems to light him up, seems to make him feel weightless when that lilty laugh slips from your lips. He didn’t ask for much for Christmas. All he wanted was for you to have the best Christmas ever, and he thinks you did.

You seemed to fill the void in his heavy heart this season. The perfect Christmas gift, he thinks.

Nightfall slips across the dark skies outside, painting shadows across the white walls. The crackle of the living room fire pops every few seconds, embers flaring deep reds across the wood. He’s got his feet kicked up on the coffee table—one leg crossed over his knee, his phone lit up in the palm of his hand. It’s quiet tonight, a little peaceful. No calls to take, no runs to make. He can just kick back, relax, and watch the full moon light up the starry sky outside his floor to ceiling windows.

Just when he starts to ease into the leather of the couch, he hears your soft footsteps pattering down the stairs, squeaking with every step you take. When he looks up, his face drops when he sees you standing in front of him—your bottom lip pouting out, fresh tears in your eyes, a half-open bottle of lavender soap in your hand, a folded towel in the other.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he asks softly, afraid to scare you away.

You blink up at him and whimper out quietly, “I tried. I just… I can’t do it. I can’t…”

Before you shed another tear, he leans forward and sets his phone on the coffee table, eyes straight on you. “You need some help?” Your watering eyes and tiny sniffles make him weak. If it were up to him, he’d scoop you up in his arms right this very second so he could hug away all your fears.

The bottle of soap trembles in your tight grip, your pink lips just as shaky. “Please.” It’s barely a whisper, but it’s a plea, nonetheless.

“Alright, sweetheart. C’mon.” He pushes off the leather couch, throwing you an easy smile. And when he makes his way up the stairs, you follow right on his heels, your little whimpers filling the space between the two of you.

Looking behind himself, he keeps glancing back to make sure you’re still there. But you are and every time he does, you’re looking up at him with big puppy eyes, so beautiful even through the shades of blues that try to swallow you whole. Even through all the trauma and affliction, the shadows can’t take your beauty. It can’t stop the potential he sees swimming in your eyes.

You’re gonna fly, just like he said. And he means it. You’re gonna soar like the invisible fairy wings you have spread across your back. You don’t see them, but he does—sparkling like the December snow, glistening with sprinkled glitter and gold. You’re gonna fly so high, sweetheart, he thinks to himself.

When he enters your bathroom, the fluorescent lights shine down on the evidence of your distress—the shampoo bottle knocked to the tile floor, the shower head dangling from the coiled cord, the clear shower curtain pulled halfway off the rod, another towel strewn across the sink. You certainly had a hell of a time trying to make it into the tub, but his face softens when he glances back and sees your trembling form from the open doorway.

“I’m sorry for the mess,” you murmur out lowly, your voice barely above a whisper, eyes cast downward like a dog getting scolded.

He takes a step forward and barely grazes his calloused fingers under your chin, till you lift your eyes to his. He sucks in a breath from how your eyes seem to be glowing against the fluorescents of the lights shining above the sink. You’re such a vision, even through the tears. “Don’t say that, sweetheart. You’ve got nothin’ to be sorry for.” Your bottom lip quivers as you stare in wonder at him, a soft glow casting his way.

You’re such a fucking angel.

“Here, let me.” He reaches out to grab the bottle of lavender soap from your hand and slowly starts to put the bathroom back in order—fixing the shower curtain, placing the shampoo and soap bottles on the edge of the porcelain tub, setting your towel in a neat pile by the tub, adjusting the shower head back where it belongs.

He feels you watching him like a hawk, your eyes fixed on every careful movement he makes like he’s an artist crafting a sculpture. When he gazes back after he’s got the bathroom in order again, his chest tightens when you look at him with that longing mirrored in your glossy irises. It’s like you’re reaching out for him, even though you’re standing still. Your eyes tell stories; he can almost grasp the edge of the first page, can almost smell the crisp paper turning, beckoning him to listen.

Taking his eyes off you for just a few seconds, he turns the clear faucet until hot water comes running out. Mixing in the lavender soap, he lets it fill to almost the top of the tub, the steam billowing out like winter fog over a glassy lake. When he cuts the water off, he turns back to you and nods toward the tub. “It’s all yours, sweetheart.”

Your throat bobs, and there’s that look in your eyes again. The tears brimming to the surface, your lips twitching out a response. “Thank you, Joel.”

With one more nod of his head, he takes his exit, but he stops at the doorway and turns, just inches from your shoulder. “I’ll be right outside, okay?”

You gulp down on nothing and whisper, “Okay.” When he walks through the threshold and shuts the door, he leans against the frame of it, his head flush against the solid oak as he blows out a breath of relief. He believes in you, believes you can face the fears of your haunted past. One day at a time, he knows you’ll make it just fine one of these days. Whether he’s here or not. His chest stings thinking about you leaving, not being here one day.

Please, don’t leave. Stay. Just stay.

He hears the hesitant splash of water as you slip into the tub from the other side of the door. It doesn’t take long to hear your shaky cries. Closing his eyes, he exhales slowly, tries to block out the waves of hurt you’re feeling.

It’s one of those bad nights. You don’t always have them. You’ve been doing so good lately. Not as many nightmares that tear him from his bed, not many meltdowns that send him running your way. You’ve made so much progress, but tonight’s one of those setbacks that keep you frozen in time.

Placing his palm on the door, he lets out a breath and prays you can feel his touch through the closed door. Just one calming, gentle touch that he desperately wants to give you. He’ll let it slip through the cracks, permeate through the billowing steam of the tub until it makes its way to your cheek. Just one caress. The back of his knuckles brushing against you. Would that be enough to let you know you’ll be just fine, that you’re safe with him?

That’s the tricky part, the boulder that’s blocking the way in. He can’t touch you when that’s all he wants to do. Not in a sexual way, but in that gentle, loving way he so desperately wants you to feel.

You deserve to feel that. Deserve to feel wanted, important, beautiful, safe. And goddamn it, you’ll have those one day. If that’s the last thing he does. He’ll take all that pain and turn it into something beautiful—like the glitter of your invisible wings. Wings he sees.

Just as he takes a step forward, he stops dead in his tracks when he hears the faint trace of his name through the crack under the door. And then he hears it—your tears raining down into the bubbles, crashing like thunder through his entire system. With one hand braced on the doorknob, he waits for just a second. Just to make sure what he heard wasn’t ghosts whispering lies through his eardrums. But there it is again—the call of his name, a desperate plea to make the pain stop.

Without another thought, he’s ripping open the door to find you curled up like a ball in the tub—your head between your legs, back hunched, droplets of water dripping down your delicate skin. He tiptoes over, careful not to scare you, cautious not to spiral that fear that’s ingrained like a tattoo deep under your skin.

Dropping to his knees at the edge of the tub, he lets his elbows scrap against the porcelain, reaching out just enough to let you know he’s right there where you need him. “Sweetheart?”

You curl in on yourself a bit more, letting tiny whimpers slip from your pretty lips. You don’t respond with words because you’re too lost in the fog of a distant nightmare, stuck under the roaring waves as your fears drag you under the dark depths where he can’t quite reach you.

He reaches out again, desperate to pull you free. “Sweetheart, hey. Look up. Please.” But nothing. No response, no movement. You’re just there. Trapped.

And so, he reaches once more, but to no avail. You’re too far gone. “I can’t reach you from there. Can you jus’ try for me? Can you move jus’ a bit closer so I can help you?”

Still nothing. You’re there but really, you’re in a far away place. Trapped in hell, reliving those horrible images over that you had to endure all alone.

He shuts his eyes for just a second, breathes in the lavender scent that’s permeating around him. When he opens his eyes, he steadies himself and locks his jaw. His eyes flick to the bubble-filled tub and back to the door—like he’s tossing between one choice and the other. Another scan of his eyes, another deep breath.

Flip. Flip. He somersaults between what he should and shouldn’t do. Leave you in here all alone to sulk or save you from yourself. One more flick of his eyes to your curled-up body, and he’s making a conscious decision. He chooses to save you. He’ll always choose you.

Unbuttoning his blue flannel, he drapes it over the clear rack next to the tub, right beside your olive-shaded towel. His leather boots come next and then his socks. He’s left in only the white t-shirt that strains against his flexed muscles and a pair of old denim jeans. But he won’t take those off. No. That’d be sending a message—one he doesn’t want sent. So he’ll drown with you in the bathtub, soggy jeans and all. But this time, he’ll keep you floating at the top.

Slowly, carefully, he slips into the back of the tub, immersing himself under the bubbles while his jeans soak through. Far enough away from alarming you, yet close enough to reach you now.

You flinch at the splash of him, but you’re still so far gone that you barely register he’s there in the bathtub with you.

Let me help, sweetheart, he thinks to himself. Let me cover you in my wings and drown out the noise. Let me keep you safe.

“Sweetheart?” he murmurs lowly, barely reaching an arm out so he can catch your attention. When you turn your head and look up through your tear-stained eyelashes, your eyes widen a bit, like you never realized he slipped right in.

“Joel?” It’s barely a whisper, barely a scratch of a noise over your sniffling, but there’s something swimming in your glassy irises. A plea for help, like you want him to pull you in and hug away the nightmares of your past.

“It’s me,” he says gently. Another splash of a tear reaches the surface of the water, creating a ripple effect across the top.

You don’t move; you just stare into the void, roaming your eyes over his drenched clothes. “Your clothes. They’re soaked…”

He gives you a soft smile and leans against the tiled wall. “S’okay. Nothing the washer can’t fix.” You just stare at him wide-eyed, your lips trembling as you take in his words—like you can’t believe he’d be so considerate because he’s almost positive no one has ever considered your feelings but him.

“Why would you do that…” And then the tears swim in your eyes like a whirlpool—uncontrollable where he can’t stop them. He knows. He knows no other man has done the same as he has with you. Instead they tore you apart, took advantage of your frail body while they could sink their teeth into you.

He reaches out to brush his thumb against your cheek, swiping a tear away as he gazes at you with sad eyes. “‘Cause I need to make you feel safe, sweetheart. I’d never…” He stops to clear his throat, to get ahold of himself before he breaks down too. “I’d never hurt you. Ever. I heard you call my name outside the door. Heard the plea in your voice and I jus’ knew you needed me. So here I am.”

You blink back tears, registering his words as they slip through your mind. And when you finally come to terms with them, you give him a sad smile and hand him the purple washcloth.

Taking the damp material, he coaxes you closer, just so he can reach you. “C’mere, sweetheart. Slide back for me jus’ a little. There ya go,” he says quietly, letting you situate yourself between his open legs. Still far enough away not to have your back flush to his chest, just close enough to where you’re comfortable. He’s always been so careful about that—your boundaries. Always quick to put bright orange cones up when he needs to, but never willing to cross the lines.

The first brush of the washcloth across your back makes you flinch, makes tears well in your eyes, but it doesn’t go unnoticed. “Hey, s’okay. You’re okay,” he coaxes as he eases up and slowly draws the washcloth back for a second, long enough for you to nod that you’re okay.

Carefully, he strokes the soapy washcloth across your arms, gently gliding over old, faded scars across your back. But when he hits the crevice of a faint scar on the top of your right shoulder, you shudder.

“Hey, did I hurt you?” he asks carefully, like he’s walking on broken glass.

You shake your head back and forth, tears welling in your eyes. “No, no. Just…”

He stops his movements, lets the washcloth drop into the sudsy bubbles, but he still hovers his fingers over where the scar is outlined with red. “Jus’ what?” He tries not to nudge, tries not to pry too far into the past, but he’s already standing with glass shards lodged into his skin.

With one more deep inhale, you let out a quiet sob. “The scars. They’re so… ugly. I can’t stand to look at them because they remind me…” you choke on your words but spit them out. “Remind me how worthless they made me feel. How unbeautiful they said I was each time they dragged glass and their nails through my skin…”

His eyes widen in horror while you fall apart in front of him, hanging your head low while you tremble from the tears. He’s furious, enraged at every single man that ever laid a finger on you and made you feel like you were useless. You’re not just a body, not a woman who can be toyed with. You’re… amazing and so strong and so fucking beautiful. And he’ll spend every day trying to prove to you that you’re not any of those things they made you feel.

“Sweetheart…” He brushes the tip of his thumb against the faint scar, tracing it like he can just sweep it away. You flinch, but you don’t pull away. You just let his hand warm your chilled skin. “These scars may be deep, may fade with time, may always be there. But I want you to listen to me very carefully.” You tilt your head toward the right, enough to where your eyes meet his. You’re listening, so he continues on. “They do not mark you as worthless or anything else those useless pricks told you. The way I see it is, they show me just how strong and brave you are. How important and valuable you are. And jus’ how…”

Your breath catches as you watch him dip his head down—so close to your scar on your shoulder, so close to knocking you off your center just once more. He hovers right over the jagged scar and ghosts his lips over the curve of your shoulder, just enough to scrape his lips over your skin. Enough to stay in a boundary, but close enough to whisper a kiss over the faded scar that tells you lies.

“How beautiful they make you,” he whispers out, breathing his promise over the dip of your shoulder, sealing it with the brush of his thumb until he leans back and drops his hand against the side of the tub.

The way your eyes stare back at him—tears swimming in your eyes—makes his chest clench. Those beautiful doe eyes that tug at his heart. You’re just silently watching him, drinking in his words, letting your own hand trace against the scar on your shoulder—the one Joel just brushed his lips over. And he meant it, every single word off his lips. You’re so beautiful, scars and all. Blooming flowers in a big green field, blossoms as bright as the sun. You’re sunshine—gold and angelic. That’s what he thinks of you. Pure sunlight.

After a few minutes of just looking at each other, you turn back around and let him continue stroking the washcloth over your skin. Letting his fingers lather shampoo through your hair, groaning as he works the suds through your scalp. He knows it must feel good, has to be nice to let someone else take care of you for once.

Take care of you. Is this the first time someone really did that for you? Is this…

You interrupt his thoughts as he pours a bucket of water over your hair, washing away all the shampoo into the tub. “Joel?”

“Hm?” he hums, repeating the motion once more with the bucket.

“How can I…” You struggle to find the right words to say. “The shower head. How do I… I still can’t take a shower. Still can’t stand to look at it. How do I break that cycle?”

He pinches his brows together and drops the bucket over the side of the tub, his palm gliding over the smooth porcelain as he thinks. “Well, you jus’ take it one step at a time. And when you look at that metal shower head, you pull on a brave face and glare right back at it. And when the fear feels like it’s eating you alive, you growl right back and tell it you’re a force to be reckoned with. You’re brave and strong and powerful. It can’t touch you.”

Slouching over, you tug your knees closer to your chest as the bubbles gather around you. “But I don’t feel brave right now. I mean, I couldn’t even start the bath by myself. Couldn’t even wash my own hair…” And then the tears start raining down like a thunderstorm, lightning wielding in the distance. The dark clouds are back with full force, but he won’t let them keep you covered.

“Hey,” he nudges you, brushing the back of his knuckles over the middle of your back. “S’okay to have bad days. It’s okay to ask for help,” he murmurs as another teardrop leaks into the tub.

“I feel like I’m drowning,” you shakily whisper, letting the words run down the tile walls.

He closes his eyes for just a second, until his chest stops burning from the weight of your words. If you’re drowning then he’ll plunge under the cold waves and reach for you, until you’re safe on land.

Taking his calloused fingers, he gently brushes them across the scars on your back, carefully tracing each jagged line as he carves the word beautiful in place of those old scars. “You can stop treading water, sweetheart. I’ll keep you floating. You don’t have to fear drowning anymore. I’ve got you, sweet girl. I’ve got you.”

And just like that, a few seconds later after his words have sunk into your skin, you’re slipping deeper into the tub but instead of letting your head submerge under water, you rest your head carefully on the top of his left thigh, giving up all your fears to the man that so graciously saved you from drowning. You relax into him, letting your wet hair hang over his denim-clad thigh, resting against the rock that’s kept you from sinking once again.

He lets out a long sigh, his lips tugging into a small smile as he gazes down to see you let your guard down just for a few minutes to fully trust him. It’s an intimate moment—a lapse in time where you’re able to fully take off your armor just for these few seconds. The world outside can wait. Because right here, in this tub, is like nothing you’ve experienced before. Your trust is so fragile, so very delicate like a piece of glass. But he’s proven his loyalty, proven he has no intention of hurting you. The only thing he’s done is made you truly believe there’s still good in the world. He’s good. Joel is.

He keeps still, afraid to move, afraid to ruin this delicate moment. But as the seconds tick by, he can’t help but to carefully let his right arm reach out, let his hand fall into your damp locks. And as slowly as he can, he cautiously starts to stroke the crown of your head, all the way to the back of your neck in repeated, fluid motions.

Intimacy is a scary thing, but this moment right now is sacred, so very affectionate. It could break at any moment, but you don’t move. You just close your eyes and revel in the feel of his palm tracing hearts across your scars, letting him stroke his fingers through your locks as you breathe in the woodsy scent that makes up Joel Miller.

His delicate strokes falter for just a second as he asks, “When’s the last time someone took care of you?”

You open your eyes and blink a couple times, your mind blank when you whisper, “Never…”

He gently brushes a falling tear off your cheek and nods. “Let me take care of you then, sweetheart. I want to take care of you.”

Hugging your arms tightly around his calf, you curl your weight into him and close your eyes so no more tears fall.

Let me take care of you. Those words flood through your mind until all you can remotely think of are the softest brown eyes you ever did see. All you ever wanted was someone to care enough. You never thought it’d be a man like Joel Miller. But here he is—a giant teddy bear you never want to let go of. He’s exactly what you’ve always needed.

Soft. He’s so fucking soft for you, and you think you’re just as soft for him…

You stay like that for maybe half an hour, hugging your arms around his muscular calf and leaning your head against his strong thigh, enjoying the languid strokes of his calloused fingers against your scalp. Whatever cage that was holding you hostage minutes ago broke free whenever he ghosted his lips over your scar, calling you beautiful instead of the vile things those awful men called you.

Beautiful. Even through all the jagged scars and trauma, Joel sees right through them. He sees you. Not as a broken woman that can’t be fixed, but one that’s strong and fierce and full of potential. He sees you like no one else has before, and that’s more than you could’ve ever asked for.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Water’s gettin’ cold. Let’s get you up.” He unwinds your arms from his leg and reaches for the olive-colored towel, wrapping you in warmth while he helps you up from the now frigid water. You just gawk at him because his clothes are sopping wet, dripping down onto the bathtub mat, but he doesn’t even seem to mind. He only seems to be worried about you.

So you reach for another folded towel and place it in front of him. “Here, you’re soaked, Joel. Please, take it.”

He glances down to your outstretched hand and slowly takes it, a warm smile reaching across his lips. “Thanks, sweetheart. You’re a doll.” You give him a half smile and hug the towel tighter against your body, trying your best to warm up.

When he notices you visibly shaking, he places another towel around your shoulders and rings out the water droplets that keep dripping down your back. “Better?” he asks after he’s taken the time to squeeze out the excess water in your hair.

You nod, throwing him another soft smile. “Better.”

His eyes fall to the blue flannel draped over the rack. He slowly reaches for it and stirs something over in his mind, until his eyes flick back to yours. “Here. You keep it, sweetheart. I know how much you like my flannels. Might keep you warm.”

Your lips part in awe, your words lost as your fingers slide over the soft material. “Joel, no. I can’t. You’ve already—”

He pushes it into your open hand and curls your fingers around it. “Keep it. You can give it back if you want, but tonight jus’ keep it. Okay?”

As you tighten your hold on the blue flannel, you sniffle back a tear and nod, accepting the gift. “Okay.”

A warm smile curls against his plush lips and then he’s sliding the back of his knuckles against your hand, an affectionate gesture that makes your heart clench. “Attagirl,” he smiles. “Well, I’m gonna go change into some dry clothes. I’ll come check on you in a few minutes, okay?”

