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genshin-impacted · 1 year

Text

so close (yet so far)

[Alhaitham x Reader]

You ask Alhaitham to be friends with benefits with you. (The both of you overestimate your ability to not get your feelings involved.)

word count: 11k* (one-shot)

notes: heavily nsfw**, female reader; "you", inexperienced!reader, friends to fwb to lovers, unrequited to mutual pining, modern au (reader and alhaitham went to hs together), some profanity, brief body insecurity on reader's side

*split into three main parts: one part is Alhaitham's POV btw a speed demon possessed me to write this much (im kidding; my friend put brain worms in me)

**oral sex, brief descriptions of face fucking, 69, car sex, dirty talk, face sitting, thigh fucking

Dating apps vary in tone and quality, you find out firsthand. Certain ones call for one-night stands and hook ups and others are prone to less of them (but they will always be there). You don't feel like you can make genuine relationships with people without meeting them first, but you figure you should give it a chance at least before giving up.

You are close to doing so when you show up for a date, and he cancels last minute.

"Ugh, man..." You sigh, putting your phone away after seeing the apologetic text. You won't blame your date: it may as well be a real emergency, but if not, he is not beholden to you to show up, though it would have been nice on his end to let you know earlier.

Still, you are here, and you are hungry, so you step into the cafe in hopes of grabbing fresh pastries when a familiar face catches your eye. You almost don't believe it, considering how many years have passed since you've last seen him. But there is no mistaking the silvery hair and the nose still buried in a book; even the green headphones remain the same, a detail that makes you laugh a little when you approach him and hope he isn't too upset at the sudden reunion.

"Alhaitham," you say cheerily, waving at him in case his noise-canceling is on. "It's been a while!"

Alhaitham takes his eyes off his book to look at you, hands raised to take off his headphones. You grin when it seems that he is just as surprised to see you as you are. "It has," he agrees. "More than a few years." He takes a look at you. "You haven't changed a bit."

"How rude!" You say teasingly, "I've changed a little bit in the past few years. Maybe not in appearance, but still. Mind if I sit?"

Alhaitham moves over when you take a chair over to sit in front of him, and it feels like the two of you never left high school-- if not for the stark fact that Alhaitham has changed physically since then. His jaw is more defined, shoulders broader, probably even taller than he was back then. He's handsome, you think, though then again, he always has been.

Wistfully, you think about the years you've lost connection with him and wonder what he has been up to. You've always enjoyed his company, much to some of your other friends' chagrin, and that sentiment has not changed now when the two of you converse easily.

"So," Alhaitham says, "were you on a date with someone?"

You don't even bother asking how he knew, only sighing and waving a hand. "I was going to be. He canceled last minute so I was going to grab something and go." Alhaitham hums noncommittally, and you snort in laughter, reminded of his apathy towards relationships then and, you guess, now.

You remember the times Alhaitham turned down people in high school at a ridiculous rate. "Another one?" You remember someone saying jokingly, seeing Alhaitham simply toss a letter slipped into his locker.

"You won't respond at least?" You asked, sympathetic over the courage it took to confess.

"I don't know them," you recall him saying. "Why should I consider being in a relationship with them when we haven't even spoken to gauge our compatibility?"

Alhaitham ended up not accepting anyone's confessions. You don't remember him dating in high school or during university either in the times you've messaged him just to catch up. Not that you have a stellar record either, having dated only one person your whole life without it going very far. You can't say you haven't tried though.

"So you're not dating anyone?" You ask, taking a sip of your drink.

Alhaitham looks at you briefly; you can never tell what he's thinking. He eventually looks away and says, "No. I'm not interested in dating."

"At all?" You ask again, voice high in genuine disbelief. 'Still?' is the unspoken question. (What a shame, you can't help but think.) When Alhaitham gives a nonchalant shrug, you let yourself sit back, astonished. You think about your (lack of) experience, the fatigue from dating apps, and then look at Alhaitham.

You've always found him attractive; you can't deny this. You trust him as a friend and as a confidant, because in his own words-- what is the use of telling secrets? Alhaitham is as intelligent and rational as ever, something you have always admired in him, which is why you trust him with this question.

"Would you be down for a friends with benefits relationship then?"

Alhaitham raises his brow in question and pauses in thought before responding. "...In general?" He asks, "Or with you?"

You love the way Alhaitham needs no explanation.

"Both," you reply. "Serious inquiry."

Worst case scenario Alhaitham rejects the offer and the two of you move on from this conversation (hopefully). Best case scenario is him saying yes. Last thing you expect is to have Alhaitham look at you with an expression you’ve never seen on him: unadulterated shock. You laugh at his reaction despite the tension that could have been held between the two of you, and you start to wave off the entire ordeal when Alhaitham tells you "sure."

It's only Alhaitham, but you show up at his apartment with a nervous flutter in your heart. He opens the door soon after you knock, donned in a regular shirt and sweatpants. You feel your shoulders relax at the casualness of it all and thank him for his hospitality as you enter his home. It does not take much to strike a normal conversation with him, words between the two of you flowing like usual. You are given a tour of the apartment per request, briefly admiring the tiles of the bathroom floor before ending the route in his room. It is minimalistic aside from the usual amenities, and it feels so much like Alhaitham that you smile as he types something on his laptop before turning back to you.

"Is my room that amusing to you?" Alhaitham scoffs, closing his laptop.

"Yeah, it kind of is," you agree easily. "It's better than a man cave, I'll give you that. But the walls are as empty as the day you got this place probably."

"I'll be sure to let you know when inspiration hits for me to decorate," he says sardonically, making you giggle to yourself. "Did you want music?"

The sudden change in topic makes you tilt your head in confusion. "Music?" You echo. "Music for what?"

Without skipping a beat, a song starts playing on low volume, bass steady and clear in his speakers. Alhaitham stands tall then, his headphones off, you note vaguely. He seems a lot taller than you remember, but perhaps it is because he is usually conscious of the difference in height to stand at a distance, so you don't have to crane your neck. This time, when Alhaitham stands right in front of you, close enough to bump chests, you look up and realize it is the first time you've really looked into Alhaitham's eyes.

There are more colors than you thought.

You instinctively want to take a step back, but his hand holding your arm-- firmly, just enough to stop you, but not strong enough to keep you there if you wanted to leave-- keeps you underneath his gaze. You are normally so good at defusing the tension with a few well-placed words of humor, but you aren't quite sure this is a tension that you want to cut through.

Just like that, your heart is at your throat. Alhaitham truly is very handsome, you think, eyes looking at his long lashes, the curve of his nose, and his lips. You can't help but jump when Alhaitham leans down, face closest to yours as it has ever been. You feel ridiculous, being strung taut as a caught fishing line just from being close to Alhaitham. Your cheeks prickle with the speed in which it warms, and just when you begin to wonder what Alhaitham could possibly be waiting for before he kisses you, his lips are on yours.

Your eyes close almost immediately, arms reaching up to hold onto him and finding purchase around his neck as he pulls you close until the two of you are flushed against each other. How long has it been since you've been kissed, let alone been kissed like this? Lips separating from yours only enough to find new ways to kiss you again. You gasp when Alhaitham gently bites and pulls at your lower lips. Feeling emboldened by your reception, Alhaitham swoops in and meets his tongue with yours, and you melt in his embrace.

You are surprised to see that you could probably go on kissing Alhaitham forever if that was all you could do. You only vaguely realize how efficiently you've been breathing through your nose through it all when you separate from him, dazed, and hear him mutter "fuck" under his breath.

A rush of adrenaline. You were already aware that Alhaitham is a willing participant in this newly established situationship, but to hear him being as affected as you do numbers to your rapidly increasing arousal. It's only fun when the both of you are enjoying it, after all.

"Not bad from someone who hasn't smooched anyone in years, huh?" You begin to tease, rightfully earning yourself a dirty look from Alhaitham. His lips are still wet, you think, and heat curls up from your lower abdomen up. The room suddenly feels hot.

"Are we trying to rate every encounter now?" Alhaitham remarks dryly, only to make you laugh at the thought of it.

"Not if it's not at least a 7/10," you say breathlessly. You shake in laughter again when you see him roll his eyes before holding onto his hand and tugging him to the couch. "Here, sit. My neck is starting to get tired. Being shorter is a struggle, you know."

Alhaitham sighs but sits obediently where you take him. "What do you-" He snaps his mouth shut when you swing your legs over his lap and sit yourself on top of him. You quirk a smile at the rare sight of Alhaitham being stunned once again and wonder how easily it seems to have gotten to make him react like that.

His hand easily finds its place at your waist as you curl your hands into the hair at the nape. "Trying to make myself comfortable," you say slyly. "This is much better."

You close the distance and kiss him again. You're a quick learner, so you do what has been done to you: nipping at his lips, tugging and pulling, and licking into his mouth until it makes him as breathless as you are. Is this what it's like to have chemistry? You wonder, feeling Alhaitham's hands dip underneath your top to slide his hand across the expanse of your naked skin. You want him to touch you more.

Alhaitham must have the same ideas because he murmurs at you to take it off, and you raise your arms easily to let him do exactly that. His fingers waste no time in pressing into the softness of your breast, over the white cloth of your bra. He is quick to grow tired of the thin barrier though, pulling it down just so your breasts can pop out into full view. Your cheeks prick in embarrassment at how exposed you feel-- this is the first man to see you like this, after all-- and having Alhaitham look at you with intense focus does not help with it.

Alhaitham's hands are warm when they cup your breasts, gently squeezing them until your nipples perk against his long fingers. You gasp in pleasure when he pinches them and tugs. Your arms reach out and hold onto his shoulders for support. As though on cue, Alhaitham swoops down to capture one of your nubs in his mouth while his hand plays idly with the other. He swirls it with his tongue, leaving a trail of spit when he detaches himself from it to move onto the other one. You hum as your hands card through his hair.

Alhaitham's free hand unhooks your bra, leaving it to hang down your shoulders. You immediately tug it completely off, casting it carelessly elsewhere. He is quick to be on you again, encouraging you to wrap your arms around him as he sucks onto your tits. It feels rather uneven, the way you're half-dressed but he's still fully clothed. You can feel the way his muscles contract underneath your hands, fingers tracing along the exposed skin of his neck that is far from being enough for you.

Just as you decide to ask Alhaitham to return the favor and take his clothes off, your hands spasms in his hair when Alhaitham takes a nipple between his teeth and tugs, hard.

Oh fuck, you think, letting out a long, shaky breath just before Alhaitham does it again, his hands on your back as it arches at his touch. "Fuck," you say aloud this time, and you can feel the way Alhaitham's lips curve up in amusement, the bastard. "Hey, you take your clothes off too," you tell him, tugging up the hem of his shirt.

Alhaitham looks at you steadily. "Why?"

You stare back at him and sputter. "What do you mean 'why?'" You-" You scowl, feeling your cheeks warm as Alhaitham continues to look at you with a smirk. "You just want me to say it, don't you?"

"I'm not a mind reader," he says, lips curving up. "How would I know what you want if you don't tell me?"

"I want to see you," you say, cheeks prickling with an embarrassment that you push through. "I want to touch you too, you know." When Alhaitham smirks at you before sitting up from the couch to take his shirt off, you huff. "Ugh, this is why everyone keeps giving you side eyes," you say, your hands sliding over his open chest with a mild sense of reverence despite your words. You knew Alhaitham was toned to hell, and this is the first time you've been granted the chance to view it in all its glory, your hands brushing over his built abdomen, thumb brushing over his nipples.

Alhaitham jumps slightly when you do so, and you giggle, ignoring the narrowed look you get from him and the way he grips onto your hips just the slightest. You shift in your seat, only to feel Alhaitham's hold you still, face flushed despite the impartial expression on his face. "What, what's up-" You feel it then, the hardness underneath your thighs, and you know Alhaitham sees the realization dawn on you because his blush travels down his neck.

He's embarrassed, you think gleefully. After initiating the hottest make out session you've ever had and easily pulling taut your strings, Alhaitham is embarrassed that he's hard? If anything, he should be-- better be! And you're a little flattered, you tell him just as much teasingly, and you can't help but hug him when he scowls at you.

Ah, you feel your heart flutter, knowing the effect you have on the immovable Alhaitham. But he is far from it now, chest heaving under your palm, cock hard as you press down onto it despite his modest resistance. You won't say it to him out loud, knowing he wouldn't like it, but you think Alhaitham is adorable as he is now. (You imagine people would say you're the only one who would think that.)

You rock your hips, eyes not straying from Alhaitham's as he stubbornly meets your gaze. His thighs are tense underneath you as you line yourself up to press your pussy lips against his clothed cock. A skirt was a good choice, you think dreamily; it lets you grind on him with aching accuracy and lets Alhaitham slide his hands across your legs and reach behind to squeeze your ass. You hum again in appreciation, kissing Alhaitham again as he generously cups your behind, making you moan, which he easily swallows up.

"Take your pants off too," you say, sitting back onto his legs. Before he can ask, you press your palm down on his bulge and quip a smile at him. "I want to try sucking you off."

You tie your hair up before kneeling down between Alhaitham's knees. His cock sits erect on his stomach, head flush with arousal. It should feel intimidating the way Alhaitham watches you, but you know Alhaitham, and you figure if there is anyone that you can be comfortable doing this with, it would be him.

"Tell me what to do," you say, hands softly trailing up and down his thighs. "I've never done this before."

"You've watched porn, haven't you?" Alhaitham replies dryly, making you roll your eyes good naturedly.

"It's not the same thing as doing, and you know it." You look over at the nearby table he has kindly set up for you in advance and take the bottle of lotion to pour some onto your hand. Alhaitham jolts slightly at the coldness of the lotion, hissing in a breath, though with the way you are steadily pumping his cock, you aren't quite certain the sound wasn't at least partially from pleasure. "Alhaitham," you begin, a whining lilt to your voice. "Come on. Teach me?"

"Alright, alright, fine," Alhaitham says, his hand covering his face. "Just- just stop for a second."

You let go of his cock, beaming up at him as he shifts so that he's sitting more comfortably. "Here," he says, almost boredly. He gestures for you to take him in hand again, and your heart skips when you feel his hand over yours, squeezing it as he guides it up and down again in a steady rhythm. "Tighten your grip like this. A little harder is fine. There are more nerve endings at the tip, but there's nothing wrong with covering the base as well." You can only nod in acknowledgement, a lump in the back of your throat as you emulate exactly what Alhaitham has shown you.

Is this how he normally gets himself off? The same strength, the same motion-- maybe a little extra attention at the tip where it is more sensitive? You feel your face warm and hope it does not show as you watch Alhaitham's face for approval or for any signs of pleasure.

Alhaitham has always been intense despite his neutral face. But you know him well enough to recognize the minute changes that occur. The tense jaw, partially open mouth, half-lidded gaze is enough to light a fire in your stomach. But you wonder how he would look if he were completely drowned in pleasure, if you could be the one that makes him look like that.

You speak before you can lose the courage to. "Can I use my mouth?" You say, "I want to use my mouth."

Alhaitham's cock twitches in your hand.

"Then put it in your mouth then," Alhaitham says, "and avoid teeth. It hurts."

Obediently, you nod and sit up on your knees, puppy licking the tip to test the waters before opening your mouth to put it in. You had thought this when your hand could not completely wrap around his cock, but Alhaitham is big, enough to make your jaw ache when you try to fit more of his member in. You make a sound of discontent when the cock head hits the back of your throat and you aren't even halfway down. You let your tongue rest on the bottom of his cock, saliva pooling underneath with a mouth so full.

It doesn't fit, you think somewhat dejectedly. You swallow around his cock, making a discontented noise when you feel Alhaitham's thigh clench as he bucks up into your mouth. "Sorry," he says, and you tell him an incomprehensible 'it's okay' around his cock. His thigh tenses up again.

You tentatively raise your head, lips wrapped around his member for a moment before pulling yourself off, ready to ask for guidance when Alhaitham offers it to you. "You can use your hand to cover the rest of it," he says. "A wringing motion like this. It'll feel better if you suck while you're doing it too. Use lotion or spit if it's too dry."

You nod and follow his words step by step, swallowing his cock again and hollowing your cheeks. The other hand pumps his cock as you slowly bob your head up and down. You lift yourself up with a breath and let saliva spill from your lips to ease the motion, your eyes glancing up to meet Alhaitham's eyes.

You don't think he has taken his eyes off of you for even a second.

It's a little addicting to know that his attention is all yours. What does he like best about this whole situation, you muse. The fact that he's your first? The eager way in which you are trying to please him? Or is it the look of you drooling over his cock, getting off just from sucking it?

You hum in pleasure around his cock and he throws his head back, hips jilting up only slightly.

You pop yourself off of him again, hand pumping the entire expanse of his cock as you tilt your head to lick at his balls. "Fuck," Alhaitham mutters, hands clenched into the couch. You watch as his eyes flutter open before looking at you again, chest rising and falling. Not one to give neither you nor him reprieve, you are sucking him off again, and then off, and then on. It's a little fun watching him writhe, and you slowly begin to realize the power you seem to have over him.

You are so grateful to Alhaitham for saying 'yes.' The feeling of being wanted, of being desired, of being empowered is intoxicating. Watching Alhaitham fall apart before your eyes because of you is even more so.

He says your name, strained, "I'm close."

Alhaitham lets out an involuntary groan when you pop off again. "Does cum taste bad?" You ask. "It's a lot neater if I swallow, unless you want it somewhere else?" The thought of Alhaitham finishing on your chest or face is somewhat appealing, though you worry about the mess.

It doesn't seem like Alhaitham particularly cares, because he grits out, "Your choice." He muffles a grunt of pleasure that you wish you could hear at full volume. "Just-"

The key to success is consistency, you think. You bob your head up and down in tandem with your hand, licking the head and swirling your tongue around his shaft until Alhaitham lets out a strained, "I'm coming-"

Despite the warning, the warmth that spurts in your mouth is still surprising. You slow your pace as Alhaitham cums, all pretty gasps and grunts that makes your head spin as you take all he is giving and swallowing. It's a lot more than you think too, your hand daintily at your mouth as you swallow as though it were the last bite of a meal. You look at Alhaitham, skin glistening with sweat, breathing hard after his climax, eyes slightly wide as he watches you lick your lips.

Before you can ask for it, Alhaitham shifts just enough to reach for a towel-- he really is prepared for everything-- for you to wipe your hand with. You hear him let out a long breath before you return the towel to him for his own uses. You stand up, wincing at the marks on your knees from kneeling for so long before grinning at him.

"So, what's the verdict?" You ask jokingly, making him scoff and roll his eyes as you had predicted.

"I'm not answering that," he says. He stands up and picks his sweatpants from the ground to make himself more modest. "You can extrapolate for that type of answer yourself."

You expected as much, but you still pout and sigh. You sit on the couch next to him. "Aw, boo, well I guess I'll just give myself an 8/10 then." You stop when you feel Alhaitham's gaze on you, calculating. "What, what is it? Am I lowballing it or what-"

"I think it's your turn," Alhaitham says simply.

"Oh, uh..." You honestly didn't come to his house expecting anything, so this comes as a surprise to you. That and a few certain parts of you makes that bit of insecurity flare up the moment Alhaitham mentions reciprocation. "It's fine," you say, "we don't have to-" You snap your mouth shut when Alhaitham parts your legs to put his knees between, his hand lifting your chin so he can kiss you. You vaguely think about the fact that he can probably taste himself on your tongue.