You nod and watch him walk off, leaving you alone with the sound of a draining tub and his soft flannel curled in your palm. Lifting the flannel to your nose, you inhale his woodsy scent, pretend you’re still wrapped around his leg while he strokes his fingers through your hair. You almost wish he was still in here with you—his hand gliding through your locks, words of affirmation leaving his lips.

He makes you feel so good—like someone who matters. Like you’re someone that’s worth loving…

Love. Could he ever love you? Could you ever love him? You’re not really quite sure of anything nowadays, but you sure would like to try…

After fussing with the tangles in your hair and raking the toothbrush across your teeth, you’re snug in Joel’s flannel with a pair of blue pajama bottoms to go with it. And when you slide back downstairs to see what Joel’s up to, you see he made you a cup of hot chocolate. But not just any hot chocolate. It’s Joel’s specialty topped with extra marshmallows and whipped cream—one of your new favorite things.

“Thought you’d wanna warm up with a cup of hot chocolate and maybe a movie?” he asks, hope filling his big brown eyes.

Curling your fingers around the warm glass, you give him a soft smile. “I’d love that.”

With one more smile, he leads you into the living room and turns on the flat-screen tv, the fire crackling in the near distance. And when he hands you the remote, you push it back and shake your head. “This time I’ll let you pick.”

“Alright, sweetheart. This time I’ll pick.”

This time, you sit on the same couch as him, just inches apart. And halfway through, you start to doze off and end up sprawled over the couch, your head on his knee. You don’t miss those soft, light strokes of his fingers or the gentle way he says your name through the fog. This time, it feels like more. Feels like this is bubbling into much more than you would’ve thought.

Feels like your heart just made its decision that he was made to find you…

He’s got such a soft spot for you, just like you do for him. Maybe this could be more. Maybe, just maybe, he’ll fall for you the way you’re falling for him. Slowly but oh so easily.

He feels like home.

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darklydeliciousdesires · 2 months ago

Text

Regal Fever - An Aemond Targaryen/Reader One Shot Story.

You are a whore within Madame Sylvi's brothel, and Aemond is your customer. It's literally a smut fest and nothing more, so enjoy, my loves!

Words - 3,804

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

The house of pleasure run by Madame Sylvi is perhaps the nicest of the brothel’s littering Silk Street, where whores ten a piece of silver can be found, each of them ready and waiting to spread her legs for her paying customer.

You, however, much like the women you share the space with, are most certainly not ten a piece of silver whatsoever.

“Oh, yes, dear,” Sylvi told you upon your seeking work within her establishment, many moons ago now. “You are a pretty one. Many a gold coin would be offered to lay with you.”

And so there you are, whore to the highborn, the noble and the royal. Well, no regal gentlemen have lain with you as yet, but you often quietly wonder whether the princes of the realm might ever cast their gaze in your direction. They visit fairly often, after all.

The attentions of the ailing King Viserys’s eldest son, you could do without, Prince Aegon a rude, boorish and cruel young man. His younger brother, however, hmm. The quiet confidence Prince Aemond carries himself with, paired with such chiselled, immaculate features, with him you would certainly keen to feel his Targaryen fire beneath your skin.

Alas, he seems to gravitate towards the madame exclusively, unbothered by the wanton looks and lustful promises whispered to him by any other whore. With the night of the full moon seeming to bring out more in the way of clientele, your fellow working girls all parading themselves in swathes of silk that leave little to the imagination, some teasing the audience with decadent fan dancing, you think little of it when the younger prince himself arrives.

Much like always, you simply continue to work the room looking ravishing for anyone but him, unmoved by his presence. After all, his visits are more frequent than most, and he rarely pays attention to anyone other than Sylvi herself. Although tonight, with Sylvi already hosting a man within her bed, it seems that the prince must make another choice.

You cannot help it, though, to observe out of the corner of your eye, seeing him speaking with Lexia, a beautiful woman with endless braids of spun silver creeping down her back, contrasting like stars dotting a midnight sky against her deep, caramel flesh. Some whisper that she is a bastard of Targaryen lineage, rumours of her being fathered by Baelon the Brave abounding.

Fitting, that he should be drawn to her. The Targaryen’s are known to sometimes favour their own blood, after all.

However, after she has spoken with him, likely making him privy to the fact that Sylvi herself is otherwise engaged, he nods and moves on, Lexia continuing to tantalise the patrons with her soft, exotic dance moves.

Your heart skips a beat as his gaze sweeps the room, searching for something, or rather someone. You busy yourself with refilling goblets of wine and laughing at jokes that aren't particularly funny, your mind whirling with the thought of the prince choosing another tonight. But then the air shifts, a palpable tension building as footsteps draw nearer. You dare not look up, even when the other women’s whispers grow louder.

In the corner of your vision, you see the prince’s boots stop before you, and your breath catches. Slowly, you raise your eyes, your own curiosity overpowering your attempt at indifference. Your nerves send little tremors to your face, though, feeling your cheeks and lower lip gently begin to quake.

He stands over you, casting a long, imposing shadow. The room seems to fall away, the noise of laughter, instrumental chimes and conversation fading into an indistinct hum as your entire focus narrows down to the prince before you.

“Your name?” His voice is smooth, yet compelling. Also, deeply arousing too, you note.

“Jasmine,” you reply, trying to keep the nervous wobble out of your voice, though you know the prince likely catches it.

“Jasmine. Like the tea,” he repeats, savouring the taste of it on his tongue, as he likely would upon tasting the flower you named yourself after. It isn’t your born name, merely one you chose for the job. Something a little exotic, as Madame Sylvi suggested.

He steps closer, the scent of leather and a hint of something spicy filling your senses. “I have been watching you.”

You blink in surprise. “You have?”

He reaches to you, tucking your hair behind your ear. Immediately, you flinch, and you aren’t sure why. Whenever Sylvi makes brief mention of him, she utters nothing to make anyone believe he’s anything less than gentlemanly. As a Targaryen, he’s likely still tyrannical and power thirsty, he certainly exudes that, but for women, perhaps something may soften.

“Sweet thing, I mean you no harm.” Still, you aren’t sure whether or not to believe his statement, held fast in the bewitching stare of his lone violet eye. His presence carries with it a weight of dominance, after all, the prince reaching to trail a tapered finger along the curve of your jaw. “Quite the contrary, in fact, since I am told that Sylvi is otherwise occupied.”

His lips curl, tilting into a roguish smile, watching as you gape, words not immediately coming to you. “You... y-you choose m-me?”

Your stutters amuse him, yet there is a slither of impatience there in his silky drawl, you note. “I would not be standing here before you with my cock half-hard already if I did not. After all, one whore is as good as another, or perhaps you might be better, hmm?” You drop your gaze a little, the prince hooking his fingers beneath your chin, forcing your eyes to return to his.

“Take me to your bed, Jasmine.”

Setting the wine jug down upon a nearby silk swathed table, you turn back to him, extending your hand. He doesn’t notice to begin with, too transfixed by the soft round of your bare breasts to see you ready and waiting to lead him away.

“My prince...”

“Hmm?” He clears his throat, his cheeks flushing a little, fingers gently curling around your dainty hand. A cocky smirk tilts his mouth, not ashamed at all to have been caught falling into his lewd thoughts. “Pardon me. I was quite enjoying the view.”

Your reply is but a seductive smile, leading him through the throngs of people over to the back of the brothel. Your bed area, much like the rest, is bordered by lacy curtains that give privacy between the little den of inequity and the main room itself.

Reaching to part the fabric, you both enter, Aemond seating himself at the end of the round bed, fashioned with sumptuous velvet sheets and many large pillows made of the same. You’re about to ask him what he desires of you when his large, elegant hands come to bracket your waist, pulling you near, his mouth pressing a kiss between your breasts.

The silks knotted at your hips come undone in his hands, gliding to the floor, his tongue licking a circle around your nipple. His mouth closes, sucking until it furls against his tongue. It makes arousal spark into life, a plus in your job, to be genuinely wet and keen for the man you are to lay for, rather than slicked ready with the assistance of exotic oils.

“I was about to ask what you desired, my prince,” you purr, Aemond looking up at you, his eye glinting amethyst in the glow from the candlelight.

He hums quietly, releasing your nipple, blowing upon it gently before his teeth snap in a soft bite, that glint in his eye turning a little wicked. “I desire your nipples in my mouth presently.” He then turns his attention to the other, his hands wandering in slow glide up your back. “Gods be good, you have perfect tits.”

Perfect is how he touches them, too. Nothing less than you’d expect from a man who has lain with Sylvi herself for as long as he has. The madame shows a man how to pleasure a woman, should he be willing to learn, and from her cries of ecstasy throughout the brother whenever she has the prince within her bed, you know for certain that he has indeed been willing. You also recognise the difference between genuine ecstasy and a fake performance; if anyone has an ear for it, it is a whore.

His hands creep around, stroking the swell of each breast, his mouth still delighting the left with sucks, the pebbled peak circled by his tongue as he reaches to your mouth, pushing two fingers against your lips.

“Suck them,” he orders huskily. “Get them nice and wet.”

Obediently, you open your mouth, receiving them against your tongue, sucking them with all the sensuality you would show should it be his cock between your lips. It's a little hint for him, a preview, if you will, over what he will soon enjoy.

Pulling them away, he fixes you with an intent gaze, hand moving down your body, his other grasping the back of your thigh. “Move astride me, sweet girl. Splay those pretty petals for your prince.”

You do, and he shifts a little further back upon the bed. “That’s it. Good girl.” His praise sends your insides to flutter, his wettened fingers pushing between your legs, breath catching in his throat. “Oh, I needn’t have bothered,” he grunts, your dew bathing his digits, Aemond bringing those gloss-slicked fingertips to his mouth and sucking with a faint, hungry moan. “Plenty wet enough for me already, I see.”

“My prince cannot be surprised,” you purr, your fingers moving to his hair, weaving through the endless strands of cascading silver. “Not with how handsome he is, nor with how aptly he sucks upon a pair of tits.”

Something darkens those handsome features for a fraction of a second, almost like he cannot believe there is any sincerity behind your assertion that he is handsome. It’s a tiny little dip in the confidence he has exuded in shades thus far, but you catch it.

Any man likely would suffer such, being maimed at such a young age as he was, still a young man of only six and ten in years. Why should a prince be any different? Beneath the confident way he carries himself and royal title, he is but mortal flesh and blood.

“I am not,” he begins, recovering himself, “merely pleased over how keen the little whore is to receive her prince.”

His fingers return to the soft wet of your folds, teasing until the petals of your sex splay further for him, long strokes making your breath hitch. You gasp when those long, tapered digits meet your swollen little pearl, a shaky sigh fluttering from your mouth, Aemond gently clasping your jaw and guiding your lips to his.

“Gevie,” he mutters against your mouth, kissing you again, his tongue gently rolling in silky swirls against yours.

“What does that mean, my prince?” you ask, your fingers curling at the nape of his neck.

His mouth moves to your throat, hot kisses pressed lightly. “It means beautiful. For you are, little whore.”

Your lips curl into a crescent, his words and the pleasant stroke of his fingers causing your insides to hum, those fingers then slipping, teasing where you stream for him before pushing inside. While he seeks out a spot within that has you clenching tight, he uses the heel of his palm to press against your bud, gently rocking his hand into the sweet cavern of your sex, his mouth returning to your throat as you moan softly.

“That’s it, sweet thing,” he moans throatily. “Let me hear you.”

Your cadence trills in the air like song, and it is no amped up performance for the sake of his ego, his fingers working pure magic in the soaked mess of your cunt, while his palm grinds so deliciously against where you spark for him.

“Tell me, Jasmine. How much do you ache for this to be my cock within you?” A little hint of teeth at your neck has you gasping, his dirty words even more so. “Or perhaps, you yearn for me to lick at the honey of this sweet cunt before I fuck you?”

And you thought it was you who had to ask of his desires...

“Whatever my prince wishes, I will be willing,” you whisper, lightning beginning to softly flicker at the base of your spine. “But if I may be so bold, my prince?” He raises an inquiring eyebrow. “You are overdressed. Allow me.”

He continues to touch you around the removal of his clothes, a perfectly chiselled physique beneath blemish free, alabaster skin revealed to you. Gods, he is utterly divine, a creation almost too perfect to be real.

Once he is as bare as you, he takes you at the hips, moving your body to the centre of the bed, settling himself before you. His hand smooths a stroke down your legs, widening your thighs, his lips following until his tongue begins lapping at your apex.

Oh, gods. He’s good.

Rarely do you find a man who thrives on giving pleasure to you when he is the one paying for your services, but the keenness Aemond goes about it with, you are left in little doubt that burying his mouth between your legs is exactly where his pleasure lies. You can always tell when a man genuinely enjoys it, thirsts for your womanhood.

Thirst Aemond does, sucking upon you like you are sweeter than a ripe, Dornish peach, pressing the flat of his tongue against your tingling bud, wide licks having the sonnet of your cries rending the air. The amber of the candles glinting in his eye make the violet hues burn like purple fire, the prince watching as you lose yourself to his mouth.

“That’s it, sweet thing,” he praises, “fall apart for me.”

His mouth closes over your tender bundle, his cheeks hollowing as he sucks. It snaps through you like the heat of a summer storm, balmy and heavy, glimmers fizzing up your spine.

“Oh, oh, you are incredible, my prince!” you wail, one hand clutching the velvet beneath you, the other tangling in his hair. “Gods be good, how I am going to repay the favour until your knees knock.”

He sits up slowly, licking the sheen of you from his lips. “And who am I to refuse such a pledge? Although it would be a shame to give up this.” His thumb swipes through your folds, his eyebrows rising. “Maybe I do not have to just yet, though.”

Moving, he settles upon his back, jerking his head. “Come here. You know exactly how I want you.”

Indeed, you do, moving to arrange yourself in the way he desires, facing away from him as you straddle his chest, bending forward, feeling him tug your hips. He brings you to his mouth, sucking upon you as you take a hold of his cock, reaching beneath the pillows to locate your bottle of almond oil. You need it not for your own lubrication, but gods, how men love the feeling of their cocks worked with a slippery hand. Plus, it tastes nice. An added bonus.

Decanting it, you push the stopper back in, returning your hand to him, slicking his entire length from base to tip. His cock is much like him, long and well-formed, Aemond groaning low around his suck upon your folds as he feels your hand working him in a slow, deft glide.

That moan only deepens when you bring him to your mouth, sucking his cockhead, tongue working the tip in the kind of serpentine flicker that has his chiselled abs tensing beneath the press of your breasts. Steadily, you allow him into your mouth inch by inch, tightening your lips around him, your hand pulling at what remains and cannot fit, feeling him pulse against your throat.

By the stars, the sounds it pulls from him. An aroused man is truly a feast for the senses.

While your head begins to bob slowly, tongue touring every vein and ridge of his hardness, he continues to thoroughly attend to you with his mouth. The blade of his tongue stiffens, letting you grind against it, removing it only to suck upon you with hunger.

The crest you felt near to before arranging yourself atop him is reignited, ecstasy pulsing, your muscles cording as you moan around his cock. Sinful fever reaches its peak, his tongue fluttering over your bud rapidly, big hands grasping your arse, a well-timed and equally well-placed smack to the left cheek the catalyst to your topping.

“Fuck... gods... oh!” He brings you to a skittering, wailing eruption, hips quaking as they drive back against his mouth.

“Mmm,” he groans, his tongue gentling against you. “You taste even sweeter when you come.” Moving his mouth, he scatters kisses to the back of your thigh, hands massaging your arse. “I want you on my cock. Now.”

That little hint of dominance from him brings you back instantly to who he is, moving obediently to his command, straddling his hips.

“No,” he speaks, his hands grasping your waist. “Turn around. I want to watch you, see your eyes as you ride me.”

He shuffles back to lean against the mass of pillows, welcoming you onto his lap with smouldering kisses as you steer him to your streaming hole, gliding down on every last girthy inch of him with a soft mewl. Gods be good, he feels amazing, stretching your cunt, your folds splaying around the thick of him, your mouth hanging open in exclamation.

“I’m going to dream of this cock, you know, when I have to fuck someone who’s lacking. It’ll be you who I’ll be thinking about.”

He smiles, all arrogance and pride. “Of course. Feels good, doesn’t it?” While he might’ve let his demeanour slip momentarily earlier, not truly believing your compliment over his handsomeness, the same does not extend to his cock, it seems. He knows exactly what he has.

“Good? My prince, it is divine.”

Satisfied by your answer, he leans to you, sucking your nipples, hands stroking up your back as your body rocks against his. It’s contained for only a short time, your hands moving back to support yourself on his thighs, feet pressing flat either side of his hips as you begin working yours in a figure of eight.

His cock hits you at every angle, scraping your depths at you watch his brow crease, mouth agape, groaning as you fuck him with all the finesse you’ve learned in reducing a man to a quivering wreck beneath you. You can feel yourself streaming down his length, his eye fallen to watch you split wide around him, the sounds of your groans and flesh smacking together filling the air as you begin to ride him hard.

“That’s it. Gods, fuck, that’s it, my sweet little whore,” he rasps. “Fuck me.”

By the gods, how you do, moving your hips in the way that has him entranced, tethers him, yanks him to mindlessness. You watch his eye focusing on you before it rolls back, his mouth dropping open as his head thuds against the pillows, unmoored for a few moments.

His gaze then returns to watch you sinking up and down his thick length, your cunt glossing his shaft, the wettened sheen glinting in the candlelight. You slow a little, giving him a moment to truly enjoy the sight, every vein and ridge of his cock dragging your walls beautifully, your hand smoothing over your skin to reach where you’re joined with him.

Stroking where you are fused, your fingers dampened adequately, you rub little circles upon your bud, glimmers suffusing, Aemond focusing on the sight only momentarily before bringing his thumb to his mouth, sucking it, reaching to knock your hand aside.

“Allow me, sweet thing,” he rasps, his smirk growing wicked, “trust me, you shall need both hands to hold on.”

When his hips buck up, the power behind the movement almost unseats you, and you reach to draw his thighs up behind you, leaning back, your hands tightening in their clutch. He arrows your cunt with vigour, the sound of his cock slamming into your sopping walls filling the air, the voracity of his fuck knocking the breath from you.

“Look how well you take it,” he praises, loving the sound of your frantic wails as he continues to assail you, spearing up into you rapidly. “Yes, that’s it. Let me hear those helpless little cries.”

He’s sending you to the edges of the heavens above, the pleasure almost biting, your verbal exclamations seeping beyond the confines of your bed, adding to the erotic choruses of the brothel. Each snap of his hips has heat misting up your spine, shocks of lightning breaking from strikepoint to strikepoint, your walls beginning to flutter madly around his shaft.

By the time he’s grunting hard and spilling thick and hot into you, you’re falling apart upon the deep punch of his cock, his thumb rubs sending pulsing skitters through your clit. The nirvana of it flushes wild through your blood, all that was frantic slowing, his hips coming to rest down once more as you both pant furiously.

It’s still ebbing away gently as you dismount him, your thighs shaky, lying down beside him. By all the gods... he’s nothing short of a truly magmatic fuck.

Turning to you, he skims the apple of your cheek with his thumb. “Yes, my pretty little whore. You will be sweet for me again before I am to leave.”

You are twice more, in fact, Aemond leaving a pouch of coins behind plentiful in weight. He glides from the brothel just as fluidly as he entered it, leaving you counting out Sylvi’s cut, swathing yourself in your silky robe before going to locate the woman herself and pass her a fistful of gold.

She eyes you, a small smirk tilting her mouth. “Did you enjoy him?” Looking down, she examines her fingernails idly, picking at a stray cuticle. “It sounded as if you did, girl.”

Little flashes from your night with him replay speedily through your mind, your heart quickening. “You taught him very well.”

Sylvi’s knowing smirk grows, lifting her head a little before she turns to walk away. “You’re welcome.”

Welcome, and completely spent. It’s a very good job he left you with enough gold to needn’t worry about taking another customer that night. As Aemond returns clandestinely through the streets back to the Red Keep, you fall down to your bed and into slumber upon sheets that still bear his scent.

How you cannot wait for the day he might return to them again.

A/N - Did you enjoy this story? If so, please be kind and leave a little comment/reblog. Thanks!

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond targaryen fanfiction #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #aemond targaryen smut

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whiskeyskin · 8 months ago

Text

Praise You

Premise: Thaniel and Oliver are reunited and Halsin's feeling a bit aimless, a head massage is just what Silvanus ordered. Not that kind.. well, maybe that kind too 😏🍆💦

• Halsin x gn!tav • M rating • Religious themes •

Cleric Gn!tav, religious experience but it's sexy?, Silvanus take the wheel, m!masturbation, hair braiding, massages, taking care of Halsin, kissing, confessions, revelations, deliciously wet Halsin, horny, connection, divine threesome if you squint?

5.4k words

Gods bless @naariel for these beautiful shots of this delicious man 😚👌✨ Get The Full Picture

(Just imagine Tav is the bedroll 😏)

_____________________________

•°•°•

It was a particularly jovial time in camp this evening, despite the grim surroundings, however they seemed a little less bleak now that Thaniel and Oliver were together again.

From inside the protection of the Moondome, they sat together with many bottles of wine, as so generously provided by the Last Light's cellar.

They still had Ketheric Thorm to deal with but that was tomorrow's problem. Tonight, they drank.

Halsin had been carrying the weight of the Shadowcurse for over a century, now he'd finally been able to lessen it's hold and rescue his childhood friend from a terrible fate. There was almost a glow about him as he sat nursing his only glass.

He looked a little lost at times, almost in mild shock. As though he couldn't quite believe what had happened.

Tav smiled warmly, they wondered what was in store for Halsin Silverbough.

They'd been brushing out Shadowheart's hair for 45 minutes to redo her hair ready for tomorrow's foray into Shar's Gauntlet, down to find the Nightsong.

Finally, the brush glided through her long raven locks with ease.

"There, that's half the battle won already. Ketheric will be a walk in the park after dealing with your tenday's long hair." Tav jested, brushing her hair up into a ponytail.

"Oh, shut up you," she threw with failed derision, "I would have done it myself, but you offered." She shrugged, taking a sip of wine.

"Oh, yes. Forlornly calling out that you wanted to gussy yourself for Shar, only.. alas! You can't remember how to do your hair. The pinnacle of passive aggressive whinging." Astarion threw across the fire, nursing his own goblet.

"Well, you're the expert." Shadowheart countered, illiciting a jeering reaction from the group.

"Ooh, she's got you there Fangs!" Karlach nudged his shoulder with her elbow, a little too forcefully. Astarion rubbed yelped and rubbed his shoulder.

"What do you mean? When I'm unhappy, I come right out and say it. I don't waste time beating around the bush."

"Correct, but your continued and incessant complaints regarding self-cleanliness in this wilderness are tiresome." Lae'zel sneered.

"Not to play devil's advocate, Lae'zel but I have to agree with Astarion on this one. Trying to maintain any kind of a bathing routine whilst braving these perilous lands is a task most impossible to undertake." Gale retorted, holding his hands up in gesture.

"Well, now that Thaniel and Oliver are restored, these lands will flourish once more when nature takes it's course. Oakfather willing." Halsin did his customary gesture.

"I don't really mind, and you've been a very good model sitting here without whining." Tav stated, tying off her hair and pulling it tight but comfortable, "it reminds me of my childhood, we'd spend hours brushing and braiding each other's hair. It was practice for when we'd be braiding those in ceremony."

"Ah yes, the braids of your people are intricate indeed." Wyll nodded, "I've met a few with the most complicated of braidwork, it's very impressive."

"Well, I was never good enough to braid those. It's more about the smaller victories that I specialise in. Smaller and more personal to the individual." They explained, twisting her hair to make it more manageable to thread through her hair adornment.

"Smaller victories?" Lae'zel narrowed her eyes with a curious tilt.

Shadowheart handed Tav her silver adornment, "Yes, they can be anything really. Anything that the person overcame; hardships, trials, successes, even failures."

"Your people celebrate failure? Bah. Mediocrity must be cleansed-"

"-Cleansed, yes we know what the Gith think about all of that. Despite this apparently fatal flaw, my people are great warriors, Lae'zel." Tav interceded, threading Shadowheart's hair through the chains to secure the hair piece.

"I know this. You have shown yourself distinguished in battle many times." Lae'zel insisted, frowning in the way she did.

"And yet, I'm not your 'typical' warrior. I'm valued because of the strengths I do have, not shunned for the ones I don't. My people embrace failure without shame, or repulsion because it takes more from a person to admit their mistakes, than to admit their success."

A hush fell over the group as Tav's words sank in. A few uncomfortable shuffles echoed around the group.

"I feel like there was more I could do to help the Tiefling refugees. I should have done more." Wyll said, breaking the silence.

"That's not a failure, that's a regret. Regrets are useless, Wyll. They keep us from seeing the good. You taught those children enough to survive that attack. You told Umi it's about giving him enough time to escape and they did. So, I'd count that as a success." Tav replied, smiling. Wyll took a stuttered inhale, surprised by their perspective.

"I failed to stop the Shadowcurse, it shouldn't have come to this." Halsin admitted, a pained expression on his face.

"You failed to kill Ketheric Thorm but so did many others that day. But you, my friend," Tav leaned to rest a firm hand on his muscular shoulder, "are the only reason it's ended now."

"If it had not been for you-"

"-Then you would have found a way. Your failure, is now your triumph, Halsin. This pain that has clouded you for a century, is finally done." Tav jolted him hard to emphasise their point, then scanned his hair, "I need to give you a new braid."

His head jerked to look up, hazel green eyes wide, "I did not think-"

"You need two; one for your failing, one for your victory. We are defined by both and must wear them proudly. If you'll permit me?" Tav paused, seeking consent.

They allowed the revelation to seep inward. The tenants of their people were often the cause of deep realisations regarding the self. Even when those people were as wise as Halsin.

"You would honour me." His warm, kind eyes brimmed with the threat of tears but he stoically swallowed them down.

~~~

The evening passed in reflective revelry, the gang admitted many deep seated secrets that had shamed them. It bonded them further, in a way that was Tadpole-free. By the end, Tav would need to braid all of their friends.

Lae'zel touched the fresh re-plaiting Tav had done for her, adding another to symbolise her small achievement of befriending Istiki. She seemed pleased.

Halsin had peeled away from the fire a short while ago but hadn't returned. Tav hoped that they hadn't caused him hurt by what they had said.

After such a long time of carrying this burden, taking a step back and looking at the situation in it's entirety after being so intrinsically entwined with it.. blinded within it.. would take time.

But they'd meant every word. He was an incredible man. And they hoped he saw that in himself.

Eventually, everyone resigned to their bedrolls. A goodnight hug from Karlach, Wyll, Gale and surprisingly Shadowheart, a pat on the shoulder from Astarion, and the usual nod from Lae'zel, imparted with more warmth than before.

"You can feed on me again tonight, let me just go check on where Halsin's got to." Tav gently patted Astarion's arm.

"I appreciate that. Unless I want to eat cow, there's nothing around here."

"Cow can be delicious but not in the way you experience taste, I'll bet."

"Ugh, no. Livestock taste - ugh - well, you can imagine." He curled his lip in disgust.

Tav laughed, "If they taste as bad as they smell, I think I can."

~~~

After very little searching, Tav found Halsin by the lakeside, just inside Isobel's protection. There seemed to be a large, silver basin in front of him.

He was naked from the waist up, revealing his impossibly muscled physique. Tav gasped. They'd obviously seen his barely contained body in his Druidic armour, but laid bare in front of them like this, their mouth had suddenly run dry, yet salivated hungrily simultaneously.

His hair looked longer, almost freer, as he took the basin over his head with ease and poured it over his hair.

Again, Tav gasped and a pooling of lust hit low in their belly watching this mountain of an Elf drench himself in water.

Halsin placed the basin back on the rock and pinched the water out of his eyes. He shook with an exhale, squeezing out the excess water from his hair and caught Tav's gaze.

Immediately feeling foolish, Tav jerked themselves out of their stupor and waved nonchalantly, making their way down to him. Halsin returned with a half wave as he wiped his face down with his hand.

"I didn't see you there, didn't realise anyone else was awake." He smiled brightly, towering half naked and beautiful.

Tav returned the smile, "I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

"You were concerned for me?" He sounded surprised.

"Of course, I understand that what I said might have been quite a lot to digest before one sleeps. I wanted to see that you were well, and rested."

Halsin's brows pulsed together but his expression remained warm, "It has been quite some time since someone checked to make sure I was rested but I promise you, I'm perfectly fine."

"I didn't mean to offend, or speak out of turn. The Shadowcurse has superceded everything else in your life and having that finally lifted from your burdens-"

Halsin held up a large paw to silence them, "Hush now, you did not speak out of turn. In fact, you spoke more truth than I've heard in a long time. A redeeming quality of yours.." he trailed off, with an intense stare.

"I'm glad to not offend, because I don't regret what I said. What you've achieved today will change the course of this land forever, for good this time."

"I must admit, it is a strange feeling to see hope sprout anew in these lands, after so much darkness." He mused, looking to the spot he'd brought Thaniel through from the Shadowfell.

Tav thought on the fierce battle for the portal, the desperate need to keep Halsin safe. The sheer relief that flooded them when they saw him return with Thaniel unconscious in his strong arms.

They stole a glance at him while he looked out towards the water. He truly was beautiful.

The strong line of his scarred jaw, the definition of his muscles, the uncharacteristic growth of chest hair dark against his sun-kissed skin. The lingering droplets of water chasing each other down the contours of his torso and into the damp waistband of his camp clothes.

Tav swallowed. Halsin was obviously a stunningly attractive man, but the energy and presence that exuded from his very soul was intoxicating; His strength, his compassion, his bravery and his boundless capacity for goodness and hope-

He'd taken out his braids.

Tav blinked twice, then glanced down to the empty silver basin and now what they saw to be soaps, glass bottles and tubs.

"What are you doing down here, Halsin?" They asked, plainly.

He blinked, returning his gaze to them, "Well, I had hoped to commemorate this occasion, as you suggested. That you would honour me with a new braid. However, my cleanliness has not been the top priority these last days and my hair is seldom touched by anyone but me. It required some attending to." He chose his words delicately. It made Tav laugh.

"Would you like some help?"

"I think I have imposed enough on your good will for one day. Although, I must admit, I do not know anything about hair care." He admitted with a chuckle.

"Well, I see you come fully stocked." They motioned to the jars, picking them up to read the labels.

"I spoke to Isobel about blessing some water so that I may bathe, one of the Harpers kindly gave me some of their own poltices and potions to use."

Tav opened a container to gauge the consistency, Halsin also reaching for a bottle. They took a sniff of the thick, white poltice and found it to be coconut.

"Ah, this is to soften and strengthen hair. Plus it smells divine." They offered Halsin to smell the balm, to which he let out a hum of agreement.

"This is an oil. To help with hair?" He said shrugging his shoulders and unstoppering it, the scent of lavender and rosemary strong on the air.

Tav nodded in agreement, "That's for the scalp as well as the hair. A scalp massage is unlike anything else for relaxation."

"Is that so?" Halsin asked with a playful lilt.

"It is so. Would you like a scalp massage? I am very proficient in them." Tav boasted, taking the oil bottle Halsin offered.

"Another of your many talents." He admired in a low register. Another intense gaze burned them in place.

"Well, in order for me to braid you, your hair must be in a good condition. If you'll allow me?" They gestured for him to sit.

"Now? Here?" He asked.

"Where else could be better than at the site of your achievement?" Tav posited, gesturing to the jutting rock.

Halsin turned down his lips and nodded in agreement, "I can't argue with that."

They both settled on the rocks, Halsin sat lower down in front of Tav's crossed legs. Tav rolled his camp shirt to place against the rock to afford Halsin more comfort, to which he rewarded them with another warm smile.

Once they were both in position, Tav pushed their sleeves up, "Tilt your head back for me." Halsin dutifully acquiesced, and they poured a good helping of the rosemary and lavender oil, assuring that it didn't drip.

"That smells wonderful." Halsin said through a smile.

"That it does," Tav agreed, flexing their fingers against Halsin's scalp in small circles, "It should feel even better." They returned with a smirk.

"Ooh, that it does." He mimicked, after a few moments of groans.

Tav proceeded with the scalp massage, fingers practised and strong, offering healing and relaxation for body and mind.

They saw the tension in his shoulders ripple away and he sank lower into the feeling, "You can rest your head against my legs if you'd like." They offered. A normal suggestion in these circumstances but this time it felt far more loaded.

They'd given hundreds of these kinds of treatments but this time felt different, important.. charged.

Wordlessly, Halsin sank back into them. The back of his neck resting on their crossed calves, as they continued their practice. His handsome face was contented.. at peace, as he gently lay on them.

Tav watched the small changes in his expression as their fingers worked their magic. His brows would flex, his closed eyelids would stretch as though his eyes were rolling back in his head.

Tav employed the subtle use of their nails to awaken the scalp for regeneration, raking them across his head. Halsin's jaw tensed and he let out a low rumble that sounded not quite human but it made their stomach tumble over uncomfortably.

"Apologies," Halsin's voice came out slightly breathlessly, "This is feeling quite good, and my grip over the animal within can be tenuous at times. I hope it doesn't frighten you." He opened his eyes to look up at them, his incomparable green hazel eyes shadowed with lashes and uncertainty.

"You could never frighten me, Halsin. You make me feel safe, protected. Never afraid." Tav spoke in a hushed tone and moved their thumbs to massage the worry lines that appeared there, "You are immense and powerful and you deserve to feel good."

"Mm, you make me feel good. Very good." Halsin licked his bottom lip and took a shaky breath.

Tav paused to add more oil to their hands, rubbing them together and gliding their full width to smooth his hair down. Then tossing his hair from side to side to work their way to the underside to massage the back of his neck.

Halsin groaned at the force of their fingers, "Tav, that feels quite extraordinary. You have a real talent for this." He let out a breathy chuckle.

"I'm not even started yet, Bear man." They teased, "You'll be practically unconscious by the time I'm finished with you." The tinge of unintentional sexual energy peppered their words, as they pushed the muscles of his neck under their hands.

"Bear man?" He shot out a laugh, "We shall both be exhausted after this, I'll wager."

"I've been doing this for many years, I could do this for hours." They braced into their strength and worked the heel of their palms hard, down into the extremely tight musculature of his shoulders.

Halsin let out a shuddering yelp, then a rumble paired with a gasp, "That.. was unfair."

"You're wound tighter than a Patrirar's arse, Halsin. You need to relax."

He sat up a little, pushing against the force.

"Oh, and how would you suggest I do that, when you're burying your fingers into my shoulders? Gods." He strained through gritted teeth.

"Besides a massage? A bath, masturbation, meditation, booze? There are lots of fun ways to unwind." Tav smirked, thumbs working over his wound muscles.

"All sound suggestions, apart from masturbation. That would be a tad inappropriate, don't you agree?" His tone was light and dark at the same time, it curled a devious smile to Tav's lips.

Their eyes flitted down to Halsin's crotch subconsciousally, only to almost choke at the sight of the thick snake straining against the fabric.

The aroma of arousal suffused around them, now turned to a thick smog, covering them unabashedly.

It gripped Tav low in their belly and held them by the throat, their own desire throbbing between their legs.

They folded themselves over him and leaned to whisper in his ear, their firm hands gliding down the strong plains of his chest.

They had never been good at being coy.

"Halsin. I would love you to touch yourself while I massage you. I would love to hear the sweet sounds of your pleasure and satisfaction, as we celebrate this together. To see you, to hear you. To bless this with an act of self love." Their lips caught on the hard edges of his Elvish ears, and he shuddered beneath them, his muscles bunching under their palms.

"You would?" He muttered, swallowing thickly.

"To see your beauty laid bare to me in such an intimate and scared act, yes I would.." They hummed into the shell of his ear.

He stretched his head back, pulling his lips back and baring fangs for a split second.

"Show that you're free of this regret, that it holds you no longer. Own this. Take this moment as yours. Praise the Gods with your surrender and pleasure."

Halsin huffed out an unsteady breath and began unfastening his trousers until his large, thick erection jutted free, sprouting from dark hair.

Tav eyed his cock hungrily with trepidation and intrigue, the image of Halsin buried deep inside them flashing before their eyes. The ghost of the stretch around him clenched their sex, filling their mouth saliva.

"Is this truly what you want?" Halsin asked, his large hand waiting in a fist on his toned thigh.

"If you mean to ask; is this an appropriate scenario for two friends to participate in, then no, it's probably not."

His fist squeezed tightly in frustration, as he sighed.

"I thought not." He said bitterly through tight lips.

"However, I was never one to follow rules." They moaned through a grin, as they flicked the tip of their tongue across his earlobe, nipping lightly with their teeth.

The air from Halsin's lungs whooshed out, as he slammed his to grip the back of their head, the other placed on their's across his heart. He fisted their hair, as he writhed against their suckling of his sensitive ears.

He pulled on their thickest braid, desire tugged them deeper with every follicle. Tav's eyes rolled back as they moaned, open-mouthed. Halsin trembled out a repressed groan, biting down on his lip and closing his eyes.

"Silvanus forgive me." He whined, sliding his hand from their hair, finally allowing himself the freedom to touch his twitching, weeping cock.

"No, 'Silvanus bless me'," Tav corrected, as they slid their oiled hand from under his grasp and held his forearm across his chest. They looked up, passed the moon barrier, to the sky, "Silvanus, bare witness to your faithful servant. Bless this act of devotion."

"Yes.. yes." He uttered, head sliding to their shoulder, cradled into their embrace. His huffed, hot breath jagged against their jaw.

Tav looked down to watch him pump his cock mercilessly, the beading precum that had leaked coating the blows. They swallowed his gasps and moans as he pushed against them.

Suddenly, the cold night of the shadows were ushered away, replaced by the sensation of sunlight and the smell of the trees and fresh earth. Tav could taste the juice of the fruits bore and the brilliance of light shining.

Tav smiled joyfully, bathed in the light of Halsin's God.

The All-Father was here with them.

"Do you feel-" He barely managed through gasps. They nodded against the sweat of his skin.

"Silvanus sees you, Halsin," they breathed, an irreverent smile across their face.

They heard words that had no source booming through their mind, they knew the meaning and listened.

"He has felt your faith and love. Your devotion and dedication to him and to the task of freeing these lands. He has found you deserving of his blessings. He granted you passage to retrieve Thaniel because he knew that you are worthy."

The divine words came out without thought, as tears slid down their cheeks.

"Thank you, Oakfather.. but.. none of this.. would have been possible.. without Tav." He keened, grip on his throbbing cock intensifying, "Bless them, Silvanus. Bless them."

The swell of the divine enhanced tenfold. Tav wept at the radiance coursing through them. The heat, the force.. it was indescribable. Incomparable.

"We would have been lost without you. All would have been lost without you." A low whimper rang from the back of his throat, as they kissed his markings.

The voice thundered inside their head once more, words of affirmation and benevolent boon. Tav gasped, their vision blinded by light, their lips rounded into a serene smile.

"You are the catalyst, Halsin. You are the might that wrenches away the rot, you are the sunlight and water to feed the earth.. Yours is the seed that brings new life."

Their other hand came down to grasp at his forearm, feeling the furious movement of Halsin's joy. Halsin yelped, gulping moans as he pumped his massive cock in abandon, thumping his strong hips to meet every stroke.

"I'm-I'm.." He choked, his jaw clenching, rhythm erratic.

"Yes, Halsin. Spread your fertile seed upon this land.." The feeling of the divine power crescendoing in their head.

"Silvanus.. Silvanus.." He struggled, "Bless me.."