"I insist," Alhaitham murmurs against your lips.

"What do you suggest then?" You stammer, and Alhaitham pushes himself off just enough to look at you directly.

"We could try fingering. See if that's to your taste and then move on." He gauges you carefully. "We could stop if you truly wanted to, but don't make that decision on my behalf."

"Well, we could try," you say, lowering your gaze, feeling your heart pick up in anticipation.

"Alright," Alhaitham replies softly. "You can stop me at any time."

This is why you trust Alhaitham. This is why you asked Alhaitham to do this with you, to-- for a lack of better, less dramatic phrases-- be your first. It was made as a casual request but Alhaitham knew to take it seriously for you anyways. You aren't sure how much he knows how his words make you feel at ease.

The sense of ease is immediately replaced with nervous anticipation when Alhaitham parts your legs, pooling your skirt at your stomach, and slips his hand underneath your panties. You hear him let out a sharp breath, and before you can ask what's wrong, he says, almost in awe, "You're so wet."

You understand Alhaitham's feelings earlier now when you had felt his bulge; your arousal on full blast is nothing short of mortifying even though the situation calls for it. You hadn't even noticed, so focused on the task at hand, but when Alhaitham pulls back with glistening lines of slick between his fingers, you don't doubt his observation.

"W-Well, you know," you mumble, your hand grasping onto his supporting arm. Your eyes flutter when Alhaitham cups your sex, fingers sliding a line down the middle. Your hand spasms when his thumb hits your clit on the way down, and Alhaitham does not miss it. "Wait, Alhaitham-" You squeal when he presses onto your clit, swirling around it with persistent pressure that makes it hard to say anything coherent. You wouldn't have wanted to tell him to stop anyways, but you have a feeling he just wanted to tease you.

"Sensitive?" He says almost smugly.

"Not usually no," you choke out, breathing out a sigh of relief when Alhaitham lets off.

"Interesting," he says, and it's only now you realize how quiet Alhaitham was before when you were on your knees. Now with him at the upper hand, he can speak all he wants, and you're the one left catching your breath. It really is different when it's someone else doing it. "I'm putting one in to start, okay?"

You nod, but when you feel the first intrusion prod in, you reach out to seek out Alhaitham for support. "Relax," he tells you. "Your muscles are too tense for anything."

"Sorry," you say, taking a deep breath. He pulls you closer, allowing you to rest your head on his shoulder. You hot breath hits his neck when you turn to him. "Make sure you really lube that up, Haitham." You breathe again when his finger enters, and when it curls up onto the spongey part of your cunt, you feel it. It's nothing of import yet, but Alhaitham seems patient enough to build up to it.

One finger barely fits, but even with time, the second finger enters too. "You're tight," Alhaitham grunts, and you feel yourself redden as your only response. "I think you're stretched out. Any pain?" When you shake your head on his shoulders, you feel his fingers slowly pump in and out of you.

It picks up in pace and intensity, and then when he curves up this time- oh, you aren't sure you've ever felt this sensation before. Alhaitham's fingers are so much longer than yours, so it makes sense he can reach the places you can't, knuckles deep in you. Your breathing quickens and with it, Alhaitham's speed, his fingers pounding at that same spot over and over. You're at a daze, not any closer to a climax but not bored without pleasure. You aren't sure how long Alhaitham goes at it until he slows down, and the fog clears up.

"You okay?"

You hum, turning your head to face Alhaitham when he peers over to you. "Yeah," you mumble, "I feel good, just can't come from this."

"Hm."

You miss Alhaitham's warmth when he pulls away, fingers grasping at him. The haze that you feel quickly blows away when Alhaitham gets on his knees and pries your legs apart. "Whoa, um-"

"Most cannot finish with vaginal stimulation alone," Alhaitham says factually. "Hence, I'll be focusing my efforts on other areas."

"Yeah, I get that," you say, blinking with embarrassment. "It's just, um..."

Without your understanding, Alhaitham gives you a deeply unimpressed look. "Hair is a natural phenomenon. It doesn't matter to me in the slightest."

You would find it hard to believe, an insecure part of you convinced that it must be polite niceties. But this is Alhaitham, and he is never one for false platitudes and social norms with strangers or friends or you. When he says he does not care, you believe him.

"If you're sure," you tell him, and you let out a small squeak when he tugs your panties down, not even bothering to take it off completely before you feel his fingers pry your leaking lips apart. A lick up your clit has your legs closing on his head, but Alhaitham's hands easily pry you apart and keep you that way, your pussy open to be eaten.

You want to look away when Alhaitham's meets your eyes, and then his lips press to your folds and he begins to gorge himself on you.

It's impossible to keep your eyes open then when you're too distracted by how Alhaitham's tongue swirls around your clit, the muscle pressing into the bud of nerves with a dogged persistence. Even the noises you have kept to a minimum spill from your lips involuntarily. You can only breathe in hiccups, Alhaitham relentless in his pursuit of your climax as he sucks on your clit and begins to press his fingers against the zone of pleasure inside you as well.

'It feels good' sounds like an understatement at this point. You climb the precipice at an alarming speed, and you cannot help but grasp onto the hand keeping your thighs apart to ground yourself. It's almost overwhelming, but then you feel Alhaitham unfurl his grip onto your leg to grasp onto your hand.

It must be the endorphins, but you feel a warm ooze of affection for Alhaitham pool in your chest.

Logical, calm, and reasonable Alhaitham. Arrogant, antisocial, abrasive Alhaitham. Observant, considerate, and kind Alhaitham. You've known this man for so many years, and you are reminded in this instance that in all the times you have trusted him, he has never failed you once.

"Alhaitham-" You cry out. Your head feels hot as you curl your toes, your heels at his shoulders. When he hums in response, you feel the build up towards the beginning of the end. "I'm- I'm coming-"

You throw your head back, gasping in pleasure as your body jerks with waves of pleasure. Hazily, you feel Alhaitham lap at your hole at a slow but steady pace, his mouth never leaving you even as you buck against him.

Alhaitham only lets you go when your body slackens, legs limp in his arm as he gently sets it down in a comfortable position for you. You watch him, dazed, as he quietly grabs the towel to wipe his face and hands. He must see you look because he turns to you and offers you the towel too, though the mess between your legs is one of the last things you care about at the moment.

"C'mere," you say, arms reaching out for him. When he doesn't immediately come to you, you wave your hands insistently. "Plea-a-ase come here? I wanna cuddle."

A flicker of emotion comes and goes on Alhaitham's face before he replaces it with exasperation. "I didn't realize the benefits portion of friends with benefits included cuddles," he says, but he walks to you anyways, huffing in laughter at the small 'yay!' from you. Alhaitham settles in the space you moved over for him on the couch, and you immediately latch yourself onto him, head fitting easily at the crook of his neck. As his arms wrap around you, you heave a content sigh.

"You should have read the fine print, Alhaitham," you drawl, cheek pressed against his naked skin. "It was right there on page 562, 9th clause, addendum number four." You close your eyes, smiling at the sound of Alhaitham's little huff.

"Out of the two of us, I'm the one more likely to read a written agreement in full," he says. His voice reverberates in your ears, low and comforting.

You always thought he had a nice voice, reading out texts in class and reciting lines without effort. The two of you are a long way off from high school, but thinking back at the Alhaitham back then brings you good memories. It's even more so when you compare it to the Alhaitham now of whom reconnecting with was happenstance.

Alhaitham has changed a little in the years you have not seen him, with what you know now includes a fallout with Kaveh and an early college graduation. He's a little softer, you think, edges more blunt but still just as deadly when wielded with a sharp wit. It is to your comfort that most parts of him remain the same. A little smug, a little snark.

You're glad; you've always liked him just the way he is.

You feel his hand absently rub circles into your shoulders and feel as though that sentiment has only grown stronger.

"...You're hard again?" You ask after a moment, muffling your laughter into his skin when he clicks his tongue and shifts his legs so the offending body part in question is no longer touching you.

"A normal physical reaction," Alhaitham says, miffed.

You pause. "You want me to do it again?" You ask.

Alhaitham shifts so he can look down at you as you give him a grin, reaching down to grasp at his shaft and watching that moment when you catch him off guard, eyes fluttering in pleasure. Oh, yes, you think, heat pooling into your abdomen, you can certainly go for another round.

You tell him that you are tired of dating around with men you have no connection with, afraid to build intimacy when you are still inexperienced, and trust him enough to put up the offer to be friends with benefits. Alhaitham knows he is in love with you, but he says yes anyways. He does not make miscalculations often, but he acknowledges that he is only human, so he is prone to them occasionally. He thinks this decision to be friends with benefits with you may be one of them.

He has always had a hard time featuring his own feelings in the equation, surprisingly volatile in its unchanging affection for you even after all these years. (How long has it been since high school?) Anyone with a brain not controlled by their libido knows entering a purely sexual relationship with someone you’ve never quite stopped having feelings for is a recipe for disaster. But just maybe, being aware of that much will let Alhaitham avoid ruin.

It doesn't stop the way something in his chest twists painfully at the thought of holding you close even though you could not be more further away. After all, in initiating this relationship with him, you must have seen him as only a friend. You seem excited at the prospect of starting this type of relationship with him, and he is not one to deny you something if he believes it is something in his power to give.

On that note, he is surprised when he hears you have no experience being in a physical relationship with a man. Alhaitham does admit the idea of being your 'first' appeals to him, and because of that he thinks maybe he isn't so infallible to the whims of desire.

He's liked you for ages. He isn't sure even the best of men can refuse when the object of his affection asks him to treat them gently. (Or so he thinks. You may be more of his weak spot than he ever anticipated.)

You show up on his doorstep a week later, beaming at him when he lets you into his apartment. In the days leading up to this meeting, Alhaitham has prepped the environment with necessary amenities. You didn't specify what was to happen today, so he prepares everything to the lube to the condoms to the towels. Music, too, is something he did extensive research in, having learned that it can often set the mood.

Alhaitham isn't necessarily the most experienced person, but for the sake of knowing, he has slept with people and learned about his own preferences. He is more curious than he admits to finding out more about your preferences.

Still, when you look up at him doe-eyed and cheeks warm in anticipation, he is taken aback by the idea that he'll be the one to guide you today. He remembers when you were the one to direct him to class when he was lost as a transfer sophomore in high school. You were so assure of yourself, confident-- he never would have anticipated that you would have a shy side to you.

Perhaps that is what makes it all the more endearing, you all the more desirable, his chest searing with want as he closes the gap to finally feel your lips on his.

He really likes you, he's reminded, heart beating hard in his chest he thinks you might be able to hear it. And though you do not kiss him with the same feelings he holds for you, when you look up at him like that, he can almost imagine that you do.

Lips are one of the erogenous zones outside of sexual organs, filled with sensitive nerves that can sense even the slightest difference in temperature. The auditory sense is powerful too when it comes to stimulating the libido. It's why Alhaitham wants to devour you when he hears your small gasps as he pulls at your lips.

"Come sit," you murmur to him, and he can only acquiesce without a word. Good thing, because he would have been made speechless the way you boldly swing your legs over to sit on his lap. Alhaitham is acutely aware that his cock has begun to fill, straining against sweatpants that shows no effort to hide his arousal.

Your kisses sear his lips, your hands welcoming his to explore your body which he does with little hesitation. Alhaitham wants to see you in full, your breasts spilling out and nipples hard being irresistible that he cannot do anything but put his mouth to use again.

Your skin is smooth against his palm, your sounds of pleasure almost like music to his ears he almost wishes it weren't buffeted by the sensual base notes of a playlist he searched up last night. "I want to touch you too," you tell him breathlessly, and who is he to deny you that?

When you take a moment to admire his body, he takes this moment to look at you-- an overview, one might say. You are breathtaking in his perspective, lips slightly swollen, breasts bouncing when you adjust yourself. Alhaitham feels his cheeks warm when you innocuously grind yourself onto him (that damned skirt), and he only grows hotter when you do it again with purpose.

He should have known you would be able to flip the tables on him like that, inexperience be damned. You've always had a way to do that.

And then you are on your knees, hair up and ready to pleasure him, and he almost doesn't know what to do. Except he must-- you want him to guide you, to teach you how to make him feel good, and the way you easily do that forces him to do his best not to buck up into your touch. He must be more sensitive because it's you, or maybe you really are that fast of a learner, even when it comes to sucking cock.

Would you like dirty talk? He wonders, praise or degradation? You seem to like it a little rough, though you seem receptive to his gentleness too. Not that he can think it thoroughly with the way you are hallowing your cheeks, tongue swirling around his cock. Seeing you swallow his cum-- all of it-- is almost enough to revive his softening member, the way you look at him coyly an attractive look on your face.

He thinks the way your face contorts in pleasure is also an attractive look for him too. Alhaitham looks up from his position between your legs and watches you with hazy desire as you close your eyes, hand at your mouth to muffle your gasps. Alhaitham thinks of telling you to stop covering yourself, but he thinks that just this one time, his mouth has better things to do.

His name on your lips as you reach your high makes him close his eyes and hum in pleasure, tongue delving into you again as your slick gushes from your hole. Alhaitham is a man of pride, and watching your body slacken, spent on pleasure that he wrought from you makes his chest burn with satisfaction.

He wipes himself and sees you look up at him almost sleepily, and the satisfaction quickly morphs into gentle affection. He wants to kiss your forehead, clean you up himself and hold you. But is that too revealing? Too much emotion for a relationship like this? And Alhaitham is brought back to the reality that you are only his friends with benefits. (He is well aware of the concept of 'post-nut clarity' but finds it loathsome at the moment.)

Just as he begins to formulate words to wrap this scene in a pretty bow, you wave him over with an endearingly whining croon, and he comes to you without thinking otherwise. He is yours to hold-- always has been.

Alhaitham cannot control how you feel (would never want to), but he can control the way he will not fall apart even as you lay down with him, tracing shapes into his hand in a way he's never allowed himself to dream of. So close yet so far, he thinks, trying not to smile when you whinge at him at pushing you off the couch until you go to the bathroom. He'll take care of you as long as you'll have him.

You go over to Alhaitham's when you can. You try not to treat him like a booty call--though, as he has told you before, that is simply the nature of the relationship. But you are his friend before it comes with the benefits, so you try not to treat him any less. After all, you like spending time with Alhaitham, sex or not, though for some reason he seems almost bewildered when you come over his house and want to take him out for a taco truck you've been craving to eat.

"Isn't this what friends with benefits do?" You point out, biting into your taco. "Being friends with some extra stuff attached?"

Alhaitham looks at you for a moment. You take this time to squeeze some lemon onto his uneaten tacos for him.

"I suppose so," Alhaitham says noncommitally. "I was under the slightest impression you also wanted to use me for experimentation, considering your lack of experience. So you would want to take every opportunity we get to do something."

You scrunch your nose. "I don't like the word 'use.' It’s not like I talked to you and asked you this just for that reason." You frown, and the thought settles in you uncomfortably. "Please don't say that I'm using you. I'm not. I care about you," you say firmly. "I don't want you to feel that type of way, so if you do, we can stop being friends with benefits and just go back to-"

Alhaitham raises his hands in surrender. "No need," he says." I apologize. I wasn't being careful with my choice of words."

The discontent dissipates almost immediately with his words. You can't help but feel pleased. "And aren't you the one with a linguistics degree?" You tease, making him roll his eyes as he takes a bite of his food.

You imagine his eyes are rolled back again if he were to open them now on the ride back to his place as you give him a hand job. Only on the red lights, you vow; you wouldn't want to cause an accident on the road if he were to close his eyes while driving, though the unamused look he gives you has you biting the inside of your cheek to stop smiling.

The two of you end up parked at a neighborhood street when you unclip your seatbelt to finish him off with your mouth. You think his cum tastes a little better than before, and you tell him just as much when Alhaitham tucks himself back in. He only shrugs nonchalantly, but when you look into his fridge later after another session for refreshments you find freshly cut pineapple wrapped in a plate.

You wonder if you would taste better if you started eating them too.

And a month passes with the same routine: you ask if you can come over, the two of you go out to eat or go for an outing before inevitably ending up back at his place for some stress relief. You don't mean to do it every time you go to his place, but it ends up happening anyways. You ask if he wants to try something and then he says yes.

69-ing ends up being a lot more difficult than you anticipated, mainly because you keep getting distracted by things other than the pleasure itself. No matter how many times Alhaitham insists you're not too heavy, and no, you cannot break his neck (his confidence extends in all spheres), you can never get yourself comfortable.

And then there's the alignment issues. You may as well just take turns; it makes it easier for the both of you.

Some things he suggests too, such as face sitting. Alhaitham seems adamant on proving you wrong when he settles underneath you, your thighs on either side of his head as he serves as your seat until your legs are shaking in pleasure.

Alhaitham, you find out, is as good at dirty talk as you imagined. It's the linguistics degree in him, you always joke, but then you're always put in your place when he makes you beg for him to continue eating you out. He is smug as always after these sessions and you can only jab at him to no effect when you see it.

Leaving your jaw slack as he fucks your face, groaning about how good you're taking him, how good you look taking in his cock like you'd like nothing but to take his load down your throat- well. If it was possible for you to finish with just his words, you gladly would have. You are certainly close enough afterwards that Alhaitham only needs his hand on you for a minute before you're creaming onto his fingers, words murmured into your ears like soft feathers.

You voice does end up a little hoarse afterwards, throat sore, but Alhaitham is quick to bring you warm ginger tea to soothe it.

"Go to the bathroom," he tells you sternly. "I won't be responsible for any UTIs."

And when you come back from the bathroom, stark naked (you've instigated round two with this before by accident), your clothes are always ready and folded at the coach with Alhaitham in the kitchen getting you refreshments. It's times like these that make you forced to acknowledge the pink elephant in the room: the more you try not to think about it, the more you feel like Alhaitham would be a really great boyfriend.

Clearly, you overestimated your ability to not catch feelings for a long-time friend whom you trust and has told you straight up he is not interested in dating. You've put yourself in a bit of a sticky situation because you find yourself wanting to abide by the boundaries set by being friends with benefits, but also barely holding back from kissing Alhaitham on the cheek goodbye or asking if you can stay the night. Or taking him on real dates. Or holding his hand when you go out.

You think Alhaitham might not like the hassles that come along with being in a relationship. It's definitely got obligations that he may not be interested in fulfilling-- at least until he finds the right person. The fact he has not said a word to you about it only tells you that you are not that person. (Your heart hopes and yearns though, and you think it needs to shut up.)

Luckily or not, you end up being busy with work and family matters, so you don't get to see Alhaitham for a while. You still message him often, if only to talk about random things or complain about so-and-so. You think you should be more disciplined; perhaps the distance will keep your feelings at bay, but then the moment you find a reprieve in work you're immediately texting Alhaitham to meet up for coffee.

The feelings aren't going away, you think with mild exasperation when you find yourself nodding and hanging onto his every word as he talks about something stupid his coworker has done (and always does). All things come to an end, but you think you like to hang onto Alhaitham like this just a little while longer. Eventually you'll have to broach the dreaded but much needed subject of 'what are we?' but until then, you are more than content being with Alhaitham like this even if you wish you were officially together.

But you can't blame the way things have turned out. After all, if this never happened, would you ever have gotten close to Alhaitham like this?