Halsin convulsed and spasmed, roaring as he climaxed in hard, thick shoots of cum, spilling over the cold, grey earth beneath him. He jerked and strained, as he spurted thick and full, spattering the grass.

Tav held him close, guiding him through his orgasm, soothing him with sweet words, until his white seed wept down the sides of his softening member.

Still panting heavily, he licked his dry lips and removed his grip from his trembling cock; the remnants of his elation coating his fingers.

Tav's hand slid up his forearm in delicious abandon, bringing his hand to their mouth and greedily licking his cum off his fingers. Halsin hummed in appreciation of their enthusiasm.

Suddenly, the night was cold again, the warmth of divine embrace ended. However, heat rolled of Halsin in waves, chasing away the chill.

Several moments stretched between them, their breath still calming; both needing a moment to recompose. Tav moved their fingers to his temples and wound them in strong circles, Halsin exhaled long and slow.

Tav was reeling. Their body wrung out, their ears ringing. It had not been the first time a God had spoken to them but it was certainly the first time they acted as messenger for a God, especially for one that wasn't their own. They weren't even sure it had ever happened before, and especially not during such a sexual explicit act.

It was incredible.

"That was.." Halsin eventually began.

"..I know." Tav finished, as they carded their hands through his hair.

"What do we do now?" He asked, cock large and limp against his taut belly. An uncomfortable air of something akin to shame tinged his voice.

"We continue the celebration." Tav smiled, picking up the poultice beside them, smoothing it into Halsin's semi-dry, oiled mane of hair.

Wordlessly time spanned before them, as Tav slowly worked through his tangled hair. The coconut poultice soaked into the mess and loosened the knots, the scents of lavender, rosemary and coconut dancing together on the silent air.

Nothing stirred, apart from Halsin's soothed groans and the sounds of the brush through untangling hair.

"Did you feel it too?" He asked, uncertainly.

"Silvanus?" Tav clarified.

"Yes. I've heard his words before but that was.. different." He said, gravely. He sat taller removing himself from their touch, "I took advantage of the situation. I have been without the touch of another for some time now and I sullied this act of friendship with my own desires-"

"-Hush now," Tav murmured, gently pulling back into their chest, "You did not sully anything, nor take advantage of anyone." They kneaded their cheek into his to offer comfort.

"Silvanus was able to speak through me because I opened myself to you and by extension, to him. Put aside these fears. I wanted this too." Tav reassured him, grazing his cheek with the back of their hand. Halsin turned his head, nuzzling slightly and rested his hand on theirs, with another warm smile.

"That is good to hear. Thank you, my friend."

Tav laid their chin upon his head and pressed a small kiss there. A happy moment surrounded them both.

Conversation flowed easily between the two, now that the air had been cleared.

Tav brushed his hair through, with a modicum of difficulty, then sectioned his hair and retied the braids that had previously existed with Halsin's guidance. While he regaled the story of how the Shadowlands had come to be, Ketheric Thorm, Shar, the Harpers and Druids coming together. Fierce battles, death, terror, success, hubris and finally how he'd dedicated his life to the eradication of this curse.

Tav was just finishing the last braid, the one commorating his achievement.

"I've spent this last hundred years of my life in persuit of this goal, forsaking most everything else. Now that it's nearly done, I do not know. I-I feel.. hollowed.. aimless. Like I am without purpose. Apart from helping you with your tadpole, of course." He added with a incline of his head.

"Is that why you're helping us? To feel like you still have a mission?" Tav asked, curious.

The only reason he'd come to Moonrise with them in the first place was to get closer to the Curse. It would make sense that he would return to the Grove, now that that part was complete.

"Gods no, never think that. I'm here with you till the end, regardless of what comes next. You have aided me in ways I could never repay, there's not a chance I'll abandon you now." He said firmly.

"But you mustn't need to feel like you owe us anything, there's no-"

Halsin reached across himself to grab their arm, and with a fluidity becoming of an Elf, he slowly turned to face them.

His earthen eyes looked up at them with a fierceness and urgency that stopped their thoughts.

"My friend, I have lived a very long time. Many lifetimes of others. But I have never met anyone quite like you before. Your bravery, your warmth, your valour. You are unique," his big, warm hands covered theirs with ease as he edged closer, "and I am yours, for as long as you need me. Against Ketheric, against the Absolute.. everything."

Tav swallowed. The radiant energy flowing from his heart was almost unbearable to withstand. They felt themselves drawn to him, leaning in. Halsin followed.

The distance between them seemed miles and nothing at all, as they were pulled together. His eyes focused on their lips, head tilting to accommodate their impending meeting.

The air was hot and doused with lavender and clean soap; the energy palpable. Tav closed their eyes to let it overtake them.

"Ahem." Came a voice far too close, "Not to break up this lovely little moment, but that strange ox is looking more appetising by the second." Astarion drawled with a sass that was entirely his alone, "Any chance of wrapping this up?"

Tav opened their eyes to see Halsin looking irritated but resigned to the intrusion.

They laughed between themselves; the bubble of their celebration had clearly clouded their awareness for intruders.

"I'll be back up shortly." Tav said, tight lipped, their focus still on Halsin.

"I told you to leave it." Came angry, hushed chiding from Shadowheart. Tav heard a small scuffle of clothes being wrenched and Astarion being dragged away, bickering following their leave.

"Reality beckons it seems." Halsin said with a small smile.

"It seems so." Tav breathed out, disappointed.

They pressed their foreheads together, chuckling lightly. A moment shared between them, connecting them.

They both took cleansing breaths and Halsin kneeled up to stand. He took a little time to familiarise himself with his new braids, while they gathered the various glass containers, soap and brush, placing them gently within the silver basin for ease.

Tav had chosen one above either ear, pulling them up into his half-do, to help secure it.

He gave a murmur of agreement, "I will wear them with pride. Thank you for honouring me."

"Thank you for trusting me to do so." They leaned up and pulled out his usual loose curls around his ears to frame his handsome face.

Their eyes met and air around them stilled, cloaked in coconut and lavender.

Halsin quickly grasped them into a desperate kiss, wrapping his strong arms under them and pulling them into him.

Tav's arms wrapped around his neck, pulling in closer, willingly losing themself in him.

Halsin's heat flooded into them; his desire, his adoration, his need.. and into him they poured their reverence, their respect and loyalty, their awe and their unyielding desire.

They felt is arousal pressed flush against their own, and Halsin huffed out air.

He broke the kiss, breathing heavily, "My heart. If I could, I would take you as many times as you would allow. I would caress your skin and fill my mouth with your taste until you could bare it no longer," he licked his lips with the ghosting thought of your essence on his tongue.

"I would bury myself slowly inside you, feel you gloriously stretch around me. Gently make love to you underneath the light of the moon again and again until we are both spent.."

There was a pregnant pause.

"But?" Tav asked, eventually. Halsin gave a long, frustrated sigh.

"But.. tonight is not that night. Not here." Halsin looked disappointed but sure in his judgement. Tav brought a hand to cup his face, pulling their lips into a side smile.

"I know, I agree," Barely nodding, Tav looked into Halsin's gorgeous face, "But know that every fantasy that keeps me awake at night, has your name falling from my lips."

Halsin's eyes darkened, then softened with a sheepish grin.

"Those are unfair words spoken to a man so close to giving in." He teased, still grinning, "I would like to at least repay you for your efforts. It seems a travesty that I should reach orgasm and you should not."

"Dear one, I had Silvanus' light coarsing through me. Trust me when I say that is more than enough excitement," They paused for a moment, "I do believe you're the only man to have actually made me 'see the Gods'." They laughed, quoting previous, over-confident lovers. Halsin joined them, his chuckle warming through the night.

They kissed again, softly this time. Several slow, peppered kisses. Each one reaching new depths in their desire for him.

"We'll have to continue the celebration another time." Tav licked their bottom lip and gently sucked it between their teeth, trying to contain more words, that could potentially leave them delightfully bruised and aching the next day.

"I will sorrowfully count the hours until that moment comes." His loving gaze pouring over their face.

"I will gladly kill anyone who tries to stop it."

Halsin gave a short, breathy chuckle, "I'll take care of this, you have another waiting for you." He swallowed, beginning to pull away but stopped. His eyes narrowed in confusion and he looked to the ground.

Tav turned to see what he was concentrating on, to see a tree sapling unfurling out of lush greenery, on the spot where he had spilled himself.

Their mouth gawped open, eyes wide.

"That's an oak sapling." He breathed in shock.

Tav blinked hard twice, "Well. Silvanus did say that you were the seed to fertilise the land. Apparently that wasn't an aphorism." They returned their gaze to him, expression almost identical.

Halsin shot out a laugh, "Praise Silvanus. Praise you, my heart." He chorused, pulling them close, cupping their jaw.

"Praise you, my love."

•°•°•

Mmhm, that's some good eatin'.. want some more? 👀😏

#halsin #bg3 #bg3 smut #smut #halsin x tav #halsin x gn!tav #halsin smut #whiskeyskin #bg3 halsin #halsin bg3 #halsin silverbough #halsin baldur's gate 3 #halsin brainrot #halsin fanfic #whiskeyskin masterlist

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persassychase · 2 months ago

Text

"Stars," she whispered. "I can see the stars again, my lady."

A tear trickled down Artemis's cheek. "Yes, my brave one. They are beautiful tonight."

"Stars," Zoe repeated. Her eyes fixed on the night sky. And she did not move again.

#zoe nightshade #percy jackson #pjo #rickriordan #pjo fanart #percy jackson fanart #the titans curse

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montimer · 10 months ago

Text

Claude Frollo x Knight!reader

Gn!reader, oneshot

Warning: smutty but i'll put a line where it starts

You were his loyal knight. He trusted you deeply. And you never disobeyed him or even hesitated about any of his request.

He loved you for your loyalty and how brave you were. There was just this one problem. He didn't just admire you for those quality's. He got lost in your eyes and the way you smiled at him rather often.

A smug smile always formed on his lips whenever you replied with a "Yes sir!"

And when your attention was on someone else, well it made him very upset. Especially if you looked happy talking to the person who wasn't him.

But he refused the idea of being in love. 'No there is just no way, i must be wrong' he told himself.

He found himself thinking about you at late nights. At first it was just him worrying. But soon he started to rewind memories. Memories about you talking to him, smiling at him, calling out to him.

'This is all their fault' he thought to himself. 'You're the reason i can't get any sleep' he complained.

Earlier in the afternoon he couldn't stop staring at you and when you pointed it out he said that you are falsely accusing him. Which you responded with a "Im sorry sir. It's just that you look tired, is everything alright?"

He stared at you unblinking for a second (which kind of spooked you out). "I just- had a problem with the fireplace, yes yes thats it" he said it strangely but not enough for you to suspect anything. Plus you didn't wanted to question the judge anymore.

"I see, well if there's anything i can help with, you know where to find me" you said it smilingly with a wink. You didn't mean anything by it, just wanted to seem nice but he almost choked on the air.

He didn't said anything, and after coming back to reality he quickly gave you a nod.

'He probably didn't get much sleep' you thinked.

"Well im off! Hope ur majesty sleeps well tonight." And with that you jumped on your horse and he watched you until you disappeared.

Back to the present he was still wide awake. He wished he could just finally sleep and get a good rest.

After moving around for a couple of more seconds he found himself in a comforting position. And soon after finally fall asleep.

_______________________________

In his dream, even there you couldn't leave his mind.

Plus you were laying so close to him. And your hands roamed around his body, complimenting him, asking him if it feels good.

"Oh Judge, you are the greatest" you said it seductively, stroking his ego (and his body)

He couldn't respond, only moans and whimpers came out of his mouth.

Your hands find their ways to his private area and he felt his heart skip a beat.

He was a blushing mess at this point.

Your voice, your hand, your beauty was making him go crazy. How could he not give in?

Your figure took his face in their hands and pulled him in for a kiss. When you pulled away he was trying to catch his breath. He never felt this good before. He never wanted to give in to lust, to sin. But here he is, letting you take control.

His hands moved to touch you but you grabbed them and pinned him down. Now on top of him.

"I saw the way you were staring at me, taking a like to me huh sir?"

He was not sure how long he can handle this for.

He didn't quite know what or how to but he wanted some sort of release from the pleasure.

You started kissing his neck and nibbling on it. He felt something rush trough him.

He woke up and sit up fast, still panting, his face all red.

He felt a strange feeling in his pants. Little did he know he just had a wet dream.

After that he felt very embarrassed but also interested. He couldn't look you in the eye that day. He just stared at you, turning away with a slight blush when you looked at him.

But now he knew, that no matter what. He has to make you his.

'They will be mine, even if it takes for me to act a sin. It's their fault anyways, they must knew what they were doing to me, with the way they talk,act, and smile my way' he told himself many times.

And the judge does not give up so easily. So it's all on you. Will you go the easy or the hard way?

#claude frollo #claude frollo x reader #disney #disney villains #disney villians x reader #the hunchback of notre dame #oneshot #x reader #judge frollo #frollo x reader #frollo

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harfanfare · 1 year ago

Note

Hey! I really love your "how to win the heart of." Can you do one for Vil? If not that's totally fine I'm just curious.

How to win the heart of Vil Schoenheit?

Be a fan.

You like to think that the oldest memory you can recall is how you became Vil’s fan.

Until then, the recitals your school took you on were boring. Only in fifth grade, the teachers realise that, hm, maybe ancient plays might be a bit too much for those little brains, and in a spark of determination to change something, your class was taken to watch a staged version of a fairy tale, played by youngsters for youngsters.

The memory of Vil, the villain of the story, entering the scene is much more vivid. Even as a child, he was inarguably elegant and strikingly beautiful, it left you agape and your curious heart beating loudly in your chest.

“It’s better than having a completely fictional crush,” your classmate said after you confessed how much endeared you were by Vil and his acting. You listened as you typed a password to a newly-created Magicam account, solely for following him there. “There is a chance that you and him will be together.”

“A big chance?”

“Uh, like this?” She tries to show how big your chance is with her fingers. She wants to leave a gap between her fingers, but ultimately, they touch, and she puts her hands down. “I mean, we are almost the same age, so maybe you can go to the same high school as him? In a very long future…”

“I am not delusional…”

Nonetheless, the thought did make you hope.

After you reached the age of sixteen, the invitation came. For a whole year — since you saw Vil’s post on his new college choice — you’ve been pondering whether you’ve possessed enough magic talent to get into Night Raven College, the school of chosen. In good dreams, the Magic Mirror deemed your soul to be solely fit for Pomefiore. In nightmares, you were doomed to… well, any other dorm, if you were a student at NRC at all.

And maybe dreams really come true because the future you’ve anticipating has turned into a reality.

“Alright, is everyone from Pomefiore here?” Your heart stops when you hear that wonderful voice, this time not from your phone nor from 100 meters away from the speakers. You turn around, and there he is, Vil Schoenheit in all his glory stands and guides the students to the hall of mirrors. He looks like a portrait, and even if you saw his face thousands of times, the glint in his eyes redeems you speechless. “Congratulations, everyone. We will hold the welcoming introductions at our dorm. Follow me!”

Yes, Vil Schoenheit is your idol. And in the first seconds of meeting him, you were ready to follow him to the end of the world.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

2. Get rejected. Have your heart broken.

“I apologize,” Vil says slowly, and you notice how his voice is a little monotonous. Just a bit, as if he had repeated these words countless times like the lines before a recital. “And while I wholeheartedly appreciate your feelings, [Name], I want to focus on my studies and career. It’s a bad time for me to think about dating. Nonetheless, thank you for being brave and sincere enough to tell me all of this.”

You nod. The pain in your chest gives you goosebumps. It makes your head spin so fast your legs feel unstable as if there is some shift in gravity. You bow with curtsy because every Pomefiore student should be able to do so elegantly even on a space station. “Thank you for listening to my confession.”

“Of course,” he says and looks down at the letter he got from you. It’s neat, somehow cute with how carefully his name is written on it. He holds it gently so as to not crinkle the delicate paper. “I will read the contents tonight.”

“Thank you. No need to write a response,” you force a little chuckle and excuse yourself. You will be overthinking how could you say something like that after you get over your stupid letter and even dumber confession.

Vil doesn’t say anything as you walk a little too fast to keep the step elegant. He sighs at this view and mindfully tucks your letter amid the pages of the book. Now’s the time for history class. He shouldn’t get distracted—

—and soon enough, you’re out of his mind.

That is until he reads your letter.

It's a beautifully crafted confession, put into elegant lettering and a pale pink envelope. It's sealed with red wax in the shape of a perfect heart; if you haven't used magic, it must've taken several evenings to get the precision you wanted.

You’re his fan. He knows it even if you hadn’t pointed it out; the well-tailored sentences betrayed your utter attention on him in the last several years. You’re his fan, but you don’t cheapen yourself. He is the idol you admire and love, but you don’t degrade yourself to a servant or a worshiper. And that is, unexpectedly, uncommon.

The letter is—also—a challenge to yourself. “If you were to reciprocate those feelings, I will prove myself worthy to stand by your side,” it reads.

He likes that letter. Once he finishes it, he skims over the text one last time and puts it between many other letters he has gotten. Between them, another envelope seems unremarkable, yet the words there…

Unforgotten.

He sighs. Maybe he will pay more attention to you from now on.

‏‏‎ ‎

3. Don’t remember all the etiquette rules.

“You wrote in your letter that I've inspired you to learn. Go on, then. Show me how motivated you are.”

So, now Vil bullies you over your letter.

He can’t be satisfied with your scarce etiquette knowledge—he wouldn’t be content if it was decent, as it would be a dishonour to Pomefiore—but amusement crinkles in his eyes at your utter confusion over the numerous forks, knives, spoons and glasses. They’ve been spread out in several rows and columns varying from the oyster forks to champagne flute.

You hesitate. Maybe you could point out which one is the butter knife or sugar spoon, but you never cared enough to discover which fickle knife is a fish knife. Should you be looking for the one with grooves or an extremely thin one? Would it hurt to use a normal knife to eat the salmon?

Oftentimes you’re thankful there is no awkward silence between you and Vil after your confession, but you can’t shake off the impression he’s been harder on you.

“On second thought, maybe I wasn't motivated enough to learn all the names of cutlery,” you say, not daring to try your luck in labelling each piece.

To your surprise, Vil smiles and uses a teasing tone that leaves you stunned and wide-eyed. “Is that so?”

You take a breath and huff, lowering your eyes. “Yes. The power of—,” unrequired, you bite your tongue on that bitter word, “—love ends here.”

Vil cracks another delighted smile. You start suspecting that someone drugged him with a smiling potion, as you should have received a severe scolding by now. You don’t have anything against the change, so the mention of Vil’s (relative) laid-backness goes unmentioned.

“I will have you seated next to me on tomorrow's dinner, so don't even think of slacking off,” he says, putting a hand on your lower back and gently pushing you towards the next table where the heavy textbooks look so very uninviting. “I won't have any student under my wing not know the basic etiquette. Especially if it’s my fan.”

‏‏‎ ‎

4. Have opinions and the courage to voice them.

Because standing for your own makes you flourish in your own colours and not blend into the monotony of the mainstream. Seek truth, good, and beauty and you will bestow the brilliance upon yourself.

‏‏‎

5. Try to have a healthy lifestyle.

You’ve never imagined Vil barging into your room with a tray of food. Why would he? But here you are, sitting in front of an aesthetically pleasing breakfast, mouth-watering pancakes with cream and a bit of honey, and the deep green shake in question that suits the colour palette but probably tastes awfully, like all good stuff packed with vitamins.

“You should never starve yourself if you want to live healthy.”

It’s hard to swallow anything as your dorm leader glares at you, but Vil refuses to leave you before he sees you eating the stuff he brought. You wondered if he prepared the breakfast himself. Probably not.

“No? I thought that keeping a diet is good.”