You check the time on your watch and sigh. "Ugh, I promised I'd run errands for my mom so I gotta go," you say, standing up from the coffee table. You grab your empty cup and toss it in the trash. When you look at Alhaitham, he seems unsure. "Uh, what's up?"

"...I assumed we were going back to my place afterwards," he says carefully. "I thought that was why you called me."

"Oh, no," you say, mouth open with words at the tip of your tongue. You feel your heart rise to your throat as your cheeks grow hot at the honesty of your next words. "I just wanted to see you. Sorry. I should have said something."

"No, it's fine." Alhaitham pushes his seat back to stand too. "You did say we were friends first before the benefits."

You did say that, you remember, but now you can't help but wish the two of you were more than friends. You bite your tongue from blurting those words, but you end up staring at him for a moment too long to not be awkward. "Yeah," you end up saying, "I think I'll be able to see you again next week? I'm less busy, if that's okay?"

"Sure," he says, and you can't help but feel he is so far from you even though he is in arm's reach. "See you then."

It is settled in your heart and head (both in agreement this time) that your friends with benefits relationship with Alhaitham has an expiration date that is coming soon. You like Alhaitham too much to keep pretending that you don't, so it is only a matter of time you end up being just his friend again or begin something anew as a couple. The probability of Alhaitham also catching feelings for you the same time as you is basically zero, you think miserably, so you can only bite the bullet when the time comes.

"I think next time," you say after another session, "I want to have you fuck me."

You hear Alhaitham stop rummaging into his fridge to look at you. His face betrays no emotion and for a frustrating moment, you wish it did just so you can see if he is affected as you are. But this is Alhaitham, and you know better than to expect as much.

"Alright," Alhaitham says. "I can bring the lube and the condoms-"

"No condom," you find yourself saying, "I can take birth control." You look at him, gauging his reaction. "Is that okay with you?"

Alhaitham meets your gaze steadily. "If you are."

"You'll take responsibility, won't you?" You say with a light lilt to your voice, though you trust Alhaitham to take your words seriously. "I'll see you next week?"

He nods. "Next week."

The expiration date comes more quickly than you hoped. You shake your head and the negative thoughts away at his front door before you knock. You care for Alhaitham and you like him as more than a friend: these truths are unchanging for you now, so there is no point in despairing about what is not to be. Besides, you don't want your first time-- with someone, with Alhaitham-- to be marred with angst. You want to enjoy it with him to the last minute.

You ring his doorbell and hear his footsteps approach the front door, your heart beating fast in nervous anticipation.

Alhaitham looks normal, which is to say, as calm as ever when he lets you into his apartment. You put your bag down in your usual spot and amble to the kitchen take a sip of water. Alhaitham walks to his room first to wait for you, and with a deep breath in, you follow after him.

You are reminded of the first time you came over to his house, standing there as you wait for Alhaitham to make the first move. Alhaitham does the usual routine: putting the music on, setting out the equipment, and laying down the towel. He turns to you as you quietly watch him and bends down enough to press a kiss to your cheek.

You feel the tension melt away.

You raise your hand to brush his hair from his eyes before cupping his cheeks to bring him closer to kiss. They are gentle ones though still full of feeling, heat thrumming behind every touch and warm breath shared. "Alhaitham," you murmur, his hands sliding your shirt over your head and guiding you toward the couch.

It is almost rehearsed the way Alhaitham's fingers nimbly remove your bra, his knees between your legs as he helps you out of your bottoms. You sit waiting and watching as Alhaitham removes his own clothes--a personal show-- before he is back on top of you, leaving a trail of kisses along the same spots he knows can make you tremble.

And Alhaitham knows you quite well now, you think, beyond the bedroom. He knows how you take your coffee (not black), how you like to order your food (spicy), the way you can get carsick so he drives smoother, the nasty habit of staying up late so he messages you at 11 pm to tell you to sleep. You trust him so terribly much, and he knows you terribly well-- it is no wonder that you fall apart under his touch in no time at all.

"Alhaitham," you breathe out, holding onto his wrist before he overstimulates your clit. "I want you inside of me. Please?"

You let out a surprised gasp when Alhaitham turns you, so he is facing your front. Your heart is beating so loudly underneath your hands where you've rested them on your chest. You think maybe you would have cold feet but instead you are surer than ever that Alhaitham is someone you want to be your first. You gasp in pleasure when Alhaitham's cock clips onto your clit as he glides it forward and back along your sex. You don't think you've ever wanted someone as you wanted Alhaitham.

But you like to think you know Alhaitham well, now better than ever. So when you look up at him as a flicker of emotion flashes across his face, you can identify it. Alhaitham stays in that position between your legs, conflicted, and that is enough to ebb away the waves of desire to ask him if he's okay.

His expression freezes then, his grip on your legs tightening just a little before releasing them again. "What do you mean?" He asks, and you have half a mind to not laugh at the fact he thinks he can fool you.

"We don't have to do this if you don't want to," you say. "Not right now and maybe not ever if that's not something you want-"

"I-" Alhaitham snaps his mouth shut, lips twisting as he tries to say words that, for once, do not come easily to him. "That's not entirely true."

"What's not true?" You prompt.

"That this isn't something I want." Alhaitham looks steadily at you then. "Nothing could be more true."

"...Then how about you fuck something else?" You say, closing your legs and letting the plush of your thighs envelop his cock instead. Alhaitham swallows thickly, though his face is as impartial as ever (but you know better). "Pretend it's the real thing. For practice," you say coyly.

Alhaitham curses under his breath, closing his eyes at the sensation of his cock locked between your thighs.

You breathe out slowly, eyes mesmerized by the slant of his brows from concentration, mouths parted, and eyes closed in pleasure. You find that you don't mind this type of view at all, especially not for the finale. You watch every minute detail of Alhaitham chasing his bliss and ingrain it into your memory to keep.

You breathe out through your nose roughly when Alhaitham's cock hits your clit, his pace quickening as he slickens your thighs with a mix of your arousal and his. You moan at the thought of it, the sounds emanating from it a joint effort between your two bodies.

Alhaitham says your name then, making your heart skip a beat as your focus is back onto him. His eyes don't leave yours as he brings himself close to the climax. "Come for me, Haitham," you say, "come for me, baby."

Almost obediently, Alhaitham does as you say, cum staining your chest as though someone made your body a canvas. You watch him come back from his high, taking a finger to swipe some of it from your chest to taste. You smile at his coyly when you see Alhaitham watch you.

It's been fun, you think, as Alhaitham stands up to grab a towel to clean up. You sit up, combing a hand through your hair, working up the courage to say what needs to be said. You're jolted from your thoughts when you feel Alhaitham wipe a towel across your chest, cleaning up the mess the two of you made.

"Oh, thanks!" You say, laughing, "I almost forgot that was there."

"Your mind works in strange ways," Alhaitham says, and you think you are more compromised than you think when you hear the way his voice seems to dip lower, softer when he speaks to you. He pauses in his movement. "Sorry about earlier," he tells you. "Did you have another idea in mind?"

"It's fine, Haitham." You wave his concerns away. "And, um, sorta? It's nothing sexual actually, I just think I need to talk to you about something."

To his credit, Alhaitham only takes a moment to process your words. "Alright," he says. He takes a towel to wrap around your shoulders before putting his pants back on just for modesty. You watch him fondly as he sits next to you.

"I wanted to say thanks," you begin, "for doing this with me. I trust you to treat me right and you've never proven me wrong."

"No thanks needed," Alhaitham trails off, "is what I normally say but I don't mind a word of gratitude when it comes from you." He lets out a huff of laughter when you knock shoulders with him; yours is the only one that ends up a little sore.

"And I know we started this out as friends with benefits, but, um..." You breathe out. "I think... I've started to catch feelings for you." Not honest enough, you think, and add on, wincing, "A lot, actually. I like you as more than a friend." You turn away from him then, focusing on your hands as they fidget in your lap. "I don't think I can keep on doing this and pretend like I don't, so I think we should stop being friends with benefits."

You stammer, heart fluttering with anxiety, "A-And I know you said you didn't want to be in a relationship anyone, but I was wondering if you were interested in doing that with me...? If not, it's okay, I'm honestly really okay if we stayed as friends. I just wanted to be transparent with you because I think you deserve-"

"Why do you assume I wouldn't like you back?" Alhaitham cuts through. You turn to stare at him, and he meets your eyes and keeps them there. "I never said I didn't want to be in a relationship with anyone."

You stare. "What are you talking about? You're literally the one who told me you were never interested in dating."

"I'm not," Alhaitham says slowly. "I'm not interested in dating, but that doesn't mean I'm not open to being in a relationship with someone."

"Huh?" You blurt out. "But how are you supposed to be in a relationship with someone if you don't meet someone to date them first?"

Alhaitham is patient with you despite your growing frustration. It is so obvious he has connected the dots and is waiting for you to catch up. "I don't need to date," he says, "because I already met someone I'm interested in being with. I don't need to meet new people."

"Wait, what?" You gape. "Who?"

The face that Alhaitham gives you is by far the most unimpressed he has ever looked. You feel like punching it a little. You cross your arms, huffing.

"Give me hints or something," you say, clicking your tongue in annoyance. "Do I know them?"

"Very well," Alhaitham replies, sidling close to you that your arm can feel his body heat.

"Are they from our high school?"

"Yes."

"Really?" You gasp. "Well, we have your friends-"

"They are also your friends."

"-and my friends, which are yours..." You trail off, feeling your face warm and your heart rise to your throat. You can't be hopeful, you think. It is such a dangerous thing when you assume, but you think about who Alhaitham has befriended, who he is still friends with, and who he is closest to. The best answer you keep arriving to is yourself.

Is it too arrogant of you to think that it's you that Alhaitham wants to be with?

"No, it's not prideful to think it's you if it's true," Alhaitham says, and you wonder if you said it aloud. That thought is quickly discarded in favor of thinking over Alhaitham's words. Your heart feels fit to burst, lips wobbly without your permission. His eyes soften when he looks at you then, hand raising to cup your cheek.

"I like you," Alhaitham tells you. "I want to be more than friends."

"More than friends with benefits?" You can't help but ask, and you laugh through the sudden tears when Alhaitham scoffs before pressing his forehead against yours.

"Yeah, way more than that," he says quietly. He presses a gentle kiss to your temple. "I've always wanted more with you."

You sniffle, grinning. "Good thing I asked you then, huh?" You let put a shriek of laughter when Alhaitham pins you down, arms caging you in and making you feel nothing but safe. He looks at you then, eyes full of affection that you wonder how you could have ever missed that before.

"You want to retry from earlier?" Alhaitham asks, pulling your hand to press a kiss to your knuckles.

"I won't lie," you say, laughing when Alhaitham nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck. "That talk took a chunk of my energy. I kind of want to nap and cuddle. With you! Besides," you say, shifting so that Alhaitham can join you on the coach, the two of you as close as you can be, "we have all the time in the world to do new things together." You turn to look him in the eyes and hopes he sees how much you adore him in equal amounts.

"I can wait," you say, and Alhaitham leans to kiss you.

It is not the last time he does so.

#alhaitham x reader #al haitham x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #written all on my PHONE thats how down bad i was to write this

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wri0thesley · 3 months

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Oh for lucas to wake up in the dead of night and find your side of the bed empty and start to panic, only to see you leaning in the open window clad in just his unbuttoned shirt staring wistfully at the moon and stars

cw: kidnapped reader, yandere character, allusions to past non-con/dub-con, references to cannibalism.

The breeze is just cool enough to be bracing, your fingers tight in the wood of the windowframe as you feel gooseflesh rise across the back of your neck, the open collar of Lucas's shirt. It is just enough to remind you that you are real; that you exist beyond sitting quietly at Lucas's side, at washing up dishes and smiling sweetly and keeping your mouth shut.

The moon is full tonight. You wonder if, somewhere else, the other people you love are looking up at that same moon. You wonder if they are wondering about you; whether your picture is splashed in newspapers, taped to flyers on streetlamps, shared on Facebook again and again with pleas for you to come home. It would not matter if it were; none of those things make it here, to this cabin in the edge of nowhere.

The sheets rustle. The bedframe creaks, and you feel your spine stiffen. You hear a low mumble of distress that quickly becomes a growl of anger, and you find yourself frozen still in fear as if, if he does not see you move, he will not see you at all.

It's instinctual for him to roll over and crush you against him in his sleep. You'd been amazed when you'd woken up earlier that night and had found yourself not in his bear-like grip; your cheek not squashed against the steady beat of his heart, your limbs not bound by a muscular thigh slung over yours, cuddling you close like a favourite stuffed animal that isn't quite yet worn enough to be disposed of.

You'd seen the moon and been drawn to it like a hypnotic force, as the reminder of where you are had crashed back down on you and choked you with longing to be somewhere else. You'd hated your life once - can you believe it now? You'd hated the monotony, every day the same, your own four walls and the knowledge that your life was probably going to stretch on like this forever--

But that monotony was certainly preferable to this. Get up, go to work, buy a nice sandwich from the artisan bakery, a walk in the evening wherever you wanted to go . . . you would give anything to have that back, rather than 'wake up in the arms of a monster and smile nicely and bite back your anger and pretend that it's alright that he feeds you people'.

"Darlin'?" There's a note of warning in his voice. Something steel-edged beneath the sweetness. You'll have to play this carefully. You're not stupid enough to run, and you're certainly not stupid enough to try and run through an open window when you're only wearing his shirt and no underwear (and too, when you can still feel what he left in you not hours ago, sticky on your inner thighs).

"The moon's full," you say to him, turning around and giving him a soft, sweet smile the way that you've learnt he likes. No teeth; a hopeful shine in your eyes, a naive kind of excitement at the wonderment of everyday life. If faced with it yourself, you'd scoff and think that you were laying it on too thick - but the reminder of the feigned naivety is one of the quickest ways to get Lucas to calm down.

(A pout and a sniffle and an apology, when he'd caught you on the front porch without him one afternoon, and you'd told him you just wanted to see the chickens he told you so much about. A sigh and a wistful look about your own favourite childhood movie, when you'd grown tired of the Western VHSes Lucas favourited - a romance, of course. A fairytale. Something that was set in a pretty cottage in the woods, that you told him with such a guileless look that you ought to have won an award for it reminded you of him).

"Isn't it beautiful?"

He stands up from the bed and it takes all of your grace not to flinch at the reminder of his height and breadth, at the scars scattered across his body in the moonlight, highlighted by what little he wears. You keep your eyes wide and your smile pretty, and you practically see the tension unknotting from his shoulders.

You heave a sigh of relief that you disguise as a sigh over how pretty the night sky is.

"You got outta bed just to look?" He says, with only the barest note of warning left in his voice now - it's been far too tempered by indulgence, because you have played the game so well that he's willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. "You scared me for a second there."

The part where you're barely dressed and nervously toying with the hem of one of his own shirts where it sits high on your thigh and the reminder of how you'd sighed and clung to him earlier probably doesn't hurt, either. Give and take. It's not so much, is it, to give him your body for that hunger to avoid it being used for any other kind?

"I'm sorry," you say, contrite, and you let your face fall the merest fraction. You will tears to the corner of your eyes. "I--I didn't mean to-- I just wanted to look, the night's so clear and pretty . . ."

Jackpot. One of them slides down the apple of your cheek and Lucas takes a slow, shuddering breath that he thinks you don't notice. He steps closer and then he's behind you, and one big hand is sliding over your hip, around your waist.

"It's cold," he says to you. "Lemme shut the window; it's just as pretty when you're not shiverin'."

Was it worth it, you wonder - that brief moment of remembering that life is still going on, even though you're trapped here? You think it might have been, even as Lucas presses a kiss to the nape of your neck and guides you back to the bed.

"Besides," he murmurs, the proof of how much your tears have affected him obvious in the want in his voice. "Ain't no moon that could ever be half as pretty as you."

The next morning, Lucas goes into the spare room and returns to the bedroom with his arms laden with red gingham. He asks for your help holding them whilst he puts the curtains up, and you pretend not to notice that the uneven but tiny hem stitching suggests they were made by hands other than your own or Lucas's.

He closes them carefully before you lay down to sleep.

#writing #yandere oc #lucas #yandere for ts #drabble

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dolliethv · 11 days

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All Of The Girls You Loved Before.

summary: English is not my first language, so if you notice any mistakes I'm sorry!! I was thinking while listening to "All of the Girls You Loved Before" by Taylor Swift and decided to make a little story inspired by the lyrics...

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x fem reader!!

Word count: about 2,1k

You are a fashion design and production student, sitting on the floor in front of your work table, adjusting the final details of a jacket inspired by the colors of the city where you and Jude were now living for work—Madrid. It was just another night, one of many you had spent in your new home, surrounded by fabrics, sketches, and the dim light of an old lamp that matched your overflowing creativity. Jude, your boyfriend, would be arriving after a tiring training session with Real Madrid.

The door opened softly, and Jude appeared with a smile that lit up the entire room. “Hey, baby,” he whispered, collapsing onto the couch with exhaustion written all over his face. You smiled. You loved the way he called you “baby,” as if it was more than just a word, a small refuge in the middle of your hectic lives.

He moved closer and sat beside you. You ran a hand through his damp hair. “How was training?” you asked.

Jude nodded, his eyes scanning the sketches scattered on the table. “Yeah, just exhausting, you know. But seeing you is the best part of my day.”

You rested your head on his shoulder and sighed, recalling all those nights when he would tell you stories of his past. You knew that things hadn’t always been easy for Jude. He had gone through failed relationships, disappointments, and abrupt goodbyes. Sometimes, he would share how he stayed up late arguing on the phone, conversations ending in awkward silences.

Jude had faced criticism and pressure from a young age, not just in football. He remembered moments in Birmingham, when coaches pushed him to his limits and expectations felt like an impossible weight to bear. He had dealt with the disappointment of sitting on the bench when he was eager to prove his worth and with the hurtful comments on social media whenever his performance wasn’t perfect.

There were also times in Dortmund, far from his family and everything he knew, feeling lonely in a foreign city. The tough matches, where his mistakes haunted him for weeks, constant media criticism, and the feeling of not being enough had made him doubt himself more than once. “I remember when I got injured just before one of the most important matches of the season. I sat in the stands, watching my teammates fight while all I could think about was what I could have done differently. It was one of the worst feelings I’ve ever had,” Jude once confessed.

“Those moments made you strong, Jude,” you said, remembering how he had shared his journey of overcoming, learning to accept his failures as part of his path. “All of that taught you to value what you have, to never give up.”

Jude smiled wistfully. “It wasn’t easy, and sometimes I felt like I couldn’t go on. But when I finally played that crucial match, and we did well, all the effort, all those tears, were worth it. They made me see that even in the darkest moments, there’s something worth fighting for.”

You looked at him tenderly. “The way you call me ‘baby’… it makes me feel like all of it was worth it,” you said, gazing into his eyes. There was a strength and sweetness in Jude that could only come from someone who had known adversity and decided to be better, not in spite of you, but because of you.

Jude looked at you with gratitude and stroked your cheek. “I don’t know if it was worth it, but it brought me to you,” he replied, leaning in to kiss you softly.

You smiled against his lips and turned back to your sketches, trying to concentrate, but the lyrics of a song kept resonating in your mind. “Have you ever thought about how all those girls and all those situations made you who you are?” you asked, drawing a loose line that, like your thoughts, wasn’t going anywhere in particular.

Jude pondered for a moment, recalling those days of smudged makeup and tears in club bathrooms, the goodbyes without explanations, and the awkward beginnings. “I never thought of it that way, but… yeah, I guess all of that brought me here. And now you’re all I need,” he said, taking your free hand.

“And I’m so grateful for that,” you responded. “Every dead end, every mistake… all of it brought you to me.”

Jude smiled and pulled you into his arms. “And you’re the only one who makes it all feel worth it.”

You snuggled into his chest, letting the warmth of the moment wrap around you. You knew that, although neither of you had a perfect past, everything had been a piece of that complex puzzle that had led you to find each other. You wanted to be the one to show him what “forever” feels like.

Jude, trying to distract you from your concentration, started joking. “You know, darling? If you were a fashion design, you’d be haute couture… because no one else could pull it off like you.” You looked at him, pretending to be surprised.

“Wow, Jude! Did you read that in a cheap pick-up line book?” you teased, holding back laughter. “You could use those tricks on the field to throw off your rivals.”

Jude pretended to think for a second. “Do you think that would work? Because it doesn’t seem to have any effect on you. Although maybe I just need a little more practice… with you,” he said, raising an eyebrow provocatively.

You looked at him, trying to keep a straight face. “You? Practice? I think you’ve got more than enough natural talent,” you joked, enjoying the playful banter between you. But Jude didn’t miss the chance, and with an intense look, he added, “Well, if you want, I can show you my ‘natural talent’ up close in a more private place and...”

“Jude!” you looked at him with a mix of amusement and embarrassment. “You can’t just say things like that so casually, you know?”

“Why not? I’m dead serious,” Jude replied with a cheeky smile, getting even closer, kissing your neck affectionately and caressing your stomach.

You gently pushed him away, trying to keep control, though you couldn’t help but laugh. “You know you’re a gentleman most of the time, but sometimes you go overboard.”

Jude pretended to be offended. “It’s ‘natural talent,’ baby. Besides, I’m just trying to be charming,” he said, striking an exaggeratedly elegant pose as if he were in a Louis Vuitton photoshoot or something.

“Well, at least you’re a good actor,” you responded, laughing. “But I’ll stick with the footballer.”

You cherished those light-hearted moments with Jude; it was one of the many reasons you adored him. But what you loved most about him was his chivalry, something that never ceased to amaze you. From day one, Jude had always treated you like a lady; he’d open the car door, hold your hand when crossing the street, and always made sure you felt protected and appreciated.

“Do you know what I love most about you?” you began, resting your head on his shoulder and smiling sweetly. “How much of a gentleman you are. You always treat me like a lady,” you said, squeezing his cheeks playfully. “That’s what I love most about you.”

Jude looked at you with a playful smile. “Well, what did you expect? You’re my princess. I’ve got to live up to that.”

You laughed, giving him a gentle tap on the arm. “How cutie! Who would have thought, a Real Madrid player who’s so dominant with an impressive aura in every match is a total sassy with his girlfriend.”

Jude shrugged and hugged you tighter. “You know I’d do anything for you, even be cheesier if it makes you happy.”

“That’s why I love you,” you said, kissing his cheek. “All of the girls you loved before, made you the one I've fallen for”

“And all the experiences you had made you the woman I love today,” Jude responded, kissing you with a softness that spoke of promises, of a future together, and of everything you both had to go through to reach this point.

The two of you stayed in silence, savoring the simple beauty of being together, knowing that every step you had taken in your lives, good and bad, had led you to this precise moment, in this little corner of the world where everything fit.

Because, in the end, every mistake, every lost love, and every broken dream had been a necessary part of the journey that had brought you here, one in the arms of the other, loving each other more than you ever could have imagined.

"I'm so thankful for all of the girls you loved before, but I love you more..."

#Spotify #jude bellingham #bellingham latest #bellingham x reader #jude bellingham stories #jude bellingham fic #jude x fem reader #jude bellingham fanfiction #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham fluff #jb5 #jb5 x reader #real madrid

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jjkamochoso · 1 month

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Hii again! Another request for Feitan x Reader, kind of like the last one. Reade who loves sweet and cute things, gothic lolita, but specifically for this part wants to take Feitan shopping for a matching outfit! He never really changes and she doesn't want to force him, but she's ecstatic when he agrees!! I was thinking something to match her lolita style they could go looking for a Ouji style outfit! He'd look so cute and handsome like that!! Thank you! ♡

I. Am. LIVING. For your request oh my goddddd thank you!!! As a fellow fashion lover this topic is making my heart sing with joy!!🥰 he definitely would look so amazing in the Ouji style!! I didn’t know that was a thing until you mentioned it and now, after much research, I’m obsessed😭😭 Thanks again for the request, I hope you love it!!!

Fashion Forward Feitan

Fluff

Feitan Portor x f!reader

Warnings: small mentions of violence

“Come on, please? It’ll be fun!”

You looked at Feitan with the biggest doe eyes you could muster. You were trying to convince him to go shopping with you once again since it seemed like he enjoyed himself the last time you two perused a boutique together. This time, though, it would be his turn to bring home a new outfit.

“You no think my clothes fit?” he chided, trying to avoid your gaze because he knew you were giving him that look—the one he could barely resist.

“No, they fit fine,” you said, “but I wanted to take you somewhere special. There’s this store that carries a style I think you would look great in.”

“I look bad now?” he asked, his hands tucked in his pockets.

You narrowed your eyes. “Are you being difficult on purpose?”

Feitan smiled mischievously. “Maybe.”

“Okay then,” you sighed wistfully, turning your head toward the floor in mock sadness, “guess I’ll go to the store all by myself. Walk the streets… alone.”

You peeked up at Feitan who was back to his usual of showing no emotions at your words.

You made another attempt at getting a response. “All by my lonesome. In that great, big, dangerous world out there…”

Nothing.

“I’ll go try and pick something out for you. And then if I bring it back and it doesn’t fit, I’ll have to venture out again myself to return it…”

Feitan was wholly unamused by your antics.

“You finished?” he barked. You nodded, anxiously biting your bottom lip in hopes that he was about to agree to your little adventure.

“Good. You talk too much. I go, but only to keep eye on you. You troublemaker.”

You broke out into a smile and clapped your hands, happy that you convinced him. As you ran to find your purse so you could leave, your frilled skirt swirled around you in a mesmerizing dance of satin and tulle and Feitan was so distracted by you that he didn’t register your soft hand on his arm until much too late for someone with his quick reaction time.

“You ready?” you questioned a second time as your first attempt at gaining his attention failed, Feitan seemingly daydreaming. He didn’t respond verbally but headed outside, your hand falling from his arm as he left. You were saddened by the loss of touch between you two, missing the comfort of feeling him. Little did you know, the man many steps ahead of you was feeling the same way.

Your platform shoes clacked against the pavement in your attempt to catch up with the speediest Phantom Troupe member.

“You don’t even know where we’re going,” you grumbled, out of breath when you finally were able to walk side by side with Feitan.

“Not my fault you slow.”

“I talk too much and I’m slow. Anything else you’d like to compliment me on today?”

You look pretty, he thought, but he’d sooner cut out his own tongue before admitting that out loud.

“Let’s see. You passive aggressive.”

You practically growled. “You’re about to make me aggressive aggressive.”

Feitan shivered with excitement at the thought. Since you were usually upbeat and unusually kind at all times (traits he had come to love about you), it still would be a real treat for him to see you unhinged. However, you were already back to your happy-go-lucky self, squealing in delight when a certain shopfront entered your view.

“Here it is!” you exclaimed, your eyes sparkling. Now steps behind you, Feitan walked through the door and furrowed his brow. What was this place? He had never seen fashions like this in his life. There were waistcoats and collared shirts galore, chains and jewelry glittering on displays all around him. As you scurried ahead, already deep diving into the racks, he sauntered behind you, overwhelmed by all the choices in front of him.

“This style is called Ouji,” you explained, picking through shirts. “It’s like the more masculine version of my style, which is gothic Lolita.”

“It’s… different,” he said, but you knew he didn’t mean it in a bad way. It was something he had probably never seen before—and you were happy to introduce him to it!

“What do you think about this?”

You held up a white collared shirt with a ruffle on the front. Feitan shook his head, scrunching his nose under his cowl.

“No white. Stains easy.”

“Good call,” you replied, hanging it up. “Ooh! How about this?”

You plucked another shirt from the rack, this time black with a high neck and long sleeves sporting buttons at the cuff. He looked it over and nodded in agreement.

“That’s a good start,” you said. “What size are you?”

Feitan just shrugged. He didn’t shop much, nor did he pay attention to sizing. Phinks usually brought things home for him and they magically fit.

“Small maybe?” you mused. “I’ll get a medium too in case you want a roomier fit.”

You handed him the two shirts and busied yourself in the pants section while he moseyed over to the accessories. His attention was caught by a jacquard vest with long tails, inky in color, with large buttons down the front. He hummed in amusement as he studied the piece, wondering if it would go with whatever you were picking out. Not caring to put more thought into it, he grabbed one off the rack and walked back to you.

“I went with black breeches since those are easiest to style and- Oh! Look at you, already getting to the fun part of accessorizing.”

You gave him a big smile, happy to see him enjoying himself.

“You should go try this stuff on,” you told him, leading the way to the dressing rooms.

“You can use this room,” the store clerk said, opening the curtain.

“Thank you,” you replied to her, but Feitan wasn’t budging from where he stood.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“I no want to get undressed in public. Too vulnerable.”

“I’ll be right here the entire time. No one is getting between me and that curtain, I promise.”

His gray eyes pierced into your own before sighing and entering the dressing room. When the curtain closed, you exhaled out of relief. You wondered if it was going to be difficult shopping with him, especially since he didn’t like change, but everything was going smoothly. Now came the best part about this trip for you: seeing Feitan dressed in exquisite clothing.

Feitan ripped the curtain closed, taking extra precaution to make sure no one could peek through before slowly shedding his old clothes. He pulled the articles of clothing off their hangers in a flash, eager to get dressed in something so he wasn’t feeling as exposed. Covered once more, he examined himself in the mirror. His slender fingers trailed over the foreign clothing currently on his body, feeling the different fabrics under his touch. He had never paid much attention to how he looked in the past, not caring about his level of attractiveness to others. He spent most of his days covered almost head to toe anyway. However, under the bright dressing room lights, in new clothes that showed off his figure in ways he didn’t know possible, he experienced a surge of different emotions all at once: excitement, joy, uncertainty-

“Fei? You alright in there?”

His eyes widened when he heard you. He had been behind the curtain for a long time, hadn’t he?

“I coming, don’t rush me.”

He tried sounding as normal as possible but his voice shook slightly. Grabbing the curtain, he halted his movements as an unknown feeling washed over him.

Was he nervous?

Feitan scoffed. He was a Spider; why was awaiting a girl’s opinion cause him such distress? He took a deep breath and yanked back the curtain, deliberately avoiding looking at your face in fear of seeing your reaction. Your silence was deafening to him and he found himself wishing you would begin talking nonstop like you normally do. You noticed an air about him that was strikingly opposite than normal—he seemed apprehensive. Comfortable in the clothes, not hiding himself away, but just unsure of himself.

No—unsure of you.

“Fei,” you spoke softly, walking towards him, “you look absolutely stunning.”

He had never wished for his cowl more than in that moment so he could hide away from your sweet words that were making a blush blossom across his face.

“You’re so handsome,” you breathed out as he finally looked up, his black hair falling into his eyes.

“Tch. You ridiculous,” he replied, but there was no bite to his tone. Was he secretly thankful that you were pleased with the way he looked? Of course he was. You were his pride and joy, his treasure amongst the trash of the world. Your opinion was the only one he genuinely cared about all the time, other than his own. He was deeply loyal to you and would follow you to the ends of the earth. And if he got to wear this Ouji style every once in a while on that journey? He’s not mad about that.

“You know how I feel about it, but how about yourself? You like?” you asked, a hopeful lilt in your voice.

After a few seconds passed, Feitan answered. “I do. I like very much.”

Your eyes lit up. “Really? Ugh, I’m relieved! I would’ve felt horrible if you hated it!”

Feitan had to fight the tiny smile that threatened to appear on his lips.

“I get this. Keep for special occasions.”

“Your outfit would go perfectly with that dress I got the last time we went shopping! We’re going to look so good together!”

You kept talking about outfits and your delight at his willingness to coordinate with you but he wasn’t really listening. He was too busy watching you and feeling another surprising emotion for the day:

Love.

#feitan portor x reader #feitan porter x reader #feitan portor #feitan x you #feitan fluff #feitan x reader #hunter x hunter feitan #hunter x hunter x reader #hxh x y/n #hxh x you #hxh x reader #feitan x reader fluff #soft feitan x reader #feitan portor fluff #phantom troupe x reader fluff #phantom troupe x reader

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meowzfordayz · 9 months

Text

they're-both-so-helpless

Rengoku Kyojuro x Reader

Word Count: ~600

CW: explicit language, mild sexual content

Author’s Note: starting 2024 off w/ Kyojuro❣️ Began writing this while at work… winter makes for slow days when selling ice cream. 😆 Pt 2 coming ~soon aka prob within the next 24 hrs since my shift’s almost over lol.

emphasis-on-helpless, helplessly-in-love

Missing your boyfriend is tough… especially when he isn’t actually your boyfriend.

“He might as well be!” Mitsuri says whenever she’s with you, “I swear you check your phone at least twice as often ever since you became friends.” The tips of your ears warm, eyes glued to the newest Snap of Kyojuro’s cheerful face. “Will you at least show me?” Mitsuri huffs, head tilting to catch a glance, “Aww, he’s so cute!” “But he’s not my boyfriend,” you mutter, quickly snapping a blurry photo of your melting ice cream. Eyes gleaming, Mitsuri hums knowingly, slinging a giddy arm around you without another word. You silently thank her gesture of respecting your privacy—something your other friend, Shinobu, rarely does—hurriedly eating a spoonful of your dessert as he snaps back: You got ice cream without me?! ☹️ I fear I am mortally wounded. 💔 You appease him with a Snap of your own frown, promising him i’ll bring u next time 🥺🍦 pointedly ignoring Mitsuri’s smooching noises when Kyojuro fires back with It’s a date! 😁😋 Sooo maybe nobody respects your privacy.

You’ve never considered yourself shy, but you have resigned yourself to being perpetually friendzoned, a bit too person-next-door in a would-never-date-their-neighbor way rather than a person-next-door who also is-totally-down-to-date-their-handsome-neighbor way. Like puffing out your chest while walking on the sidewalk to convey confidence and get people out of your path, you’ve mastered the art of giving off don’t-fuck-with-me vibes — despite desperately wanting to fuck.

And therein lies the problem-not-actually-a-problem with one Rengoku Kyojuro. Also known as, Mitsuri’s favorite barista. Also known as, immediately flirted with you when Mitsuri finally took you to his cafe for brunch, writing his number on your cup and everything. Also known as, might not have been flirting with you and in fact was just being nice because he has yet to properly-not-jokingly ask you on a real-official-non-platonic date. You’ve survived a blustery autumn of pumpkin spice lattes and too many free muffins, persevered through a surprisingly snug winter of It’s my special recipe hot chocolates and ice skating with the gang (Mitsuri, Shinobu, Kyojuro, and his insufferable friend Tengen), and felt wistfully hopeful as spring came and went, having your voice compared to blossoming flowers and your smile to tender sunshine… only to dream alone, his contagious grin and addictingly cozy hugs lingering even as you woke with the sensation of tears in your eyes.

—

“You should tell him how you feel!” Shinobu sighs, an exasperated, endeared sound as she watches you bemoan your adoration.

“Oh yeah, because he definitely feels the same after a year of literally zero signs!”

“He called your ice cream plans last week a date,” Mitsuri chimes in, rubbing your shoulders as she exchanges a they’re-both-so-helpless look with Shinobu.

“Platonically,” you shoot back, sagging into Mitsuri’s touch, “He’s so gentlemanly and sweet, I never know whether we’re flirting or he’s simply being polite! Friendly! A friend!”

“I repeat,” Shinobu deadpans, “Tell him how you feel.”

You pout, chewing on your upper lip as you mumble, “And if he doesn’t like me?”

“Nonsense!” Mitsuri declares brightly, squeezing you—Owww—a little too hard, “He doesn’t talk to anyone else like he talks to you.”

“I talk to you differently than I talk to Shinobu. Doesn’t mean anything,” you grumble.

“I’m trying to uplift you,” Mitsuri huffs, playfully pulling on your earlobe, “Trust us. Okay? He would absolutely date you if he knew you were interested in dating.”

“Since when have I said I’m not interested?!” you wail in dismay.

“You’ve never said you are interested,” Shinobu quips.

You scowl at her as she tosses a good natured pillow at you, Mitsuri clicking her tongue as you squish the pillow against your sternum, heart aching when your phone lights up Rengoku Kyojuro sent you a Snap • 🔥.

#kyojuro rengoku #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro x reader #rengoku x reader #flame hashira #drabble #modern au #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer

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tracingpatternswrites · 3 months

Text

Leather and Cinnamon | Wolfstar Bingo

It's that time of the year again! The @wolfstarbingo2024 is here.

I'm supposed to be working hard on my Big Bang fic so naturally I instead spent the whole day writing 13k words of... well, this.

I've had this idea for a long time and I think I started it over a year ago, but now I finally found the inspiration to finish it (while also crossing off one of my prompts). So here it is.

Title: Leather and Cinnamon Pairing: Wolfstar Rating: E WC: 13.2k Prompt: One night stand Summary: Remus hasn't got laid in a while, but that's okay. That's fine. He's been busy raising a son, thank you very much.

Now, however, Teddy is off to university and when Remus goes to Brighton to drop him off, they stumble over a coffee shop in the south lanes. It's a cosy little place with a barista who has silver eyes and pale skin and an arse to die for.

Remus hasn't got laid in a while, but that's okay. That's fine.

Read on AO3.

Snippet below the cut:

“I’ll order,” Teddy said as they entered the coffee shop, nodding towards a table by the window. “You can take a seat.”

“Oh really?” Remus asked, a little amused. “You’re paying too, then?”

“Obviously not,” Teddy remarked casually. “I’m a poor student, remember?”

“Sometimes I think you just spend time with me for my wallet.” Remus sighed wistfully but Teddy merely grinned at him, snapping his fingers.

“Money, please.”

“Maybe I want to order,” Remus said, but Teddy was already snatching the note from his fingers.

“Please,” Teddy scoffed. “Like I’d trust you with my order.”

Remus looked fondly as his son sauntered off towards the bar, unable not to smile to himself. He honestly couldn’t get his head around the fact that he had an 18-year-old son who was now heading off to university all on his own.

It had felt bittersweet, packing up Teddy’s boyhood room. He knew the day would come eventually, and even though he was excited for his son, he couldn’t help but feel a bit sad as well. They had driven down to Brighton together, their old little car stuffed full of (almost) everything that Teddy would need for the coming few months.

They had spent the day getting his room in order before Remus decided it was time for him to head back home. Teddy had agreed to a coffee before he left though, and Remus was set on making the most of the time he had left with his son while he still had the chance.