“If you are dieting you eat,” Vil hisses and sinks a little more into the couch. He brings a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose as if he suddenly got struck with a headache. “Oh, heavens. What am I going to do with you?”

“Maybe—”

“Quiet,” it apparently was a rhetorical question. Maybe Vil would be mad at any answer from you as he considers you a fool. He waits until you take another bite of the pancake. “A dinner break will be in two hours, and I expect you to be there.”

“I think I will still be full by that time,” you admit, glancing at a pancake and a half. “These pancakes are savoury but so very filling.”

“Savor them as much as you like,” Vil says somewhat proudly. …Maybe he did make those pancakes? No. He wouldn’t bother this much. The satisfied note in his voice makes you ponder nonetheless. “But you have no excuse for yourself not to sit with us on the meals. Also—”

His gaze grows unexpectedly impish as his eye catches something.

“I will reeducate you on the topic of a healthy lifestyle,” he glances at the bowl of bland lettuce you prepared for yourself. He smiles, either in amusement or light pity. “It should have a little more… spice.”

‏‏‎ ‎

6. Take an interest in high culture.

“It feels like the hellish lessons of Heartslabyul…”

“The Queens’ 810 rules?” Vil’s smile is lopsided and his eyes render into a knowing look once they meet your gaze. “They are nothing compared to a number of customs in etiquette.”

You take a turn. The classes for today might have ended, but if hearing all that useful stuff meant you would walk with Vil back to Pomefiore, you could bear another few minutes of a lecture. You know that everything he tells you about, he already mastered. He wouldn’t teach you anything half-heartily.

“The etiquette of speaking, the dress code, the knowledge of dinner manners (well, you’ve mastered some part of it already, with the cutlery lessons), the control of body language, the indication of voice, the honorifics, the art of writing letters and emails… You don’t want me to list all of the things I expect from you?”

You would like to, because Vil’s voice is beautiful, but the student part of you takes over control and shakes your head. Just like Riddle, who has a reputation for demanding impossible care and inquiring rules, your dorm leader is not much better — maybe even worse, because while Heartslabyul has to oblige the absurd in chosen hours or circumstances, you are on your toes in every moment.

“So much to master in just four years in the NRC…”

“It’s a lot,” Vil says, and he’s the only person you would doubt if he speaks the truth in that matter. Especially if through your walk his strides seemed perfectly calculated and hand gestures finely planned. “But if you put a mind and heart into it, you will learn all of this in no time.”

You hum. It’s hard to think of having any more motivation than from where you were a zealous Vil fan.

You ask (ponder) and he delivers.

“Actually, I have an offer: if you’ll learn it all in ahead of time, I will teach you a dating etiquette.”

…

What?

“…Dating etiquette?!” You shriek so loudly, that several students turn their heads. You cover your mouth as if it would do something, and ignoring Vil’s delighted gaze, and lower your voice to a whisper. “There is such a thing?”

“Of course. Who should invite who on the first date and where, what gifts can you give and what can you accept, and how to behave with your loved one, like,” he pauses a little, and you almost know he bites the sides of his cheeks to contain himself from smiling, “How to kiss someone in particular situations.”

You want to die. How else should you react? How can he tease you so much when he rejects you? (Not like you were expecting much at the time, yet…)

“There is no kissing etiquette. You tease me…”

“Just a little,” Vil laughs, and you slowly relax. “But take my proposal seriously. If I can give you another motivation to engage in your studies, then I will by all means do so.”

‏‏‎ ‎

7. Get an access to his private Magicam account.

“Do you have Magicam? If you want to, you can add me.”

Vil asks the question. He should have chastised you for mindlessly scrolling through social media because you can probably put your mind and hands to better use. The casual tone surprises you, but the inquiry gets you defensive as if it questioned you being Vil’s fan.

“I’ve already been following you for years,” you declare and pull up your phone.

Before you get to his profile, Vil sighs.

“Not the promotional account,” he says. “Mine.”

You frown. Many times you’ve seen Vil posting the photos on the “promotional account” with his personal thoughts. Maybe because you've been blinded by the elegance and harmony of every post, the idea that he would operate the Magicam profile solely for business purposes has never occurred to you.

“You have another account?” You ask, flabbergasted.

Vil rolls his eyes at the surprise in your tone and sits next to you. Your phone beeps as you get a notification about a new user following you. In a heartbeat, you follow the account back. You almost gape at the pictures there; they are beautiful, elegant, and all in Vil’s manner, but he looks like… a common student. Not ethereally, not otherworldly, but still enchantingly.

“It’s a private profile, so I ask you for discretion. I would like to keep this one for my close friends and family,” Vil says, and you hastily nod, your heartbeat sounding like a drumbeat in your ears. Having access to his personal account felt… personal, ironically.

I would like to keep this one for my close friends — he said that, didn’t he? Does he consider you a close friend?

That’s more than you ever imagined.

And yet you dare to dream for more.

You pull your phone close to your chest. “I feel honoured.”

Vil smiles at the statement. “Of course. As you should.”

‏‏‎ ‎

8. Let yourself be pampered.

“Don’t move,” Vil asks for impossible because you want to bolt as he leans to you once again and only the glare he staggers you with as you push away the urge to close your eyes. You hope the foundation is thick enough to cover a blush that creeps on your face. “You will ruin my work.”

You give up and glance down, earning another heavy sigh from your superior.

“Maybe I should finish the eye makeup myself?” You offer. “I am unused to anyone doing my makeup, so it’s hard not to flinch.”

Your good intentions get ruined as the question aggravates Vil even more because he frowns at you. Staying put and keeping quiet about that whole ordeal would seem like a lovely idea, you question whether your heart could manage another hour in this setup.

“Don’t be absurd,” he says. “We need to handle your sensitivity to the touch or you will struggle in the future if you decide to be a model.”

“I am not—”

“Stop.”

“I—”

“Silence. Be quiet, potato,” he presses his finger to your lips to seal them shut. You feel something sticky, and as his finger traces your lips, you realize it’s the lip gloss, and it’s a very good-smelling one like a strawberry; you didn’t expect something so sweet-tasting to be in Vil’s liked products. “You are under my care now. It also brings me satisfaction to see my skills used on someone.”

“Vil—”

“Shut up,” it’s hard to get offended at him, as he uses such a gentle tone. He takes a good look at your lips and as he glances up at you, probably to see if the colours of the whole makeup are consistent, your mouth goes dry. “Before I tell you to do so, don’t speak. You will mess up with the lip gloss and it’s… difficult to apply one on you.”

What? It’s difficult to apply the lipgloss on you?

Alright**,** you nod, pondering if the lip makeup is really that difficult. Do you have an unusual shape of lips (it’s probably not that?), or is this balm so hard to spread? You sit still, as Vil moves closer to you.

Yeah, except for the touch you need a way to ignore the beating of your heart.

‏‏‎ ‎

9. Move on from your heartbreak.

“Would you like to go out with me today?”

A kind smile convinced you to agree, although you barely recognize the name of the boy standing in front of you. His voice was hopeful, and you were reminded of the time you bore the same expectant expression.

You had no heart to let it fall, not right now, not so quickly, so you paint a delighted smile over your face. “Thank you. I would love to.”

…

You should’ve done this a long time ago.

For the sake of your friendship with Vil, you decide to stop hoping that the man of your dreams might change his mind after getting to know you better. He found a friend in you, and you would hate to disappoint him with your longing for him.

So, you should distract yourself from him and fall in love with someone else.

Today’s date will be a perfect opportunity.

You dress quite stylishly, not enough to steal all the attention, but enough to impress your date. You put more effort into the makeup this evening and spend some time picking the most fitting jewellery. The perfume you picked is subtle but alluring and chic, an excellent concoction, but you could’ve expected nothing less from Vil’s recommendation.

…It feels kind of wrong to use everything he taught you to prepare for a date, but you would’ve used this knowledge one day either way, no? It’s not like he is your first… and last love.

“I heard a boy from Scarabia have confessed to you,” the familiar voice you love but don’t want to hear like now spooks you. Vil leans on your door frame, and you wonder how much he has stayed here.

“I just agreed on a date,” you say, standing up and adjusting the folds of your outfit. You look him in the eye. “How do I look?”

Vil snorts, and his lips stretch into a mean, devilish smile. “Are you expecting an approving comment from me?”

Asking the fashion icon to rate your outfit might’ve been a wrong move. You shake your head.

“Nevermind. He’ll have to deal with however I am if he doesn’t want me to be late,” after glancing the last time into the mirror and receiving a smile from your reflection, you pick up your phone. “Well then. I shall get going.”

Vil is still, as if he hasn’t been blocking the exit or as if he wanted to keep you here. You would have loved for him to stop you here. It’s hard to stop the disappointment from flooding over your composure when Vil moves away.

“Alright. Your look is satisfactory so that Scarabia boy better be grateful for being able to go out with you,” he says something ambiguous again, and you feel bad for your date who will have to deal with such a lovesick fool as you. “Enjoy your date.”

The pang of pain pierces your heart. You smile slowly and leave the room.

The heartbreak better goes away as soon as possible, or you’ll go crazy if the thought of dating anyone else hurts that much.

‏‏‎ ‎

10. Look kissable.

“You’re late.”

Maybe you are, but you haven’t been expecting Vil waiting for you. He sits on a sofa, a book is in his hand and the tea that was served in front of him looks cold. You can guess he’s been sitting here for a while.

“How did it go?”

“It went well, I think,” you say. The date went well. Yet, you couldn’t have enjoyed it. The throbbing pain in your heart strained each of your smiles, and it surged when the Scarabian student started to be flirty. You felt as if you were cheating. “He is a kind guy. He has some hobbies and is quite charismatic, so… He’s alright.”

Vil hums. “Will you settle on ‘alright’?”

You stare at him wide-eyed, but he doesn’t look bothered at all. He didn’t lift his gaze from his book, and his tone was nonchalant, so he almost seemed not interested. He was. He is because Vil never asks the question to whose answers he doesn’t want to hear.

“Pardon?”

He spares you a glance.

“I thought your resolution was stronger. What happened to the person who confessed to me and was so willing to determine their worth to me?”

“Are you jealous?”

“I am furious,” he lifts from the sofa, the book forgotten. The air around suddenly grows warmer, and the shiver you didn’t mind that much runs down your spine. Vil’s strides are slower than usual, creating an imposing image of himself before he stands just before you. “If you want to set the bar so low, go on. But let me give you a taste of ambition.”

He twists his head so his eyes meet directly yours. He doesn’t touch you — not yet — but you can feel a warm breath on your cheek, and the scent of his light perfume envelops you. You have the urge to move away and cling to him at the same time. They balance, and you stay still.

A taste…

Vil puts a hand on your cheek. The gesture is much softer and more benevolent than when he was putting makeup on you. His eyes lock with yours, your heart stops, and then they drop to your lips. He moves a thumb over them.

And he kisses you.

In your dreams, you had him kiss your hand, the top of your head. The corner of your mouth. In your boldest wishes, you wanted him to kiss you like that, so lovingly, with so much care. It makes you want to push away for more air, but it makes you worry Vil will disappear if you break the kiss, as all the dreams shatter upon the morning.

He moves away, not breathless, yet not unaffected either. His cheeks burn slowly into a red shade, and his eyes look somehow glassy. “I told you, I will give you just a taste.”

How disappointing.

Before you can say something, he pushes a letter between your fingers. Its envelope matches the one you gave him several months ago. “Read it. I want an answer by midnight.”

The big clock on the wall shows you have over three hours. So much time, and you already know the answer. “You will wait this long?”

“I am giving you a chance and hope,” he says with a subtle smile. The blush on his face makes him more beautiful than you’ve ever seen him. “It’s my duty of your idol to do so.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #vil #vil schoenheit #twst vil #vil x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #twst vil x reader #twst vil schoenheit #twst vil schoenheit x reader #Dear Anon I hope you enjoyed this!

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a-dauntless-daffodil · 11 months ago

Text

Charlie: “Whhhew...! That was-”

Vaggie: “A lot?”

Charlie: “-better than expected!”

Vaggie: “No kidding. If I’d known inviting your dad here would get Alastor looking like a wet cat, I’d’ve pushed for it sooner.”

Charlie: “I’m just glad you pushed when you did.” (smooch) “Thank you. I’ve missed him.”

Vaggie: “Looks like he’s really missed you too, babe.”

Charlie: “Mm. Not enough to call, though.”

Vaggie: “Ehh, calling can be scary. Good thing you’re plenty brave.”

Charlie: “Only when you’re holding my hand!”

Vaggie: “Husk would say that’s an act of fucking bravery all on it’s own, letting yourself get grabbed by the small, mean, grumpy lady. Remind me not to help him out at the bar again ever. I think there’s vodka in my hair.”

Charlie: “I’ll try, but you know you’re gonna help anyway.” (second smooch) “Can I get a ‘you’re welcome’?”

Vaggie: (chuckling) “Charlie, I didn’t do anything.”

Charlie: “You do lots.”

Vaggie: “And thank hell Angel Dust isn’t around to hear that…”

Charlie: “I’m serious! You got me to call dad in the first place!”

Vaggie: “I just suggested it, you’re the one who did it, and you two worked things out together like a real father-daughter team.”

Charlie: “And we’re a great team too.”

Vaggie: “Well I’m definitely a pretty big fan of us. Although…. Sir Pentious and Keekee are giving us a run for our money. And the Niffty plus a lock of Lucifer’s hair combo might just have us beat.”

Charlie: “Blegh! She actually got that in the end? I thought her scissors couldn’t even cut it!”

Vaggie: “They didn’t. She used my spear.”

Charlie: “She WHAT-”

Vaggie: “And asked your dad very nicely to please take off his hat so she could trim off a piece without ruining the rest of his hair.”

Charlie: (sigh) “I guess as long as she ASKED…”

Vaggie: “D’you think her whole room is just a shrine to quote unquote bad boys?”

Charlie: “Oh don’t say that. We need to introduce her to some boybands or something.”

Vaggie: “We?”

Charlie: “Yes ‘we’, little miss likes making lesbian covers of the songs normally sung by teenage boys while you’re in the shower and think the sound of running water can in any way drown out your beautiful, heart stopping voice-”

Vaggie: “I- you- You’ve been listening!?”

Charlie: “Eeeev-er-y morning yep! Heheh~”

Vaggie: “Diablo mio… I need a drink.”

Charlie: (giggling) “To go with the vodka hair?” (nibbles Vaggie’s fringe) “Nom nom nom. Delicious~”

Vaggie: “Scratch that- clearly WE need some SLEEP.”

Charlie: “How can I sleep at all tonight, though? Vaggie- we’re gonna get a meeting with the top angels of creation! We’re gonna be on cloud nine! Literally! In HEAVEN!!”

Vaggie: “And sleep won’t be enough to prepare me for that but you definitely need it.”

Charlie: “It’s impossible! I need to SING!!!!!”

Vaggie: “You need to go shuck off those shoes and get in your ruby slippers while I put in your fav movie so we can get some rest.”

Charlie: “If you put in the Wizard of Oz you know I’m 100% gonna sing anyway right.”

Vaggie: “Yeah, but you’ll be singing in bed so you can keep watching the movie, and that’s good enough for me.”

Charlie: “I love youuuu~”

Vaggie: “Love you too sweetie. Slippers. Bed. Z’s. Now.”

Charlie: (kicks off shoes) “Ta da! There’s no place like home!"

Charlie: (clicks hooves together)

Charlie: "Heheheheh...!”

Vaggie: “I meant on the bed in your pajamas and under the actual covers- vaya, whatever. Scoot. Don’t go running off to Oz without me.”

Charlie: (snuggling vaggie in a hug instead) “I’m never going anywhere without you, Vaggie. Including heaven.”

Vaggie: (awkward laugh) “Great…”

Charlie: “Wanna know whyyyy?”

Vaggie: (smiles) “I make a great hand-holder, apparently.”

Charlie: “Yes. And, you’re home.”

Vaggie: “….yeah? I’m here? This is our room?”

Charlie: (snorting) “Vaggie-”

Vaggie: “In our hotel??”

Charlie: “Vaggie nooo- Anywhere else would be home too, with you there.”

Vaggie: “…..”

Vaggie: (deep breath)

Vaggie: “…... Charlie-”

Charlie: “You gonna press play?”

Vaggie: ��-huh? Oh. Yeah.”

Charlie: (snuggling her) “This has been an amazing day. Wish every day could be like this, forever.”

Vaggie: “Yeah.” (hoarse) (curling up as close to charlie as she can) "Me too.”

-101 minutes of Oz later-

Vaggie: "Charlie?"

Charlie: "... nnnoooo..."

Vaggie: "Charlie, c'mon, at least let's get your coat off."

Charlie: "Mmrrr... mi mi mi..."

Vaggie: "You can go 'snork mi mi mi' afterwards. Work with me here, Dorothy- I can't get you settled into Oz without help."

Charlie: "Hmmheheheh... so im Dorothy..?"

Vaggie: "Definitely. You've got the ruby slippers on and everything."

Charlie: "I love that you call my hooves that~ Thats so silly. You're so silly, Vaggie."

Vaggie: "And you're already half asleep. Suspenders next, okay?"

Charlie: "Remove the suspenders... delete the suspenders..."

Vaggie: "Get your horns tangled in the suspenders somehow, wait, hold on-"

Charlie: "SUSPEND the SUSPEDERS!"

Vaggie: "Alright, good enough. That's all the annoying stuff gone anyway. You should be good like that, right?"

Charlie: "Sleeeeeepy. Snuggles?"

Vaggie: "Snuggles right after I change, give me one sec okay."

Charlie: "Mmm."

Charlie: "...vaggie."

Vaggie: "That was half a second."

Charlie: "Vaggiiiiie."

Vaggie: "I'm right over here, stop making grabby hands."

Charlie: "Vaggggiiiiiiiee...!"

Vaggie: (huffs) "Fine, fine..." (snuggles) "Not like my nightie would cover much anyway. But if we end up having to get up in the middle of the night for something exploding again, you're going out first, and I'm stealing your jacket."

Charlie: "You look good in my clothes."

Vaggie: "I look like a ten year old. The sleeves have to be rolled back to the elbow just so I have hands."

Charlie: "I like your hands..."

Vaggie: "Thanks." (kiss) "Go to sleep, Charlie."

Charlie: "Wait- heheheh- wait, Vaggie-"

Vaggie: "What?"

Charlie: "Vaggie, Vaggieeee~!"

Vaggie: "Giggling into my boobs isn't helping me understand what you're saying, babe."

Charlie: "Vaggie. If I'm Dorothy, and youuuu are GAY, then.."

Vaggie: "Little scared to see where this is going, not gonna lie."

Charlie: "Does that make-" (snickers) "Does that make you a girlfriend of Dorothy's?"

Vaggie: "............."

Charlie: "Vaggie~?"

Vaggie: "...Charlie. Please."

Vaggie: "Go the fuck to sleep."

Charlie: "HEH!"

#hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #vaggie #chaggie #incorrect quotes #very silly nonsense #post-stress charlie vibrating and then melting like jello left out at a picnic table on a hot summer day #vaggie trying not to think about what comes next #snuggles #charlie would love the wizard of oz movie fight me

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pitchsidestories · 1 year ago

Text

Alex Scott's daughter (2) II Leah Williamson x Reader

"The feeling that I'm losing her forever And without really entering her world I'm glad whenever I can share her laughter That funny little girl Slipping through my fingers all the time I try to capture every minute." ~ ABBA, Slipping Through My Fingers

part 1 I arsenal women masterlist I word count: 1899

Thanks for your lovely feedback on part 1. We hope you enjoy part two aswell and what a better day to upload the oneshot when on Alex Scott birthday. ❤️

Alex Scott was buzzing with excitement. Even though she was the one who would stay at home tonight. She leaned at the bathroom door and watched you get ready in the mirror. Once again, she announced; “This is so exciting.“ “Mum, calm down. I’m just Leahs plus one at an event.“, you rolled your eyes with a slight smile because to be honest, it was kind of adorable. “Still!“, she replied. With a sigh, you gave up brushing your hair and turned to your mum; “Will you help me get ready?“ She seemed genuinely surprised but also very flattered by your request; “Do you want me to?“ “Yes, please. You always look so beautiful.“, you replied, handing her the brush. “

Aw, thank you, dear. Let me start with your hair.“, she smiled brightly and moved you to the edge of the bath tub, so you could sit while she did your hair. “Thanks.“ “Sit still.“, she reminded you with feigned sternness. “Fine.“, you gave in and let your mum brush your hair in peace. After a while of enjoyable silence, Alex gazed at the clock; “So, when is Leah going to pick you up?“ “In an hour. Thats enough time, right?“, you answered, trying to keep the nervousness out of your voice. Pensively, she tilted her head to the side; “Maybe. Do you have your outfit planned?“ “I thought about wearing a dress.“, you stated. From the reflection in the mirror you could see your mums eyes start to sparkle; “Which colour?“ “Black.“ She nodded once, satisfied with your choice; “Alright, that’s good. That leaves us some options for the make up.“ “Leah will wear a beige suit if that helps.“, you added, laughing as your mum grimaced. “It doesn’t. I want to make you look good, not her.“

Your laughter got quieted by Alex, pulling your hair into a tight bun on top of your head; “Ouch.“ “Stop whining.“ “That hurts more than crashing into Jen in training!“, you complained with a grin. The former football player kept pulling on your hair; “Oh please.“ “True story.“ “It’s not true.“, she replied as she took your chin and pulled out two strands to frame your face. Satisfied she examined her work, while you crossed your arms in front of your chest; “It’s!“ “Beauty is pain.“, your mum stated amused and started to apply your make up. “But you always make it look so easy.“

When it was finally time for you to put your black dress on you felt the look of the older woman looking moved by the way you looked tonight. Still, you could not help yourself, bit your lip and asked innocently:” What do you think? How do I look?” “You look gorgeous.”, Alex kissed your cheek carefully, so she did not ruin the makeup underneath. Gratefully you pressed her hand, and you hoped the brunette would feel what you tried to express: “Thanks for your help.” “I’m a little bit sad.”, the former football player confessed smiling. Indeed, you caught her swiping away a tear. Noticing this, you felt your throat tightening: “Oh no, why?” “That you’re going somewhere with Leah but not with me.”, Alex told you. Empathetically you stroked her arm: “Oh mum.” “I think Leah’s here.”, your mum changed the subject, on her lips a brave smile.

Excited Leah turned to one of her oldest friends: “Hi, is she ready?” “Yes. Come on, dear, your date’s here.”, the older woman turned to you. From the bathroom you shouted: “Coming!” In a minute you were standing in front of them: “Lee, you look gorgeous.” The blonde defender was looking stunned at you:” What? Oh, thanks, so do you.” The arsenal player was used to getting compliments, but your look made her breathless. “Stop drooling for my daughter, Leah!”, Alex mocked her. Even that did not stop Leah from pointing out:“ Look how beautiful she looks.” “Yes, I helped her, can’t believe that’s my baby!”, the former player squeaked.

Embarrassed you searched for your girlfriend’s hand: “Mum! Leah, it’s time to go.” “Yes, come on, we can’t be late.”, she agreed much to your relief. Happily you waved at the tv sports presenter:“Bye Mum.” “I’ll have her home by midnight. Promise.”, Leah said to her friend. Jokingly Alex replied:” I hope so.” “Bye Alex.”

Before you two were out of the door your mum yelled: “By the way she can stay past midnight too that would make me personally very proud.” As you got into the car, your cheeks were red: “Typical Mum.” “I wasn’t planning on getting you home before midnight anyway.”, the blonde confessed smirking. A cheeky grin appeared on your lips:“You did not hmm?” “No, I lied.”, the defender chuckled. Winking you told her:“Yeah but you were very convincing in the role as the respectable boyfriend.”“Yeah, I’m good at that.“, Leah laughed, hinting at the time a magazine mistook her for Alex’ boyfriend. “You are.“, you agreed, grinning.

As you realized that the cars in front of you had started to slow done, you nervously checked the time on your phone: “Do you think we should park somewhere here and walk the rest? We might be faster that way.“ “Why not stay in here? I think we’ll find something to do in the meantime.“, Leah smirked, sliding one hand on your bare knee. Laughing, you pushed her off of you; “Babe, we Lionesses have to present an award. We cannot not come.“ “Not our fault that we’re stuck in traffic.“, she replied, blinking innocently at you. “You can do anything you want later.“, you promised her with a wink. You leaned over to your girlfriend and kissed her passionately as you finally reached your destination. You both got out of the car.

Grabbing Leahs hand, you started to jog to the event. “We’ll just get you another run in on your road to recovery.“, you laughed. A little out of breath, you arrived right on time. Before stepping on the red carpet together, your girlfriend stopped you; “Wait!“ “Alright?“, you turned to her in surprise. The defender silently wiped a bit of your lipstick away that had smudged during the kiss. She gave you a short nod; “Ready?“ “Ready.“, you answered. “Let’s go then.“, Leah took your hand but you did not move. “Lee?“ “Yes?“ “Are you sure you want to be seen with me?“

The blonde football player immediately turned around, searching for your eyes; “I asked you to come with me, so yes. I am sure.“ You took a deep breath, sighing as you breathed out; “Okay.“ “Are you ready?“, she asked, furrowing her brows in worry. “I am.“, you confirmed, feeling your confidence slowly coming back. Leah smiled softly at you; “Let’s go then.“ Holding hands, you walked down the red carpet. Leah continued to tightly squeeze your hand for reassurance.

A journalist suddenly caught your attention, yelling the score of the Arsenal men game to your girlfriend; “Leah, Arsenal won!“ “Are you joking? Arsenal?“, she repeated excitedly. Turning to you, she asked; “Did you hear that?!“ “I did!“, you grinned, happier about Leahs enthusiasm then about the actual score.“That’s amazing.”, the defender couldn’t stop raving about it. “Oh yes.” “So proud of the boys.”, Leah hummed. Solemnly you promised her:“ Same. On the weekend we’ll win against villa too.” “Of course.”, the blonde grinned. “Promised.” Proudly Leah beamed at you: “I know you’ll.” To seal that promise you kissed her before saying:” Let’s go inside, shall we?” “Yes. We’re already late.”

It seems to be a reoccurring theme in the Scott family to run late. The matchday on Sunday was finally here and Leah and Alex were on their way to watch the game in the stands. “Shit, Lee, we need to hurry up. My girl is in the starting line!”, the former player swore loudly. Amused by one of her best friends the blonde replied:” And you’d be okay with being late if she wasn’t?” “No, but it might help us to get faster through the crowd.”, the brunette winked at her. Sceptical the England skipper replied: “Sure Alex.”

Despite her scepticism the words of the sports presenter helped them to get through the crowd faster. Satisfied Alex turned her head to the still playing Arsenal defender: “See? It works!” “Just sit down and watch the game.”, Leah answered with an eye roll. “Oh come on, can’t you admit that it helped us to get to our seats faster?” “Shh, they’re playing North London forever.”, the blonde whispered before starting to sing the song along with thousands of fans which made the usually calm and collected person she was turn into an emotional mess. Laughing the older woman apologized:“Sorry, nerd.” “As if you were any better.”, the younger defender commented giggling. Football was the way the friends had originally met and it still was one of the things they loved to share the most together. “I didn’t say I’m not one. The game is on.”

“I’m so nervous!”, Leah confessed, already biting her lip from the anticipation and excitement she felt. “Did you see that?”, the brunette cheered. Happily the blonde shouted:“Yes, girls!” As the Arsenal players on and off the pitch were celebrating their goal against villa in a full emirate’s stadium. A bright smile appeared on Alex’s lips: “That was amazing.” “Right?”, the England skipper asked, still feeling the rush of excitement as if she was on the pitch with her teammates who meant so much to her. In the second half it got even better for Arsenal as you scored an absolute banger of a goal much to the joy of the two women who were so dear to you. “Oh my god, she scored, Lee.”, the tv presenter told your girlfriend visibly thrilled.

“And what a goal!“, Leah gushed, barely able to stay in her seat. “It was stunning.“ Pointing down to you, your girlfriend laughed; “She can’t even believe it.“ Alex watched your surprised expression turn into a bright smile as you caught your team mates in a group hug; “To be fair, it doesn’t happen often to a defender as we know.“ “But if we score, we do it right.“, Leah added. Alex nodded along; “True though.“ When the game ended, Leah pushed out of her seat; “We have to celebrate with her.“ Alex followed suit; “Definitely.“

The two caught you as you left the pitch. “Mum, Lee, did you see that?“, you asked still in disbelief, your cheeks almost hurting from smiling. Alex pulled you into a tight hug, blowing a kiss on your temple; “You were so good tonight.“ “Your goal was amazing!“, Leah agreed, once your mum let go of you. Casually, she slipped a hand beneath your jawline and pulled you in for a kiss. You could have stayed in the moment forever, but the kiss was interrupted by Alex grimacing; “Ew!“ Leah rolled her eyes and you only gave a half-apologetic smile; “Sorry, mum.“ “No, it’s okay. I’m just joking.“, she replied, waving her hand for you two to go on. Instead, your girlfriend put her arm around you and looked at Alex; “Come on, girls. It’s time to celebrate.“ Happily, you let her pull you with her.

This night was about to be perfect. Not only did you score the game-winning goal but you also had your two favourite people with you.

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson #woso x reader #woso #woso imagine #woso fanfics #engwnt #lionesses #arsenal wfc #woso one shot #alex scott #alex scott x reader #awfc #woso community

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starshideurfics · 1 year ago

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Thirsty Thursday - Meet me in the restroom

steddie, omegaverse, mdni 🔞

Eddie doesn’t want to be at the club. It’s hot and sweaty, drinks are way too expensive, and he should really be planning the encounters for tomorrow’s hellfire session.

But Chrissy didn’t want to come alone, and the alpha girl she’s been crushing on said she’d be out tonight. Eddie is nothing if not a good friend, totally ready to wingman for Chrissy should the need arise.

It just isn’t likely to, since she’s already off making out with Robin in a dark corner.

Eddie figures he’ll spend the next half hour or so nursing his beer, then he’ll check in with Chrissy, find out she’s going home with Robin, and make his own quick exit.

He’s just looking over his shoulder to check on her when he catches a glimmer out of the corner of his eye. There’s a man—an omega, his brain not-so-helpfully supplies—at this corner of the dance floor. He’s wearing a deep red shirt, sleeves short, his arms and hair dusted with gold glitter. He shines, drawing Eddie’s attention.

All the way down to his perfect ass.

He’s wearing little faux-leather shorts that cling to him like a second skin, showing off toned thighs and the delicious curve of his cheeks.

And from his spot by the bar, Eddie isn’t positive, would know better if he could see him from the front, but it looks like a zipper runs the length of the center seam.

Throwing back the remainder of his overpriced beer, Eddie weaves through the bodies between himself and his golden-skinned omega, sidling up beside him and feeling like a cliche when he says, “I saw you across the room and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to take my eyes off you,” against his ear.

The omega turns, dark eyes glinting with interest as he looks Eddie over, before leaning in to smell him. Eddie’s sure he smells like sweat and Chrissy’s body spray that she spritzed in the van when they arrived.

“You smell like Christmas,” the omega moans, looping his arms around Eddie’s neck and getting another deep pull of his scent. “Like gingerbread. Wanna dance?”

“Yes,” Eddie breathes, being brave and scenting him back, a purr rumbling in his chest at the smell of sweet cherry cut through with lime. He already feels drunk on his scent, on their proximity.

They move together, Eddie mostly swaying, letting himself be guided by his partner, taking the liberty of gripping rounded hips, of pressing their sweaty foreheads together.

The song changes, and this walking wet dream of an omega leans close to whisper in Eddie’s ear. “M’thirsty. Gotta get a water.” Eddie nods, ready to take a step back, but the omega grabs his hip, presses their crotches together. “I think there are better things for us to do together than dance. Meet me in the restroom. Third stall.”

“Are you sure?” Eddie asks, mind racing. “How do you know it—”

“Toilet’s broken—no water in the bowl.” He kisses Eddie’s cheek. “Meet me there.”

Eddie does as he’s told, waits in the third stall already half-hard with anticipation, his blood pumping loudly in his ears. Even with all of that noise, he hears the door open, sees royal blue hightops under the stall door and steps back to allow his shining omega entrance.

Here, under the fluorescents, he looks more real, but no less beautiful, a hungry smile on his face as he advances on Eddie. They meet in a biting kiss, one that ends with Eddie sucking on his pretty omega’s pouty lower lip, as the man reaches for Eddie’s belt buckle.

He makes quick work of shoving down Eddie’s pants and freeing his cock, pulls back to spit in his hand, and jerks the alpha to full hardness. “If you want, I can use my mouth. I’m very good with my mouth,” he whispers against Eddie’s ear. “Or…” Reaching for Eddie’s hand, he guides it down to the zipper pull on his shorts, helps him slide it back between his spread legs. “I’m not wearing any panties, and I’m already so wet.”

He lifts one leg up, rests his foot on the seat of the broken toilet, offering easy access for Eddie to slip a finger inside, to pet his lips and gather slick.

Eddie’s not sure who moans first, but they should by quiet, and he dives in to stop both their noises by mashing their mouths together. Soon enough, he’s sheathing himself in tight, wet heat, their bodies rocking as one until Eddie comes with a strangled grunt, his knot tying them together.

“Sorry, baby,” he whispers, reaching between them to jerk the omega off, both of them gasping as powerful muscles convulse around his knot.

“God, Eddie, that was so fucking hot.” Steve rests his head on Eddie’s shoulder, panting as he steps out of their little roleplay.

“You’re hot,” Eddie says, rubbing his back and kissing his temple. “Fuck, Stevie, you need to wear sexy little shorts more often.”

“You get to see me naked all the time,” Steve retorts, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s throat.

“But the shorts really show off your ass-ets.”

Eddie gives Steve a shit-eating grin, and Steve rolls his eyes. “I can’t believe I agreed to marry you.” Then he pulls Eddie in for another long kiss.

#steddie #omegaverse #alpha eddie munson #omega steve harrington #fanfiction #ficlet #thisty thursday

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marinawolf · 1 year ago

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It's You (Supercorp)

by marinawolf

The poll has spoken! Here it is- the angsty Supercorp fic (with a little bit of action and plot- it's a little long, sorry. I was gonna do two parts but that just complicates things so it's alllll here.)

Lena finds out after Lex decides to play a cruel game. (Filled with angst, betrayal, yearning etc etc. First kiss.)

3k words

The moon hung low in the inky sky, casting a haunting glow on National City. On the rooftop of the L Corp building, Kara lingered in the shadows, a solitary figure with a completely useless glass of champagne clutched in her hands, her eyes fixated on Lena. Oh, how she longed for the oblivion of intoxication. It would make things so much easier.

Kara sighed, taking a pointless sip from her champagne flute, the bubbles tickling her throat. The cool breeze ruffled her hair as she watched Lena. The world was enchanted by Lena Luthor, and Kara was no exception. She was everything - brilliant, brave, kind and beautiful. So so beautiful that Kara sometimes forgot how to breathe around her. Kara's fingers traced the rim of her champagne glass and she tried to tear her eyes away from Lena, a futile attempt to distract herself from the ache in her chest.

But unable to resist, Kara's gaze lingered on Lena's face, tracing the delicate curve of her smile and the sparkle in her eyes. She watched as Lena moved through the crowd, a vision in a black dress that sparkled in the moonlight, as if there were constellations wrapped around her body. The air seemed charged with an energy that only Kara felt, her super senses attuned to every detail. Lena's laughter, her heartbeat, the subtle shifts in her expressions - all of it was amplified for Kara. She could feel the familiar tug at her heart. Lena seemed so close yet so impossibly far away. The desire to confess, to bare her soul to Lena, burned within Kara. But the fear of rejection, of losing the one person who had come to mean everything to her, kept her rooted in silence. The irony wasn't lost on her - Supergirl, capable of facing the most formidable foes, was paralyzed by the mere thought of losing Lena.

A bitter taste lingered on Kara's tongue as she took another sip, futilely attempting to drown her emotions. If only she could find the courage to tell Lena the truth - that she was Supergirl, and that she was hopelessly and desperately in love with her.

Almost as if sensing Kara's gaze on her, Lena's eyes flickered toward hers and the most breathtaking smile formed on her face, causing Kara's heart to stop for a moment. Rao, those eyes. Kryptonite had nothing on those eyes, and when Kara looked into them, she could see her life unfolding in those shades of green.

Lena immediately made her way towards Kara, her arms already outstretched for a hug that felt like home.

"You look gorgeous, Lena", Kara whispered against Lena's neck, and she could swear that she heard Lena's breath catch.

As they parted, Lena's hand found Kara's wrist, "Why are you hiding in the corner? Come with me," Lena urged, gently tugging Kara towards the bustling crowd.

It was the last place she wanted to be but Kara couldn't say no. With a silent nod, she let Lena guide her, knowing that wherever Lena went, she would willingly follow.

"You okay?"

Kara blinked back to the present as Lena's concerned voice cut through the monotonous corporate chatter. She had zoned out as a man they were talking to droned on about his company. For some reason, she was finding it harder to stifle her feelings for Lena tonight and found herself spiralling, her thoughts running wild.

"Hm? Oh, yes, I am. Why?"

"You just seem out of it tonight. Do you want to leave? I'll just say my goodbyes, and we can get out of here," Lena suggested, her concern evident in her eyes.

Kara smiled at Lena, a warmth budding in her chest. Lena would totally leave her own event to take Kara home if Kara asked her to. She was that wonderful of a friend. They would probably end up at Lena's apartment, drinking wine and watching movies until Lena passed out, cuddled into Kara's side, making it so that Kara couldn't leave. And Kara would allow herself the indulgence- she would wrap her arms around Lena and close her eyes, and pretend that this was something else- something more. She allowed herself those moments of fantasy. And when they woke up entangled in each other the next morning, they would laugh it off, blaming it on the wine.

But no. Lena needed to be here. It was her event, after all and Kara needed to get some space anyway, and maybe some proper alien alcohol from her stash at home.

"You can't leave, Lena," she laughed, "but I think I am a bit tired. So I'm gonna go, okay?"

Lena's frowned, her gaze meeting Kara's, something indiscernible flickering within her eyes.

"Kara," Lena began, her voice holding a note of urgency, yet before she could continue, a sudden, deafening bang echoed through the air. Kara's eyes shot upward, shock and awe registering on her face as the night sky seemingly exploded around them.

Fire rained down on the rooftop and instinctively, Kara moved to take action, but before she could, Lena's arms enveloped her protectively, attempting to shield her from the fire and debris. It was a moment where the absurdity almost made Kara want to laugh. She felt momentarily frozen. Yet, she knew she couldn't remain passive. She had to save Lena. She had to save everyone.

A second explosion jolted the rooftop, causing Lena to lose her balance and her grip on Kara to falter. Taking the opportunity, Kara broke away from Lena and ducked into a corner, returning immediately as Supergirl.

Her first instinct was to ensure Lena's safety, and she grabbed her and lifted her off the rooftop, intending to carry her away from the looming danger. However, Lena resisted fiercely, fighting against Kara's hold, her frantic eyes scanning the rooftop.

"No!" Lena screamed, her voice fraught with desperation. "Kara is still there. I need to get Kara."

The plea reverberated through the night, casting a heavy shadow on Kara's heart.

"I'll find Kara. Don't worry," Kara reassured, her voice strained with the weight of deception.

She could see the anguish and worry in Lena's eyes, a reflection of deep concern that extended beyond the immediate danger. The worry was for her, for Kara, and as Kara soared back into the night sky, leaving Lena on the ground, the burden of keeping her identity hidden, of denying the depth of her feelings, felt like it could pull her down.