The café they had picked was in the south Lanes and had a bright red door with rainbow flags decorating the windows. It was the name that had drawn Remus in though, Baskerville’s Hound written in bold letters over the painting of a big, black dog.

The place itself was cosy enough, with paintings decorating the walls together with black and white photographs of Brighton and random people. The walls were painted in a dark blue colour and the furniture was all mismatched and clearly second hand, but still in good shape.

Teddy returned without drinks, pulling out the chair opposite Remus and slumping down on it, shrugging as Remus raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

“They’ll bring it out,” he said, slouching back on his chair.

“Any chance you got a change on that twenty?”

“Sorry.” Teddy grinned at him, pushing a hand through his longish hair, currently a bright orange. Remus had long since accepted that Teddy opted to change his hair colour as often as other people changed clothes, and he enjoyed seeing him explore. “Consider it a contribution towards your only child’s education.”

“Ah, yes, never mind the 9K tuition fee,” Remus deadpanned. “It’s the change on the coffee that’s going to make the real difference.”

“I’ll need pocket money.”

The corner of Remus’ mouth twitched. “You need money for beer, you mean.”

Teddy threw his arms out. “It’s uni life, Da.”

Remus snorted just as the barista approached the table, clearing his throat.

“A latte with a dash of cinnamon and…whatever this monstrosity is,” the barista said, and Remus tore his gaze away from his son to the man standing next to their table.

Remus found himself doing a double-take at the sight of him. He didn’t know why he’d expected a student, but this man looked to be roughly his age. He was tall, muscular, with tattooed arms and wearing a simple white tee-shirt underneath a light apron with a large black dog printed on the front of it.

There was the hint of a stubble over his very chiselled jaw, high cheekbones and long, black hair pulled back in a ponytail. It was his eyes, however, that caught Remus’ attention. They were a light sort of grey that reminded Remus of silver, seemingly drawing in the light around them. They were dancing with something that looked like amusement as Teddy sat up excitedly.

“That’s mine,” Teddy said eagerly, reaching for the tall glass topped with a hefty dollop of whipped cream. “Cheers, mate.”

“I take it you’re the sensible one then,” the man said, the corner of his mouth twitching as he turned his gaze on Remus, placing the mug in front of him with a little wink. “Enjoy.”

Remus couldn’t help staring as the man walked away, gaze taking in the dark jeans and heavy boots.

“Earth to Da!”

Teddy’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts and he flinched, accidentally burning his hand as his coffee sloshed over the rim of the mug.

“Fuck,” he hissed, grabbing a napkin to wipe up his spill and when he looked back up, Teddy was watching him with a mischievous sort of twinkle in his eyes.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” Remus replied quickly, clearing his throat as his voice came out weirdly rough. “Fine.”

“I said, are you coming down with Ma next week?”

“Oh,” Remus said, taking a sip from his coffee to distract himself momentarily. “Dunno, mate. D’you want me to?”

“You don’t have to,” Teddy shrugged. “It’s just cause she couldn’t be here this weekend.”

“Right,” Remus nodded. “I’ll be there if you want me to.”

Teddy waved it off, pulling his phone out of his pocket as it made a chirping noise.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, eyes on the display as he quickly tapped out a message. “Aoife says there’s a group heading to the pub tonight.”

“That sounds like fun,” replied Remus as his gaze darted over to the bar, just briefly, catching on the man who was wiping down glasses and humming to himself, the muscles in his arms flexing. “You should go with them, make some friends.”

He only tore his gaze away from the man as he heard Teddy’s snort, and his son was watching him with an unimpressed sort of expression.

“What?”

“Make some friends?” he echoed, pulling a face. “It’s not pre-school, Da. It’s uni.”

“What?” asked Remus, a little affronted. “You don’t make friends at university?”

“No,” Teddy said assuredly. “You just…get to know people. Hang out.”

“Right,” Remus said, giving a solemn nod. “My bad. You should go with them and hang out then.”

Teddy rolled his eyes and huffed out a breath before he turned his attention back to his phone, and Remus pressed his lips together so that he wouldn’t smile. His eyes darted briefly back towards the bar, where the man was now stacking mugs.

It would be in Brighton where a random barista looked like he’d stepped right out of one of Remus’ wet dreams. He looked exactly like the type Remus would have been madly in love with when he was younger, and, it turned out, his taste hadn’t changed that much since then.

Remus hadn’t dated much in the past few years as Teddy was growing up. It wasn’t that it had been impossible, Dora had managed to move on just fine after their amicable split, and her dating life had never affected Teddy badly, he just hadn’t prioritised it. Ever since Teddy had moved in with him full-time when he was fifteen, Remus put his own dating life on a shelf.

Dora had told him he was being ridiculous, that Teddy was more than capable of handling his dad dating, and Teddy had even told him so himself. He’d even encouraged Remus to get out there, claiming that it would do him good to get laid. It wasn’t a lie, Remus knew that, but he had simply prioritised raising his son over hookups.

He knew it would be different now though, with Teddy off to university and Remus alone in their house. They had been joking about it, and Remus was happy that Teddy was starting his own life as a young adult, but he couldn’t deny that it would be strange.

He and Dora had been so young when they became parents. She had still been at university, and he had only just completed his Bachelor's Degree. He’d been a parent for all of his 20s and almost all of his 30s, it felt wild thinking that he was approaching his 40s with more independence than he’d had in a long while.

“Right, I gotta go,” Teddy said suddenly, his voice yanking Remus out of his thoughts. “Sorry, Da.”

Remus shook his head, smiling a little as he stood. “Don’t worry about it. Time for me to head back home anyway.”

Teddy nodded, watching him for a moment, his blue eyes searching over Remus’ face and he looked so serious suddenly.

“Are you sure that you’ll be okay?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

Remus couldn’t help but smile a little at the troubled look on his son’s face, the half-grimace as he gave a brief shrug.

“I’ll be fine, Da.”

“So will I,” Remus replied, smiling a little as he pulled his son close for a hug. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Can’t help it,” Teddy muttered against the crook of his neck before Remus released him. “I worry about you all alone in that house.”

“I think I’ll manage,” Remus said as he clasped a hand on his son’s shoulder. “I used to have a life before you, y’know.”

“Barely,” Teddy replied with a snort, the corner of the boy’s mouth quirking upwards as Remus swatted lightly at him.

“Oi, don’t get cheeky.”

Teddy laughed, seemingly unfazed as he leaned a little closer, stage-whispering, “You could always stay and chat up the barista, eh? I can see you ogling him.”

Remus had a horrible feeling as he was blushing as Teddy threw a meaningful look towards the man behind the counter and waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Continue on AO3.

#wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar bingo 2024 #prompt: one night stand #teddy lupin #muggle au #coffee shop au #my writing

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forestshadow-wolf · 11 months

Text

Cw: implied homophobia, drinking and smoking as coping mechanisms, angst

Part 1 || Part 2

Soap was always so put together. Ghost always admired that, just a bit.

Which is why is was so shocking to see soap drunk off his ass, alone in the rec room, in the small hours of the night.

Ok, saying he was drunk off his ass was an overstatement, but he was clearly a bit further than buzzed. Didn't even acknowledge ghost when he walked, just continued idly running his finger around the rim of his glass, staring sightlessly into the amber liquid. Where he even got the bottle of scotch was a question ghost didn't bother to think on.

Ghost took it upon himself to situate himself next to soap, pressing his thigh into the scot's.

"How much have you had, Johnny?" He asked softly, something colored his voice that he didn't wish to look deeper into — that's why they worked. Soap toed the line between too much, and ghost let him, laughing it off when it circled too close, and soap always followed.

"Enough. I should pack it up." Soap said equally soft, solem, but he made no move to do so, simply continuing to cradle the glass between his hands. — so that's it, huh. That's how he stays so composed. He's self-aware. Maybe too much for his own good.

Soap pulled the cup up to his lips to take a sip of the warm liquid. Ghost's hands gently guided the glass out of his hands before it reached its destination. Soap let it happen. He still hadn't even glanced at ghost, and he was being unusually quiet. Ghost didn't like it.

They sat in silence for a moment.

Or ghost thought they did. Then a moment later he hears the flick of a lighter, and he turns his head to see soap lighting up a cigarette. Simon frowns behind his mask. Soap takes a delicate pull off the cigarette, and lets the smoke steam out of his mouth slowly. Still, it's like he's looking anywhere but ghost. It's like he's looking through ghost. Ghost sighs — he doesn't like this johnny. — his fingers automatically itch for a cigarette of his own, his body so used to sharing one with the man beside him. He doesn't. There's no real need for one at the moment, just a desire to share something.

"Tell me?" Ghost offers. It's gruff, and hardly sounds like a question at all, but an offer all the same.

Soap doesn't answer. He's eerily quiet. The only sound is their breathing, and the occasional pull of the one lone cigarette.

It's quiet for a long time. Ghost doesn't force anything, just sits with him. Then–

"My da's dyin'." It's small, quiet, as if saying it too loud will shatter whatever's in the air between them. "I should take some leave, be there... but... I won't." The cigarette's almost burned down to the but now. He takes one last drag off it, then snubs it out.

Simon stays quiet, letting johnny think, it's not his place to speak. It's not what Johnny needs right now.

"He'd be furious, I think. He'd tell me to go to hell, maybe in a few more words." Johnny chuckled darkly. "Mum will be devastated if I don't go. And my sisters will never forgive me if I'm not there — mum will though, she's too kind — but... I can't go." He said wistfully, the words come out slow — it's probably the alcohol — he spoke like he didn't know how to stop the words from coming out, and wasn't sure if he even wanted to stop them.

"Why not?" Simon prompted gently, he could almost see the words burning a hole in Johnny's throat.

"We can forget about this come morning, act like this never happened." Soap answered instead, like the words were stuck, but still seared with a need to come out. Or maybe it was the alcohol making him hare-brained

"Johnny..." It was soft, too soft. Soap laid his head on his arms and began tracing formless shaped on the table with his finger.

"... haven't seen him in over a decade, and he was so... angry then. He caught me an- an a boy..." the words seemed to get caught in his throat. "Barely even let me pack my bags before shipping me off. He was so nice before... before he knew. He was so amazing. I always thought I'd be like him when I grew up." Johnny's eyes were wet now, instead of the eerie dryness from before, but that's all it was, no tears. "I should see him one more time for that at least... but I won't. I-..."

"Johnny." Ghost felt like he was intruding, he was seeing something he wasn't meant to see. But johnny plowed on.

"I-... but I don't think I can- that- that I'll-... I don't know h-how I'll survive if- if he tells me to- to go to hell or- or t-to get dead again. I can't- I can't do it again." Johnny's voice shook as he spoke, and the words seemed to trip and stumble uneloquently from his lips.

He seemed to burn out after that, and it was so quiet, like they'd gotten sucked into space. Or maybe it was just simon who was in space, and Johnny was cast adrift in the ocean. He didn't know.

"Lets get you to bed, Johnny." The words were gentle, pillowed in all the corners. Johnny let himself be guided easily, searching for any kind of life raft.

#tw drinking #tw smoking #unhealthy coping mechanisms #implied homophobia tw #implied death #sad john 'soap' mactavish #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #soapghost #ghostsoap #call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #el rambles

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waitimcomingtoo · 1 year

Text

Part Of Your World ~ p.p

chapter four: where the people are

pairing: Peter Parker x mermaid!reader

series masterlist

“Where are you going?”

Peter froze in his tracks when he heard Mays voice coming from the kitchen. He recognized that tone. That tone meant she was suspicious of something and usually, she was right to be. Peter walked back into the kitchen and put on an innocent smile.

“The bathroom. To tinkle.”

“Again? You were in there a long time before dinner.” May pointed out and rested her chin in her hands. Peter gulped, knowing that was her interrogation pose.

“I know. But I drank a lot of water during dinner.”

“Oh, I see. Why don’t you go in this one?” May asked and pointed to the hallway bathroom.

“You caught me.” Peter forced a laugh. “I have to deuce and I like to do it in the privacy of my own bathroom.”

“Hm.” May nodded, not sounding convinced.

“What?”

“Nothing. I just noticed that you’ve been spending a lot of time in the bathroom lately. A lot more than usual. But you’re always showering in the hall bathroom for some reason. Is there anything you want to tell me?”

“No.” Peter gulped and avoided eye contact. May raised an eyebrow and Peter caved.

“Fine. You caught me again. I’m re-grouting the tile in my shower and I can’t use it until the cement dries.” He lied as his eyes darted to the side.

“Re-grouting your shower?” She asked, not sounding amused.

“Oh, yes. All the kids are doing it these days. My current grout simply will not do.

“Uh huh. Well, I wouldn’t want to stop you.” May said and waved him on. Peter let out a sigh of relief and went to his bathroom.

“Can’t wait to see it when’s it’s done!” May called after him.

When Peter got to his bathroom, you were in his bathtub eating from a box of Goldfish.

“Is this what real fish tastes like? Because I finally understand fishing.” You said as Peter locked the door behind him.

“No, honey. That’s not what real fish tastes like. Not even a little.” Peter said and nervously paced the bathroom floor.

“Are you okay? You’re whiter than stripes on a clownfish.” You asked when you noticed Peters face.

“No. I’m not okay. I think May is getting suspicious.” Peter admitted.

“Why do you think that?”

“Because she just interrogated me about my bathroom habits and she hasn’t done that since we discovered I was lactose intolerant in the fifth grade.” Peter shouted in frustration.

“I’m sorry. I promise I was quiet. But I’ll do better. It won’t happen again.” You said and shrunk into yourself. Peter stopped pacing and knelt down beside you.

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s not your fault. I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at the situation.” Peter assured you as cupped your face.

“But your voice got loud.” You said quietly.

“I know. I’m sorry. I won’t raise my voice around you again.” Peter promised you. You nodded your head and reluctantly believed him.

“Did your dad yell at you a lot?” Peter asked quietly. You looked wistfully at your tail and thought about all the resentment it represented for you. It looked just like your fathers, so you were reminded of him every time you looked down.

“I think our only conversations were him yelling while I stayed silent and pretended I was anywhere else.”

“He’s never gonna find you. You did exactly what he always told you you’d never be able to do. He’s gonna he miserable at the bottom of the ocean forever while you get to run this city.”

“What if the spell doesn’t work? You can’t keep me in this bathtub forever. What if I have to go back?” You whispered in fear. Peter didn’t know you’d been worrying about that and stroked your cheek with his thumb to comfort you.

“That’s not gonna happen. The spell is going to work. And if it doesn’t, I’ll build a huge swimming pool right here in my apartment.”

“Peter.” You laughed skeptically.

“I’m serious. I’ll flood the place. I’ll flood the whole building.” Peter insisted, making you laugh. He laughed as well and when your laughter died down, he leaned in for a long kiss. When he pulled away, he looked longing into your eyes.

“I’d do anything for you.” He promised you. Your expression changed and Peter saw something different in your eyes.

“Peter?” You said in a soft voice. His heart started to pound and he had a sneaking suspicion that you were about to tell him you loved him.

“Yes?”

“I ate your soap.”

“I feel the same way.” Peter sighed happily. “Wait, what?”

“I didn’t realize it wasn’t food at first. I thought it was candy.” You admitted as you handed him a bar of soap that was almost entirely eaten.

“You got this far into it before you realized it wasn’t food?” Peter asked in disbelief as he took the remaining chunk of soap from you.

“It tasted like blue.” You said simply.

“Your stomach is gonna be hurting you tonight.” Peter warned you. “Wait a second, how do mermaids go to the bathroom?”

“I’m in the bathroom right now, aren’t I? I got here because you carried me.”

“No like, how do you use the bathroom?”

“How would I use a bathroom? Use it for what?” You asked in confusion.

“Let me rephrase. Can you pee? Oh my God, do you pee out of your bellybutton?” Peter gasped and poked your bellybutton.

“No.” You laughed and moved his hand. “I have a cloaca, silly. Haven’t you ever wondered how mermaids reproduce?”

“Yes, but I was never gonna ask because it felt inappropriate.” Peter admitted.

“I’m your girlfriend. Nothings too inappropriate to ask. I’m curious about humans the same way you’re curious about mermaids. Besides, I like that you’re inquisitive. It makes me feel better about asking you everything.”

“You know the word “inquisitive” but I had to remind you the word for street?” Peter mumbled out of the corner of your mouth.

“Why are you still hung up on that?”

“Is just doesn’t make sense sometimes. You know so many words and then will ask me what the hand at the bottom of my leg with the tiny fingers is called.” Peter pointed out.

“Feet. I remember that one.” You said proudly.

“Okay, what’s this?” Peter tested you and held up a toothbrush.

“Doohickey.” You answered like it was obvious.

“Toothbrush.” He corrected.

“Why would you brush your teeth?” You scoffed. “They don’t even have hair.”

“I’ll drop it. I’m sorry.” He held up his hands in defense.

“Oh my gosh. Was that our first fight?” You smiled in excitement.

“No, honey. That wasn’t a fight.” Peter chuckled.

“Oh.” You frowned.

“You seem disappointed.”

“I just want to be like the humans. And I notice that they fight a lot. Especially at the beach. Like when the men forget the towels in the street boat.”

“That’s called a car. And yeah, humans do fight a lot, don’t they?” Peter chuckled. “But we won’t be like that. We won’t fight.”

“Oh. Okay.” You replied, seemingly slightly disappointed that you wouldn’t be like the humans.

“But if we ever did, I promise I want make my voice loud, okay? No more of that.” Peter assured you.

“Thank you.” You smiled gratefully.

“You’re welcome. Now, let’s get you some real food.”

“No thanks. I’m pretty full from the soap.” You said and handed him a second half eaten bar of soap.

“Oh God.” Peter groaned.

The next day at school, Peter could not stop looking at the clock. He had tuned out his professor before the class even started because all her could think about was the mermaid in his bathroom.

“What’s the matter? Your leg has been bouncing all day.” Ned leaned over and whispered.

“I’m fine. I just really need to get home.” Peter said as his eyes flicked to the clock again. The seconds seemed to be moving more like hours and he could hardly take it anymore.

“Why?” Ned wondered.

“I’ll explain it to you soon. It’s just a little hard to put into words right now.” Peter whispered back. He normally told Ned everything, but trying to explain the mermaid in his bathtub felt like a daunting task at the moment. Ned would definitely have a million questions and Peter didn’t have any answers quite yet. Finally, the professor ended class and Peter bolted home. He swung as fast as he could and crawled in through his bedroom window before opening his bathroom door.

“Honey, I’m home-“

“Hello.” May cut him off, making him freeze. All the color drained from Peters face as he surveyed the situation. May was standing with her arms crossed while you sat in the bathtub behind her with a pajama shirt of Mays on.

“Peter, what the fuck?” May said through eerily calm smile. “This doesn’t look like tile re-grouting to me.”

“Oh, hi May. How are you this fine Tuesday?” Peter smiled innocently as he began to sweat.

“Dear nephew, please enlighten me here as I seem to be a little confused. Am I tripping balls or is there a mermaid in your bathtub?”

“You’re tripping balls.” Peter said immediately.

“This looks delicious, thank you.” You said to no one in particular before opening a bottle of Peters body wash and squirting it into your mouth. May and Peter watched you in stunned silence as you swallowed what was on your mouth.

“Mmm. That’s nice. What is it?” You asked and wiped the blue body wash off your mouth.

“Peter.” May smiled calmly. “Care to explain?”

Meanwhile, you had squirt some shampoo into your hand and were licking it off. Peter watched you and sighed before turning to May.

“I don’t know what to tell you, May. You’re clearing tripping balls. And during the work day no less.”

“Please don’t mistake my measured bank tone for calmness as I am filled with waters of rage.” May began.

“Oh God.” Peter gulped.

“Why is there a mermaid eating body wash in your bathroom?” She finally raised her voice, making you flinch. Peter quickly escorted May out of the bathroom and shut the door behind him.

“Please don’t yell! She gets really scared by yelling.” Peter informed her.

“Oh, the mermaid in your bathtub gets scared by yelling? Silly me. How could I not have known about the fears and phobias of the fucking mermaid living in your fucking bathtub!” May whispered harshly.

“Language.” Peter gasped.

“Why is there a mermaid in your tub?” May asked again and angrily pointed to the door. As mad as she was, she didn’t yell out of respect for you.

“Because I love her and promised I’d get her some legs.” Peter blurted, making May let out a long groan.

“If your Uncle Ben was here to see this, I swear.” She mumbled to herself.

“I’m sorry for lying, May. But I didn’t know what to do. She needed to get out of the ocean fast and this was the best I could come up with.”

“She can’t stay here.”

“What? May.” Peter whined.

“Peter, I am your legal guardian. Do you know what would happen if CPS decided to do a spontaneous home visit and found a mermaid living in our bathroom? That’s got to be all kinds of illegal.”

“Then where is she supposed to stay?”

“Here’s an idea. How about at your billionaire friends tower where all the other mystical creatures you know live?”

“But I don’t live there. I wouldn’t be able to see her everyday. And they already judge me so much for that time I wore turquoise shorts. I can’t tell them about this.”

“Peter, what makes you think you can keep a mermaid alive? You have her in a tiny bathtub with nothing but two starfish covering her up and nothing but soap to eat.”

“She likes soap.” Peter defended.

“Peter, she’s gotta go. She doesn’t belong in a cramped tub. She needs to be free.” May said with sympathy.

“Well it’s not like I can flush her down the toilet, May.” Peter whined.

“Nobody suggested that. At all.”

“Then what am I supposed to do with her?”

“Take her to Tony.” May suggested. “He’ll know what to do.”

“How would I possibly get her there? We barely made it here in one piece.”

“I think I have an idea.” May told him.

Once the sun had set and they had the protection of the nights darkness, Peter and May snuck you out of the apartment in their biggest cooler and got you in the back of Mays work van.

“This is so cool! What is it called again?” You asked as you played with the handles of the cooler.

“A cooler.” Peter told you.

“Wow. I always seen humans bring these to the beach but they never take them in the water for some reason.”

“It’s usually meant to hold drinks. And my nephews mermaid girlfriend apparently.” May smiled tightly.

“Thanks. This was a great idea May.” Peter said once May started driving towards the Avengers tower.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get any ideas and start bringing home other mystical creatures. If I ever walk into our apartment and find a warlock, I’m kicking you out.”

“Would you let the warlock stay once I wad kicked out?” Peter genuinely wondered.

“If he paid rent.” May shrugged.

“What’s rent?” You asked from the back of the van.

“This isn’t one of those born sexy yesterday situations, is it?” May asked as she skeptically eyed Peter.

“Born sexy yesterday? You mean the film trope where female characters are simultaneously highly sexualized and highly infantilized so we as an audience are supposed to be attracted to their raw sex appeal as well as be charmed by their child like mind because they need the male antagonist to explain everything to them? Since they were both born sexy and born yesterday?” Peter asked.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I mean.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Peter mumbled.

“Peter.” May said warningly.

“This isn’t like that, May. I swear. Y/n is really intelligent. She’s taught herself so much about the above world just from collecting things over the years. And she loves to learn. That was one of her biggest reasons for wanting to come up here. She just doesn’t know the name for a lot of things because she never had someone to teach her. So I’m filling in those gaps for her.”

“Oh. I see. You’re gonna be her teacher? You’re the one who saved her from her horrible life and taught her what it was really like to live?” May asked with a big smile.

“Yeah. I guess so.” Peter smiled at the sound of that. Mays smile dropped and he realized she was being sarcastic.

“You’re not her savior, Peter. Don’t forget that, okay? She is in a position where she has to rely on your for a lot of things. And she’s already feeling indebted to you for getting her out of the water. So I’m going to warn you right now. Do not abuse the power you have over her. It will not end in your favor.”

“I would never abuse my power. I would never do that to her.” Peter said quietly as he thought about what May said.

“I’m just saying. Don’t tell yourself you rescued her. You said so yourself. She is very smart. You didn’t teach her everything she knows. She taught herself and you filled in the gaps. You didn’t save her and give her a new life. She escaped from her old one with your help. Don’t let it go to your head that she was miserable until you came along and magically fixed her whole life. She will still face struggles on land. Lots of them. And sometimes, you won’t be able to help her. For both of your sakes, do not give yourself the title of her savior. You need to be equals. That’s the only way this relationship will work.”

Peter was quiet for the rest of the way to the tower. He didn’t want to admit this to May, but he had been thinking pretty highly of himself for rescuing you. He wanted to tell his friends all about how he heroically saved you from your dad and hide you in his bathtub because he knew it would make him sound cool. Peter looked at you in the rearview mirror and saw that you were craning your neck as high as you possibly could to see out the window. It was hard to see from your place in the cooler and Peter felt guilty for not putting you closer to the window. He shrunk down in his seat and briefly wondered if his reasons for bringing you to the shore were as selfless as he once thought.

It wasn’t long before May parked outside the Avengers tower and helped Peter carry you out of the trunk. Peter leaned down towards the facial recognition device at the front door and let it scan his whole face. You were silent as you watched him, your mind not even being able to comprehend what you were seeing.

“Tiniest avenger. Welcome.” FRIDAY confirmed as the door opened. The water in the cooler sloshed out of the sides as Peter stepped inside the tower. He brought you on the elevator and laughed to himself when you got startled by the moving floor. Once he got to the main room of the tower, he saw most of his team sitting around, silently reading or doing puzzles.

“Hey everyone.” Peter said casually. Everyone turned to look at him and froze when they saw you in the cooler in Peters arms. Your tail was flopping up and down over the edge of the cooler while you looked around in amazement. You could see the whole city out of Tony’s floor to ceilings windows. It was a sight you always dreamed of but never imagined you’d actually get to see.

“Uh, Peter, I didn’t think I had to specify this, but you’re not allowed to bring random mermaids into the tower.” Tony said flatly.

“She’s not random. This is my girlfriend, Y/n.” Peter said and proudly held you up. Everyone let out a collective sigh. Some hung their heads in disappointment while others narrowed their eyes at Peter in utter confusion.

“Of course you have a mermaid girlfriend.” Tony sighed. “Of fucking course you do. Why would I ever expect other wise? This is so unbelievably in character for you.”

“Hi Peters dad.” You smiled kindly and waved.

“Oh my God.” Tony sat down and rubbed his eyes.

“Mr. Stark, I know you have a rule against strays, but her dad is the mermaid king-“

“Of course he is.” Tony nodded.

“-and he forbid her from going to the surface-“

“Checks out.” Tony cut in.

“-and he found out about our secret interspecies relationship. He was gonna send her away.”

“So you want her to stay here?” Tony raised his eyebrows.

“Please? Just until she gets her legs. I can’t live without her.”

“Peter, where are we supposed to put her?”

“I have a sensory deprivation tank I’m not using.” Bruce said and raised his hand.

“Of course you do. Why wouldn’t you?” Tony said sarcastically.

“Is there water in it?” Peter asked.

“I can have it filled in less than two hours.”

“Where am I supposed to put her until then?” Peter wondered.

Peters question was answered by Tony showing you to his master bathroom. The bathroom was bigger than Peters entire apartment, so he felt a little better about keeping you there.

“You have a lovely bathroom, Mr. Peter’s dad.” You smiled as you swam around in Tony’s giant indoor jacuzzi.

“Tony is fine. And thank you. Pepper said it was tacky.” He scoffed as he showed you all the different colors the jacuzzi could light up.

“Oh no. I love the beach theme. I feel right at home.” You told him.

“Where is home, by the way?” Strange wondered as he came into the bathroom to officially meet you.

“The upper East side of the Atlantic Ocean.” You said simply.

“Oh. Sounds lovely.” Tony said sarcastically.

“I’m Dr. Strange, by the way. I’ll be the one giving you legs.” Strange said as he reached out to shake your hand. You looked at his hand in confusion, unsure of what he wanted you to do with it. He quickly realized his mistake and withdrew his hand.

“I apologize. I didn’t realize shaking hands was not customary under the sea.” He said to you. Peter stifled a laugh as it was the first time he had seen Dr. Strange being vulnerable.

“That’s all right. I really appreciate what you’re doing for me, Mr. Doctor Strange. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

“I might have some idea. Your boyfriend was pretty convincing.” Strange said and nodded towards Peter. You looked at Peter and watched him smile shyly, so you blew him a kiss the way he had once done to you. Pepper then walked into the bathroom with a couple of bathing suit tops.

“Here. I brought you some swim suit tops that might feel a little more comfortable than….those.” Pepper said as she made eye contact with your starfish bra.

“Oh, thank you. Everyone here is so nice.” You smiled happily and accepted the tops. Peter saw you reaching for your starfish and quickly jumped between you and Tony.

“Mr. Stark, turn around right now.”

“Why?” Tony asked as Peter physically turned him around. Peter turned around as well just as Pepper let out a surprised gasp. She walked back over to Peter, Tony and Strange with a confused look on her face.

“Hey, so, your girlfriend just whipped her tits out like it was no big deal.” Pepper whispered to the two of them.

“She does that.” Peter nodded. “I think it’s a mermaid thing.”

“Great. Remind me to not be in the room when she gets her legs for the first time.” Tony smiled sarcastically.

“So this is really happening? Am I really getting legs?” You asked from behind them. Peter turned to look at you and saw you were wearing a black bikini top that Pepper had given you. From his angle, you looked fully human. He smiled a little to himself and grew excited for the day you really would be.

“If all goes according to plan, yes. I’ll be conducting a spell that transforms your tail into a pair of legs.” Dr. Strange answered you.

“And it’ll be permanent?” You asked hopefully.

“If you want it to be. I could also make it where you turn back into a mermaid when you’re submerged in water.” Strange told you.

“Maybe we should do that. In case you change your mind.” Peter said to you.

“I won’t.” You said confidently.

“You might. You might miss your dad.”

“I’d miss the land more.”

“Isn’t this your first time on land?” Tony pointed out.

“Yes. But I’ve dreamed of it my whole life. I don’t miss the sea. And I never will. I want the spell to be permanent.” You said definitively.

“Give it some thought. We can do the spell another day.” Strange suggested once he sensed the disagreement between you and Peter.

“I don’t need a day.” You insisted. “I know what I want. I never want to see my tail again.”

“We’ll do it tomorrow.” Peter told Strange, making you frown. You looked and Peter and wanted him to look at you, but he was still looking at Strange.

“Fine. Tomorrow.” Strange nodded and left the room. Tony and Pepper patted your shoulder before leaving as well. Once it was just you and Peter, you spoke up.

“Peter?”

“Yeah?” He asked and sat down on the edge of the jacuzzi.

“I don’t like it when you speak for me.” You said in a matter of fact tone. You weren’t angry, just trying to let him know how you felt. Peter was caught off guard by your statement and jutted his head back.

“Oh, I’m sorry honey. I didn’t realize I was speaking for you. I just really think you should keep the option of keeping your tail. Just in case you change your mind.”

“You don’t know what it was like down there, Peter. None of my decisions were mine. I lived in constant fear of being found by the bad men. So I spent my whole life wishing to be somewhere else. I’m free now. I can’t go back. I’m not going to change my mind.”

“What about your dad?”

“He has 7 other daughters. He won’t miss me.”

“I’d miss you. I imagine anyone who lost you from their life would miss you. There’s a space that you fill. I can’t be the only one who feels that way about you. What about your sisters?”

“They never understood me. They never understood what it was like to want the things I wanted. My sisters are happy in the water. They’re happy because they belong. And they always knew I didn’t belong. I will miss them, but I know that they’d be happy knowing I am happy.”

Peter nodded in understanding and leaned in to kiss you. After the chaotic day, you were happy to have this quiet moment with him. You didn’t want your relationship to get lost in the excitement of getting your legs. When Peter pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours and looked into your eyes.

“I swear, I’m gonna show you what it’s like to have someone actually love you. No more possession and having someone make all your decisions for you. No more feeling like you don’t belong. You’re going to be happy here.”

“We’re going to be happy here.” You corrected him with a smile. Peter kissed you one last time before letting you get some rest. He caught up to Dr. Strange in the hallway and stopped him.

“Hey, when we do the spell tomorrow, don’t do the one that will make her permanently a human, okay? Do the other one.”

“But she doesn’t want to ever have tail again. She seemed very adamant about that.” Strange titled his head in confusion.

“She thinks that’s what she wants. But I know she’ll regret it.”

“Peter, I’m not gonna do something without her knowing about it. I’m going to perform the spell that she wants, not you.”

“What about this? What if she only gets her tail back when she touches saltwater? She can still shower and go in the pool, but if she goes to the beach, she’ll return to a mermaid. That way, if she ever wants to go home, she can. We’ll call it the saltwater clause.”

“Did you clear that with her?” Strange asked, already knowing the answer.

“I will.” Peter nodded. Strange seemed content with that and walked away.

Peter looked back at the bathroom door and could hear you swimming around in there. He then thought back to what May said about him not being your savior. If you ended up hating your life on land because it didn’t live up to the fantasy you’d created in your head, he didn’t want you to be stuck there. Even though Peter knew you hated your old life, he wanted to preserve the option of returning to it. Peter made the decision to not tell you about the saltwater clause but make Strange think he did. He figured you’d never want to go to the ocean after spending your whole life trying to leave it, so he’d be safe from you ever finding out. May wanted to accuse him of acting like your savior, so he was going to selflessly preserve your choice to go home. Even if that meant one day, you’d leave him.

🌊🌊🌊

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irkenproperty · 4 months

Note

So Dib, tell us a story of how you met your little feral Zim, Got to know each other, how did you communicate? all the way up to having babies😊

Beautiful mini-fic under cut by my BFF and very talented RP-partner @darthzadr , about how we RP'ed Zim and Dib's meeting, please read it!

Her fic commissions are open, btw!

🩷⬇️💙⬇️🩷⬇️💙⬇️🩷⬇️💙

Earth. A blue and green paradise teaming with life both too small to see with the naked eye, all the way up to enormous creatures great enough to snuff out those very lives beneath them with a single step. Luscious forests and greenery spread out as far as the eye could see, running for miles and miles until meeting with its lover, the ocean - and there were so many different oceans, too! Some were blue and alive, and nourishing to the entire planet. Some were yellow; oceans of sand stretching out towards the horizon and beyond that still, until eventually stumbling upon an oasis. There were even some oceans, according to his books, that were bright red and bubbling hot, so much so that a single touch was enough to melt flesh and bone. Truly, Earth was Eden's glorious garden.

Once upon a time.

Dib gazed into the old photo album and turned the page wistfully, and he quickly lost himself in the images again. Having been just shy of three years old upon departing Earth his memories of his home world were fading fast, and all he had to remember it by were the pictures in his books, his father's photo albums, and one very fuzzy memory: In that, there was no green whatsoever, only concrete and smoke, and a burning-red sky. He vaguely recalled an enormous crowd swarming like flies on the final slab of meat upon a carcass stripped of flesh, all so desperate to escape the fast rotting planet they themselves had helped to destroy. The people had poured in from all across America, Mexico, and beyond to try and find salvation. Professor Membrane's great invention was just one of but a handful of ships around the world capable of deep-space travel, and Dib could remember watching the people from the control room alongside his father and wailing baby sister; they were screaming and begging for a place upon the ship already stretched beyond its capacity. “Aren't we going to let them in, daddy...?” Dib had asked curiously, and he couldn't understand why Professor Membrane didn't answer him, nor why he was crying just as much as Gaz was as the ship lifted up from the Earth's soil one last time and took flight, leaving the dying world far behind them.

To this day, Dib still didn't understand it.

With a sigh he closed the album and looked out the window instead, to the real greenery outside infinitely more interesting than the flat pictures. Life aboard the Marina was the world that Dib knew and remembered, and now, his world was extending to a whole new plain of existence outside. When first the ship had landed upon the strange soils only a select handful of Membrane's most trusted advisors were permitted to leave the safety of the Marina to explore the vast forests and its diverse ecosystem; to take pictures and bring back precious samples for Professor Membrane to study: plant matter, fresh produce, the strange bones of creatures yet unknown . . . After many, many moons – so many moons in fact, that Dib had lost count – it was determined that the environment was a suitable biome for humanity's survivors. Fences had been erected all around the ship to create a vast compound, allowing people to venture outside whilst keeping them all safe from the unknown that lay beyond in the jungle. At nightfall curfew began, and no one was allowed to set foot outside for fear of the dark.

In Dib's opinion, this was the very best time to go outside and play.

He opened up the bedroom window and slipped easily outside into a nearby tree. The branches were strong and sturdy, and Dib climbed down like it was second nature. He gasped as his bare feet touched the dew-sodden grass, and he jumped a little on the spot both from the excitement, and the alien sensation he still wasn't used to. There was no grass aboard the Marina, after all. There were green houses and gardens where they grew food plentiful enough to feed their people – but there was no space to run around or explore. Not like this; not like it was in the strange new world.

Bubbling with enthusiasm Dib wandered along the edge of the fence, his hand trailing across the chain-links. The fence reached so high that he was pretty certain it could touch the sky – but clearly not, because it wasn't tall enough to keep the planet's creations from flying over, and sometimes into the compound. Enormous insects; creatures that looked like dragonflies and moths, and hornets even bigger than Professor Membrane himself. Terrifying, but equally so fascinating, and it made Dib wonder, what else is out there?

He gazed longingly through the fence and into the trees. Sometimes, in the dead of lonely night, he almost swore that he could see movement from within the foliage. He'd often find himself hours later still in the same place, his vision growing blurry where he'd been standing staring at the same spot for so long. There was no movement tonight so Dib kept on walking, making his steady way around the perimeter and towards the gardens. The planet's soils were rich with nutrients and happily allowed the seeds of Earth plants to take root. Alongside those, they were now growing a vast array of native fruits and vegetables of this world too. Dib's favourite were the bright pink berries swollen close to bursting with a rich, tart juice that left stains all over his lips, fingers, and everything he touched – but it was worth it. He grabbed a handful as he walked by and popped several into his mouth. He and Gaz liked them a lot, and had taken to calling them blorpberries, on account of the funny noise they made when Dib pushed them against the roof of his mouth, and they exploded over his tongue.

Snap!

Dib's head whipped up towards the fence. A flash of movement darted out from behind the trees, and the next thing he saw was a flurry of frantic motions. Something was digging outside the compound, scratch, scratch, scratching into the ground with a keen ferocity unlike anything Dib had seen before. In the light coming through the windows of the Marina, and the starlit sky dancing in worship around two giant moons, Dib could make out a long tail flaring amid the flying dirt, the tip and the base both crowned by a beautiful tuft of bright pink.