Kara cleared the rest of the guests off the rooftop swiftly and returned alone, hovering over it, scanning for the source of the explosion. To her surprise, there was none. It was as if the night had imploded onto itself, as if the air itself had ignited. The absence of a visible threat left Kara unsettled- this wasn't meant to cause any harm. A sense of foreboding washed over her as realization struck—this must have been some sort of diversion.

Panic gripped Kara's mind, and a single name echoed through her thoughts. There was only one person who would cause chaos at an L Corp event, and that meant one thing—Lena was in danger.

Racing back to where she left Lena, Kara found no-one there. In the place where Lena should have been waiting for her, a small white card had been placed on the ground.

Kara reached for the card, her hands trembling.

You are cordially invited to the Luthor family reunion.

The air became heavy with the worst kind of fear, and as Kara clenched the card in her trembling hands, a desperate scream threatened to escape her lips. Where did he take Lena?

At the DEO, Kara's anxiety echoed through the room as she paced, the worry etched on her face. Frustration, fear and desperation boiled within her.

"Why can't we find her?" She shouted, her anger bouncing around the room, shocking the agents around her.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, and turned to see Alex, a concerned look on her face,

"Lex is very good at hiding, Kara. We're doing the best we can. We will find her," she reassured, though the words did little to quell Kara's mounting panic.

Kara felt a surge of helplessness, a burning desire to do whatever it took to locate Lena, even if it meant tearing the whole world apart and yet all she could do was uselessly wait around for a lead.

Just as she approached a point of no return, Winn's voice called out,

"I think I have something," he announced, drawing everyone's attention. "I hijacked city cams and ran facial recognition. Traffic cameras picked up Lena's face outside an abandoned warehouse. There's someone with her."

Kara's heart skipped a beat, hope coursing through her veins.

"Where is it?" she demanded, desperation edging her voice.

As Winn relayed the address, Alex grabbed her arm,

"Wait, Kara. Let us prep a team to go with you. It's probably a trap. You can't go in alone."

Kara's resolve hardened, her gaze steely with determination.

"I don't care, Alex. It's Lena."

With those words hanging in the air, she broke free from Alex's grasp and bolted from the DEO, propelled by the determination to rescue the woman she couldn't live without.

Kara reached the warehouse and effortlessly tore through the heavy iron doors. Her determined advance faltered as she took in the scene before her—Lex Luthor, armed and wearing a manic smile, stood with a gun pointed at Lena who, to Kara's relief, looked unharmed. Kara couldn't bare to see the terrified look on Lena's face, but she knew that if she let herself give in to the fear, she would never get them out alive.

"Ah, Supergirl, you made it!" he grinned, reveling in the chaos. "Look, sister, our guest of honor has arrived. Now we can start."

Kara moved towards Lena, but before she could reach her, Lex grabbed Lena and pressed his gun to her head.

"Nuh uh, Supergirl," he tutted, "You don't want your best friend to get hurt, now do you?"

Kara felt a chill creeping over her as she stood paralyzed.

"What do you want?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady despite the panic surging through her, "Me? I'm here—let her go, Lex."

Lex laughed. "Oh, Supergirl. Where's the fun in that? Let you sacrifice yourself and be the hero again? No. No, this time we're going to play a little game."

He retrieved a button from his pocket, and the floor beneath Kara illuminated with the ominous glow of kryptonite.

"Supergirl, no," Lena shouted, trying to step forward, but Lex tightened his grip on her, and pressed the gun harder into her temple.

"One little push of this button will make that lead floor disappear, and one little pull on this trigger can end my dear sister's life. Okay? Do we understand the rules? Good, now that the stakes are set, let's play a little game of truth. No dare, just truth."

"Please, Lex," Kara begged, "Let her go."

"Oh, I will. If you play my game, Supergirl."

Kara closed her eyes, trying to calm her breathing. When she opened it again, she was resolved to do whatever it took to save Lena.

"Fine. Let's play."

"What a good sport," Lex taunted. "The game is simple. You tell the truth—you win. And there's only one question that we need to answer. Lena, who is Supergirl?"

Lena frowned, uncertainty clouding her features. "I don't know."

"Come, sister, you're smarter than that. Think carefully." Lex goaded, a malicious glint in his eyes.

Kara's heart pounded fiercely—this was Lex's plan. He knew. Somehow he knew, and he intended to use that knowledge to shatter the one thing she valued most in the world: her friendship with Lena.

"I. Don't. Know," Lena spoke through gritted teeth, her frustration evident. "Let her go, Lex. Let me go. There's no need for any of this."

"Oh, but there is," he replied, unyielding. "Okay, Supergirl—your turn. Answer truthfully now, or else I'll have to pull this trigger. Does Lena know you? The real you?"

Kara's gaze shifted to Lena, a silent plea in her eyes. She had to answer.

"Yes," she said softly, lifting her eyes to meet Lena's. Confusion etched Lena's face, and Kara's heart ached. Not like this.

Lex's smile widened, savoring the unfolding drama. "Okay, now we're getting somewhere. Lena, your turn again. Tell me, did Supergirl save your best friend today?"

Kara watched as anguish and panic filled Lena's eyes, the unspoken plea evident. "I don't know. Is Kara...? Is she okay?" The desperation in Lena's voice broke Kara's heart.

Before Kara could utter a word, Lex spoke, coercing Lena, "Come on, Lena. I know you're smarter than this."

He turned his gaze to Kara. "Tell her, Supergirl. Tell her about her best friend."

A sob escaped Lena's throat. "Oh god, please. Tell me she's okay. Tell me she's alive," Lena begged, and Kara felt her heart shatter.

"Tell her, Supergirl. The truth about her best friend."

Lex's words hung heavy in the air, and Kara knew exactly what he meant.

She looked into Lena's tear-filled eyes,

"Lena," she said, softly, "Lena, I—"

But before she could continue, she saw recognition dawn in Lena's eyes.

"No," Lena whispered, her voice trembling. "It's you? It has been you this whole time? Oh god, Kara, I thought you had—" Lena choked on a sob.

Kara remained silent, witnessing Lena's heartbreak unfold as the realization settled in.

"I'm sorry, Lena. I wanted to tell you so many times, but—"

"But you didn't," Lena's voice turned hard, the sense of betrayal evident. "Kara." She said her name like an accusation, and Kara wished she could vanish into the earth.

"I confided in you that everyone in my past had betrayed me. About how much it hurt to have someone you love lie to you and betray you, and you—" Lena's voice faltered, "You were playing me all along, Kara."

Kara felt her own tears fall. She had done the one thing she never wanted to do—she had hurt Lena.

"Lena, I was trying to protect you. Your family—"

"What?" Lena interrupted her, "You thought that you couldn't trust me because I'm a Luthor? Despite everything, Kara, you didn't trust me?"

"I would trust you with my life, Lena. I do trust you with my life. I just never wanted you to ever have to choose between me and your family! I didn't want to put you in that position."

Lex put the gun down, and Kara almost sagged in relief. "My work here is done," he smiled in satisfaction.

Then, surprising them both, he handed the kryptonite remote to Lena. "Take it, sister. I, at least, trust you to do the right thing. You'll always just be a Luthor to them."

When Kara saw Lena's fingers wrap around the remote, her heart shattered. Lex walked away, leaving them alone.

"Lena, please."

"What, Supergirl? Don't kill you? Isn't that what you would expect from a Luthor?" she spat.

"Lena, you're angry. I understand, but—"

"Oh god," Lena said, "You actually think I would hurt you?"

"Never," Kara said, "Lena, I'm—"

"You don't get it, do you, Kara? I would have chosen you. Over anyone. Over anything." She let the remote drop to the floor, the sound echoing through the empty warehouse.

"Lena," Kara whispered, her voice tinged with fear of the impending fallout.

The prospect that Lena might come to hate her felt more daunting than facing any physical threat. She would rather have Lena press that button than have to live with Lena hating her. Lena wasn't just a friend; she was the woman Kara loved, and the thought of losing her was unbearable. With everything on the line, Kara had to say it, to lay bare the truth that had been concealed for so long.

"Lena, I'm sorry. I know I should have told you sooner, about who I am, but please, please believe me. I was only trying to protect you. I didn't know how to tell you. You became my friend, and I thought it would be okay, that I could be Kara for you and still keep this hidden—keep you safe from it all. And then you became my best friend, and by then, I was too scared of losing you to tell you. And then—Rao, Lena, I fell in love with you, and it became too difficult to tell you. I was scared, and I didn't know how. I love you, and the thought of losing you—I knew that I wouldn't be able to breathe if I lost you. Lena, you are the single most important thing in the universe to me."

Lena fell to her knees, and Kara rushed to her, desperate to bridge the emotional chasm that had opened between them.

"I love you, Lena. I have loved you for a long time. Please, please forgive me."

"I want to hate you, but I can't," Lena whispered, her voice a fragile blend of hurt and conflict.

Despite it all, Lena pulled Kara into a fierce embrace, clutching onto her desperately. Kara tightened her grip around Lena, feeling Lena's silent tears seep into her shoulder.

Finally, Lena pushed Kara away, standing up, leaving them both to grapple with the emotional turmoil that hung heavy in the air. Kara rose to her feet, and they faced each other, the tension between them casting a daunting shadow.

"What now?" Kara asked, her voice soft, the fear of Lena's response palpable.

Lena met her gaze intensely, and Kara detected a flicker of conflict in Lena's eyes. It was as if the turmoil within Lena was written in the air between them, as if she was wrestling with a decision.

Then, without warning, Lena pulled Kara in, crashing her lips against hers with a desperate urgency. Kara, initially stunned, quickly melted into the kiss, mirroring Lena's desperation. She could taste the saltiness of Lena's tears on her lips, the kiss carrying a weight as if their very lives depended on it, as if Lena held Kara's breath captive. The world around Kara dissolved, leaving only Lena—her lips, her hands. Lena became the singular reality that mattered to Kara, the only thing tethering her to this world.

Finally, they pulled apart, foreheads pressed together, both breathing heavily.

"I'm hurt," Lena whispered, her voice laden with vulnerability. "You hurt me, Kara. But I can't imagine being without you. I love you."

Kara's heart clenched at Lena's words.

And as their lips met again, Kara vowed to spend the rest of her life trying to make it up to Lena. She would never hurt her again.

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neverfindmegone · 1 year ago

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Hi people, so I'm not a writer and I never wrote anything but my darling @pinkthrone445 is always writing the most amazing things, so I wanted to write this in her honor. Sorry if it's extremely silly and not well written but is my first try 🖤

What I can see

You and Melissa had been friends for a couple of months now. You met the red head during your first day in Abbot. You were nervous as hell to work as a teacher's aid, but you have always loved children and working with them was a dream.

At first, Melissa wasn't very friendly, she was extremely sarcastic, making fun of you every chance she got.

You still remember your first meeting, Ava had come to introduce you to the red head and you couldn't form one proper sentence, being stunned by her beauty.

- What's the matter Hon, did the cat get your tongue?

After that you started to spend more and more time with the older woman, and the intimidation you felt started to turn into a deep admiration. Being her helper was such an interesting job, the learning range was big, from teaching kids with special needs to having the number of a guy who could help you with racoon problems.

Yes. Melissa was an interesting woman and you started to fall for her more and more each day.

At first you believed to be a innocent crush, but the more you had one on one conversations, you saw that you couldn't stop thinking about what hurricane of a woman she was. Her presence, her personality, her looks, you were completely obsessed. What resulted in you finding every excuse possible to be around her all the time. You would bring her coffee, invite for lunches, drinks, movies almost every week after work.

Melissa seemed to appreciate the extra attention you gave her, sometimes you could swear you caught her staring when she thought you weren't looking.

Her bright green eyes shined when you overshared and her hands always found away to touch you, shoulders, hands, thighs.

That's how you found yourself in the current situation. Ava was giving one of her Ava speeches, and you had Melissa sitting right next to you, her arm touching yours. You were caught giving her looks from the corner of your eye, every time your skins would brush.

- Does she sound drunk to you? She whispered in your ear.

The hairs on the back of your back stood up immediately and you were frozen for a second. Her breath ghosting your skin made you feel dizzy whenever she was this close to you. Damn this woman had put you wonder a spell or something. When did you start to be so easily affected?

Melissa noticing your lack of response, shoved your arm slowly. - You okay?

- Yes, I mean no, not drunk, maybe hung over? I saw on her Insta last night, she was at the club until late.

- Club on a Wednesday? That's brave even for her. She eye rolled, looking back at the stage.

- Come on Schemmenti. You looked at her. - Can't you handle going out on a school night?

Her head snapped immediately, green eyes finding yours, nostrils inflating. You liked teasing her, it was a part of the flirting banter you had going on.

You raised both of your eyebrows challenging her. - Too old?

- Are you kidding me kid? You, me, club tonight. She said snapping, challenging you back.

- Deal, I'll pick you up at 7.

---

Later that night, you knocked on Melissa's door at 7:15. A bit late, but nothing that would bother the older lady. When the door was opened, your jaw dropped. She was wearing a tight red dress, her creamy cleavage completely in display.

You couldn't stop staring at her breasts, your breathing getting elaborated. This was definitely the rack from God.

Melissa's voice broke up you from your paralysis. - What's the matter hon? Am I over dressed?

You frowned, seeing her insecurity.

- Are you kidding me? Mel, you look... You paused, your eyes raking over her body up and down slowly. - Exquisite.

- Really? I'm not sure about this. She said entering the house, with you following. - I had other options. She gestured for you to follow her into the bedroom.

- Maybe these black jeans? She pointed to the bed, where a bunch of clothes were scattered. - I haven't been to a club in a while, I don't know what I was thinking.

You looked around seeing the mess in the room, realizing that she was probably over thinking this. You wanted nothing more than reassure her, this woman was divine, how couldn't she know that?

- No, you look perfect, I promise.

Melissa made a face, showing that she didn't believe you, she walked to the large mirror in the corner of her room, before standing there, observing herself. Her hands moved over her dress, tiding it up. - Am I too old for this?

- Melissa, please. You giggled, how did this goddess believe she was too old for anything. That's when you remember your teasing earlier, you started to feel guilty. She wouldn't have been upset over that, would she?

- Is this about earlier? You asked approaching her. - Let me show you something. You continued, moving yourself behind her in the mirror slowly, afraid to scare her away. Your desire was to prove to the woman how gorgeous she really was.

- What do you really think? She said looking at you, finding your eyes in the mirror.

You moved your hands to her hips gently, holding her in place, while making eye contact with her.

- I think you will be the hottest woman there. You squeezed her hips gently, before giving them a tap. - Come on.

Melissa huffs, before looking at you with vulnerable eyes. - Oh please.

You move closer, keeping your eyes on hers, before resting your chin on her shoulder. - I don't think you are aware of the effect you have on people. Your arms hugged her from behind while you spoke.

The older woman eyerolled. - Huf, you have to say that, you're my friend.

- Melissa stop. You moved your hands to hers, before squeezing them. - Please see what everyone can see... What I can see.

She blushed deeply. - Listen kid, I...

You moved closer in a fast manner, making her stop talking. You pressed your front against her back completely, before starting - First, look at these arms. You moved your hands up and down her shoulders gently. - They are muscular and strong.

You felt her tense up, looking at you with uncertainty. You gave her a wide smile before you felt her relaxing again, she gave you a small nod, letting you know it was okay to continue.

You shifted your hands to her stomach, stroking it with your fingertips. - Look at this waste, so gorgeous and just the right shape. Her eyes shifted to your hands movements, and her breath started to increase it's path, as she felt you caressing her skin.

- And these hips? Your hand moved down her curves, touching her more intimately now, increasing the pressure of your hands.

- They are so attractive, when you walk, people at school can't stop staring at them. You know when I first met you I couldn't stop thinking about your hips and thighs.

She shaked her head no. - It's true. You breathed in her ear. - You carry such power and swag when you walk, it's impossible not to look.

Her eyes starting to shine, lips quivering as she felt your hands moving to her behind. - I don't think I need to tell you about this mouth watering ass of yours, do I?

Your eyes found hers, completely black now, your hand moving up and down her butt cheeks. Your touch was maddening, Melissa was starting to tremble and you heard a small whimper scape when your nails traced her shape, teasingly.

Your face moved closer to hers, your nose brushing against her cheek, your eyes never leaving hers. - But do you wanna know my favorite? You said slowly, letting the tip of your tongue brush against her earlobe.

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

Your hands roamed up her front and the red head felt like her skin was on fire, it was as if hot oil was being poured in every spot your fingers touched. Your hand stopped on her chest and you stretched your fingers to her neck, squeezing it gently.

- Y/N. She whimpered, her voice full of emotion.

Your fingers grasped her chin before turning her face to yours. - It's your face Melissa, I'm obsessed with your face. Your eyes kept drinking in hers while you spoke - Your eyes they are so green and deep. - Your smile lights up the whole room, it's contagious.

You leaned closer, letting your fingertips touch the tip of her nose - Your nose is sharp and perfect. You traced a path to her lips, observing her face deeply, like you were a painter and she was your master piece. Your fingers moved to her lips softly, the pressure light but steady.

- And your mouth, God your mouth.

Melissa held her breath, her eyes started to close, she was hypnotized by your caresses. Her eyes snapped open when she felt you pulling away. But before she could protest in disappointment you moved your hands to her breasts squeezing them roughly. You couldn't keep yourself away from them for one more second. - And these are the star of the show. You felt her nipples get hard while you played with them.

Her head fell to your shoulder before she groaned. - Fucking chirst Y/N.

You lost any self control you had left and turned her around, pressing her back against the mirror, trapping her with your hands beside her head . - Do you see it now? You asked, your eyes full of lust.

Her lack of response gave you the impression that she was uncomfortable, so you started to move away shyly. - Fuck, sorry Mel, I know we work together. Before you could finish your sentence Melissa grabbed your face and crashed her lips against yours. She was furious and putting all of her desire and longing into that kiss.

You had no idea how long she had craved this, how long she had craved you. And having your hands and whispers seducing her like that was enough to take the red head to a breaking point.

All she could see was black, her hands moved over your body frantically, squeezing every piece of flesh she could find.

You moaned feeling how dominant she had became, letting her take charge of the kiss. Your hands moved to her shoulders, clutching with force, returning all the fire the woman was giving you. You opened your mouth, accepting her tongue in. Your mind was dizzy with desire, and you couldn't stop yourself from moaning again.

- Holy fuck. You panted. You kissed for minutes, or what seemed to be hours. You couldn't get enough of her taste and she seemed to be obsessed with yours. Every time you would stop to breathe the other would pull in again with force, continuing the intense kiss. Your hands tangled in her gorgeous hair and hers groping you forcefully.

When you felt yourself close to fainting from the lack of air, you moved away from her, catching your breath so you could take a sight of what had just happened.

You moved your hand over your chest, trying to recover.

- Wow Schemmenti, I always assumed you were a good kisser but this, this is something else.

When you caught her eyes, she was still silent, chest and face red, she looked dangerous, almost a predator looking at her pray. - Mel?

She moved closer to you before shoving you in the bed savagely. You fell on your elbows harshly. - Ouch! Melissa! You said looking her with surprise.

- You had your fun seducing and playing me like pudding in your hands. Now it's my turn. She said while moving on top of you.

Her hands moved to your neck before squeezing it. - And you know something Y/N? She said while leaning in, letting her mouth hover over yours. - I don't think I want to go to the club anymore.

#Melissa schemmenti x you #Melissa schemmenti x reader #abbot elementary #Melissa schemmenti #Fanfic

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joekeeryswife · 1 year ago

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ballet recital - m.m

a/n: hello honeys! how cute is this concept! loving the idea of Mason being a girl dad (sorry not sorry lol). i didn’t know how to end it lmfao. if you have any requests send them through!! anyways enjoy reading 🩰

taglist: @noturbabe22 @luvvtrent @peterparkerbae @masonreds

“are you excited for your ballet recital honey?” you heard Mason’s voice as he spoke to your 5 year old daughter Margot.