“Wow!” The gasp escaped Dib's lips before he could stop it, and all movement ceased in an instant. The tail stood completely still and erect. Then came another flash of movement as the creature leaped from its hole and into the forest cover. Dib froze in place, one hand clamped over his mouth to keep himself quiet. After a moment of nothing, a pair of bright eyes appeared from within the bushes and shone gloriously in the moonlight; unearthly pink, and utterly magnificent.

“ . . . Hello.” Dib lowered his hand slowly, and whispered just as gently. He saw the shrubs shift as the hidden creature flinched, its wondrous gaze drifting from Dib to the beginnings of its burrow, until Dib himself looked. The hole was situated right across from the gardens ripe with the blorpberries Dib loved so much. He made the connection instantly. “Oh! Are you hungry?” He grabbed a handful and tossed them through the fence. It was the feeble, clumsy throw of a seven-year-old bookworm, and only two landed within easy reach of the bush. Once they were swept away by a hand or tail almost too fast to see with the naked eye, the pink gaze returned, fixated upon the remaining berries out of its reach. Silence fell once more. Dib trembled with anticipation. Please . . . Please get them . . .

Slowly, inch by cautious inch, the creature began to emerge, and it was all Dib could do not to squeal in delight. He watched in silent awe, marveling at its brilliance. Green skin. Two black antennas. A long, strong tail like that of a monitor lizard; powerful, and deadly. It prowled the forest floor on all floors like it owned the place, snatching up the berries in its claws as it went by. And what claws! Three in total on each limb, and wickedly sharp, like that of an ancient dinosaur long since lost to time; they were the perfect tool and weapon both for a harsh life in the jungle. As it walked and ate it kept its eyes fixed suspiciously on Dib. Soon there were none left but for those still in the bush, and the creature sat in between the fence and the forest, its gaze continuously shifting between longing want at the fruit, to suspicious scrutiny at Dib.

“Hi there!” Dib whispered quietly, but his voice was so thick with excitement that he made the creature flinch backwards. “Oh, sorry!” He apologised, his tone dropping even lower in volume for the startled visitor frozen in place. Silence echoed once more as giant pink eyes remained fixated on Dib like lasers, as if trying to pierce through into his skull and see inside of his mind. As such, Dib focused in on a single thought, just in case the creature could indeed read his mind. I won't hurt you, I won't hurt you. Let's be friends.

The creature blinked, then leaped back into its hole and resumed the frantic dig. Dib sat back with his knees tucked to his chest, watching with fast growing anticipation. Dirt came flying from the hole; launched aside unneeded by the creature's immense tail. Soon, the ground beside him began to crumble inwards, opening up a fully-fledged tunnel from one side of the fence to the next. A pair of black antennas poked out first. They twitched. Twice, then the creature emerged from up the hole and shook the dirt from its body. Bright pink eyes soon found their way onto Dib again and held his gaze with ease. It was like gazing into a galaxy before his very eyes; a whole, wide new world lay within the swirling, starry light, and Dib was utterly captivated.

“Hello,” he smiled. “My name's Dib. What's yours?”

#irkenproperty #invader zim #zadr #iz fanart #ask #dib membrane #feral au #anon #feral zim #feral irken #feral irkens #arttag #fanfic #zadr fanfic #feral zim fanfic #darthzadr #ultradeathfang

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lamamasjamas · 4 months

Text

Love at First Sight (2/9)

A/n: Had to redo some of this and the first part because I want the story to be cohesive and neater. Most likely going to happen with all of the other works too.

Warnings: Dark!Din, Dub-con Smut, breeding/ pregnancy kink, pregnancy stuff, Stockholm Syndrome, kidnapping, I love making Din super lovesick and sweet lolz, Dark Fic!!!!

Love at First Sight Masterlist

He’s been conditioning you. He revels in the way your thighs clench together whenever his hands wander over your body.

At first, he let you isolate yourself, keeping yourself in the bunk as he piloted the ship, letting you take the cot every night. He didn't even try to interact with you, keeping himself busy with the child, his bounties and credit collection.

He would allow you outside of the ship, trusting you to be completely alone with Grogu. He was surprised by how you never once triggered the tracker embedded on your bracelet. He didn't know you knew that he had modified a cattle tracker into a shiny golden pendant.

You'd woken up with it your first morning in the Razor Crest. The soft hum of it was hard to locate at first. You lacked the tools to deactivate them.

He had plans. He wanted to find a home planet. Soon. Preferably somewhere adequate to raise his children. The holopad he conspicuously left out in the hull while he was out one evening was full of data files on hundreds of mid-rim planets.

Most of the planets he landed on were among those in the holos. They were safe, quiet, and isolated. Once you had found the pad, he checked which images you would stare at the longest, which descriptions you would read with rapt attention.

He would watch as you would glance outside of the ship. You clearly had a preference. Your eyes would glimmer in regions with cooler temperatures, lots of trees, deciduous and changing with the seasons.

As the fifth month of your Razor Crest residency arrived, he lost his patience. He thought finding a planet would come easier. Some were perfect but the people were too hostile. Some the opposite.

He was tired of the lack of communication. The dead silence whenever he was around.

He would start to get you used to his presence; the way he could make you feel. If only you would give him leverage.

You would often hear him pleasuring himself, murmuring about how you looked so beautiful carrying his child. How you would look so pretty all cock-dumb and fucked out over his bed sheets in a real home.

You would try to sleep after, but you couldn’t help but think of the way wetness dampened your underwear and how a part of you thinks back on how he pleased you back in your home. Before you realized his plan to take you.

You would usually stare half awake at the panels above you. Shifting uncomfortably against the small bunk that only seemed to get smaller as your bump grew.

He broke the silence one day while he was making portions, he stated how he had enough credits to buy an isolated unit near farmlands. A sleeping Grogu was taken out of your arms and placed in his metal bassinet. With a press of a button it was closed shut, leaving you alone with 'Din'.

You'd spoken directly to him a couple of times since your taking. His name was revealed to you the day you had woken up. Despite your anger, the fear, and the desperation to be free, you often caught yourself thinking of his name fondly.

Who would have known a bounty hunter to have such a simple name.

You blinked up at him in confusion. He sighs wistfully. As he sat down on the blankets and pillows he set up on the floor as a makeshift common area in the Crest, he reaches for your hand.

You let him pull you up against him. He’s strong enough so that he could position you any way he wants without your assistance. He pulls his helmet off with a hiss and motions for you to pick up your plate of food.

“We’ll be home in no time,” he soothes. You look back at him in confusion and he just smiles and caresses your cheek. His hands skim over your tunic and stop on the swell of your belly, lightly tracing it up and down with the tips of his fingers.

He cups the underside of the bump, his nose pressing against the side of your neck.

The defeat was present since the beginning. You never fought back, barely argued. Things couldn't have gotten much worse than life in your village, barely able to make it through a work shift without passing out from dehydration or starvation.

Chills run down your spine and goosebumps start to rise. He holds you against his chest for a couple of minutes, urging you to continue eating. Breathing in the scent of your hair and lightly caressing your belly.

Then his hands move further down and caresses over your mound, you shiver. A shot of pleasure goes up your spine. He continues to ‘accidentally’ rub against you in between his praises of how well of a mother you’ve been. Especially to Grogu, whenever he was gone.

You were throbbing by the time you were done with the portions, mumbling that you were full. That prompted him to ask you to feed him spoonfuls in return. He didn’t want to put anything to waste. It felt very intimate, especially with the way he loudly chewed next to your ear and groaned as if he was eating gourmet cuisine, almost mimicking the sounds he made when he last had you in your bedroom back in your home planet.

The baby cried, you were grateful for the respite, especially as he was starting to graze over your inner thighs. You excuse yourself to the restroom and curse yourself. It was the hormones, it had to be. You wouldn’t be this affected by his gentle touches otherwise.

He’s been doing the same technique afterwards for a little over a month. Grazing over your ass as he walked by. 'Accidentally' cupping your breasts and lightly squeezing as he mewled over your bump. Having you sit over his erection whenever you ate 'together'.

You hate the way your body now responds to a simple touch on the shoulder and jumps to imagining him thrusting into you against the side of the hull.

It got worse when you were finally 'home'. He was able to find a small house in a planet you didn’t know the name of. He didn’t allow you to even step outside the door. He said it was too dangerous.

You questioned him, considering you were a long way from other people. He never answered. Instead, he would hold you close to him and reassure you that it was safer for you and the baby.

Grogu was off to school, taken by his father almost every day. How come he wasn’t fussing constantly over him?

The one positive from being stuck ‘home’ was that he was barely there. You rarely had moments where he would make you want to rip his armor off and feel his skin on yours like months before.

He would often go to earn credits working odd jobs. He'd leave you with the promise that soon, if you complied instead of ignoring all of his advances at becoming a family, you too would accompany him out one day.

He didn’t like the idea of keeping you as if you were a nanny to his children. Just a doll he could stare at and fondle.

But because you were currently pregnant and you didn’t reciprocate his kisses and touches, he thought it was best to keep you where you were. You had enough time alone to think about ways to escape, but with your growing condition the thought was dissipating quickly. You felt tired, nauseous, heavy. Your feet were swollen and even thinking of the months to come made you dread even thinking of being alone. In some sick way the bastard has debilitated you in this form.

That didn’t stop him from praising you though. He likes to watch as you started to waddle around, chasing after his son, now yours, and play with him. Pride is all he feels when he sees the kid patting your stomach in question and you softly explain to him how there was a tiny person growing inside.

“The villagers have been asking for you,” he says one night, as you pull your hair away from your face in front of a mirror he bought you on his recent trip to the markets.

You hum absentmindedly, looking at anywhere but the reflection as he steps closer behind, wrapping his arms around you. “Is that so?” you question sarcastically. He ignores your tone.

“Mm.” He slumps over you, putting his head on top of yours. His eyes lower to your stomach and his brows furrow.

Skimming past your second trimester you outgrew all of your old clothes including those of the man behind you. His stare made you fidget. You feel embarrassed as you try to tug the tunic as far down as it can go. A sliver of your skin still peaks through.

You feel tears well and blur your vision and you try to look away from his now worried eyes. Your hands move to cover your face, but he stops them quickly, asking you what was wrong.

“My clothes don’t fit,” you whine. You think of how stupid you must sound. The way you could be thinking of many other worse things that he’s done to you, for example kidnapping you, and you think to complain about this.

“I’m so big. I'm just so...,” you sigh weakly. His grip tightens on your hands reassuringly and he plopped a kiss to the side of your head.

He’s always liked his women with some meat on their bones. He liked the thought that your body was changing because of him. Seeing you now, insinuate that you're not the most beautiful creation the maker has ever made, made his eyes twitch in irritation. Not at you, of course, but the way women are viewed.

In his culture women are respected as if they were goddesses. They are the foundations of their kind. Seeing you now look at yourself in disdain made him feel like a failure. He failed to take care of you as a spouse should.

All because he never touched you properly, fully and with his full intentions. He's teased you for months, never going farther than a few raunchy touches.

He kisses up your neck and you freeze. His hands wander downward, under your pants and underwear. His hand was so large that you could see it straining the seams of your pajamas.

“You’re beautiful,” he says as he flicks his wrist to palm over your mound, grinding it against you. You gasp as he continues, watching over you through the mirror as you twitch and lean your back further into his chest.

You sigh shakily as he inserts a thick finger inside of you. Then another as your eyes close shut tightly. The sound of your slick cunt resounds around the small room, your hand makes its way behind his head, pushing his mount against your neck and shoulder.

He brings you to climax easily. Your legs threaten to collapse but he catches you.

The rest of the night he praised your body, your caring personality. Often mentioning how you would be such a caring mother to your next child and children.

You were barely awake and on the verge of passing out. You felt as if you’ve exerted yourself trying to keep up with his burning touches. You don’t think you’ve ever been cared for as much as you have been with him.

“Tomorrow we’re going into town to get tunics.”

He presses himself against your back maneuvering a pillow under your body which lays on its side.

He finally presses a kiss to your lips as he pushes a strand of hair from your face. He smiles as he sees you respond back weakly, your eyes closed and lips slack in a light pucker.

#din djarin x reader #mandalorian x reader #din djarin fanfiction #Dark Fanfiction #Dark!Din Djarin

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omletteflipper · 6 months

Text

Why?: Volo x Reader

After everything you've been through, you can't help but be kind to him. But why?

Spoilers for post-post-game.

You were hardly aware of the tall grass crunching under your feet as you hiked along the cliffside. You had searched every nook and cranny for the slightest hint of the man who betrayed you. Why were you looking for him? Why did you care? After hours of trekking and months of searching, you didn't have enough energy to ponder them.

You turned a jagged corner and ducked under an overhang when suddenly you saw it: a hole in the rock face that was just big enough for a large person to squeeze through. You impulsively stuck your head in the gap and let out a gasp.

The cave was decorated with various artifacts that you had never seen before. If that wasn't obvious enough, a yellow and white bedroll was spread across the floor. This had to be it.

"Hello."

You turned around and instinctively threw your arms over your face, cowering from a blow that didn't come. You slowly lowered your arms to see a frustratingly beautiful man staring down at you.

Time had not been kind to Volo. His hair was unkept and knotted, and his once-white tunic was streaked with dirt and grime. It was almost... pitiful.

As if reading your thoughts, he looked down and cringed at his own appearance. "The wilderness was- easier to traverse in my Ginko Guild uniform."

You were shocked by his lack of aggression, but more than that you were shocked by your own. It was by pure instinct that you sought out this man, this man who had tried everything to strike you down. Did time alone in the wilderness make you placid? Did it make him placid?

You searched your pockets and pulled out a haircomb made of finely carved Magikarp bone.

Volo's expression shifted as you offered it to him. He was always hard to read, but now that you know what he's capable of, his true emotions were even more unknown. "Why." he finally said.

You looked down at your feet, not knowing the answer to his question. To his thousand unspoken questions. Because you were my friend? Because I learned a lot from you?Because even though you tried to strike me down I somehow kind of respect you?

"Because your hair is messy."

Volo snatched the comb from your hand and gingerly attempted to run it through his once-beautiful hair, but the teeth quickly got stuck in a matted section.

"Let me help," you offered.

He tried in vain to break up the tangled blond mass before finally tossing the comb at you and sitting down on a rock with a huff.

You gently took his hair between your fingers, assessing the damage. It was clear that he had at least bathed during his exile, but river water could only do so much. It would take hours to detangle it all.

Volo fidgeted under the heat of your gaze and the touch of your hands. He looked like he wanted to speak, but the two of you were locked in an inescapable silence as you began slowly fixing his hair. He knew you wouldn't fall for his usual charms. You knew he wouldn't respond well to talk of redemption. You worked in silence until you gently draped a freshly detangled lock over Volo's shoulder.

"Thank you."

You both spoke the words at the exact same time. Volo turned to see you stifling a laugh with one hand loosely placed over your smile.

"You're welcome." You both quipped simultaneously.

Now Volo was laughing. Oh Almighty Sinnoh how you missed that laugh. It reminded you of your adventures together seeking out legendary pokemon. Before Spear Pillar. You sighed and looked at him wistfully. His round face and sharp chin, his half-lidded grey eyes that squinted a little when he smiled, his strong arms that you could finally appreciate through his threadbare tunic. In that moment you realized you were finally seeing the real Volo.

"Why?" Volo asked again, as soft as a song.

As you searched for the right words you suddenly felt the weight of your pack dig into your shoulders. You dropped it in front of you and held out the comb again.

"Because your hair could have been messy."

You reached into your pack and pulled out a set of fine clothes woven with threads of gold.

"Because your clothes could have been dirty."

You reached in again and pulled out a set of tinctures and bandages.

"Because you could have been hurt."

Again and again you pulled countless gifts from your pack. Sweet-smelling soaps, a collection of leather-bound novels, a set of hand-drawn illustrations of each of his Pokemon, warm woolen socks. Each gift with a sentiment. A worry. A prayer.

Volo gazed at you as you spilled your heart onto the rocks by his feet. The chosen vessel of his silent god was here, worrying for him. Seeking him out. Spending months of time and wages just to ensure his well-being. A few months ago he would have called you foolish. Before that, he would have shoved down his emotions and thought of you as a useful tool. But now? All of the feelings he desperately tried to ignore since the day you met came flooding back.

In an instant you were in his arms. You hadn't even registered that he stood up, yet here you were swallowed up by his mass. Your head pressed against his chest as he cradled your body with ease. You melted into each other's touch, breathing in the mountain air.

You gazed up at him, noticing the soft intensity in his eyes as he stared back. His arms shifted slightly, tightening his grip around you. Unkempt as he was, Volo was still beautiful.

"Why?" You asked.

You could feel Volo's chuckle vibrate through his body before trailing off into little hums. He removed one hand from your embrace and ran his fingers along the combed section of his golden hair. It was his turn to lay his heart bare to you.

With every chance encounter, Volo had grown to admire your love for Pokemon. With every legendary pokemon and plate you tracked down together he began to grow fond of your presence. The world was so unfair, and yet over the past months Volo found himself yearning for the company of its protector.

"Because... I love you."

Volo said it with certainty. No smirk on his face or humor in his expression. A few months ago he considered you proof that life was nothing but unfair to him. Now, you were proof that the world was kind.

You squeezed him even tighter and buried your face in his chest. It was only after catching the sound of Volo's racing heartbeat that you realized you never gave him an answer.

"I love you too."

Volo smiled his signature toothy grin and suddenly your feet were off the ground. The both of you laughed as he spun you around with adrenaline-filled joy.

The two of you collapsed onto the rock with you in his lap, enjoying each other's warmth. You reached to run your fingers through his hair when you remembered. You pulled the comb from your pocket and began untangling a second lock of hair. You could stare directly at his face now. You liked this smile much better than the smirk he used to wear. This one crinkled his eyes into a warm expression and rounded his cheeks. The more you stared, the more you noticed a pink blush creep across his face.

"May I kiss you?" You found yourself asking.

"Are you sure?" Volo's smile faltered. Another set of unspoken questions. Are you sure you want to trust me again? Are you sure I'm worthy? Are you sure you want to love me?

"Yes." You breathed.

Volo's lips crashed into yours with surprising intensity. His grip on your body tightened as he poured every ounce of passion he had ever had right into your lips. You let out a squeak of surprise as he leaned you further down until your head was parallel to the ground. His hand cushioned your head against the rock as you felt his whole torso pressing on your body.

Every moment you thought he'd break away he didn't. You were locked in your embrace as the sun began to set and the heavens began to unfurl. Finally, when you thought you'd fall asleep with your lips against his, Volo slowly pulled back and searched your expression. Was that too much?

"I- wasn't expecting that."

"I've waited a long time." Volo said simply.

You suddenly became aware that the gifts you bought were still scattered at your feet. "It's getting dark. May I stay the night and care for you?"

"It would be an honor."

#volo x reader #volo #pla volo #pla #pokemon legends arceus

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janaknandini-singh999 · 1 year

Text

After Krishna left for Dwarka, Radha used to keep herself a lot busier than usual; doing her chores back in Vrindavan, talking to the trees finding Krishna in everything, taking care of the people and animals. At night she would go to her room and sit in front of the mirror, sigh and take out her shringaar. Tonight, as soon as she looked into her reflection, it was her Kanha smiling at her.