“yes daddy i am. are you still coming?” she had been excited for this recital for months and so had Mason.

this was a big deal for all of you and it just so happened that her recital landed on the day after Mason’s football game for England.

The squad had travelled to Portugal for the game and you both hadn’t even realised it at the time. “i’m sorry sweetheart, you know i’m in Portugal for a game but i promise i’ll make it next time”

she pouted and looked defeated but she understood that her dad had to work and nodded. but what she didn’t know was you and Mason had planned for him to fly home the day after early in the morning and surprise her.

“you know i would love to be there angel and i will be there next time. don’t get upset, it hurts my heart” she put on a brave face and showed him a tight lipped smile.

“i know daddy. love you” she handed the phone back to you and ran off to her room, you knew she was upset and that hurt you. “she looked heartbroken. that made me feel awful, you should go check on her” you nodded and smiled softly.

“we will be watching your game tonight. i’ll see you tomorrow yeah?” Mason nodded and smiled back at you “i love you” he said and brushed his hand through his hair.

“i love you too. be safe” with that you ended the phone and made your way to your daughters room. you knocked on her door carefully hoping to not frighten her.

you could hear the cutest voice on the other side say ‘come in’ so you did. she was on her bedroom floor playing with her barbie’s she’d gotten for christmas a couple months before. “are you okay sweetie?” you sat down next to her and ran your hand up and down her back.

she nodded and continued to play with her dolls. “would you like me to face-time daddy whilst you’re preforming?” she shrugged, you could tell she was upset and wanted her dad to be there.

“you’ve got so many people coming to see you remember? you’ve got not your nanny’s, grandads, uncle lewis and auntie jas and your cousins are coming” she looked up at you, her eyes filled with sadness. “it’s not the same” you nodded, agreeing.

“it’s not but daddy wouldn’t want you to be sad would he? he’d want you to be excited about this baby. he’s very proud of you” your hands went to her cheeks and stroked them softly. “do you think he’d want us to facetime him? he wouldn’t get annoyed?” you frowned.

“why would he be annoyed honey? he would love for you to facetime him” you were confused “but he has football and we would be interrupting him” even though Margot was only five she was so smart, one of the smartest in her class.

“absolutely not. your father would not be annoyed at all, i bet you he’d be crying on the phone whilst watching you” you lent in and kissed her forehead. “don’t you go worrying about it sweetheart, we can do whatever you want and if you want me to facetime him whilst you’re preforming then i will” she nodded.

“you are so beautiful Margot, do you know that?” you blushed and nodded again “i love you mama” your heart melted. “i love you more sweet girl”

-♡-

Mason had landed an hour ago and was now on his way to the dance hall, he was messaging you every so often to give you updates on where he was and how long he was going to be and it looked like he was getting there ten minutes before it was Margot’s classes turn to preform.

you met up with your parents, your siblings, Masons parents and his siblings at the front of the dance hall. Margot was dressed in her pink leotard, tutu and ballet shoes. “wow look at you pretty girl” Lewis said as Margot ran up to him.

he picked her up and showered her in kisses, careful to not mess up her bun. “thank you uncle lewis” you were lucky that both of your families were close, everyone got along. “you excited to preform honey? you’re gonna do so good” your mum kissed Margot’s cheek where a deep red blush spread on her cheeks.

“i’m super excited” she squealed “we should go in and find our seats, Margot do you want to go find your teacher?” you asked as Lewis put her down. she nodded. you knelt down in front of her and gave her a kiss on her forehead.

“you’re gonna do so well, you’re beautiful, the best ballerina i’ve ever seen. no nerves, no tears because you are gonna do amazing. and, i’m going to facetime your dad as soon as the show starts okay?” she smiled and nodded. Margot got nervous easily which sometimes made her cry but you knew today she wouldn’t, she was going to do great.

you all entered the dance hall and was greeted by Margot’s teacher who pointed you in the right direction to your seats and took Margot backstage. you were all practically front row and it was shocking as there was so many people here.

you saved a seat for Mason next to you and the hall quickly filled up. it was 5 minutes before the kids got on stage that Mason finally came through the doors to the hall and was searching around for you all. he spotted you and quickly walked to you all and kissed your cheek. “hi honey” he made you jump but nevertheless you knew who it was and quickly turned towards him.

you kissed him and he sat down next to you “i missed you” he said, placing his hand on your thigh. “you were gone for one day, you couldn’t of missed me that much” you rolled your eyes but blushed slightly. “one day too long, i wanted to come home as soon as the game finished. i’m never going away without you both again” you giggled at how precious he was.

the lights in the hall dimmed and the curtains opened to a stage which was decorated beautifully. your eyes focused for your little girl who stepped out with her classmates, they all stood in a line and looked around the room for their parents.

Margot locked eyes with Mason and blushed brightly and waved at him, seeing her on the stage made Mason tear up. his first born was growing up so quickly and this made him realise it. he waved back and blew her a kiss and the music started playing.

the class started preforming their ballet routine and your heart melted. seeing Margot dancing after practicing for months was the cutest thing you’d ever seen. she looked so comfortable as she danced.

you looked over at your mum who was recording the whole thing with the biggest smile on her face. you grabbed Masons hand which was on your leg and squeezed it tightly. you looked at him and he had a few tears rolling down his cheeks which you quickly wiped away and kissed his cheek.

“she looks so cute” he whispered, his eyes never leaving his little girl. “she’s doing amazing. she practiced so hard for this, it’s nice to see the final thing” he nodded as he squeezed your hand. you’d only ever seen Mason cry a handful of times since you’d been together.

nothing to do with the societal view of men crying makes them look weak, he just wasn’t a big crier. you’d only ever seen him cry when he’d watched the notebook with you, the birth or Margot, her first birthday and a couple other times.

the dance recital wasn’t very long, 30 minutes to be exact as there was two classes. after the recital had finished everyone was instructed to wait outside so they could collect their child and you stood waiting with Mason, hand in hand.

Margot was the first one out, running straight toward Mason who accepted her with open arms. “oh my girl you did so well” he picked her up and hugged her tightly. your daughter loved surprises and you knew this one would mean a lot to her.

he kissed her head and everyone awed at the two of them. “you said you weren’t coming” Margot said as she squeezed him tighter like he was going to disappear if she let go. “you really think i’d miss it? no way”

“you did so amazing poppet, you looked so beautiful” Debbie said making her look up from Masons neck. “thank you nanny” she was blushing. “do you think we should go out and celebrate? have some food together?” Mason said making Margot nod.

all of you decided on a food place and celebrated your little girls performance. Margot and Mason had sat next to each other and he had never felt love like this before. surrounded by the people he loved celebrating his daughter.

#fanfiction #imagines #mason mount #mason mount scenarios #mason mount x you #mason mount series #mason mount story #mason mount fluff #mason mount imagines #mason mount masterlist #mason mount imagine #mason mount x reader #mason mount x fem!reader #mason mount x y/n #dad!masonmount x reader #dad!mason mount

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enigmalynne · 7 months ago

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Blast from the Past - Jensen&Y/N

Title – Blast from the Past Pairings – Y/N and Jensen Word Count – 2,607 Warnings – sexual innuendos, making out, smut JAcklesverse Bingo Prompt – Speed Dating

Jensen is a divorced man, and it’s been a while. Jared had been trying to set his best friend up with who he believes is the perfect girl, only for things to fail for one reason or another, but there was no way Jensen was getting out of speed dating. It is a good thing Gen was able to convince Y/N the same thing, knowing that she was getting fed up with trying to meet this perfect guy only to be blown off repeatedly. When the two finally meet up and realize who each other is, they can’t wait to revisit a history not forgotten.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is not my first time writing smut, but it is my first time sharing it. Please be nice to me; I'm taking a big chance here.

“Well, if it isn’t Jensen Ackles,” Y/N said with a smirk as she sat beside the man. She set her beer before her, placed her elbows on the table, and rested her chin in her hands. Jensen’s face turned red as he recognized the woman before him.

“Well, if it isn’t Y/N Y/L/N,” he said quietly.

“Fifteen minutes, people. The timer starts now,” the speed dating event coordinator shouted as they set the timer once again.

“Aren’t you supposed to be home with a gorgeous red-headed wife and three little rugrats?” Y/N asked gently, keeping any accusation out of her voice. Jensen lowered his eyes and picked up his beer, taking a rather large sip to steady his nerves.

“That gorgeous redhead filed for divorce last year, and this is my weekend free from the kids,” he explained. “It’s a long story I don’t really feel like getting into.” Y/N’s eyes lit up a bit, but she kept her smile from showing her excitement.

“So, who dragged you to this event tonight?” Y/N asked, picking up her beer to take a sip.

“Jared.” Y/N laughed.

“That’s funny because Gen was the one who convinced me to come out and give speed dating a try,” she replied. “Methinks someone is trying to play matchmaker.”

“Would that be a bad thing?” Jensen asked, tilting his head to the side to study his long-lost friend.

“I should be asking you that. You’re the one who is getting back out there. I’ve been single for so long, and it’s become part of my personality,” Y/N said, causing the man in front of her to chuckle.

“Jared just wants to see me happy. Said he’s tired of seeing me mope around set every day,” Jensen muttered. This pulled a laugh out of Y/N.

“And speed dating was his answer to that?” she asked.

“I refused to let him set me up with anyone.”

“And why’s that?”

“I didn’t feel ready to return and date. Plus, I have the kids on the weekend, and it's hard to date around them.”

“That’s such an excuse,” Y/N said with a snicker. “Your mom would love to babysit, and you know it.”

“Yeah, she would,” Jensen agreed. “But what about you? How is a beautiful and talented woman like you still single?”

“Well, a friend of mine was trying to set me up, but the guy kept backing out,” Y/N said lightly, causing Jensen to blush again.

“Had I known it was with you, I wouldn’t have blown Jared off. It’s been years, Y/N,” Jensen said, leaning on the table. Y/N smiled brightly, her blue eyes twinkling with excitement. “Why did we break up again?”

“You were going to Vancouver for Supernatural. I was going to Australia for a movie. We didn’t want to do the long-distance thing. When I finally made it back to the States, you were dating Red, and I didn’t want to say anything,” Y/N explained, running her fingers along Jensen’s hand.

“Maybe you should have.”

“Maybe I should have. Imagine where we’d be today.”

“I still think about it, you know. Us.”

“I think about you every day, Jen.”

Just then, a buzzer went off, loud and annoying. It burst the little bubble the two had found themselves in. Jensen frowned as he looked over and saw everyone starting to move.

“You wanna get out of here?” Y/N asked, always the brave one.

“God, yes,” Jensen breathed. Y/N grinned and grabbed his hand as she stood.

“Hey!” the woman waiting to take her seat said indignantly.

“Look, that guy’s free. Go chat with him,” Y/N said, dragging Jensen with her.

“You two can’t just leave in the middle of Speed Dating! You have to stay for the entire event!” the coordinator shouted as the two darted for the door.

“How about instead of being pissed off, you be happy that your stupid event worked and two of your clients are running off together?” Jensen shouted back at him, causing Y/N to giggle. Once the two were outside in the muggy Texas night air, Jensen pressed Y/N against the still-warm brick wall. He threaded his hands into Y/N’s hair at her neck and looked into her eyes with a small smile.

“I might be a bit rusty,” he whispered, leaning close. Y/N spread her legs slightly so she could pull him against her hips more solidly.

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?” she whispered back, closing the distance and pressing her lips to his. The kiss was innocent until she ran her tongue against his lips, demanding entrance. Jensen took control and, with a slight moan, deepened the kiss. Their tongues tangled, fighting for dominance as they tasted each other for the first time in decades. When they separated, both of them were panting.

“What made you think you’d be bad at this?” Y/N breathed, leaning over to whisper in his ear. “You should feel how wet you just made me.” Jensen groaned loudly and rutted slightly against her.

“Don’t tease me. It’s been a long time,” he ground out.

“My place is two blocks away,” she said, pulling his earlobe between her teeth.

“Lead the way.”

Y/N fumbled with her keys slightly as she tried to open her door, distracted by how good Jensen’s hands felt at her hips. His hot body pressed against hers had a buzz going through her system that she hadn’t felt in a long, long time. When she finally got the door unlocked and open, she turned around, fisted his shirt, and pulled him into a dirty kiss. Jensen leaned down and picked her up, wrapping her legs around his waist as he carried her into the apartment, kicking the door shut.

Jensen pressed Y/N up against the wall, pressing himself against her core so she could feel what she still did to him as he broke the kiss and dragged his lips down her neck to her collarbone. He left wet kisses there, his tongue dancing over her skin. Y/N threw her head back and moaned, her hips moving against him. The movement caused them both to shudder.

“Bedroom, now,” she breathed, her fingers gripping his hair. Jensen slowly let her slide down his body as he put her back on the ground.

“Lead the way,” he repeated his earlier words. She looked at him with a smirk, stripped off her shirt, her bra following close behind, and led him to the bedroom. He followed her with a smile.

Once inside the room, Y/N dropped her hands to the button on her jeans and flicked it open, but the hot body that pressed against her stilled her movements. She leaned her head back against Jensen’s shoulder as one of his hands reached up and gently squeezed one of her breasts, fingers pinching at her nipple. His other hand dipped into her waistband and her panties.

Jensen’s open mouth latched onto Y/N’s neck, and he trailed kisses down to her shoulder as he massaged her sensitive breast in his hand. His other hand stroked her gently, causing her breathing to catch as his fingers danced across her damp clit. When she pulled away and turned to face him, she watched as Jensen put his fingers into his mouth and tasted her.

“You still taste as delicious as I remember,” he muttered huskily. A sexy smirk played on Y/N’s face as she clutched the hem of his shirt and lifted it over his head, exposing hard abs and a chiseled chest. His Soldier Boy body was still intact, thanks to those workouts that became a regular part of his daily routine.

Y/N pulled him with her as she fell backward onto her bed, his weight pressing into her deliciously between her parted legs. Y/N felt her breath catch as he dipped his head down and took one taut nipple into his warm mouth. Y/N’s fingers found their way into his hair, her back arching into him. Jensen’s other hand found her exposed breast and played with the unattended nipple, his tongue darting over the other. A surprised moan escaped her as she felt his teeth bite the nub gently.

One of Jensen’s hands drifted down to her waist, pulled open the zipper of her jeans, and slid into her panties once again. Y/N’s hips bucked to meet his eager fingers, and she pulled Jensen’s mouth back up to hers. Their kiss was frantic, and when Jensen pulled away, their lips were red and puffy. His lips dragged overheated skin, licking and tasting the sweet saltiness there as he helped her remove her jeans, throwing them onto the floor.

Y/N sat herself up, her hands going to Jensen’s belt immediately. Jensen’s eyes were laser-focused on her tiny hands undoing his belt, then his jeans, pushing them down. Y/N licked her lips as she saw the bulge waiting for her there in his boxers. A wicked smile played on her lips as she looked up at him from her lashes, knowing what she would do next would make him feel so good.

Jensen lifted to help remove his jeans, then gasped as he felt Y/N’s hand wrap around his cock. She sat in front of him, one hand pumping him gently, the other pushing his boxers down his legs and out of the way. Feeling brazen, Y/N dipped her head down and licked the head of his cock. That caused Jensen to bark out her name. Y/N licked and played a little before taking his entire length into her mouth.

Bobbing her head, she rediscovered the rhythm she knew he liked without hesitation. Jensen placed a hand in her hair, gripping and guiding her gently over himself. Hearing Jensen’s heavy breathing and uncontrolled moans was enough to turn her on so much that she felt herself drip down her legs. Soon, she was squirming, trying to cause friction to relieve some of the pressure building inside her core. After a while, Jensen growled and pulled her away from his cock, crashing his mouth to hers in a brutal and dirty kiss.

“As much as I love coming in that filthy mouth of yours,” he ground out, sliding a hand over Y/N’s mound and sinking two fingers into her with no restriction. “It’s been too long since I felt this pussy wrapped tight around me… and it feels like it’s been a long time for you as well with how tight you are gripping my fingers.”

“God, Jensen,” she murmured against his lips as he gently pushed her back against the bed. Y/N kissed him with hunger as his fingers began to thrust inside her. Feeling how wet she was for him made him groan, causing her hips to buck towards him.

"I want you and your hot little body," he muttered to her, his tongue tracing her ear.

"God, Jensen, I want you inside of me," she muttered under her breath as she moaned. Jensen knelt between her legs and pulled on her panties. Y/N lifted her hips to help him take her thong off, and she cried out when she felt his tongue there tasting her seconds later. Jensen pressed his expert tongue against that hot little button time and again, his arms holding her hips still despite how hard she was thrashing.

"Oh, God, yes...You are going to make me cum," she whimpered...and then she did. Y/N arched and threw her head back as she came hard on his tongue, only to be gasping for a new reason as he slammed into her as she rode out her orgasm.

"Oh, my God, you are so tight," Jensen moaned, their sounds blending. He moved inside her slowly as she rode out her orgasm. Y/N stayed limp for a few seconds, whimpering and breathing heavily, then looked up at Jensen above her with lust in her hooded eyes.

"Fuck me," she said. Jensen's mouth curled into a dirty grin.

"Say it again," he said.

"Fuck. Me." Y/N said, pronouncing each word for him. Jensen wasted no time in complying with her request. He pulled out and slammed into her again, causing her to gasp and then moan loudly. Jensen set a steady pace, his weight going to his elbows as he held onto Y/N's face.

"Look at me," he grunted. Y/N opened her hazy eyes and watched his eyes as he pumped in and out of her. He watched as her eyes clouded over, and knowing that giving her pleasure was bringing him close as well.

“Oh, God, please don’t stop,” she cried, dragging her nails down his back. Jensen grabbed her knees and hiked them up over his hips to give him more room to move, to thrust deeper into her.

“You are so wet for me,” he muttered, feeling her tighten again. “Are you going to come again?”

“Ye…Yes…”

"Come with me," he moaned out. Y/N nodded her head.

"I will...I...am..." and then she did. The feeling of her pulsing around him was enough to push him over the edge as well, and he emptied himself into her in a roar of pleasure with her name on his lips. A few thrusts later, he collapsed on top of her, moving so that his weight was not on her. The sound of their heavy breathing filled the room. They took some time to catch their breath, but soon, Y/N was leaning over Jensen, pressing her mouth to his in a messy but passionate kiss. She dropped her head on his chest when they needed air, still panting.

Ten minutes later, Jensen stirred and carefully slid from under Y/N’s dozing form. She clutched at him, trying to keep him where he was.

“Don’t leave,” she said quietly, almost timidly. Now that the initial passion was sated and they both were thinking more clearly, she felt vulnerable. Was he going to leave?

“I’m not leaving,” he said, kissing her forehead before scooping her up. Y/N squealed slightly at being picked up, causing Jensen to grin. He carried her to her bathroom and set her down on the counter. He then reached over and started the shower. She watched a naked Jensen move around her home comfortably and smiled softly. Please don’t let this be a one-time thing.

“I don’t want it to be,” he said with his back turned, hand in the spray, checking the temperature. Y/N’s eyes widened.

“Did I say that out loud?” she asked. “Wait, you don’t want it to be? Does that mean you want to see me again?

“Yeah,” Jensen chuckled. “You said it out loud, and I want to see you again.”

“Really?”

“How about tomorrow we go on a real date? Our second first date?”

“I’d love that.”

“Great,” Jensen said, leaning down to kiss her. “But right now, I want you in that shower, pressed against those tiles, wrapped around me.” Jensen scooped Y/N up and pulled her legs around him again, forcing Y/N to wrap her arms around his neck. Jensen carried her over to the shower, pausing to let Y/N open and close the door behind them. The next thing that could be heard was the sound of wet skin on skin and the moans of two people rekindling a long-lost flame.

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