"How's Dwarka dheesh doing?" she carefully kept her tone as teasing, afraid that if he suspects even a little bit of sadness then he will come running to her right away, leaving everything behind

"Oh please, Radhe. You should come sometime, you used to before but you barely do now."

Radha cupped Kanha's cheek in the mirror

"My sweet mohana, you know I can't. It's my duty to give you and your ashtabharya all the space and love," laughing, she added a little wistfully "As it is I don't really have a good reputation out here. Krishna's lover. But why? Krishna has millions of lovers. The whole brahmaand is his lover. Why worship one exclusively with him? If he loves all his lovers equally then why just worship this Radha with him? She isn't even his wife. Unlike Mahadev and Parvati, they aren't even legitima-"

"Radhe." Krishna stopped her with tears in his eyes

Radha, hurting as much as him, apologized and continued "but it is true, my love. People only view love as black or white. They think marriage is sanctity when it is the bond that is. Not the label."

Nodding, Krishna whispered "do you miss me?"

She laughed till there were tears in her eyes too "Oh Kanha, you are everywhere I look. Every time I breathe."

"Then why talk to me like this? Why summon me here?"

"Because you are everywhere. Everywhere but right here."

Kanha's eyes softened "I am within you, sakhi. Always."

Nodding and smiling, she looked away to wipe her tears "yes yes, I know that." she looked back in Kanha's eyes "only if I could somehow tell that to Yashoda maiya, Nand baba and all the gopiyan and people here. Maiya is inconsolable, kanha. She cries and says 'that boy always tricks me. I saw the universe in his mouth when he was a child. Now wherever I look, I see him. But I just want him to come steal my makhan. Kanha, where are you? I promise I'll never scold you.'

Krishna touches the mirror ever so gently

"Kanha, they think you are not real when you are everywhere. They think it's an illusion and all they do is weep."

"But they forgot that Maya is Krishna and Mohana is Krishna. Everything that involves krishna is as real as the morpankh falling from the sky quietly into their palms when they think of Him." Radha and krishna whisper at the same time

"Tomorrow the Pandavas and Kauravas fight and I'm Arjuna's saarthi. After killing Kansa mama, the trajectory of my life has changed completely. But I miss Vrindavan, Kishori. I honestly don't even know what to do. They call me God but forget I'm a human in this avatar too. All I can feel is Gandhari's pain. Even if she hates me with everything she has and cursed me for my existence but I just can't help but feel for her so deeply. What can I do?" he sobs

"What Kauravas did was wrong but Gandhari is a mother, kanha. Her pain can't be measured. It is unbearable but justified. But so is your karma and dharma. Whatever you do will be remembered forever. They all need you. So go, sakha. Do what needs to be done. I believe in you. I love you. We all do."

Krishna smiled through the tears

Radha whispered "we parted physically to fulfill our dharma in this lifetime but you know? I.. I'm just so tired, Kanha. It's been so long. I just want to go home. To Goloka. Our home. I feel my purpose here is coming to an end..."

"So is mine, Radhe.. so is mine. We are One." Kanha clutched the mirror closer to his chest and Radha did too - both of them in an eternal embrace.

"We will go home very soon. To everyone we love, finally. It's my vachan, sakhi."

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dawndelion-winery · 8 months

Text

I Like You! (Not)

Alhaitham × GN! Reader

College au! Academic Rivals to Lovers!

[5] - I Never Meant It!

So, Alhaitham seemed to be un-ickable once he set his mind - or heart - on you. You swore you tried everything: invading his personal space, stealing his food, pestering him to buy you things, etc. Somehow, nothing worked. Horrible, really. You'd never known his patience to be this boundless; it typically didn't take this much effort, if any at all, to bother him.

"Alhaitham, I'm cold," you complained as you tugged on the sleeve of his jacket.

"It's an air-conditioned lecture hall on a rainy day, which is why I told you to bring a jacket," he retorted.

"Yeah, but I didn't, and now I'm cold."

You were certain his eye twitched. Excellent. Until then he just sighed wistfully.

"What am I going to do with you, hmm?" he murmured as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "My stubborn, spiteful darling."

If he noticed the way you blanched at his actions, he made no indication of it, merely scooting closer to you to bundle you in his jacket and embrace. "I don't suppose I need to make a habit of using oversized coats out to share with you?"

"I'm not cold anymore," you muttered as you tried to scoot away.

"Stay, it's comfortable like this."

His voice was soft. So were his eyes. Now that you thought of it, they had been for quite some time already. When was the last time you'd seen his cold, judgemental gaze? Moreover, when was that scornful stare last directed at you?

And so you stayed. Not knowing why or when everything seemed to have changed. Wondering just how much you ever actually knew about the man beside you, who so adoringly held you close to him.

The thought plagued you till the end of the lecture, and sitting beside him in the library for the nth time that month.

"Alhaitham?" You piped up.

Silence. A warm hand cradling your head, urging you to lean on him.

"Alhaitham. I hate you."

Another brief silence, and a barely audible "I know." It was neither upset nor offended, neither angry nor frustrated. Just a calm, factual, perhaps ever so melancholic "I know".

He knew? And he still acted this way?

"I also know you don't mean it."

"Alhaitham, if you think I like you because of that confession, it wasn't real. Alright? I lied. I wanted to distract you because you're infuriating, but I didn't think things would end up like this."

You'd expected your confession, the genuine one, to be met with anger, betrayal, anything of the sort. But all he gave was yet another almost apathetic "I know" as if none of it was important. The tense silence was begging to be broken, but your voice caught in you throat with every word you thought to speak. It ended being Alhaitham who spoke up first.

"And not even half of what you've ever said to me can be trusted. You don't mean it? I'm well aware. You almost never mean anything you say. I wouldn't know why - I couldn't - but I can only assume years of prattling fanciful sonnets and euphemisms have rendered words meaningless to you. Your words hold no weight."

Well, that sort of stung. But he wasn't done talking.

"Yet you never do anything you don't mean. When you were so one-sidedly absorbed in what little makeshift rivalry you'd come up with, you wouldn't so much as look at me for more than a few seconds. So I played along. You can't so much as force a smile for someone you dislike. So what am I to believe when you hiss that you can't stand me while cozying up in my lap?"

Ah. Curse him and his never wavering rationality.

Taglist: @vernith @bubblegum-angelquartz @ayanokomu @hannya-writes @oh-allie @sane-genshin-fan @makimakimi

#astronetwrk #genshin #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham #genshin alhaitham #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #winery specials

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rokuhoku · 2 years

Text

a piece of your history.

Pairing: Namor x Filipino!Reader

Rating: Mature, Comedy (No smut but there is tension)

Summary: It hurts to not be able to properly recreate your traditional pre-colonial Filipino clothing, and Namor takes notice of this feeling of yours.

Word Count: 2,578

Content Warning: Mentions of colonialization

Disclaimer: Namor is kind of cold and dark towards reader!! Idk if its ooc but i would imagine that he would generally be apprehensive towards a surface dweller. you have been warned

___________

Reminder: This fic is part of a Namor x Filipino!Reader miniseries, but can be read on its own! Miniseries fic(s):

a piece of your history. / "beloved."

__________

“Do you like it?”

You asked, grinning, slightly turning yourself around in order to fully show off your work proudly.

Namor hummed, sitting in the water by the shore of the beach. He was always like this, meeting up with you now and again.

“Is this the wear of your people?” He asked. You grinned and nodded, letting out small chuckles while fiddling with the fabric between your fingers. You had always wanted to make the Pre-Colonial traditional clothing of your Filipino ancestors, it was the closest thing you had of home as of now.

The process was tedious, you admit that. So little resources or references online on how your specific region’s clothing looked– much less how it was made, due to how much the Spaniards burned and banned, but you had still managed to gather enough to make one as accurately as possible.

“It’s… beautiful.” He simply says, eyeing up the clothes and how it wrapped around your body, causing you to tear your eyes away from him in fear of showing how his compliment affected you in such a way.

“Why have your people stopped wearing this? Are they not your traditional wear?” Namor asked, remembering the photos of your family that you had shown him. They were wearing what you had called a “baro’t saya” and “barong” for the celebration of “Buwan ng Wika” as he recalled it.

“It’s gorgeous, and made by the hands of your people instead of the colonizers.” He continued, “It escapes me on why your people have abandoned wearing your traditional garbs, instead choosing to wear what they gave you.” This statement slightly irked you, causing you to deadpan at him.

“Dude, we were enslaved and tortured by them for more than 300 years.” You crossed your arms. “Do you think we abandoned it willingly?” You were met with silence, and for once, Namor was the one who was left speechless by bluntness.

“... Right. My apologies.” Was all Namor could reply, causing you to let out a small laugh, shaking your head. It’s not often you’re the one leaving him silent, with him often bashing “surface dwellers”, causing you to regularly remind him that you yourself are a surface dweller.

Namor never had a proper reply for that.

However, even if you were happy with your work, you still frowned and sighed. You dragged your fingers along the cloth, wistfully looking at its patterns. Namor’s eyes followed the way your face curled up to a grimace, causing him to frown even more (if that was even possible) in confusion.

“It’s not much, though. The fabric’s sorta cheap ‘cause it was the only one I could find that had this specific pattern. I had to pick between comfortability or accuracy.” You sulked, sitting down on the dry sand close to him. You hugged your knees close to your chest, already itchy from the scratchy inside of the fabric.

“I chose accuracy, of course… for them.” You vaguely finished, slightly bitter on how hard it was to make your country’s real traditional clothing in an authentic way. You palmed the sand, looking for your bag before taking out your trusty cellphone.

Ah, surface dwellers and their hand-held yet fragile technologies… Namor thought as you typed and scrolled away at your phone.

“I mean, look at this!” You held your phone out, showing what appeared to be a real life replica of your garbs, just made in a better way. Namor narrowed his eyes in confusion.

“So your people still make this?”

“Well technically yes, but no? God, I wish, though. This is just a historical costume for entertainment…” You replied, huffing.

“Tangina talaga ng Espanya…” You grumbled under your breath. Namor chuckled at you, as he had heard you swear in your mother tongue (he was sure it was a swear– it was literally the first word you had taught him) at one of your country’s past colonizers.

“Jay, ba'ax jaaj le je'elo'...” He replied, agreeing, though this did cause your face to slightly feel warmer. You would never admit it to his face, but him speaking his native language was kinda hot.

You let out a small chuckle, before wistfully sighing and looking at the sky.

“You know… I’m kinda jealous of you and your people of Talokan.” Namor rose an eyebrow at you, his head turning to look at you. You put your hands up in mock defense, clearly meaning well.

“I don’t mean it in a bad way! And yeah, you guys have faced struggles with water pollution, junk and also colonizer stuff… It’s just… y’know…” You trailed off, suddenly feeling bashful. Namor’s gaze softened, as he nodded to indicate that you continue. You breathed in deeply.

“Well, I mean, you guys got to keep your culture intact, no outside forces ripping it away from you.” You mumbled, picking at the sand that got between your nails.

“No forgotten gods… no forgotten stories… no forgotten practices.” You longingly looked at the sea.

You snorted, though. “Even if they tried, you could still put up a fight and protect it.” You smiled at him, causing him to avert his gaze and look back at the ocean.

“I just… I just wish I could salvage at least a small part of it.” You finished, already feeling your throat close up and tears form in your eyes. God, why did you have to be so emotional? Putangina naman…

For a beat or two, Namor stayed quiet. You already felt dread setting in your stomach, oh god. What if he had another diva moment and dove back in the water? Before you could panic even more, you heard the water move, as water droplets seem to fall from sky and onto you. You looked up in confusion, squinting your eyes at Namor, who had stood up from his place to sit closer to you.

“... May I see more of these garbs?”

Your frown was replaced with a smile, as you swallowed back the lump and blinked away the oncoming tears. “Sure! I have so many saved and printed– it’s important to have references before crafting, after all!”

Your signature grin was back as you happily took out what looked to be a plastic bag containing pictures that looked similar to your clothes. You happily explained away, showing him more and more photos– though he did notice that you had backed up a bit when he came a bit too close to your personal space.

He followed along as you showed more and more photos– along with more pictures of Pre-Colonial jewelry that you wanted to replicate yourself. He noticed the way you would stop and longingly gaze at them, before continuing on with explaining.

Namor watched the way your eyes would brighten as you talked more and more about your history, before they would dim as you brought up on why it was not used by your people in the modern day anymore.

“... And yeah, that’s pretty much what my own region wears! Though, it does get a bit tricky to see if it really is my region per say,” Namor looked at you, a bit confused but waiting for you to continue. Your smile grew wider.

“All regions basically have a lot of similarities and differences! So sometimes it gets a bit confusing.” You rambled, before noticing yourself and getting a bit embarrassed. Namor softly smiled at you.

“This just shows how rich the cultures of your people are, in etail.”

You blinked before letting out a joyous laugh, surprised that Namor of all people complimented you! (Well, to be more precise, your heritage). You were about to reply before your eyes caught sight of the time on your phone. “Ay gago! Ang late na pala! I still have to call my parents!” You put on your coat over your work, before shoving your phone back in your bag.

Before you could properly stand up, a hand on your wrist stopped you. Your brain loaded for a few seconds, your eyes following the hand and how it trailed back to Namor. “Come back here in two days time.” He asked (more of demanded).

You gawked at him, this was the first time he ever confirmed that you were going to see him! Most of the time, he simply came and went as he pleased. The look in his eyes already made it impossible to say no, so of course refusing him was not an option.

“I-I…” You stammered, meeting his eyes that had so much emotion in them. You gulped. “Okay! See you in… two days, dude!” You quickly went on your way home.

Namor nodded at you, before he caught sight of the familiar plastic ziplock you had left behind. Before he could call out to you, you were already too far away, and if he were to approach you someone would surely see him.

Namor watched your back fade from the distance, already confirming the idea forming in his head. He nodded to himself, before grabbing the ziplock bag and diving back into the sea, making sure to not let anything get wet.

__________

You practically ran towards the beach as you grinned, excited that your.. Friend(?) or Frenemy(?) personally requested your presence. You cleared your throat and attempted to act cool, though severely failing, before sitting down by the drier parts of the sand, admiring how beautiful the waves looked.

A few moments later, a familiar head peeped out from the water, causing you to laugh and wave at him. Namor uncharacteristically bore a grin at you, continuing to get out of water, the droplets from his hair magically disappearing with each step.

“I have a surprise for you.” was the first thing he said as he offered you a hand in getting up. You nodded, though a bit confused now.

In his hands, you had finally taken notice of a makeshift waterproof bag tied by a drawstring along with a familiar plastic ziplock of papers. “Ay, onga pala! I accidentally left my papers…” You exclaimed, surprised that he kept them in such good condition.

Namor gingerly handed you the drawstring bag first, urging you to open it. “Please, have a look inside.” You hesitantly took it in your hands, noting the way the fabric practically had gold woven into it.

What you saw took your breath away,

it was Pre-Colonial indigenous Filipino clothes.

You ran a hand through them, the fabric being silky yet cool to the touch. Just as how Filipino clothes were theorized to be. Somehow, Namor had found a way to wove it with gold, just as what your research had said. You felt tears well up in the corner of your eyes, it felt like a piece of history was being given back to you.

“Well? What are you waiting for?” Namor’s voice snapped you out of your stupor. You looked back at him, open-mouthed and too shocked to reply. He chuckled at you. “Try it on, in etail.”

Namor politely turned around, silently trying to hide and bury the way he felt when he heard fabric shifting and the likely assumption of you undressing.

Your breath hitched as the feeling of the fabric against your skin was a comfortable one. It was perfectly tailored and made for you, as if someone had memorized every inch of your body down to the smallest details, the robes fitting like a glove on your body.

“You can look now…” You managed to practically croak out, forever feeling thankful at such a kind gesture from no one other than Namor himself.

The moment Namor turned around, he swore that he felt slightly lightheaded from how you managed to take his breath away with just your look. You looked like you were in your natural element, your most natural state.

It almost felt as if this was how you were supposed to be.

The way the gold-woven fabric hung off your own copper skin had him thinking of thoughts he swore he would never have of surface-dwellers, and perhaps the most euphoric feeling was seeing the look on your face; the genuine joy and happiness.

But wait, something was missing.

He narrowed his eyes at you before rummaging through the bag he carried with him. Namor gently brought out familiar looking jewelry, though with its own twist.

“These… are also for you.”

Namor took your hand and placed it in his, slipping on a rather detailed and delicately made golden ring. He took both of your wrists and placed on them gold bracelets adorned with what appeared to be a jade material.

All the while, he made direct eye contact with you. You practically shook under his gaze, deeming it to be too intimate.

Before you could process anything more, you felt the heat of Namor’s body behind your back, as you heard gold clinking together. His hot breath fanned on the back of your neck, as the heat in your ears never seemed to go away.

You felt a heavy weighted necklace be placed onto your collarbone, before a click behind you was resounded. Namor’s hands lingered for a split second on the nape of your neck, before he practically ripped himself away and stood back, afraid of his own actions.

Your breath left your body for what felt like the nth time in the past 30 minutes, as you took the necklace between your fingers and observed the intricate designs of gold and jade beautifully fused together.

All of this jewelry should have felt heavy, but to you they felt as if they were perfectly crafted and made for you and your people. It was as if these were all made with heavy and careful detail, making sure that they perfectly aligned with your own practices but still with its own twist and charm from the gifter.

You could never take back what the Spaniards have taken from your country, but it felt like a lost piece of your own heritage was being directly gifted to you, you could practically feel the pride of your ancestors. This was all so overwhelming.

“K'uk'ulkan…”

Namor suppressed the heat he felt as his natural name rolled off your tongue in such a breathless manner.

Now, it was your turn to surprise as he did not anticipate that you would tackle him in a hug. You buried your face in his neck, not scared anymore of what he’d do. Namor’s own hands hesitantly placed themselves on your backside, before they tightened around you.

“Salamat… Salamat talaga, K'uk'ulkan…” Namor felt hot wet tears drip onto his shoulder.

He hugged back even tighter.

“Mixba’al, in etail.”

__________

BONUS:

“Okay, now ‘putangina mo’ means I like you.” You said to Namor, though the way you tried to (and failed) to hold back your laughter made him doubt that that was the meaning of the phrase.

“Is it really now?” You laughed, nodding profusely. “Hell yeah it is! We Pinoys use it all the time to compliment each other! Like, ‘putangina mo tol, ang guwapo mo nakakabakla ka na!’ ”

“ ‘Nakakabakla’?” Namor narrowed his eyes at you. Were you just messing with him? You laughed even more, clutching your sides by how much it hurt.

“Gaga, uto-uto ka talaga.”

Namor had a deep feeling in his stomach that you were insulting him (he was right) so he stood up and sighed, walking back towards the sea.

“What the-! Hey! Where are you going?!”

“K'a' ak'ate.”

“Aw c’mon K'uk'ulkan! Can’t you take a joke?!”

He was already gone by the time you had said that.

#namor x reader #namor x you #namor x y/n #namor x filipino!reader #filipino!reader #namor imagine #namor one shot #namor x pinoy!reader #pinoy!reader #mcu x reader #namor of talokan #mcu x filipino!reader #mcu fic #namor fluff #namor x filipino reader #k'uk'ulkan x reader #k'uk'ulkan

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